Finale: Giving Myself a HUG

Two days after I retired from Carolina Friends School, Jan and I left Durham on our current year of international travel and service. Her HUG Your Baby presentations in Asia Pacific have been better received than we dared to hope. In the process we have met many remarkable people (some of them newborns!) and have made new friends who are mostly midwives, nurses, and lactation consultants.

As we traveled I found more ways to be involved with HUG Your Baby work. Besides serving as Jan’s editor, researcher, videographer, roadie, cheerleader and confidante—as I’ve done for years—other avenues are opening up for me in and through the HUG world.

Music and learning, seasoned by a dash of sports and exercise, are the enduring interests of my adult life. Becoming a good husband and father remains the major source of my adult identity. My growing involvement with HUG Your Baby builds on all these passions.

As I think about the possibilities of “retired” life, I’m excited about devoting more time to music. Of course I will continue to refine and market  Ariel’s Way; I continue to believe in its value. But when I get back home I also plan to play more saxophone than ever before. Musical collaborations with friends will become easier to schedule and prioritize in “retirement” (which Don Wells suggests is best understood as “rewirement”). On our current trip, working on the HUG Lullabies project has been great fun for Jan and me, and that work is going to take some time to complete when we get home.

The musical styles of the lullabies that Jan and I conceive reflect our experience of the cultures we visit, and the lyrics we write clothe HUG concepts in the imagery of places we’ve come to know. Stay tuned for the Hawaiian Lullaby. With Tony Bowman’s capable help, this first lullaby is nearly ready to share. The second one—the Australian Lullaby—is gearing up for production. Japanese, Korean, Balinese, and Malay lullabies are sketched out, and Jan and I have a good approach in mind for a Thai lullaby.

Music is my life’s chief creative outlet, but education has been my primary professional focus. Reflecting on my life as an educator during our travels, I’ve become increasingly interested in helping men prepare for fatherhood. The birth of our two sons—and the ways I grew as a person through my years as a parent—stand out as the most defining experiences of my entire life. I want to help other fathers (and fathers-to-be) negotiate the passage to parenthood that has meant so much to me.

“Dad’s Got The HUG” is the rubric under which I’ve begun to collect and present ideas about fathering. Recently I’ve been teaching a piece of The HUG’s all-day trainings, highlighting the role of fathers.

Reviewing fatherhood research as we travel, I’ve discovered some great resources and programs in the English-speaking world. In America, the National Fatherhood Initiative is one.

Among the many books I’ve seen, one of the best is The Baby Owner’s Manual. Written by father-and-son team, Dr. Louis Borgenicht and Joe Borgenicht, it elaborates a humorous comparison between babies and cars. Another good book, practical in a different sort of way, is The Fathers-To-Be Handbook by Patrick Houser, an American living in the UK. Pat cites interesting research showing that simply giving future fathers time to reflect on what kind of dad they want to be increases both their satisfaction with fatherhood and their skills as parents.

In Australia I’ve gotten good ideas from Lucy Perry’s entertaining “Beer + Bubs” program. Lucy’s model has midwives meet in a pub with small groups of men who are getting ready to become dads. Her book, Cheers to Childbirth (available through the Beer + Bubs website) is another excellent resource. It was a pleasure to interview Ron Hastie, the male midwife who teaches the Beer + Bubs sessions in Hobart, Tasmania. Ron worked for years as a brick mason and a bartender before becoming a “delivery man” for babies later in his adult life.

In addition to “Beer + Bubs,” other outstanding Australian programs for fathers include Ngala, the Fathering Project based at the University of Western Australia, and the University of Newcastle’s Family Action Centre.  CLICK HERE for the Engaging Fathers report recently commissioned by the government of South Australia.

Dawson and Sharon Cooke’s FamilyWorks in Perth, Australia, is an excellent model of how to apply research on fathering in hands-on sessions with parents.

Jan has a very funny photo of her mentor, Dr. T. Berry Brazelton, holding up a bumper sticker that says, “Men who change diapers change the world.” If I can play a small part in changing the world—one dad, one green or yellow or brown poop at a time—I’m hoping to find, in years to come, a meaningful way to “rewire” (rather than “retire”) my skills as an educator.

England Encore: Home to our Home Away from Home

For most of our four decades together Jan and I have lived in Durham, Wake, or Orange County. However, in 1995-96 we relocated our family from North Carolina to the North Somerset village of Winscombe, near Bristol, England (a city where I spent a “junior year abroad” in 1969-70). Jon and David attended Sidcot School, founded by Friends in 1699, as all four of came to love this part of the world being part of the Sidcot community. Three or four times in the intervening years Jan and I returned to reconnect with British culture and to maintain friendships here. Winscombe is indeed our second home.

That’s why we chose to make it the last stop on our year of travel (although, as it happens, a HUG Your Baby engagement will take us to Amsterdam before we fly back to RDU). We even stayed in Beech Cottage, at "Uplands Cottages," the very place we had called our home nineteen years before!

Winscombe was a particularly fortunate choice because the English summer, which can be unpredictably chilly and rainy, turned out to be exceptionally mild and sunny this year. The hills, woodlands, pastures, buildings and gardens have looked their absolute best for us, lending a backdrop of loveliness to all we’ve done. As I write we are in a “heat wave” here, with temperatures climbing all the way to 82 degrees Fahrenheit. Our British friends are sweltering!

Even more than the pleasant setting and climate, we have enjoyed seeing Quaker friends and teacher friends, musician friends and academic friends, older friends and newer friends. We arrived in time to see the school year end at Sidcot, to take part in Winscombe’s annual summer festival, and to watch the village cricket team—all things we had never done before. Thanks to the generosity of Ruth and Denis Wright, we also got to visit Cornwall and to stay at their lovely Victorian home in Bristol.

It was especially precious for us to share the world of Winscombe with family and friends from home. We celebrated the wedding of sister Nancy and her partner, Kathryn. They were on a honeymoon trip to Europe, and we loved welcoming them to Beech Cottage, just as they had welcomed us to their home in Oakland in the spring. With them we cautiously drove (on narrow, curving lanes, where signs caution, “Oncoming traffic in middle of road”) to Stonehenge and Avebury, to Bath and Wells, and into Bristol to see Ruth and Denis and our mutual friend, the remarkable Dr. Hebe Welbourn (who has been a friend and mentor all my adult life).

Then we got to visit with Dave Smith and Susan Strozier, great friends from North Carolina. The four of us enjoyed the relaxed pace of life that country living affords—especially when others do the upkeep! Together we took walks, cooked dinners, made music, played tennis, watched the World Cup, and opened ourselves to the sacred beauty of Tintern Abbey and Wells Cathedral.

An unexpected highlight of our Winscombe visit occurred while walking out one evening to call on the donkeys of Uplands Cottages. I took along my borrowed alto saxophone, to see if it might entertain the long-eared neighbors. As I played, the donkeys responded. At first they brayed and approached with curiosity. Then, much to everyone's surprise, they exhibited full-on mating behavior. No doubt, this was the greatest extent to which my music has ever moved an audience!

What a joy to find the unexpected in the familiar, or to share the fond familiar with those experiencing it for the first time! Such happiness is a reward of enjoying a long life, of investing in loving relationships, and of daring to “live adventurously” (the motto of Sidcot School)!

Italy: Masterpieces of Western Art

One hardship Italy faces is the responsibility of maintaining its long and distinguished history. Remnants of the ancient world are everywhere at hand in Italy, and preserving it all requires tremendous financial commitment. It is hard to widen a road or construct a new building anywhere in Italy without digging up an Etruscan tomb or a Roman villa. One evening in Riva del Garda Jan and I went to an outdoor dance, held on top of an underground car park. We were surprised to notice that one corner of the parking area was an active archaeological site. A Roman bath had been unearthed there!

Because there is so much of it to see, entire lifetimes have been devoted to absorbing the Italian heritage. Contemporary Italians remain justifiably proud of their past. In lovely Cremona we met an older man on a bicycle who insisted on taking us to his favorite churches. He spoke no English and spent nearly two hours with us, but refused to accept any money. The man simply wanted to share the beauty of his city.

Jan and I have been to Italy several times, but there is always so much more to take in. On this trip we went to Milano, Ferrara, and Padova (Padua), among other places, for the first time—and to Florence for the third or fourth time. In future trips we look forward to revisiting all these cities, and to seeing places like Ravenna, Sorrento, Lake Como, and the Italian Riviera, which we still have yet to visit.

Our initial reason for going to Milan was to see Leonardo’s “Last Supper.” We stayed longer than we had planned because Jan had HUG Your Baby work to do and we found a very comfortable, serviceable, and affordable accommodation there. But we also came to love the city and discovered it was easy to get around on foot and by Travel Scoot.

The Milan Cathedral is truly a remarkable place, one of the oldest and largest buildings in Christendom. Personally I prefer the quiet of a small sanctuary, but this Duomo is literally breathtaking, not only in its size and scope but also in the exquisite execution and completion of all its beautiful details, from magnificent marble and stained glass windows to soaring spires and stirring bells.

We placed our visit to “The Last Supper” (“L’Ultima Cena”) in the hands of professional art educators. They walked us over to it, commenting and answering questions from the group as we followed them along the old Roman road. But before that, they offered an excellent PowerPoint lecture telling the story of the painting, from Leonardo’s decision to try an experimental (and ultimately flawed) technique to how the fresco was very nearly destroyed by Allied bombs during World War II. Especially addressing us kinesthetic learners, they had their students assume the poses of the figures in the painting—and they even provided appropriate drapery. Are you surprised that Jan found herself in the role of Jesus? I played doubting Thomas, disbelieving the statement Jesus had just made: that one of his disciples would betray him.

As much as we admired this largest of Leonardo’s masterpieces, which he applied to the wall of a monastery’s dining hall from 1495-1498, we were even more captivated by Giotto’s magnificent frescoes in Padova’s Scrovegni Chapel, which he completed during the first decade of the 1300s. These magnificent frescoes have been lovingly preserved for 700 years.

They cover all the walls as well as the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the chapel, and they tell the story of the Virgin Mary and her role in human salvation. We were touched by the humanity of Giotto’s figures, amazed by the way he even painted faux marble pillars and frames to separate the panels of his story, and stunned to learn that he himself was probably the building’s architect.

We also loved the beautifully maintained medieval streets in this old university town (Galileo lectured here!) and followed them down to the marvelous “Il Santo” basilica.

Humbled by our exposure to so much beauty in Milan and Padova, Jan and I decided to revisit Florence. She especially wanted to see Michaelangelo’s “David” again. We discovered that it was a real deal to be disabled in Florence. Not only did we both get into all the museums free, there was never any waiting. We shot right up to the front of the line, where the crowd-control tapes were lifted for us to enter! Another choice we are glad we made in Florence (though its thick walls hampered our Internet access) was to stay in a converted Renaissance church. For ten days we lived in a building older than “America” itself.

Looking for affordable things to do for fun in Florence, I noticed that an American art historian would be speaking—and reading from his new book about the David—at an international bookstore one afternoon. We liked Victor Coonin’s talk, and Jan bought his book, which turned out to be an exceptionally well-informed and well-written account of its subject. Knowing more about the process of the sculpture’s creation, and the long story of its life, made our return visit to David even more meaningful. While Jan lingered under David’s dome, I made time to visit the Academia’s marvelous collection of musical instruments. Wow!

Italy is a thoroughly pleasant, friendly, and inspiring place to visit. Though Italian history contains more than its share of misery, the majesty of human achievement, and the longing of the spirit to surpass itself, outshine the darkness of the past to inspire the best in us today. That's why we came to Italy, and why we hope to return!

Italy: Deutschnofen, My Dad's Kind of Town

My dad gave me many gifts: a secure childhood, a fondness for music and encouragement to play it, a sense of responsibility to family and community, appreciation for sports and the outdoors, a do-it-yourself mindset, a love of learning, and an excellent education. He also gave me the desire to travel.

As a chemical engineer working in market research and then sales, Bob Henderson (1923-2008) used to travel quite a bit for the petroleum companies that employed him. Mostly he went to Europe and South America, sometimes for as long as several weeks at a stretch. Soon after getting back from such a trip, he would set up his slide projector and screen in the living room and entertain the family with photos he had taken. I especially remember ones of him and his Czech colleague, Rudi Novatni, travelling through the Alps in a red Mercedes two-seater (probably a 300sl).

When my dad got ready to retire, he seriously considered moving to Switzerland. Of course, I am glad he did NOT make that move because he and my mom chose instead to come to Chapel Hill, which permitted them to participate in the upbringing of Jonathan and David—an arrangement that greatly benefited all concerned. Nevertheless, I inherited from my father a fondness for travel—for the Alps, in particular, and for the Tyrolean village culture that has been fostered there through the centuries.

After spending a couple of weeks in Sud-Tirol, the largely German-speaking part of northern Italy, I can better see what appealed to my dad about this part of the world. Bob Henderson was a person who appreciated hard work, well-maintained properties, carefully groomed gardens and well-tended farms, impeccable examples of civil engineering, tidy and quiet towns, cool air, wide vistas, small churches, and good music (particularly of the choral and brass band sorts).

Deutscnofen is all that, and my dad would have loved it. I must say that Jan and I deeply enjoyed being here too, although more fluency with German would have helped us. Jan needed a quiet place to work on a couple of HUG Your Baby research and writing projects, and Deutschnofen perfectly answered that need (except when the Vodafone network occasionally failed to provide the computer access we rely on!).

Jan found the peace and quiet she needed, and I found plenty to explore. We both enjoyed splendid and constantly changing views of the Dolomites, super-fresh air, great picnic spots, lots of excellent music, and the relaxed pace of village life—all, for the most part, accessible both by foot and by TravelScoot.

The quality of the music we heard was astonishingly high. We attended an excellent end-of-year concert at the village middle school, featuring one piece, in turn, from the brass group, the strings group, the guitar ensemble, the saxophone quartet, a flute group, a couple of solo pianists, and two amazing button accordion players (one of whom stole the show, in my opinion). Elsewhere we heard a couple of very good community brass bands (in Alpine costume!), some pop bands at a music festival playing well rehearsed covers of Steve Miller Band and Stones tunes, and a trio of mature performers (not unlike The Sound Connection, with their sequenced drum tracks) who amazed me with their harmonized yodeling.

The most remarkable performance I attended, though, was in the village church (Roman Catholic) on Pentecost Sunday. A special performance had been prepared, featuring the regular choir in the rear loft with the organ, plus a men’s choir down front. I was astonished, first of all, by the number of people (of all ages) in attendance. It seemed like the whole village was there. Churchgoing has clearly not gone out of fashion in Deutschnofen!

When the music began, the volume was breathtaking. The organ was full on, and the members of both choirs matched its intensity. There was no mumbling of lyrics; all the singers’ eyes were on the conductors, and the conductors’ eyes were on the organist. This music was performed with both joy and precision. The antiphonal call and response between the choirs was superb, and their use of dynamics was powerful.

At the end of the mass, the organist played a remarkable postlude, and all the volunteer choir members stuck around to listen to its conclusion. The organist began with a brash sixteenth-note figure in his right hand (which he maintained throughout every bar of the song). His left hand played a repeating chord pattern (two eighth notes, followed by a quarter rest), while his feet carried the melody. The piece developed and modulated, and never let up until it reached a majestic conclusion. What a righteous, uplifting performance! It brought tears to some eyes, including mine.

My dad would have been just as moved. I imagined him standing next to me, smiling with the wonder of a full spirit, glad to be in his idea of heaven.