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Essay

Bear Hunting in the ‘Burbs with My Son

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One of the bears sighted during our hunt
PHOTO BY Jennifer Drubin Clark

We were bored. REAL bored. “We” being my 3-year-old son and myself. The school day was over, our stomachs were full, the weather was crummy, and we had just about exhausted every activity within our house AND the tri-town area (Armonk, Chappaqua and Bedford as we refer to them). It was then, with fierce intent, the idea-heavens rained down upon us. Before we knew it, we were packing up bags of snacks, clothes and shoes suitable for any terrain, binoculars, a camera, and a pen with paper…we were going on a bear hunt.

Perhaps Michael Rosen, the famed author of “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt” got into our heads?

The car was packed and I found myself more excited about this adventure than any other we’d gone in the past. Why? Because I, mommy here, actually had NO idea where on Westchester’s green earth we were going to find a bear. Yes, a fake one…although I wondered at times if we would have more luck finding a real one?  Anyways, off we went!

The sun shade was down and his binoculars were in full effect as we cruised towards Main Street. Never thought my child could be so silent on a car ride. Bless this bear hunt.

Growing up in the Rocky Mountains, surrounded by carved wooden bears, I had a premonition that we might have a sighting if we headed towards Hickory and Tweed. After all, biking plus skiing = wildlife! The door made its’ familiar jingle as we entered and I secretly prayed that our first bear sighting was going to be just around the corner, literally. FAIL.

“Hi, can I help you find something?” a nice saleswoman asked as Spencer knelt down to focus his binoculars on a piece of dirt.

“Um yea.  We’re actually looking for bears….,” I said.

Spencer looked up at me annoyed that I asked for help. He really wants to feel the hunt. I saw it in his eyes. That’s when the saleswoman and I locked eyes, she must have her own kids…she “got it”, and she “forgot” I asked for help as she motioned her eyeballs up the stairs (where they do rentals/ fittings).

“Momma, there’s no bears in here,” he said.

“Wait bud, let’s check upstairs!,” I replied.

Lo and behold, the carved wooden bear I was hoping to see. He stands tall. My son is beside himself. We document our first sighting with time and location, and snap his picture. I give the nice saleswoman a nudge as we walked out in pure elation and off we went to find our next “furry” friend.

This next one wasn’t so easy, BUT the powers of the universe have a funny way of showing us that they’re paying attention. Spencer NEEDED hot chocolate to carry on. He was just so exhausted and that was the only thing that could bring him the energy we needed to keep on trekking. Keeping in line with our animal hunt theme, we landed at The Beehive.  He opted for whipped cream and I took a pass.

Now, this time for real, no help here, we get back in the car, I do the loopty loop to get out of the parking lot, and I hear and feel violent jeers coming from the back of the car.

“BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR,” my son screams excitedly.

Holy crap. Kid scared the freaking hot chocolate out of me. But he wasn’t lying and he sure wasn’t seeing things. There he stood, our next beautiful sighting; perched nicely above the westward parking lot.  Anyone wondering how old a kid is before they’re capable of shedding joyful tears? Three. We jotted down the details from our second sighting, snapped his photo, and slowly regained normal heartbeats.

How were we ever going to top this?!!! I mean we went on a bear hunt and actually found a bear all by ourselves!

As I glanced into my rearview mirror, I saw the yawns coming. My hunting partner was starting to fade. It was 4 p.m. and if I let him fall asleep then, bedtime would be brutal. This is when you pull out your mommy tricks…

“Bud, we did so good today. I can’t believe we found TWO bears!  Ice cream time?” I ask.

He stays up. Our bear hunt ends with us sitting on a cow licking ice cream cones for the day. A few days later, we decided to go on another wildlife hunt. As luck would have it our town is a hotbed of other wildlife including the Armonk Eagle and the Guardian Lions sitting outside of David Chen.

Can you help us find more animals in Armonk? Pack up your kid and your car and go and get your hunt on!

The Art of Being Neighborly on my Cul-de-Sac

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It’s a week before the big day and our family has convened to strategize a significant plan of action. This approach must be executed with meticulous detail so that the inevitable impending onslaught will be met with precision. A disciplined chain of command will ensure that whatever blueprint we settle upon will come from the top. Which is most definitely not me. My wife, Laurie, has decided, as The Decider, that the candy should be put into easy to distribute, pre-packed little bags with plump pumpkins on them. While this laborious option will guarantee fairness and efficiency (and trackable statistical data my wise-guy son adds) I tend to lean towards the more chaotic and subjective. Why not greet each kid, assess quality of costume (along with their trick or treat statement) and then distribute loose candy based upon this information? With 200 to 300 trick or treaters expected you can see why I am not The Decider. Welcome to life on my cul-de-sac.

When we moved to our Northern Westchester digs everything seemed new and a bit odd but exciting too. In the city we’d walk the kids to school every morning and it was a sweet ritual. Leaving that and other distinct urban scenarios behind made me hesitant to embrace the move to this beautiful bucolic suburb. However, almost immediately, it was clear that the more rural versions of our established routines were equally wonderful. In this case, we’d lose the family time spent walking to school as, now, the bus-stop is literally in front of our house. This simple fact of geography led to very fast friendships for the kids, as well as parents, who would all gather on a near daily basis. It would be impossible not to notice that we’d absolutely landed in a neighborhood.

Some of the bus-stop relationships evolved into friendships that still remain. Others were fleeting and on occasion a little contentious but that’s just the way life is with people interacting daily, sometimes before coffee. What became intriguing to me over time was the evolution of the bus stop. You’d see your kids eventually age out along with their peers followed by new kids which were often younger siblings you might know. At one point a whole new crop of kids populates the space by the house and, not being connected to it other than seeing it from the window, you realize that that particular aspect of living in the cul-de-sac always continues. Just as sweet as ever but no longer a direct part of our lives.

It may be a personal flaw but I’m very quick to base opinions upon my initial impression of people. Fair or not, neighbors show themselves one way or another and, unwittingly, I reach a conclusion about who they are which will never change unless they prove otherwise. I know this is absurd and not particularly neighborly but here we are. Shortly after we landed in our house a neighbor said hello and within 10 seconds told me I needed a new roof on my house. Probably a wonderful person but, for me, he’ll always be that guy who was critical of our new abode when I was at the height of emotional vulnerability homeowner-wise.

Along those lines, when the kids were young, there was a mother at the bus stop with a child the same age as my son. She wasn’t particularly friendly, even a bit abrupt, and I rashly concluded she was just kind of a hard case. Our kids became friends and I got to know her a little better and, of course, she turned out to be a very kind person. It turned out this single mom had serious health issues and I always felt terrible about my initial shallow rush to judgement. One December she came by to ask me to tune an electric guitar she’d bought for her daughter. I happily did so and she gave me a warm and spontaneous hug. I watched her walk away, guitar in hand, in light December snow headed up towards her house at the end of the cul-de-sac. The neighborhood is quite simply a community of folks living in close proximity and all that that entails.

My Idea of Beauty at 19 and Now

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Author and his wife Laurie

It was the late 1980’s and a Grateful Dead cover band was playing it hot at a local college bar. Across the room I saw her. A classic Deadhead chick in faded jeans and a tie-dye, covered with a loose peasant blouse. She was balancing a beer in a plastic cup while un-self-consciously bopping to the music. To say she was an enticing vision would be an understated lie. She was just outstanding. At 19, I probably fell in love at least twice a week but this moment stood out. I was not the type to approach a girl in a bar and I may have stared a little too intently but it definitely felt like lightning had struck.

As it turned out I eventually got to know this stunning hippy girl, just a little, and away from that moment in time the magic was gone. She was sweet and cute but there was no connection. In retrospect that moment at the bar, aside from my unwieldy 19-year-old ardor, was a great summation of my understandably naïve take on beauty.

Back then I was limited in my perception of so many things. If I were to consider my opinion of what was beautiful at that time it would now seem dated and superficial. I’ll present here, embarrassing as it may be, what might have been my vision of an ideal evening at that time even if it was, in reality, completely out of reach. I’d pick up my date (picture the hippy chick above but really into me) in my new red Porsche 944 (one of the company’s few failed models), we’d have a fine meal at TGI-Friday’s (who knew mozzarella could be deep-fried!) and then we’d head off to the movies to see the latest John Hughes teen angst flick (to this day I still don’t quite understand Eric Stoltz’s big plan in “Some Kind of Wonderful”). I know. This scenario is not appealing.

Cut to 2019 and the world is spinning wildly out of control and we the people are divided. Social media is pervasive and invasive and we’re clearly, as a society, moving forward into unchartered territory in so many ways. As for me, I’m as immersed in the chaos as anyone else but I endure and now I believe, I have a more credible and learned perspective on the subject of what constitutes beauty.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man. Obviously, watching our children grow and evolve is a no-brainer but is also a profound movement away from inherent pre-kids self-absorption. Having worked for many years, I now recognize the allure of someone doing a job, any job, with commitment, honor and excellence. I’ve been fortunate enough to have unexpected friendships that make life more fulfilling and fun. I’m also lucky to still be able to compete athletically at sports I loved as a child. Not to mention the pleasure of good food be it a bacon and egg on a roll or fresh summer peach.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man.

Undoubtedly, the most consistent and important aspect of beauty I’ve been fortunate to be exposed to is my wife. Laurie is the embodiment of gorgeous both physically and spiritually. I’ve known her a long time and am completely secure in our relationship yet I still have moments where I shake my head and say, “How the hell did I achieve this”? On a typical morning, she’ll get dressed for work and ask me how she looks. This daily exchange has occurred for years. My first instinct is usually to say “beautiful” because that’s the truth. However, I usually choose a more work-setting appropriate adjective. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I look forward to that interaction every day.

Way back, at 19, I had another one of those memorable moments not unlike at the bar with the Deadhead chick. A lovely girl pulled up in a funky orange European car wearing a red-sweater and blue jeans. She had stunning coffee-colored eyes that matched her long hair. My heart fluttered a bit as I caught sight of this beautiful young woman. It was years later that we got to know each other well. Of course, it was Laurie and the lesson I’ve learned is that true beauty can even transcend the naivete of youth.

Finding Your Village

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Christine with her family

The life of a mom who stays at home with young kids can be many things–exciting and fulfilling, yes, but also, crazy, hectic, and sometimes… lonely. Without the proverbial village we all hear about, it can be hard for a mom (or dad) to find their way in a community without guidance.

When my husband and I moved to Hawthorne, our daughter was not quite two and I needed a way to get to know the community and meet other stay-at-home moms like myself. We joined a local music class and did some fun events at the library. Incidentally, if you have young kids, story time with Miss Debbie at the Mount Pleasant Library is absolutely wonderful. But then my daughter started pre-school and our son came along. After he was born, things were definitely frenzied. I felt like I was running around in circles everywhere but not really meeting people in the community.

“Having just moved to Westchester all the way from the West Coast, and having limited support nearby, I was anxious to find my village–FAST,” said Johnson.

One day as I was perusing Facebook, I came upon a post from another local mom looking to meet others with similar-aged kids. Her name was Jenifer Johnson and she had created a group called Pleasantville Play Date Meet-up and right there, a new village was born! She was, just like me and so many others, a mom who simply wanted to get herself and her kids out of the house and socialize with others.

“I’ve always been a believer that being a parent takes “a village.” Having just moved to Westchester all the way from the West Coast, and having limited support nearby, I was anxious to find my village–FAST,” said Johnson, who currently runs the Ridgefield, CT Playdate Meet-up.

“Social media is an excellent tool to bring people together and connect with those who have similar interests. In my case, I was looking for other moms like me who lived close by and had an interest in making new friends and socializing our children. I created a group with a very basic name, stock photo of a playdate and posted it on some other, larger Parent groups.”

The group took off, with members joining from all over the Mount Pleasant area. Instead of just planning meetups at a local park, parents started hosting play dates at their homes, which evolved into special events like holiday parties, craft days, and more.

And then, it went from just getting the kids together to getting the moms out too. It’s important for moms to have some quality kid-free time. So one night a group of us got together to do a craft night and “Mom’s Night Out” was born. Cookie exchanges, baby showers, mani-pedi nights and many a birthday celebration followed. And the group also holds a monthly dinner at restaurants all around town.

Jennifer Liddle, the group’s current admin says, “As the admin, it is so rewarding to brainstorm and execute events for local moms and kids to meet. I’ve made some of my closest friends through this group–friendships that transcend the initial reason why we met in the first place, our kids. Additionally, I’ve seen several other friendships blossom and it makes me so proud that I have had a part in that. I remember when I moved to the suburbs, I was worried it would be impossible to make friends. This group of ours made it possible.”

Continues Johnson, “Eventually, this tiny idea became a reality with new parents joining everyday. Play dates, mom’s night’s, BBQ’S, birthday parties–we had our village. Jennifer Liddle, who runs the group now, has taken it to over 270 members! It’s awesome!”

As an introvert, it can be hard for me to get out of my comfort zone and take a chance in meeting new people. But sometimes you just have to do it and hope for the best. As Thomas Jefferson said, “With great risk comes great reward.”

I’m so glad I did. I’ve cultivated many new friendships through the group. We all want to feel like we belong somewhere. And it’s great to know that there are others you can turn to for camaraderie and support.

I truly enjoy living in Mount Pleasant and really feel like I’ve become a part of the community-at-large. I’ve gotten to know my town and my community through local meeting places such as the library, farmers market, school events, and of course a Facebook play date group that I just happened to click on that fateful day.

My School Days as a Twin

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(L-R): Rebecca and Julia Bialek on the first day of kindergarten
PHOTO COURTESY OF JULIA BIALEK

I have a twin sister, but we were born on different days. Throughout our lives, our parents worked hard to ensure that we were not grouped as a unit; in their minds, the fact that we shared a womb had no bearing on our ability to act and be treated as individual people. And it doesn’t. Whether it was pure luck or my mom’s greatest intentional gift to us (as she will claim), the fact that my sister was born before midnight and I was born after has profoundly impacted the course of our lives. Our separate birthdays have infused a sense of individuality into both of us from the very beginning, allowing us to retain our own identities. Yes, we are twins, but we aren’t “the twins.” We are Julia and Rebecca. It only made sense that when the first days of school approached, my parents continued this arrangement.

Parents of twins have a choice: place their twins in the same classes or separate them. Naturally, my parents elected to separate us, placing us in different classrooms in which to grow and learn independently of the other. Although one of the built-in perks of having a twin is never needing to face a new situation alone, our parents wanted to provide us with the space to become our own people. I am so grateful for that. As we enter our senior year and reflect on our time as students, people, and twin sisters, it has never been more apparent how much of a gift that decision has been. Thank you mom and dad.

Growing up as twins, Rebecca and I have experienced most of our milestones and achievements together, from first days of school and first days of camp, to becoming bat mitzvahs and getting our driver’s licenses. In many cases, the memories I lay claim to also belong to her, with our shared experiences outnumbering our individual ones. But when it comes to school, most of my memories belong solely to me, as our separate educational paths have rarely collided. We always had different teachers, we were always in different classes, and we were always happy that way. As twins, we have spent nearly 18 full years side-by-side, growing up in rooms next to each other, spending the summers in the same bunk at camp, coming home to the same house, and so on. Despite our love for each other, that is a lot of time to spend with one person. Going to school each day allowed us to spend healthy time apart, providing us with a place to be our own people (albeit in the same building). In fact, school is the only place where our individual memories, experiences, and stories outnumber our shared ones.

Spending our days separately and pursuing our educations independently of the other, my sister and I have been able to learn, grow, and prosper in our own unique ways. That time apart, that time to explore who we are without the influence of the other twin, has been essential in shaping the people we have become. For my sister and me, being twins has always meant going through life as our own people, just doing it next to each other. But as college approaches and my sister and I face being separated by a greater distance than just our bedroom wall, we are confronted with the reality that we must continue our lives as our own people, but not side-by-side. For the first time in our entire lives, not only will our educational careers be separate, but our entire lives will be separate.

For the first time in our entire lives, we will not be together.

As we tour colleges, write applications, and begin our last year of living together in the same home, I cannot help but wonder how different our lives are going to be without having the other twin a shouting distance away. Even though Rebecca and I have very different personalities and interests, even though we were happy to be in separate classes, even though we are both ready for this change, it is going to be a shock to live without her. I have never known life without my twin sister, and I know that I will have to cope with a Rebecca-shaped hole in my life. It feels like yesterday that we were walking off of the bus together after our first day of kindergarten, and now we are seniors in high school preparing to live our lives as independent people in college. While it feels surreal that time has passed so quickly, I am eased by the knowledge that my twin sister is experiencing these changes with me, even if she is not residing in the bedroom next door.

As we approach this new and exciting time in our lives, I realize that this is the first chapter of my story that will not feature my twin sister as a main character. But Rebecca, as we continue to write our narratives and live our lives, I want you to know that I am me because of you. You will always be an important part of my story, because you are an important part of me.