princess nola grows up

this is rather long, but i am such a proud mommy love artist . .

the lovely princess nola will be graduating next week from high school & this week i had the honor of hearing her address her whole school in her "chapel" which is  a breathtaking ritual that they have at concord academy, where each senior gives gratitude to everything that makes them who they are . .


(excerpts)

"I am Glatz # three, the weakest link.  Sometimes Glatz #1 lets me sit the front seat, but only with the clear understanding that the backseat is the better option.  Glatz # 2 is driving us through California or New Mexico or Arizona or maybe Alabama and I am staring at the map, calculating the time until our next destination.

There is something meditative, exciting, and frustrating about a road trip.  We grow to feel that four hours of driving is a short stint, and get used to arriving to people’s houses after dark, and often saying good bye the next morning.  Our plan to send thank you notes from our next destination deteriorates.  Our car breaks down three times.  It is hard to tell if we are happily content listening to music or if we are in the middle of the silent feud, fueled by glances in the rear view mirror and audible sighs.

With my sisters, it doesn’t matter, because we know there will never be a fight big or significant enough to be the final straw.  My friends used to be frustrated with the amount I talked about my sisters, commenting that we are abnormally close, the three of us sharing a room voluntarily every summer.  And although the ten days driving across country was certainly tight quarters, I’d rather be with you guys than anyone else.  Even when I don’t call.  Or return texts.  Mara, Jules, thank you for being so constant.  Every time I say good bye to someone, or something, I know I’ll return home to you . . . .

. . .This year, right now, I know that it is time to say goodbye to concord.  And I am good at saying goodbye.

Earlier than my earliest memory, my parents got divorced, and I began a skill I have since perfected kind of; packing.  Every Friday of my childhood, I cleaned my room and packed my bag for a weekend at my dad’s house.  My dad would drive up in his Econoline van, and we would go to the A&P together, picking up Pillsbury Biscuits, eggs, and several cartons of orange juice.  I remember sitting in the front seat of the car, probably because my sisters were off roaming the town with their friends for the night, a hobby that never particularly interested me.

If it really does take a village to raise a child, I am extremely grateful for all my parents’ relationships; the various men and women who became temporary members of our tight knit family and helped raise me.  I never chose when to say goodbye to them, and they remain honorary members of my family . . .

. . . . Saying hello, saying goodbye, saying welcome back, watching the ebb and flow of my parents’ relationships has left me with no model of lifelong love.  I can’t imagine that being married to one person for my whole life could be better than marrying someone for twelve years, having kids, and then parting ways to continue life.  I don’t know if this is a flaw or a gift . . .

. . . Saying goodbye makes me appreciate every little thing . . .

. . . Hudson has my middle school years and my closest memories with my mom.  For three years while both of my sisters were at boarding school, my mother and I lived as bachelorettes in a beautiful apartment in Hudson, New York, staying up late to watch TV, waking up too late to catch the school bus, going to dinner parties, and living in double rooms with walk-in closets.

And then we lived at my mom’s friend Carla’s house, which kind of sucked, but it was kind of awesome, because we got to be the bad teenagers who were constantly being disciplined for not using coasters and for watching too much TV.

Thank you mom, for watching six feet under and the sopranos with me and not letting me watch the one where the guy’s head gets cut off and they find out he was wearing a wig.  And for comforting me when Adrianna died.  And for making me the hermit I am.

I am lucky to have a love artist for a mom because everyday is a true love appointment, except when you are writing your blog and can’t really focus.  Like mother like daughter . . . .

. . . Sometimes I get frantic, and think that I don’t have a hometown anymore.  At one point this year, I remember telling someone that Kanye West reminded me of home.  Odd, because I did not grow up in Chicago, nor did I grow up listening to Kanye West, he is not a member of my extended family, and his music isn’t particularly groundbreaking, but listening to his music has become a guilty pleasure for me, like eating dessert before dinner. I don’t know exactly when it became a big joke that I am obsessed with Kanye West, maybe around the same time I became obsessed with him . . .

On a more serious note, I feel I owe it to my friends upon leaving to tell you whether or not I am kidding right now.  At what point am I mocking myself, mocking you, and mocking everyone else?  It is unclear.

People asked me, joking, if I would talk about Kanye today, and I did.  I like to keep people guessing in that regard, which often leads to my closest friends asking repeatedly in frustration if I am REALLY going to dance at my chapel.  Is Jammin 94.5 really my favorite radio station?  Is white chicks really my favorite movie?  Do I really think I am a genius and generally, flyer than the rest of you?

I walk a fine line between sincerity and sarcasm that tends to drive people crazy. Maybe when I grow up and am out hanging with Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson, you will realize that I really am destined for fame and fortune.  I guess what I am trying to say is, sometimes I can’t sort it out either.

To my friends here, thanks for making it all more enjoyable.  You may not be famous, and you may not party like rock stars, but you can make a Saturday night in Concord fun, which is no small feat.  But even all of you day students, who don’t have to make something out of nothing, entertainment wise, aren’t as bad as I say.  Really, I’m going to try to call once and a while.

We are graduating in a week, and I can’t say I am much more excited than I was for my sixth grade graduation, or my eighth grade graduation.  For me, and for most of us in this room, college seems like the inevitable next step.  I never doubted that I would graduate from high school, and I don’t doubt that I will graduate from college.  In my favorite TV show, Run’s House, Jojo gets a really nice car for graduation, and his uncle (who happens to be Russell Simmons) tells him that he doesn’t deserve it.  He says that graduating from high school is a privilege, and he graduating should be present enough from his parents.

I think that is true, and I think it is something most of us could try to remember more, when things need a little perspective . . .

. . . I will miss it here.  This has become some kind of home, and as I pack up, I know that this Concord Academy we are now at is a place and state of mind I will never be able to return to really.  But I do feel ready to leave.

My name is Nola Peregrine Glatzel.  Thank you and you’re welcome."

Comments

[the love artist]

i'm such a goopy mom

i keep reading this over & over again

crying

*sigh*

[valdez the sinner]

I AM SO CRYING RIGHT NOW I CAN HARDLY SEE THIS SCREEN-FOR A LOT OF REASONS-YOU MUST BE SO PROUD-THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS WITH US-I LOOK FORWARD TO MY OWN DAUGHTERS GRADUATION-AND HAVING YOU IN HER LIFE IS A PLUS-LOVE YOU K---VALDEZ -------STILL CRYING!! AND IT FEELS GOOD!!!

[the love artist]

oh, love you down to the cells of you

xxx the hugest hug beautiful man xxx