Burton Tower

After I visited Harkness Tower last year, I decided to see if it was as easy to get a tour of the bell towers at the University of Michigan as it was at Yale.

It was.

"All those years I lived there, and I never went!" I bemoaned to Kevin. So, when I planned a trip back to Michigan, I decided to give it a try. In a moment of boldness, I emailed a carillon professor to ask if I could tour the bell tower while I was in town even though classes were no longer in session. While I was on the airplane, she got back to me, telling me that we couldn't go to the Lurie Tower on North Campus (which I was more familiar with) but that I could knock on her door at 4:45 and she would show me around the other carillon on Burton Tower.

I hadn't told her I had a baby with me and wasn't sure how much favor I had curried to start with, so I left Jacob with my friend Camille and headed up the elevator by myself.

Dr. Ng was warm and enthusiastic as she invited me into her office. At 4:45 she hurried us into a room where we could see the action of the bells chiming. It was like a music box, she explained. A heavy, gigantic music box with grooves to play the right notes at each 15 minute increment.

It's kind of hard to see, but right behind that big wheel at the front there are four smaller wheels with grooves in them to indicate the order in which to play the four chimes (it's different for each 15 minute increment)

This is the system for the big bell that plays on the hour. The pulley is on the left.

We saw a practice carillon, then the real one.

The Charles Baird Carillon.

Although I had been more familiar with Lurie Tower, it was great to visit Burton Tower and learn about the history of its carillon. Dr. Ng and I climbed under a bell that she struck, and I walked around, jumped up, crouched down, stood in the center to hear the overtones, echoes, and even silence.

After we walked back inside to the carillon, Dr Ng. played a lovely, haunting piece by a BYU grad, Margot Murdoch, entitled Tea with Hildegarde. After her performance she invited me to play something. I took a deep breath. Six weeks of proper lessons nine years ago hadn't left me with any technique, and I felt sheepish pounding something out after something so lovely. I stared at the keys, memorizing where my fists would go since the keyboard was a major third off of what I was used to. Then I was ready.

"Come, come ye saints, no toil nor labor fear, but with joy, wend your way," the carillon played. And that was it.

"I . . . that was what was played on the BYU bell tower on the hour instead of Westminster Quarters," I said. Previously, it had seemed so epic to play "Come, Come Ye Saints" on my 4th bell tower (after KU, BYU, and Yale). But now it seemed so . . . inadequate. I racked my brain to see if there was anything else I dared play, and I couldn't think of anything.

"How nice to have representation of BYU here on Michigan campus!" she said tactfully, even though BYU had been adequately represented by her performance of Margot Murdoch's composition right before that. Hopefully there were some Mormons in earshot who could appreciate Come, Come Ye Saints that day.

After signing the guest book, we chatted a bit about favorite carillons in the US and in Europe, and then I headed back down to see Camille and our kids.

There's always a bit of a thrill in being able to broadcast yourself to a wide audience. I've felt it many times as I approach a microphone. I've felt it when I've put on a Facebook Live video. But I think the best, most beautiful way to share your voice widely just might be a carillon.

Ask and ye shall receive

"I can't believe he slept through that landing," other passengers remarked as we all tried to recover from the nausea induced by a windy, bumpy descent.

I smiled at my sleeping baby. There is nothing quite like the phrase "As we begin our final descent" to make the squirmiest baby suddenly relax and take the long-sought nap that has eluded him for an entire plane flight. Luckily, it had been a short flight, and I was sitting next to a kind woman from Canton, Michigan who knew the same parks and cider mills I did. Jacob was equal parts smiley and squirmy until he was sleepy.

As I set Jacob down to take a picture of him and tug my oversized backpack out from under my seat, his eyes flickered and he was awake again. No matter. He would sleep again in the car. Once out of the plane, I retrieved the umbrella stroller, put Jacob in, and walked into the Detroit airport. I was back.

***

My reason for visiting Ann Arbor was simple enough -- I wanted to see the people there. Although several of our friends had already moved, there were still several I wanted to catch before they scattered themselves across the country and world. So when I found cheap airplane tickets I began planning my trip. I decided to only take Jacob -- not only was he free to take, but he also didn't throw tantrums. I was looking forward to the break.

The airport was just how I remembered it -- the sky train, the restaurants, the escalators. The only luggage I had checked was Jacob's car seat, and then I waited outside for my friend Camille to pick me up. As we drove back to Ann Arbor, she and I caught up and talked about upcoming changes in our lives. When we were close to Northwood, I asked if I could stop by Kroger to get something healthy to eat. Travel food is a blur of granola bars and airplane cookies that coat your teeth with sour sweetness, and I was desperate for something else. Once in the checkout line, I recognized the checker. He had always given Joseph lots of Kroger stickers and made faces at Matthew. He looked at me quizzically once or twice, and I wasn't quite brave enough to exclaim, "I'm back in town, and the first place I wanted to stop was Kroger!" I settled for normal politeness, no, I did not have a Kroger card, yes, thanks you have a good day too.

And then we were back in Northwood. It had the same foresty smell as before, same rustic look. I ate my small veggie tray and then did what I had been an expert at on lazy weekday mornings and calm Sunday afternoons. I pulled out a stroller and began to explore.

It felt instantly natural to be walking there, maneuvering the stroller past the sand-covered sidewalks and Cozy Coupe graveyards. On that first walk, I saw just a few friends, but each subsequent time I went around the circle over the weekend (or later, around the hall at church) I saw more familiar faces. Pokemon Go had come out during my last summer in Ann Arbor, and in some ways my trip felt like a version of that game. Even if I could only chat for a minute with someone, I wanted to catch them all.

***

I tried to make the trip as pleasant as possible for myself. "This is a vacation," I reminded myself. "Do what you want." Besides walking around and around Northwood, I wanted just a few things. I wanted to go to a stake service activity and see as many stake people as possible.

Hey, someone's got to do it!

I wanted to take Jacob to the Wave Field and watch him crawl around. I wanted to play the piano for people who had encouraged me to keep on composing. I wanted to eat chips in the Jacksons' house. I wanted to go to the Quinns' to learn about Moldova and liberal democracy. None of these were exciting plans, but they made me genuinely happy.

In some ways, it was a good lesson in just learning to ask for things. Under normal circumstances, I try to pay people back when they do favors for me. They watch my kids one time, so I offer to watch them another time. I drive sometimes, and sometimes someone else drives. But on this trip, there was no "other time" for me to repay people. Regardless, I still needed the rides, still needed a bed, still needed the company, even needed the babysitting a little bit. So, I surrounded my requests with effusive gratitude and decoupling phrases ("It's okay if you can't! It's not super important!!!"), but at the end of the day all I could do was ask, not offer. I threw myself at the mercy of the ward, and I discovered that they were ready to catch me.

Do you want a place to stay? Just ask.
Do you want a ride to and from the airport? Just ask.
Do you want to tour a carillon? Just ask.

More on this later!

Do you want to stop by your Jordanian friend's house to pick up tea crackers for Joseph? Just ask.

My friend also gave me a lot of sage, but I felt like a TSA agent might think it was something more problematic if they happened to search my bags, so I left it with friends in Michigan.

Do you want a key to the church to practice for your recital? Just ask.
Do you want to know how a friend is doing? Just ask.
Do you want to see your friends' new house? Just ask.
Do you want a ride to a party? Just ask.
Do you want to go to a baby shower? Just ask.
Do you want a special Zumba class put on for you? Just ask.

The three days passed quickly -- a blur of walks around the neighborhood, laughing til I cried when my friends described the loopy conversations that came post sedation, opening up about the difficulties and blessings of living in New Haven, and catching up with so many kind, good friends I've made over the years. It was all I could have asked for.

***

Before I knew it, it was Monday afternoon. I had been staying with my friend Nycole and her family, and in addition to housing me and feeding me, she made sure I was not without sustenance for the plane flight home. "You'll want these," she said as she dumped Cadbury eggs into a Ziploc for me. I did want them.

How he entertained himself in the airport.

How can a trip go wrong when you have Cadbury eggs? It can't. I had a lovely drive back to the airport with my friend Sharon. I got to go in the TSA Pre-Check line. I sat next to a lovely woman who knew as much English as I do Spanish but nonetheless bonded with me using one of the 20 words I remember from Duolingo. "Bonito, bonito, bonito," she gushed as Jacob giggled for her. By the time I found my car in economy parking, my Cadbury eggs were gone, but still my luck lasted and I had a smooth drive home.

"Mommy!" Joseph and Matthew cried with excitement as I approached the house. I wheeled the umbrella stroller in, took Jacob out, and walked into the house. After three refreshing, quiet days, I was back.

Eastward Ho

It's been three weeks now since we up and left Michigan, so it's time to talk about the move! (And hopefully this will be the last mammoth post for a little while.)

Whew. That move. Every day I would think about other moves -- the time we moved with a newborn and Kevin spent 3 days at a conference right when I was packing, the time we moved when I just had found out I was pregnant and was dealing with morning sickness and the stress of a Christmas concert/creche exhibit, and . . . it was kind of funny. I had plenty of help with babysitting, Kevin was done with his PhD, and it was still by far the hardest move yet.

Of course, this time there was the combination of a horrible humid heat wave, mild stomach bugs we kept passing back and forth to each other, a laptop that kept crashing and showing the blue screen of death (only a year after the previous one had done so), headaches, Matthew teething (of course), sleep deprivation, constant butterflies in my stomach due to stress and anxiety, expensive car repairs (looking at you, brakes), Kevin being helpful in a myriad of ways but none of them involving packing boxes (his stuff was harder and extremely important, but it wasn't as visible so I had to remind myself he was working hard too), and above all, being oh so sad so much of the time. No crying, but I would go to parties and just feel sad about missing people already, and then I would feel guilty for not having fun. Fun times!

But, everything worked out. We all got better from our various ailments (including the computer and car), and we stopped being so sad and anxious once we were out the door. It was kind of like being 41 weeks pregnant -- it's not necessarily going to be easier once the baby is born or once you've moved, but the anticipation and heaviness is just plain miserable. And anyone who deals with chronic illness or fatigue or depression or anxiety, I salute you! A week or two of it is bad enough!

After packing up on a muggy Saturday evening that turned into a stormy Saturday evening that left me drenched (but none of our stuff, thankfully), "sleeping" two nights on an air mattress, and scrubbing and sweeping with the help of some kind friends, we were on our way! Except we had to drive around the circle one last time so I could get one last picture.

Those flowers are probably not doing so hot now.

Our first stop was the Johnson farm that we never went to when we went to Kirtland last year. Matthew was a little bit more opinionated this time compared to the time he was 5 weeks old, so the missionary rushed through a few parts and I left still not really knowing why Joseph Smith was ever there. (He did manage to tell the whole horrible tale of Joseph's tar and feathering to my sweet Joseph, who stood there with wide eyes. It didn't really seem to faze him, though.) When Matthew acted hungry, the tour basically ended. Haha! (In actuality, there were some really cool parts, especially seeing the room where Sidney Rigdon and Joseph Smith had the vision of the celestial kingdom.) We left without taking a picture and headed on our way.

I've shared this before, but it still makes me laugh. He had to hold every credit card this trip!

We've always wanted to cross West Virginia off our states list, so we grazed a corner of it and spent a wonderful 2 or so miles in it. And it was dark. So I don't know if we should count it. We drove past Pittsburgh and spent the night in a pretty good hotel.

The sign you can't read says Moon, Pennsylvania. We considered it.

We spent a bit of the next morning at the hotel watching Olympics and Daniel Tiger, and Kevin took Joseph to the pool.

Enthralled.

We then spent the next few hours driving through beautiful Pennsylvania while surviving Scripture Scouts and Three Doors Down (Joseph's new favorite song is "Kryptonite") before arriving at my dad's place near Princeton, New Jersey where he worked this summer. Man, they sure make up a lot of crazy driving rules to make it impossible to correct your mistakes if you happen to miss your turn. After dinner, we headed over to campus to admire the buildings. There were definitely a lot of beautiful buildings at University of Michigan, but this was a whole different scale of castles.

So many great archways!

This was probably used for some scene in Harry Potter

After we finished walking around, I wanted to go see our old house in Hopewell Township, so we drove there. My family has stayed in contact with our former next door neighbor who is probably in her eighties by now, and she invited us in for a chat. She reminded me of how she would watch us ride bikes and play and how every morning she would open her window so she could hear us practice the piano. I am so grateful those are the memories she's held onto because I feel like all I ever journaled about back then were our fights. I spent a minute looking at our old house, remembering the musty old basement that we got used to, watching Babysitters Club and putting on shows, the old brick driveway, the stuffed animals taped to the broom that Kaylie and I tapped on the window the time Leslie wouldn't let us hang out with her and her friend, and the days I spent cross-stitching bear after bear after bear. There were lots of great memories in that little old house.

(I forgot to take a picture of the house. But here is a picture in the house.)

We had promised Joseph some ice cream, so even though it was late by then he stayed awake to get his just desserts. After a little bit of Olympics, we headed to bed.

The next morning, we all went to Philadelphia to see the temple open house. Before we left, we were discussing how nice it was to have family on the East Coast since Kaylie's here too now. "Well, I guess Mom has a cousin over here, too, but we probably won't run into her." But as fate (or providence) would have it, after dutifully following instructions to head over to the church to watch the intro video that we've all seen at least twice at various open houses, we were richly rewarded with "You're my cousin!" My mom's cousin was our usher! (And the video was good, as it always is. I love the narrator!)

And the temple was beautiful! We kept Joseph's attention by counting the pictures of Christ on the walls (I think we got 33), and there were just such lovely vases and designs throughout. (See here.) After the tour, we chatted with my mom's cousin and my second cousin a bit and then got some lunch.

My phone never took a picture, but luckily she shared her picture with me!

We had also considered going to Independence Hall, but when we got there we couldn't find parking. Not that we looked super hard. We were tired.

"I've been here before," Kevin said.
"I've been here before," I said.
"The Liberty Bell is just a bell that doesn't do anything," my dad said.

Joseph and Matthew wouldn't have cared either way. So, I didn't channel my inner Aaron Burr and we did not go in the room where it happened.

We did, however, stop by Washington Crossing State Park. The boys were asleep, so my dad stayed with them in the car while Kevin and I walked around. I have been really interested in the Revolutionary War lately, so it was really neat to be there. I felt like this was sacred ground in its own way, and as we walked I peppered Kevin with trivia. "The Hessians were German mercenaries, so they celebrated Christmas. Americans really didn't celebrate Christmas til the mid 19th century. They had the 4th of July and Washington's birthday, and they thought that was enough holidays so they didn't celebrate Christmas." (though . . . that doesn't explain why they didn't celebrate Christmas in the 18th century, since neither of those mattered in 1776.) I imagined Washington and his ragtag army crossing the Delaware that cold night and felt such a sense of gratitude for their bravery.

Where Washington's boat crossed the river.

Boats from that time.

We drove past my old middle school and grocery store, saw where my brother-in-law almost won BYU 50, and then went for a brief walk along the canal.

We swung by the old church,

drove past some funny power lines,

There's definitely some reason those are there,

and then headed back to the hotel for dinner, swimming with friendly kids, Olympics, and Disney Channel.

The next morning, we met up with Kaylie at a park

and then we were finally off to our new home in Connecticut!

And thus began our next big adventure.