Years ago I heard that expression, "Clean and Green".  It was uttered by a visiting lecturer at our son's preschool; he was talking about getting kids to do what you need them to do.  Keep it simple was his message.  Don't micromanage, at least in the beginning.

He talked about giving his preteen son the chore of cutting the grass.  He instructed him and then left him with the memory phrase of "clean and green".  In that parent's mind, that covered it all, and he is probably quite right.  In cutting a lawn, the job must be done neatly, no wide rows with grass sticking up between the mower paths.  No skipping the edging detailsthat make all the difference.  No forgetting to rake up the grass piles, if that is a problem.  The green part requires a bit more knowledge and perhaps parental guidance.  Why is that patch over there so bare?  Why is the lawn sprouting so many weeds?  What to do about the areas that the dog has ruined....

This clean and green approach can be used to advise sellers in putting the best foot forward in a home sale.  Nothing fancy, just clean and green.  No stuff cluttering the yard, no need for extraneous and time-consuming plantings, no dead plants - please!  A splash of color at the front door in flowerpots or annuals lining the walkway - anyone can manage that.  Now if you want to micromanage, have them paint the entry, spruce up the house numbers and mailbox, change out the lighting fixture and maybe even the screen door.  It is all about curb appeal in the beginning.  But sometimes buyers like to see a little imperfection so they know they can make the property their home; don't stress if it is easily remedied.  That screen door negotiation could be the thing that seals the deal.

Clean and green, and always ready to show.  I learned everything I ever needed to know in kindergarten, or in this case, as a parent in a preschool meeting.  Keep it simple, and sell that house!

Yes, we are there again, with the sarcasm only partly in check.  These darn kids have a way of growing up and having minds of their own, no matter what we do!

Tonight I was livid with my son for having lounged all day when chores had been assigned.  His summer job search has brought nothing - it is Michigan, with record unemployment.  His dad and I cheerfully stated that no paid work meant more free work at home to sustain his adequate lifestyle and that extra chores would be required.  There was agreement but time has shown that there is very little adherance to implied contract.  We should have gotten it in writing....

Anyway, today, there was a demand, a demand I say, for dinner, from him.  The ingredients were there and this is not someone who can't get around a kitchen.  Under shame and duress (we're Catholic) he produced a very terrific and quick meal.  The success was preceded by a lengthy verbal battle and accumulation of stress on my part.  I believe I uttered some non-religious phrases and ultimately won.

Everyone cooled off in the ensuing hours apart when evening brought its own opportunities.  My son engaged me much later while he drank a cup of tea and spoke of his upcoming departure for college, 10 hours north of us at Michigan Tech (yes, you can drive 10 hours north from Ann Arbor and still be in Michigan...).  He talked about missing his girlfriend and what that might do to their relationship.  He pulled in Grandma and her recently diagnosed Parkinsons disease, and Grandpa who died last September from undiagnosed Parkinsons disease.  Damn that kid, he knows how to turn things around.

To make matters worse, he wrapped up our conversation by saying how much he appreciated that we talked like this.  I told him how parents have simply two duties - to give kids roots and wings.  Too many parents give their kids roots but forget about the wings.  We talked about that too, and people we knew who did that.  I told him he could go, to fly away, and to never forget he could come home.  He was truly grateful while he drank his tea.  Then he asked if he could have another computer party where everyone including his girlfriend got to sleep over - they've done this before, guys and girls.  I knew there was a catch to this whole thing.  Yes, yes you can Kevin.  You have your roots; I gift to you your wings.

Now that you have all stopped rolling around on the floor laughing, please hear what I have to say.  I just did a very involved market analysis for a property I hope to list.  In the details I sent along in an email with comps attached I had to constantly state that "that is not allowed by our board's standards."  It was nearly impossible to pull up comps for an already difficult-to-comp property when so many agents were declaring their non-egress lower level bedrooms in their bedroom counts, for instance.  Or, another favorite, incorporating the square footage of a lower level into the total square footage of a property, with the side disclaimer that 1000 of the square footage is in the finished lower level.  I don't care!  You have a 2000 square foot home with an additional 1000 finished lower level.  You do NOT have a 3000 square foot home!  Get out of my comps!  (This is Ann Arbor, MI - maybe these examples are OK elsewhere.)

In doing this particular market analysis, I was very clear in pointing out these discrepancies and resorted to calling the legitimate ones "pure" listings.  They were following all the rules.  Are these the same kids who cheated in school?  Why do we let them get away with it?  In my sampling, I did note that some of my most respected colleagues were the purest of the pure.  Could they have gotten to their heights because of their integrity?  Unthinkable!!!  Truth begets success???!!!  I don't care if that is true or not, that is the path I am choosing to take.  I will point out the imposters along the way if necessary, you can count on that.  Wish me well, I have a lot more rungs to ascend in my ladder to success, but I intend to, holding MY head high as I do.  I'll make mistakes; I already have.  They won't be intentional and there will probably be atonement.  I won't bring it knowingly on myself.  Honesty - it's the real thing.

Like walking in the rain and the snow and...

....standing in line for 4.5 hours inside the Borders on Liberty in Ann Arbor to have Dave Sedaris personally sign his latest book When You Are Engulfed In Flames.  It's to be a welcome-home gift for my daughter who adores his writing and will be returning from Paris after 4 months of studying abroad.  Wow is that hard on feet if not well-prepared!  I wasn't....

I only heard about Mr. Sedaris (I bet he hates being called Mr. Sedaris) after my daughter began quoting passages from his books to me.  I became intimately aware of his writings in Me Talk Pretty One Day just about a year ago as Sara and I alone together journeyed from Michigan to Pennsylvania, optimistically believing that we were visiting our recovering father/grandfather.  She read that book aloud as we traveled the eight hours, interspersed with radio if we could catch a good station, along with food and rest breaks.  We laughed out loud.  It was one of the most enjoyable road trips I have ever had, me, Sara,and Dave Sedaris.

Well, things weren't so rosy when we reached Pennsylvania.  My father was coming home after having been in the hospital since February, one catastrophe after another having befallen him.  When the attendants transported him from the ambulance to the waiting hospital bed in the first floor TV room where we had gathered every night of our youth to watch television together, my optimism failed me and I had to retreat to the kitchen to have a quick cry.  He was so frail.  I remember hearing my mother say, "You're home now."  It was all he had wanted for months, to be home, to be home with our mother.

When the attendants carried in a cardboard box, about one foot square, my mother asked what it was.  "His prescriptions."  That box provided a moment of comic relief for my mother, my sister, my daughter, and me, but it was no laughing matter.  The care would be extreme as the battle to return to health continued, even with visiting nurses and home health care aides arriving more than once per day.

My mother and sister are early-to-bed people and my daughter used the evenings to read or catch up with her friends online.  I'd sit with my father and watch TV, just as we had done so many years ago when I was his child, and later when visiting from Philadelphia, my own little children having been put to bed for the night.  There wasn't a lot of conversation at any of those times, just the comfort of knowing that few words needed to be spoken.  I'd get him a drink if he needed one, adjust the covers or the temperature, find a better show, and finally say goodnight.  I'd be up late, my mother was up early - my father spent just a few short hours alone but within earshot.

When I came to tell my father that Sara and I were leaving for home that last morning in Pennsylvania, his eyes had been closed but he turned to me and looked right into my eyes - a long and penetrating stare that I knew then meant we would not see each other again.  No words were spoken - we understood.

It was a less jolly ride back home to Michigan initially but we eased into it and picked up Dave Sedaris again.  We stopped at Barkeyville for dinner (fabulous diner!) and laughed about that name for about an hour.  The mood escalated as the return road trip progressed.  Going back home and coming home was a relief.  Duty had been fulfilled; honor had been paid.  

My father returned to the hospital via the emergency room about two weeks later and was diagnosed as suffering from end-stage Parkinsons disease.  The ER doctor was visibly shaken, wondering how the diagnosis had never been made in all the years he had suffered.  My father died in September, 2007.

Time heals all wounds and the family has adjusted.  My sister and her husband relocated from Arizona to Pennsylvania, bought our family home to be caretakers of it and companions to our mother.  The garden is in glorious and robust bloom, my sister recently reported, the poppies as tall as our mother.  Last year's summer of sorrow is replaced by this year's summer of abundance and beauty.

Sara will be coming home one week from Sunday, having completed her study abroad.  I'll be picking her up at the airport and when we arrive at home, there will be stories to tell and gifts to exhange.  She has already mentioned silk scarves and ties so I know I am looking forward to that, and my son is a sucker for a pretty tie.  I'll give her the book, with the inscription, "To Sara, We're so glad you're back.  Dave Sedaris" - maybe she'll read to us aloud.   

So many topics to cover since it was deja vu all over again, receiving a call to do BPOs from a lender who had been very good to me in the past, until my contact there was promoted and a licensed realtor took his place.  A very good deal became zero without notice at all.  I have fond memories of those days three years ago - the bounty dropped in my lap that at minimum paid my office bill with months of credit in advance and at maximum gave me a double dip no-effort sale and a listing that spawned at least a dozen closed deals beyond the listing itself, plus more opportunity.  (I believe I could turn that experience into a "Pursuit of Happiness"-like movie, but I just don't have the time...)

Today, completely out of the blue, I received a call from the same lender, new contact.  The rank and file had shifted again and was I interested in being an inventory agent for them in Washtenaw County?  Yes!!!!!!  (I said quietly.)  First, let me say that this lender is not like others looking for inventory agents.  They ask for the BPO at the first sign of trouble and don't require updates until the loan is going to sheriff's sale.  They'll request a second BPO, pay again, plus let me list if they haven't decided to auction or dispose of it some other way.  So different than what I have heard from other BPO realtors!

Well, that FSBO notation in the title relates to this tale, so bear with me.  As a newbie in real estate 4 years ago, I took anyone who gave me a second glance and showed them property.  No pre-approval?  No problem!  You want to be an investor?  I want to be your best friend!

I learned about the no pre-approval thing quickly but the investor thing took a bit longer.  I had one guy who had documents stating he was capable of purchasing several properties in a year's time; I spent inordinate amounts of time showing him property.  When he finally bid on one, was countered high, bid back low, and was accepted, he responded, "Oh sh*t!".  We went through the inspection process, which you have to know he did not sign off on.  One of my superiors said, "Cut him off; he is wasting your time."  She was right; I did.  I met him once more months later for a coffee to see where he was (he wouldn't sign a buyer agency agreement with just one agent...) - he hadn't bought a thing.

I bring him up in this tale because one of the properties I showed him was a foreclosure where I opened the door before he arrived and decided not to enter.  It was scary and I waited.  I had no idea how many properties I would enter alone that were far, far worse in the years to come; at least this one was free of eau de confined pet.  It had shag carpeting on the backs of the kitchen cabinets that faced the dining area - was that ever in Architectural Digest, ever?!  It also had metallic silver wallpaper on many of the walls and all the trimmings you would expect to go with that.  In the midst of it all was a warm and fuzzy brick fireplace.  That is where the decorating scheme should have begun and ended, but alas, no.

Anyway, my "investor" wasn't interested, despite the price per square foot value.  I had no one else to present it to despite the great deal - trust me.  I was driving by some time later and a man was in the yard so I decided to stop and ask if he was the homeowner, saying I had seen it at its worst.  He proudly showed me the interior and the work yet to be completed and said they would be listing it for resale soon.  They had made some good changes but amateur efforts were evident, with staging successes straight from HGTV.  No one was going to overlook the fact that they had opted for eliminating the dishwasher in a 3 bedroom family home to give more cabinet space - no one likes to handwash dishes!!!  The pebbles in the bathroom sink are not going to make up for that!  I left my card.

Well, to pull this ADD post into a coherent picture, I was one of three agents who interviewed to list that property and was ultimately told they were going to FSBO.  I had left my marketing plan with them as the other agents probably had too.  We gave away our strategies and then were left out in the cold.  Payback came full circle today when my lending connection gave me two properties to BPO and one of them was theirs - not the flip, their primary residence.  I was shocked but can see how the arrogant attitude led them to this point, if in fact that is what did it.  They did not want professional opinions when doing their flip (and made some poor choices), they did not want professional representation when listing their property, and where are they now?  Facing a mortgage dilemma....

The DIY thing is so prevalent that many believe they can do anything themselves.  Real estate is rarely a DIY thing, particularly in a buyer's market.  There are legalities, knowledge of the market regarding buyers and stats, the unbiased view of the property from an outsider, not a friend, relative, or the seat of your pants.  A FSBO I talked to today said he would offer realtors 2% - that is worse than what most banks will do!  Plus I checked his stats when I got home and he is $25,000 over market besides!  I'll still send him mailings with suggestions - that costs me little.  I would like the listing in his nighborhood, but I want it on my terms - I won't work for nothing.  Been there, done that.  I am worth it.

Recently I blogged about a teasing letter we received at our home regarding awards night at Saline High School that suggested our son was up for an award and strongly encouraged our attendance.  Friends of his had received the same letter but they were actually LIKELY to receive awards so we were just confused.  My son and I attended anyway, just in case.

Kevin is a kid who has learned extraordinarily well, has avoided the typical temptations of youth, besides computer games (death to computer games!) and a senior year girlfriend (we like her - she is motivated, technical like him,  success-oriented no matter what it takes, and adorable).  He has endured psychological testing to determine that he is decidedly not ADD and that his only real problem is boredom and "you can't make me do it" (damn you psychologist - we already knew that!).

So there we sat at award night wondering if there would be an award.  Many of Kevin's dear friends received embarassments of mention, monetary and non-monetary, individuals who were the only recipients of very specific awards, sometimes repeatedly.  Congratulations dear friends!  There were honor roll awards (nope), specific field of study awards (nope), nice guy/gal awards (nope - though he is), and the departmental awards.  Kevin was on the edge of his seat waiting and wanting one of several English department awards - his brilliance had been noted through the years - but how can an award be given to an individual with a sub 3.0 GPA?  So many more candidates who put in the time and effort to hand in the homework and get good grades could not be upstaged by someone who shunned the requirements even if they led the discussions and invigorated the classroom.  They could not be honored even if they received extra assignments since they had already read all the books in the curriculum and sat in the hallway with advanced reading material, popping in on cue to comment in the classroom discussions on books.  The teachers may have known who the best candidates really were but they are bound by rules.  The tap on the arm and hello to our son as his AP English teacher left the stage signaled to me that she wished she could have given it to him.

The most egregious example of this sort of thing was a few year's back when our daughter's friend was denied the position of number one graduate because he did not spend enough time in the high school during high school.  As I understood it, he did not have the required high school credits - he was taking college courses at the university nearby since he had exhausted the curriculum at the high school.  Upon graduation he could have entered the University of Michigan as a senior, age 18.  In a "post mortem" or should I say "post mortar board" decision he was awarded first place, not in time for graduation; he got second billing then.

Here's the thing though.  High school and even college are not life.  They seem that way at the time, but the most brilliant student may turn out to be only a brilliant student - not a good employee and there are absolutely no guarantees about entrepreneurship.  Someone who follows the rules is unlikely to take risks - just my opinion - and be an entrepreneur.  There is a certain "devil may care" attitude, or "la-di-da" as my husband calls it in regard to my efforts in keeping bills paid, that is REQUIRED in entrepreneurs!  If fear were to rule the day, no one would invent that better mouse trap or Microsoft Vista - sorry, wrong analogy....  I truly believe my son will do great things when the constraints are lifted.  Time will tell.

Regarding that award, yes he did receive one - the Michigan Promise Award for exemplary performance on standardized testing, required by the state of Michigan.  It is worth $4000 and he was in good company with about a quarter of his classmates.  I wouldn't sneeze at a $4000 tax-free/company-dollar-free commission these days, would any of you?

Congratulations Kevin!  When you hit the really big time I will be sure to blog about you then too.  For now, good luck at Michigan Tech.  (He applied and was accepted within six days - his ACT score was that good.)   It is the perfect school for you Kevin, despite the snowfalls that require six foot poles above the fire hydrants so the firefighters can find them in the ten months of winter....  You are going to love it there!   Seriously, you are going to love it there, just as we love you.  Now get out of here and raise that GPA.  Dad is researching that Arctic-rated parka he had in the Air Force and intends to order it for you.  Make a snowman, make a snowfort, make a snow time traveller machine.  I trust you can make anything you desire, if given the means.  See you at Thanksgiving.  Let's stock up on the Ramen Noodle now.

In a massive procrastination move the other day, I decided to rearrange my home office furniture and all the electronic equipment.  It was a very big job and only required the occasional request for help to reposition heavy furniture, so it was fairly successful.  I threw a lot of useless stuff away.

My son, perhaps the strongest and most fit person in the family, was AWOL during the entire process and arrived late at night to express his opinion.  After noting the improved flow, in which I had eliminated a 12 drawer dresser and downsized to a 4 drawer dresser to hold office supplies, he commented on the desk.

"That is one power desk!" he said.  First, yes it is.  It is massive and if I were a person comfortable working at a desk, I am sure it would be very useful.  I prefer to work in the recliner in the room, with seating space available for one cat in the seat area with me, though there have been times when a spare cat has adorned the top of the chair behind my head as well.  I have always carefullly positioned the printer/scanner/fax within reach of the recliner, plus all phones can be accessed as well.  How thoughtful!  My biggest problem is power cords.  I appear to be on life support in the recliiner, and whatever cat (of 4) is visiting needs to tuck in under wires and cables and planners at times.  They seem to understand; they keep coming back, over and over again, despite the aggravation.  Cats love electronics, and me.

After my son's comment, I went on to explain the concept of desk placement in an office. The occupant must always be able to see the door.  I believe this goes all the way back to Darwinism and survival of the fittest.  If you can't see the opponent as they approach, how will you prepare your defense?  Beyond that, the size and color of the desk is paramount.  Mine was a massive scuffed-up mahogany desk from the 1800's, I was told when I bought it at a yard sale for $25.00.  I swore I would have it refinished but never did.  One day I painted it flat black and what a difference that made!  Power indeed!

Here's the problem though.  Apparently back in the 1800's they did not use modern office chairs.  The chair opening for the desk is no more than 24" and I swear it is not more than 18".  I have an old bentwood oak chair as the desk chair there.  Do I need to further justify the recliner decision?

So my home office is now more functional, though still doorless.  It used to be the dining room - I swear I will get those doors, ignore the view, and be extraordinarily productive.  If now, if now, I could complete the taxes that prompted this office transformation, then that would be a coup indeed.  Look out IRS, my return will be coming to you soon, right after.....oh, nevermind.....  Where the heck is that stimulus payment?  Wait, I need to file the tax return, don't I?  I believe I have come full circle.  Circles are good.  As are multiples of three and not placing your bed opposite a mirror or under a beam.  Avoid northern light.  I'll get this all right one day and the living will be easy....even in real estate.

Peeved is a great word when trying to avoid cursing, isn't it?

I recently commented on a couple of blogs and returned to see what others had to say.  One blogger had a lengthy negative response to my comment, but fortunately there was another commenter coming to my defense, sort of.  I am also curious as to why a Florida realtor cares about a politician in Minneapolis - points?  The rest of the comments struck me as ambiguous so I didn't really know what they were saying.  Poop or get off the pot!  (Another curse avoidance, I am afraid.)  So it was bad, then good.  I commented again so it is probably really bad now.  It was a political blog and at this point in election time things are really critical, lines being drawn in the sand.

That old axiom about never talking about religion, sex, or politics - it is all over now.  Religion is a no-go issue since tolerance is in.  Sex is a non-issue since it is everywhere.  Politics?  Now that is where the mud-slinging is still perfectly appropriate.  Apparently money earned is now also a talking point.  Are we allowed no privacy at all?

The second blog I revisited was about investors and the timelines for re-selling a property.  I have a lot of investors.  Yes they make money when "flipping", but this is Ann Arbor, Michigan not California.  What they are doing is almost community service.  They are taking blighted properties, sometimes the only blighted property in a neighborhood and sometimes a bunch of properties in a neighborhood, and making ALL of the properties there more saleable by their efforts.  Ask the neighbors what they think.  Michigan has over 7000 HUD foreclosure homes alone, in a declared declining market and an exodus state .  Someone has to do something.  Three cheers for intrepid investors!

Investors are buying properties so bad that when I show them I need to cover my nose from the stench and wipe my shoes on the hopefully damp grass, if there is grass, when we leave.  They are buying properties far past what the generic buyer looks at.  Needs a roof, new mechanicals, new kitchen and bath, new floors, walls, landscaping - no problem.  Of course, they are getting it "for a song."  Most buyers cannot get past the fact that the third bedroom is painted blue, and they do not like blue.  Good for investors!  Why should they be limited?  One of my investors is a mostly retired contractor with connections and can turn around the worst property in about a month.  He freely admits he has lost lots of money on some deals.  Is he in the black?  Yes, but not on every deal.  Risk needs reward.

Yes, I make commission on selling these properties if I list them when they have been renovated.  But greed is not a part of the picture.  A recent sale of mine was for $20,000.  I paid my office bill for the month with that commission, nothing more.  When it relists as a renovated property at $130,000 or so, I will not be cruising in the Caribbean; I will be paying orthodontia, utilities, GASOLINE, etc.  I DO NOT MAKE AS MUCH AS YOU THINK I MAKE.  I'll detail it all for you, compensation, less company dollar, less expenses, then net, if YOU will do the same with YOUR salary.  I thought not....

Now that I have talked about politics, religion, and money, I think I will cruise my TV channels and find a movie with sex.  It is the only subject that is innocuous it seems.  Maybe I will get lucky.  :) 

Today I had some really disturbing news from one of my buyers.  He had been in the neighborhood where we are scheduled to close on a property next Friday.  The deal has been up and down, extended this long since an early March contract date for very legitimate reasons beyond the buyers' control.  Today however, in talking to some neighbors, he learned that the previous owner had committed suicide in the garage.

When I heard this in a phone call from the buyer this afternoon, he asked if the bank was required to disclose this.  It is a bank-owned property, surprise!  No, the bank is not required to disclose this, and in Michigan, nor are realtors since it is a non-material fact of the real estate.  Of course, had I known it, I would have disclosed it, and in talking to the listing agent, he did not know it either.

My team leader came by right after I learned this and I mentioned it to him.  He asked the address and commented that it was not the same place he was thinking of.  Apparently someone in our office has a listing where another homeowner committed suicide in their pole barn.

Things have been not good in Michigan for some time but there is light at the end of the tunnel.  A recent Today show segment featured Barbara Corcoran and while she admitted that the Detroit metro area is one of the six most depressed markets in the nation, she also said that this area is on the way back up.  It is official.  We have hit bottom.  Sadly, some homeowners hit bottom before the news got out.

I took this news in stride in the office but came home for a long power nap, awaking very subdued.  I was physically refreshed but could not help but dwell on the news I heard today.  We may talk in generalities about the number of foreclosures, the difficulties of short sales, the drastically reduced assessments.  The human toll is rarely mentioned.  Today I looked it in the eye and it hurt, literally.

As I drove to the supermarket for the requisite milk and bread, I had a song stuck in my head.  "Be Not Afraid."  It is a beautiful and sad song we sing in church, lax as I have been in attending of late, but the roots are deep.  I remember being unable to sing this song the Sunday after our country invaded Iraq; the words were too difficult.  I also could not sing it when we buried my little nephew recently.  I'm sure the author of the song meant it to be uplifting, an affirmation that even in death there is hope.  It just makes me cry.  So crying is what I did, driving back from the supermarket.

You know what?  I felt better.  There is the release of tension that tears bring, but I think in this case it was more about faith, deep within me and sidelined far too easily.  I don't know what end of life brings.  I don't know where the 40-something man who ended his life is now; none of us really does.  I have faith though that there is peace in the end, whatever a person's belief system is, even if it is just that the pain of living is done.  That light at the end of the tunnel I mentioned earlier?  I have faith it is not related only to real estate.  In the end, if I have the means, I'll blog about that too.  I'll try my best to get back to you on that....  

Tonight I actually stopped at our rural mailbox and took the mail out.

I remember 32 years ago when getting the mail was such a big treat.  My husband and I had no credit history, no accounts, didn't live anywhere long enough to have associations - we were blissfully free of the mail assault.  The only mail we got was mail we wanted.

Now, 99% of the mail we get is nearly or completely unnecessary.  We pay and monitor accounts online but keep getting paper statements since most online statements make NO sense; we need the paper for clarification but don't open them unless there is an issue.  As for advertisements for goods and services, we shop when we want, where we want, by word-of-mouth, and buy only what we need.  Little by little, we began to disregard the mail completely.  (Anyone out there listening? - we are baby boomers and WE PAY NO ATTENTION TO OUR MAIL!!!)  People call to see if we have received this or that.  "Let me check; I don't bring in the mail."  Hah!  No one brings in the mail!!  The other day our oversize rural mailbox was so full that one piece was in the weeds; I think I heard crickets too, it is so peaceful and natural around our mailbox.  It was a rejection for a job at Lowe's for our son - no position available.  How appropriate....

My son is the prompt for this post.  Today he gleefully announced that he has ridden the school bus for the very last time.  He's right.  He has an extended fun day tomorrow and will drive to school, with exams on Thursday and Friday - his last day - so limited and busless days there too.  And that is all there is to his high school years, except parties, the graduation ceremony, diploma, parties, and the long goodbye of the summer, punctuated by parties.  We are hoping there will be paid employment too; time will tell.  (He is going to Michigan Tech in August, Computer Science/English Literature, dabbling in music for fun - accepted?  last September, his first choice of schools.)

So today's impetuous stop at the mailbox presented a letter addressed, "TO THE PARENTS OF..." and that was interesting.  I opened it fully expecting to find that our son would not be graduating because of a four year library fine in the gazillions.  We know his cap and gown is being expedited to our residence since he did not bother to order it IN NOVEMBER.  We suspect there is no yearbook on order either, oh dear.  We know his photo will be in the yearbook though - that was on us to arrange.  But no, the letter read:

     Kevin will be receiving recognition at the Saline High School Senior Awards Program.  While many students are aware of the awards they will receive, some awards and scholarships may not be announced until the evening of the program.  We strongly encourage attendance for this awards program.

WHAT?  There might be some award for our son who almost certainly did not GPA for even the second or B honor roll?  Is this some sort of joke?  Yes, we know you all love him - you said so at conferences in the fall, and essentially in every year he has been in the district since grade three.  You have said almost the same thing, all of you.  "Intrinsically motivated to learn, not motivated by grades."  Some of you have gone so far as to say he is brilliant, bored to tears, and needs to just be done with high school so he can experience the challenges that might motivate him.  Wouldn't those be YOUR failures, not his?  Just a thought.  None of you have denied that he has learned, perhaps more than any other of your students, and has been a delightful and insightful contributor in the classroom.  Some of you have admitted he is among the most completely intellectual AND well-balanced students you have ever taught.  It has been a pleasure hearing those things.  It has been less of a pleasure seeing the grades his non-compliance has wrought.  Particularly the failing grade this past quarter from you, his psychology teacher!  You said he was likely to get a 5 on the AP test - are there no allowances in high school for superior learning WITH non-conformance?  Sometimes life just sucks!

Unless you are Kevin....  In his blissfully happy world, from the day he was born to present, life has been an adventure without worries.  He is the most self-actualized individual I have ever personally known.  As a parent, it has been an exercise in futility to get him to care about anything he does not care about.  Did Einstein fail math? - so the rumor goes.  Did Bill Gates drop out of Harvard? - I think so.  Will Kevin live in a cardboard box under a bridge? - I hope not...

Is this letter a tease?  Is this some sort of form letter sent out to the entire student body so there is a good audience to applaud the chosen few?  Or does our son stand a chance at getting some sort of award or scholarship?  Of course we will attend.  I said he should shave and try to look nice.  He said he would wear a suit.  The way he thinks, his suit will be in his honor or for his friends who will certainly be winning awards.  He has always hung out with the "right" (nerd) crowd.  You can be proud for yourself and/or proud of your friends.  As parents, we are proud of all of the kids graduating this year.  It will be a great night with lots of applause, no matter who is on stage.