Chapter title is a lyric from "Secret o' Life" by James Taylor.  Only owned by JT. 

Please stay tuned for a video companion to Allentown at the end of this chapter!

Pam

It seemed like I’d just finished, framed, and hung all the drawings, the sketches I’d struggled and cried over.  Just a month after Natalie was born, the final set of hands – hers – were hung.  Her chubby little baby hands found their home among all the loving hands that held her, stroked her golden brown curls, played “this little piggy” with her tiny toes.  But not long after that, I was taking them down, wrapping them in tissue paper and packing them in boxes for the move.

Michael said Dan Gore was never the brightest tool in the shed, and coming from Michael, that means…something.  The Buffalo branch had been failing and some of the board members wanted to just shut it down, but David Wallace had another idea:  take one failing branch office, add one hotshot salesman and let it rise.  Jim got the call and while New York City had been all wrong (for lots of reasons), Buffalo seemed just right.   Now, three years later, it seems perfect.  I remembered Jim telling me about taking detours and of course, he was right.  Sometimes it does turn out to be the best thing.  And now I’m about to take a turn I wasn’t expecting, but I know for certain I’m going the right way.

Jim

“Nate, please just sit still for one more minute.”

“Hurry up, Daddy!  Mommy doesn’t take this long.”

“Yeah, well, Mommy’s an expert at fixing hair.  Look at my hair, huh?  Clearly, I’m not an expert.”

She giggles her mother’s laugh and she winds me one notch tighter around her finger.  She keeps this up and I’ll be buying her a BMW when she’s 10, if that’s what she wants.   Who knew two little pigtails could take so long?  But she’s squirming all over and you’d think I’d be better at this by now, but just then, my mother comes in to save me.

“Jim, let me.  Natalie, let Grandma fix your hair.”

She takes the comb from me and the doorbell rings and I hear my father greeting my in-laws at the front door. 

Pam

We found a house on Lafayette about halfway between Buffalo State and the Albright-Knox and Allentown.  I found myself living right in the middle of a thriving art community and I took advantage of as much as I could with a fairly new baby.  Arty folk are pretty laid back, though, and by the time Natalie had her first birthday, she’d already been to as many art shows as I had at 30.  She was a great little ice breaker, too, and I made fast friends with the women who never failed to approach me to comment on her hair or her big smile that she got from her daddy.  

Jim’s promotion allowed me to extend my maternity leave to semi-permanent leave.  Just another puzzle piece that had fallen into place as if by divine intervention.  After a year though, my thoughts were returning to school and classes and finishing my degree.  I’d taken Natalie on walks down Elmwood in her stroller many times and sometimes we’d head for the Albright Knox, but often, we seemed to find our way to the Buff State campus, me lifting her stroller up the stairs of Upton Hall to wander through the gallery there.  On one of those trips, I stopped in the student services building and picked up an application. 

Jim

Nate is finally ready and the grandparents are, too, so we get the stroller ready to head out down Elmwood.  I apologize again for the walk, but everyone’s happy to be taking in the beautiful May sunshine.  Parking was going to be a nightmare, so I’d driven the car down the night before, left it, and walked back home.  We’re going to have a little party at Santasiero’s when we’re done, so we can all pile into the van.  The grandmothers are catching up with each other and my father’s busy pointing out all the sights to Pam’s dad.  I’m pushing the stroller and Nate is hollering like crazy because she insists she’s too big to be in a “baby stroller.”  I tell her, ‘of course you are’ and stop and haul her out and onto my shoulders.  My father tells me I’m doomed as I push the empty stroller down the street.

Kellie’s meeting us.  Michael, too, and I can’t wait to hear how that car ride went. 

Pam

It hadn’t been easy.  Jim had challenges at work, turning the office around.  He traveled for work occasionally.  Nate would get a cold or the flu and I’d be buried in paper and covered in paint and she would be crying.  One time, we both just sat on the bathroom floor and cried together.  But I wasn’t going to let anything derail me this time.  My mom came up and stayed for a few days around midterms and finals and that was a huge help.  Mel seemed to call at just the right times to encourage me and Kellie always managed a call when Dwight or Michael did something spectacularly ridiculous, just to share it and make me laugh.  I missed her.

When I’d first started college after high school, I was an art education major, just like Mel.  I still had credits that would count toward a degree and now, I was going to be able to take more than just a few classes at a time.  I could finish in just under three years.  Done.  A teacher.  An art teacher.   It was a really long, winding detour I’d taken, but I found myself once again on the path I’d started on in the very beginning. 

Jim

They call it “walking” when you attend your graduation.  Pam tells me she can’t believe some students don’t want to walk.  They don’t want to wear the cap and gown, take the walk up to the stage when their names are called, shake the college president’s hand, and walk away, moving the tassel from one side of the cap to the other.   We’re sitting on the porch and she’s leaning back against me on the wicker loveseat.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” she says.  “I can’t wait.”

“I’m really proud of you.”

“I’m glad our parents are going to be here.”

“Everyone’s coming.  Everyone’s excited and proud of you.”

“It’s going to be a big day.  A good day.”

“Supposed to be warm on Saturday.  Warm enough to go naked underneath that gown.”

“No thanks, but we can play professor and naughty student later, after our parents leave.”

“You’re keeping the cap, too, right?”

“The cap’s the best part!”

“Awesome.”

“Hey, you know what I’m really excited about?”

“What?”

“I’m excited Natalie’s going to be there.  I mean, she probably won’t remember any of what happens, but I’m glad she’s going to be there.”

“Well, she’s really the one who saved you from a life of misery and hardship as a graphic designer.”

“There is that, but I want her to know that it’s never too late, you know?  That if you want something and you work hard, you can get it.”

I kiss the top of her head and say ‘like you did’ and she tells me ‘yes.’

“And I want her to be proud of me.”

Pam

Lining up with the other art students and listening to them chatter away, I think does this mean as much to them as it does to me?  I don’t see how it possibly can.  They haven’t spent years being a receptionist, or tried to finish a project at 3:00 in the morning with a baby on their shoulders.  But after today, I can say I’m an art teacher.  I’m a wife and a mother and a teacher.  When I’m not teaching art, I am an artist.  I do illustrations. 

I sit in my seat with the other students and scan the crowd looking for my cheering section.  I finally hear a high-pitched scream of “Mommy!” and my eyes find Jim with Natalie on his shoulders and I wave.  The whole group waves back and I take a longer look at each one of them, but my eyes rest longest on Jim.  Holding Natalie’s legs close to his chest with one hand and waving with the other.  She’s got one arm wrapped under his chin and her head’s resting on the top of his while she waves down at me. 

My little family...my inspiration.

I’ll be teaching at St. Rose of Lima grade school in the fall.  Art for seventh and eighth graders.  I count backwards on my fingers from May and think…when I start making my lesson plans in July, we're going to start making some other plans, too.  Jim’s never been shy about telling me how much he wants another baby.  Natalie was barely out of the womb when he decided that this Daddy thing was pretty cool.  But, no way am I going to be 9 months pregnant in August again and I want to be home all summer with the new baby.   A new baby!  No surprises about a mucous plug or labor.  No one’s going to tell me horror stories this time and I’ve already forgotten my own, which wasn’t that bad anyway.  Just the joy of another baby, a brother or a sister for Natalie.

Before any of that starts, I’ll be busy putting the final touches on my last few drawings and getting them mounted and ready.  Two students from the art ed department are selected to show their work in the Buffalo State College booth at Allentown every year.  I’m one of them.  Mel said it was the wheel turning again. 

I look back up at Jim when they’re on the H’s and he waves again and I mouth “I love you” at him.  He smiles that big grin and does the same.    When they call my name, all I can think about is what’s around the next corner.  I’m thinking about our future, our family, my students, our life ahead.  It's like a mosaic we're making together, Jim and I.  I'm thinking how, if you stand too close sometimes, you focus on all the little pieces...some pieces are fine like polished glass, and some are ragged and worn, some weathered and tear-stained.  But if you step back, you can see them all coming together to form images and scenes that tell the story of us.  It's a story we're still writing and I can't wait for the next chapter.  

Jim

Here’s what I’m thinking when I hear them call “Pamela Halpert.”  I’m thinking of origami doves and yogurt lid medals.  I’m thinking of secret glances and silly pranks and doing anything I could just to steal a few moments with her.  I’m thinking of how I challenged her once, telling her she had to take a chance on something, sometime.  I remember losing all hope that she ever would, but then she took a chance on me.  I’m thinking of her face as we said our vows, our tears when Natalie came into the world, and those first few months, both of us sleepless in Scranton, laughing at things that shouldn’t have been funny.  I’m thinking of those months before, when she felt abandoned and lost and how helpless I felt, wanting to make it all right for her.  I’m thinking of my father telling me to “just love her” and me thinking that was like telling me to breathe.   As I reach up to bring my daughter down from my shoulders and settle her next to my heart, I’m thinking about our first trip here.  I kiss her sweet face, so much like Pam's, until she giggles into my neck.  I remember that Sunday morning, watching her face, waiting to breathe, until she said, "I'm back."  And now here we are, taking the walk, starting down a new bend in the road, getting ready for Allentown.

~~

The song in this video might be a little cliche, but The Goo Goo Dolls are from Buffalo, so it seemed appropriate.  Many thanks to Susanita's tireless screencapping expertise - so many of the pictures appear thanks to her.  I've never done a video before, but I felt inspired.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXbElIeudPg