Archive for the 'Mags' Category

Yikes, you mean I still have a blog?

March 8, 2013

OK.  Really, I’ve known this thing was still out there and that I’ve been pretending it doesn’t matter.

My son, who worked for Many Hats Creative briefly a few years ago told me (as many people do who provide unsolicited advice on how to market using a blog) that never posting on your blog is worse than not having one because people think, “Well, that guy doesn’t care!”

It’s not true–I do care . . . both about my business (a lot) and this blog (a little), so I’ll try to catch up . . .

So this is supposed to be an eclectic collection of thoughts about all of the “hats” of Many Hats Creative (the business) and me (Magsy’s grandpa and the wearer of “Many Hats”).

Since my last post, Magsy has added 4 or so years . . . she’s now a nine-year-old, third-grader, in New York (Street) School–Langdon Hughes’ alma mater, and the highest rated elementary school in Lawrence, Kansas.  She’s an amazing person (my favorite person ever), with a totally nutty personality.  Instead of trying to describe the indescribable, I’ll just relate my favorite memories of her over her lifetime . . .

When Mags was just a tiny baby, she had a really hard time relaxing and going to sleep (she lived at our house with her mother for her first year, then with her parents in Stouffer Place married student housing on the KU Campus) until her parents figured out that she’d go right to sleep when they play music for her . . . specifically Miles Davis.  How many tiny tots do you know that listen to Miles Davis?

Over the past couple of years she’s taught herself to roller skate by constantly wearing skates in the house when she’s at her grandparents (our) house.  We recently walked down to the local skate park and she impressed all the skater boys with her abilities (which she didn’t even know she had).  The neighbor boy rolled up to me and asked, “Are you . . . ?”  (Uh-huh.) “Is that?”  (Yes.) “Oh. Wow.” (Skates away.)Created by Readiris, Copyright IRIS 2009

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Magsy Defines Unconditional Love

December 13, 2008

On the odd weekday when her Mom sets up an afternoon appointment, I get drafted to pick up Magsy from preschool.

The routine usually includes wandering in and getting glared at suspiciously by the lady at the front desk even though I’ve picked up Mags 100 times  (I learned a long time ago to ignore ladies at front desks and just walk by like you work there and know exactly where you’re going), making a b-line to Magsy’s room, saying “Hi” to the other kids, who always notice me first and collectively announce, “Hey, Marguerite! Your Grandpa (or “Dad”) is here!”  then I usually hang out and do whatever  they’re doing (sit in the reading circle or sing or dance or listen to music) for a bit until Mags notices me and smiles. then we gather whatever take-home stuff (school notes, art/craft work, soiled clothes, etc.), change from slippers to street shoes, get goodbye hugs, then sign out and yell “goodbye!”  to everyone on the way to the car.  The same lady I ignore on the way in usually smiles says a cheery “goodnight, Marguerite” on the way out.

A few weeks ago, Mags’ take home stuff included this colored page . . . 

 

"That spells 'turkey.'"

"That spells 'turkey.'"

She held it up for me to see and said, “I made this for you.”  Then, pointing at the letters at the top, explained, ” That says, ‘Turkey.'”

After a little pause, I said, “Wow! Thank you, Magsy.  It looks great–I really like the colors you used!”

Then, later, after we drove home, I posted the picture on my fridge along with all the other bits of Magsy-art.

 

I realized just today, that that little incident probably defines the notion of “unconditional love” better than anything else I’ve experienced. 

Thanks, Magsy!

About Mags . . .

July 21, 2008
All About Mags

All About Mags

So, that’s Mags, flying over a WPA lake near Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  We’re actually showing up early for her ballet class on picture day, so while we we’re spinning, the photographer snapped a couple of pix . . . my overactive imagination thought, “Hey, wouldn’t it look cool if she was flying in for a landing over a lake or something?”  Then I rememebered the pictures of the sky over the lake . . . perfect!

 . . . and our relationship is just like that.  She flies right into the middle of whatever’s going on and takes my hand.  “Swing me!”  ;~}