Bragging About My Niece

I have a large family. I am one of seven siblings. Each of us is married with at least two kids. I have nieces and nephews ranging in age from their 30s to their halcyon pre-school days.

I like to brag about them almost as much as I like to brag about Colleen and Christina. You may remember my posts about my nephew Nick and his appearance in the movie Rent.

Today, my sister-in-law Jane sent a link to an article on the web site of Walt Whitman High School about the freshman members of Whitman's swimming team, including our niece Jenna.

The story (Talented freshmen swimmers bring promise to team) starts with a fanciful retelling of the day when a very young Jenna came face to face with destiny:

When six year-old Jenna Mahaffie saw the Merrimack Swim Team after practice, holding their bathing caps and goggles as water dripped off their bodies onto the pavement, she felt an instant connection. What began as a playful visit to the pool turned into something more for Mahaffie, as she decided then and there to join the swim team, marking the beginning of her competitive swimming career.

To her credit, Jenna calls this "exaggerated" and laughs at it. Good for her.

The story goes on to discuss how Jenna is part of a contingent of young swimmers adding strength to Whitman's swim team. She's rather a good swimmer.

It was something of a trip down memory lane for me to read this. I graduated from Whitman in 1980, a few years after Jenna's Dad, my brother Jim. And I swam at Merrimack as a kid. I even attended a few swim team practices there, though that clearly wasn't my sport. (I wonder what was?)

I occurred to me, as well, that Jenna reminds me of a swimmer I knew when I was at Whitman. Shelley was a swimmer and lived next door to a surfer we knew named Murray. One of the guys in my band, the Ramblin' Beach Guys, had kind of a crush on Shelley, so we wrote a doo-wop song called "I'm in Love with Murray's Neighbor."

It was our only sort-of hit. Not that we ever recorded it, or that it was ever heard very widely.

So now, there's Jenna; another Mahaffie wandering the halls of Walt Whitman High.

The Curve of Your Laugh

Driving the girls to dance this evening, I was half listening to an interview on the World Café. A performer started a gentle, acoustic love song with a phrase that sounded, to my partial ear, like "the curve of your laugh."

That can't be the actual lyric, but I think it paints a great sound. It made me think of Karen's sometimes out of control laughter when something catches her just right.

Years ago, my youngest brother Bob and his fiancée, also a Karen, brought home a new family member: a black lab puppy named Sasha. She was a pedigreed dog, a new thing for Karen and me; we're used to mutt cats and mixed breed dogs.

We eagerly read through Sasha's papers, tracing her line back until we reached a forebear named "Quiver of the River."

That's minor silliness, but it started Karen's laugh, an open, joyous, eyes shut, head thrown back giggle-laugh that lasts until the air runs out, then pauses, almost in disbelief, re-gathers itself, and takes off again.

That laugh has lasted for years, as Sasha grew from a gangly young pup, through her frolicking prime, and into a white-muzzled canine crone. All I had to do was say "Quiver of the River" and the laugh would pick up where it left off.

Now, though Sasha is gone, the laugh remains. It can be triggered by the many wonderful and silly things our girls do, or by comic improv (God bless Ryan Stiles), or by a chance gift of goofiness from the cosmos.

And it still has that lovely curve.

A Family Affair

This weekend, Karen, Colleen, Christina and I performed together in the Sussex Ballet's production of The Nutcracker.

Well. Colleen and Christina performed. Karen and I helped fill-out the party scene that starts the ballet.

Karen played the part of a lovely lady party-guest. In Green.

I played the part of the old guy who appears to be the man of the house where the party takes place, but who doesn't really dance all that well.

It was cool to be on-stage again. I used to do lots of community theater back before we had children. I enjoy it.

This was particularly fun. I was playing a very small part, with no pressure.

And I had the opportunity, at least for the first scene, to watch my girls dance from on-stage next to them.

In Which We Find Our Christmas Tree up on a Small Hill Way at the Back of the Christmas Tree Farm

We went out to Sposato's Tree Farm last Saturday to look for our Christmas Tree. It took a while. We all have a slightly different vision of what our tree should be.

We found trees with Grasshoppers living in them. We found trees with crooked trunks. Some were to small. some were too big. Some had bald spots. Some were uneven.One was host to a Praying Mantis.

Eventually, we made our way out to the back of the tree farm, up a slight hill. From there, we could see the whole place.

And there we found our tree.

"He was clearly exploited by somebody," she said. "We just don't know who."

There's an update in today's Washington Post column The Reliable Source about my nephew Nick. (Registration probably required, and you'll have to scroll down a bit.)

Nick was written up in the December 1 Reliable Source column after his brother and several other sharp-eyed movie-goers spotted him in the movie version of the musical "Rent."

He'd been filmed while playing his melodica on the street in New York City. The camera-folk claimed to be making a student film and gave him only a few bucks for his trouble.

They may have been only making a student film, but the footage found its way into "Rent" and the story made its way into the Washington Post.

That led to some results:

Several outraged actors who read our story contacted the Screen Actors Guild, which called the film's producers at Sony Pictures. "They were terrific," said Jane Love , assistant executive director for SAG's Washington area branch. Though it was unclear whether Church was entitled to compensation, Sony settled the matter immediately. A check to him for $122, the day rate for a bit player, is in the mail, she said.

I have to wonder where they'll send the check; Nick is intentionally living a nomadic life right now.

A Look Back at Family History

I'll give some credit this evening to Microsoft and the beta version of their new MSN Search. Though it looks for all the world like an imitation of Google, it did turn up something of great interest to me when I tried the obligatory vanity search on "Mahaffie." The regular search returned the usual plethora of Mahaffie House and Stagecoach Shop hits, so I tried an Image Search on "Mahaffie."

The search returns gave top ranking to a JPEG copy of an old (and unfortunately undated, but likely from 1958) newspaper obituary of Ella Mahaffie, my great-great-aunt (I think). To be fair, this image also turned up in a Google image search, but lower down the page.

The obituary features this photo of the Mahaffie House in Olathe, Kansas, apparently taken before the house became a managed historic site.


I was already, of course, aware of the Mahaffie House and of its status as public property in Olathe. I had also heard mention in the family of "Aunt Ella". I'm not sure I'd seen this clipping, however -- at least not as an adult -- and it has been a pleasure to read through it.

Ella Mae Mahaffie was born in 1869, on the Mahaffie farm at Olathe, one of eight children of J.B. and Lucinda Mahaffie. She apparently grew to be a well-rounded woman and served as an educator all of her professional life. She taught in a "country" school in the last part of the 19th century (one-room schoolhouse?), she taught 3rd and 7th grades in the public schools and served from 1913 until her retirement in 1939 as principal of Park Elementary School, in Kansas City. She also served on the Kansas State Board of Education.

The obituary mentions no college degrees, but notes that Ella Mahaffie continued studying at various universities throughout her career and traveled extensively in the US and Canada and somewhat in Europe as well.

One of Ella's brothers left the farm and took his family, including Charles D. Mahaffie (my grandfather), to Oklahoma. Charles grew up in Oklahoma, studied there and in England and became a lawyer out west. He came to Washington DC for a government job in the early part of the 20th century and eventually gave the world a son, Charles Jr., my Dad. I'm damn glad he did too!

The clipping is part of an on-line collection, History of the Public Schools of Wyandotte County, Kansas - 160 Years Enriching the Minds of Children. There's plenty of good stuff in there, including a set of images of Park School that includes the Plot Plan of the school. Note the careful separate of the girl's and boy's out-houses.