Madeline Turns 17 at Stern Grove | Eddie Grassi

Yesterday, the family gathered to celebrate my beautiful daughter Madeline’s birthday at her favorite Italian restaurant, Trattorio da Vittorio, in West Portal of San Francisco.   Finally, after numerous rescheduling due to bad weather, and sickness, the family was able to assemble and wish Maddie a happy 17th.  When the waiter came outside to take our order where the 8 of us were seated, I knew right away the dish Maddie and her brother, Ethan, would be ordering because for the past 10 years old they had been ordering the same food from the kids menu: the chicken strips with fries.   By now, almost 7 years later, I thought they would have outgrown that and opted for one of the more traditional entrees such as the savory Rigatoni Calabrese or the delicious hand-made Papparelle Pesto e Pollo or the Margherita Pizza my mom loves so much. 

When it was my time to order I uttered what I thought I never would say.  “I’ll have the chicken strips and fries too,” I said timidly.  As expected, this drew some laughter from around the table.   But it was okay because I was determined to know if the esteemed chicken strips were really as good as my children would have me believe.   I also wanted to do it to honor Madeline’s birthday.   They turned out to be wonderful.   In truth, I had eaten many pieces their favorite chicken from their plates over the years.   

Between bites, a conversation around college was struck when my wife Shalini asked Maddie and her boyfriend, Dylan, where they wanted to go to college when they graduate from high school next year.   Both of them looked at each other and smiled.   Maddie’s face lit up as she shared.   They had short listed a few and told us they were thinking of several California State Universities (CSUs) such as San Francisco State, Long Beach State and possibly UC Santa Cruz to name a few.   Hearing her name these schools filled me with joy.   Her face grew brighter and her voice more determined.   Across from her I could see how she looked at me for my reaction.  Though I had reassured her many times before that one or more of these schools would accept her, she still looked uncertain.   I could tell that she was also feeling a little apprehensive at the prospect of getting her applications completed by the deadline in two months.   I’m sure she could sense my own anxiety about the large amount of work that lay ahead.   

After the practical talk ended, there wasn’t much more to say.   In the short interlude that followed, I reflected on just how much this meant to us both.   We were mapping her future.   I realized how in a few short months she would be off to college and I would miss her greatly.  The past 17 years had flown by.   Looking to the future, I tried to imagine her in on her first day of college.   Instead, a memory of me came up.   I was sitting on a large green lawn facing a tall white clock tower that climbed into the blue sky.   The year was 1989 and I was a freshman at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles.  These were my wonder years for sure.   During that first year I had incredible unstoppable dreams.  Like that clock-tower, my head was often in the clouds, but my gravity centered.  For Maddie, I hoped she would have the same freedoms I had to discover and help shape this wondrous world, especially after some hollow high school experiences.  

Stern Grove and a Champion of Life 

When we arrived at Stern Grove shortly after lunch, we headed to this lake we called “Turtle Lake.”  All along, I had been thinking of the trip to the lake as a kind of gift for Maddie.   If all went according to plan, the turtles would come to us as they always did.  We would announce our presence by tapping a tree branch in the water to make enough ripples to arouse the interest of the slow reptiles and get them to swim toward the shore where we stood.   Before long, we spotted our first of a legion of the small black headed creatures. They would surface, see there was nothing to the commotion, then re-submerge to resume their lethargic habits.   Although the foul smell and receding water line of the lake left me feeling somewhat disappointed, I was grateful we could see the turtles. 

On our stroll back through the park, almost everywhere we looked were dogs running around.   Apparently, the park is a dog owner’s paradise and people with dogs seemed to outnumber those without like us.   I was talking to Maddie when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed The Champion of Life out of the corner.   At less than 1 foot tall and only about 1 and 1/2 foot long, she was easy to overlook.  She tagged behind her own, struggling it seemed to catch up.   Her fur was a chestnut brown all around except for a splash of white fur on her ears and feet.   I instantly fell in love with the dog for it was beautiful and carried itself like a little princess.   The dog gave off a kind of aura to me.   There was so much self-dignity and pride in its step, even as it struggled to keep pace with its owner who was already moving slowly.   “Maddie, come over here quickly.   Look at this dog,” I said immediately.   “Where?” said Maddie.    Then she saw.   The dog was panting along the grass.   When it needed to come down from a slight elevation above the path we were walking, which presented a challenge to the dog in the form of a cement curb blocking its way, I marveled at the gentle, precision it took to place one foot down at a time until all four of them were on the path.   Bigger and younger dogs would have jumped off quickly, but this dog could not.   “It’s so cute, dad.  Oh my god!” said Maddie.   The owner noticed we were looking at her.   “That’s a beautiful dog you have,” said Maddie.   “Why, thank you.   I am very happy you told me that and noticed her.  Thank you,” the owner said.   These thoughts don’t go through your head while it’s happening.  But something about the dog stuck.   Reflecting back, I think of this small moment with Maddie as kind of gift to her.   These cherished moments are rare.   The dog was very special.   Seeing it at a time of youth-gone-by but still exercising a tremendous will and gracefulness, made me just want to name her The Champion of Life.   Jon Kabat-Zinn once said, “The little moments?   They aren’t little.”