The First Race

Felix, post-race

As a former triple-varsity athlete and life-long sports enthusiast I've waited these past 15 years with bated breath for Felix to get into high school, where serious competition can finally begin. What trophies will he win for us, what medals? How many playoffs will I get to see my son star in? Might he go on to play intercollegiate, or even earn a full ride based on his physical prowess, just as I did? Nothing could make me more proud than to raise the next in a long line of champions.

Not a word of the previous paragraph is true, of course: I didn't play sports in high school other than the requisite time in gym class, and I gave up my single foray into college athletics shortly after discovering that sculling gives you blisters. I don't watch sports on TV and have been a reluctant spectator for the handful of live games I've seen my kids play in. Indeed, the desire to avoid long hours watching boring contests was the primary reason I've encouraged Felix to take up mountain biking: if he's in the mountains, what's there to watch?

Turns out, a lot.

Waiting for the race to begin

We're just back from the season's first NorCal MTB race event. Rather than driving to a field somewhere in Marin, sitting in a not uncomfortable camp chair, and then driving home, neither knowing nor caring who won, I just drove 3 hours each way to stand next to a dusty track for a glimpse of Felix...

First lap...

... and then, another thirty minutes later, to see him powering past his nearest competitors in a thrilling end to his first race...

You may not be surprised, but I certainly was, to find myself brimming with overwhelming pride. My boy, what a champ!

The rest of the experience was wonderful too, camping next to the beautiful (if drought-striken) Lake McClure...

 Volunteering as part of the crew feeding the team and launching the racers.

The golden child in base camp

And did I mention the endless almond orchards in bloom on the way there and back?

If this is high school sports, I'm a fan.

Pandemic planning-years in

Here comes Omicron

It is two years since COVID made its first known appearance in China, and something less than that since it showed up in Marin (March, 2020). As the graphic, above, suggests, it's been a bumpy ride, but more of a merry-go-round than a roller coaster in that we seem to be going in circles. Whatever the ride, the question we're all asking is When can I get off?

Like most, our goal as a family has been to avoid getting the disease. We have erred on the side of caution in what we choose to do and how (masked) we choose to do it. We have also tried faithfully to follow the advice, or commands, of our health officials, and certainly their recommendations vis a vis vaccines. In some respects, we have gone beyond what they required, adopting N95s early and participating in the reopened economy to only a very limited extent. This seemed safer, and has also helped us feel we were doing our part to slow the disease and avoid crushing the health care system.

But the virus is not the only thing that has evolved these past two years. Thanks to vaccinations, we are no longer immune-naive potential victims, so COVID isn't likely to make any of us terribly ill, and is almost certainly not going to kill us. It may linger--"long COVID"--but what are the chances of that happening, and how do they compare to, say, the chance of getting Lyme Disease or a life-changing injury from a car accident or other threats with which we have learned to live? Personally, we feel safe enough.

As for our social responsibilities, the vulnerable population, though still sizable here in the US, is much safer than they were, even if unable (or unwilling) to get the vaccine: ERs know how to handle this disease, anti-viral treatments now exist, and PPE is no longer in such short supply nor terribly expensive (in case you haven't heard, N95 masks can be aired out and reused for hundreds of hours). As for small children, COVID appears to pose little threat to them. Finally, where we live (though not necessarily where you do), the health system is far from being overwhelmed, and even has capacity for routine and non-mandatory treatments. We know a local ER doc. He is not stressed out.

So if we're not avoiding COVID for ourselves, for others who might get sick, or to avoid breaking the health care system, why are we still avoiding it? More precisely, why are we desperately more invested in avoiding it than we are in avoiding the annual flu (the shot for which I still haven't gotten around to getting this year)? To be clear, I don't want either disease, but I don't forswear my friends and favorite businesses because of the flu.

This puts things in a different light. We won't be changing our COVID rules much--eating in a restaurant still feels kind of gross, and if you're going to wear a mask it might as well be one that works--but we're definitely relaxing somewhat. I wouldn't say this wild ride has become fun, but at least it's less fearsome.

The Family Christmas Letter, 2021

Family, without masks

OK, OK, you can stop hitting that refresh key, it's late but it's here, the Family Christmas Letter, wherein, drawing a complete blank on the supposed highlights of the past year, we share a few things that happened in the last 72 hours and fill the rest of the space with tips on where to buy N95 masks. And this time "we" mean we, for the Letter, once the work of a single pen, is now edited, or at least criticized, by almost every member of the family, except...

QUBIT:

BFFs

Qubit is nearly two we guess, which, in dog years, puts her right into quberty. Some of the typical teenage characteristics--destroying bathroom fixtures, sass mouth, biting the hand that feeds her--she completely fails to display, but, like teens everywhere, she is obsessed with social networking, in particular the urine-based "Peebook," to which she contributes 10-20 times per day, depending on how many walks she gets. Also, like her peers, Qubit sleeps most of the time, waking only at the sound of the refrigerator opening. Asleep or awake, she expects some skritches and will paw that phone right out of your hand if she thinks they're due.

TALIA:

Where in the world is Talia Sandiego?

2021 was a year of didn'ts for Talia, some of them quite exotic. Talia didn't get to sleep with the dog (much), Talia didn't go to Bali, and Talia didn't contribute to this Letter until very pointedly asked. Still, the year was not without its achievements, most important--for her and for millions of please-don't-make-us-get-back-on-Zoom-again students--guiding K-12 schools through the ins and outs (of your nose--ha!) of mass testing programs: unlike most of us, who would rather just forget the whole pandemic, Talia has made a profession of it. When not "at" work, you'll find Talia wearing really, really decrepit headgear [not shown] and smoking turkeys.

FELIX:

Classic Felix: on a bike, wondering why his backpack is so light

2021 brought many firsts for our first-born, not all of which became seconds. Felix started high school (that, so far, seems to be sticking) where he discovered some new activities--water polo, speed typing, condom certification--all of which he took up and as quickly laid down again. Likewise snowboarding, which he now says he can "do" and surely never again will. But the year's not quite done yet, so maybe in these last hours he'll follow through on his proposed formation of a killer trivia team (to be called the Neil deGrasse Feynmans), or perhaps the New York Times will decide to publish his oddly mesmerizing audio capture of a day-in-the-life of a high school student after all. Felix has learned to make himself tuna fish when he is hungry, but was recently caught wearing his pajamas under his jeans: on these grounds we judge him nearly, but not quite, ready to go away to college.

GIDEON:

Self portrait

Like his brother, upon whose shadow he often pointedly stomps, Gideon has moved up to a new school. Aside from somewhat more complicated lunchtime dynamics, the transition posed few challenges, and Gid even won the Halloween costume contest in the "most scary" category: a tax collector, he handed the judges a notice of audit. Music is a big thing at his new school, and we were surprised to discover at the end-of-year concert that our boy keeps rhythm with his left foot but blows the trumpet with his right one. As an extracurricular activity Gideon is perfecting his impression of Richard Nixon, undeniable evidence of overexposure to television (contrary to any claims you might later hear about limited screen time).

 ALEC:

Your first clue that this section has a guest editor

This year Alec (as per usual) worked his @$$ off planning for a remodel on the house, got a new job as an ethics enforcer for Autodesk, and didn’t give his children the right amount of screen time they wanted. Point being he’s had a great year but could have done better. Whether glued to a screen for hours on end (unlike his children) or forcing his kids to walk the dog, you know you can rely on Alec to do it. Still as fit as a bass drum he will be delighting his blog viewers for years to come. Speaking of viewers his new movie, The Automat, recently came out BUT I (Gideon “the guest editor” Shuldiner) HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO WATCH IT, as well as “his” 3d printed bridge which was also recently installed BUT I HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO WALK ON IT. Also he uses commas when he texts.

Well there's the family, and wasn't it tricky figuring out who contributed what? But wait, it's not over, because we still want to tell you about our...

VACATIONS: 

Here we are at the slideshow part of our year in review in which we share photos of our enviable vacations. Except this year our vacations were mostly restricted to California and even then, like as not, were derailed by burning forests, so not always as enviable as one might hope. Still, almost all of the photos are of me, Alec "the main editor" Shuldiner, and many of them are in focus, so hit your mute button (the soundtrack is even worse than usual) and play the reel:

And so we come to the close of another Christmas Letter, your annual reminder that wit isn't humor and this isn't either. Despite it all, we look forward to 2022 with optimism in most things, and with a shared determination that this year we really will clean the fish tank. Happy New Year, all!

Day 6000

A thousand days older, none the wiser

 

To those who were able to celebrate Day 6000 with us in person: thank you for the many lovely flowers and delicious desserts, and thanks especially for working your way through the six domestic sparkling white wines we insisted you taste test. Whether you sipped or not, here's a copy of the data:

 

 

You can crunch your own numbers or simply accept these insights:

• The highest scoring bottle was the Gruet Cuvee 89 which, it turns out, is from New Mexico. J Vineyards 20 was a close second and comes from hereabouts. However, since the Gruet costs about half as much (and is on $.05 sales at BevMo), I think we all know what we'll be using to wash away 2021.
  
• Domain Carneros, Roedere, and Gloria Ferrer were all roundly disliked. Schramsberg too, except I liked it. No accounting for (your) taste.
  
• Couples--Ethan and Flo, Dan and Alyson, Quentin and Samya, and, of course, you and me, T--tend to share tastes, or at least pretend to, or perhaps only one person in each couple recorded the scores.
  
• The only thing anyone liked more than Veuve was Bela's persimmon tart.
  

We'll see you for 7000. In the meanwhile, if you miss us, or each other, a few more photos...

 

 

 

 

Telluride and beyond

Tickets to see myself on the silver screen

My appearing on screen at the Telluride Film Festival was a thrill for me and the wife both, but nothing to compare with having our first ever extended vacation sans kids. Some by air (SFO-->Denver-->Montrose...ABQ-->SFO) but mostly by car we saw Telluride, Durango, Pagosa Springs, Abiquiu, Santa Fe, Los Alamos, Albuquerque, and a few more lovely places in between. Lots of mask wearing and self-testing to deal with the increased threat of COVID. Even safer, you can see it all for yourself here:

Much of this was new to me (and all of it to T), but Santa Fe and St. John's seemed little changed from when I saw them last in 1988. It won't be as long before we go again. And no, I still don't know when the Automat movie will be in theaters or available to stream. Join the Automat newsletter and you'll know at least as soon as I.