family | Valya Dudycz Lupescu

Books and Gratitude

Posted on 21 April, 2016

When I was little, books lived mostly at the library and occasionally came home with me by way of treasures ordered from Scholastic flyers we received at school. I loved those days when the teacher distributed the neatly rubberband-bound piles topped with order slips bearing our names. I don’t think I ever verbalized it to my parents, but even then I was consciously building a library.

My family had a few books and a collection of encyclopedias that I adored on shelves on the back porch, but the only people in my extended family who had anything close to what I envisioned as a proper library were my Aunt Natalia and Uncle Wasyl. The shelves in their family room were filled with what looked like ancient and exotic Ukrainian books.

I loved the places that brought me books, but they were not really gathering spaces for book-loving communities. The tiny chain bookstore at the mall lacked designated seating spaces, so my best friend Cheryl and I would sit on the floor in the metaphysical section reading about dream analysis and palm reading, trying to find ways to predict or control the future.

Somewhere around junior high, I discovered the used bookstore on Addison Street, situated on the end of the block where we lived– past the Superette, past the bakery, but just before you reached the corner bar. It barely had room for customers; its narrow aisles were filled with classics and pulps, dusty shelves and tables overflowing. That’s where I would take my babysitting money and buy science fiction and fantasy paperbacks, sometimes filling a brown paperbag for $2. I still have some of those early purchases, and they are like old friends in my bookcase.

I discovered the Book Cellar not long after it opened in 2004. Serving good coffee AND wine, it was a community hub with excellent books and literary events. After having launched both Conclave: A Journal of Character and The Silence of Trees at the Book Cellar, there was no question in my mind where I wanted to celebrate the Chicago release of Geek Parenting.

13036327_10154732809078942_849071071_o — *Photo by Mary Anne Rooney.*

We had a wonderful turnout on April 16th–a beautiful, warm, Chicago Spring afternoon. I was overwhelmed by the number of friends, family, and strangers who came to listen as Stephen and I read from Geek Parenting, answered questions, and signed copies.

GeekParentingTwitter — *Photo by The Book Cellar.*

Out of the corner of my eye, I kept seeing passersby stop and peer in the windows to see why such a large crowd had assembled. It’s one of the charms of a neighborhood bookshop–the neighbors come by. Some even came in to listen, joining the lively audience who filled all the seats and stood in between the stacks. We answered a few questions; and then my sister cut the cake while Stephen and I signed books and chatted with people.

geeek parenting 6 (1 of 1) — *Photo by Ellen Prather.*

Sincere thanks to Suzy and her wonderful staff, to everyone who came out to the Book Cellar or has attended events in Seattle or Philadelphia, to everyone who has bought our book, has given it to friends, or has helped to spread the word.

geeek parenting 4 (1 of 1) — *Photo by Ellen Prather.*

Thank you. So much.

It has been a wonderful beginning to our Geek Parenting book tour, and we’re excited about the next few stops on the East Coast in two weeks (click here for dates and more information), as well as those still to come.

geeek parenting 2 (1 of 1) — *Delicious cake from Dinkel’s. Photo by Ellen Prather.*

Geek Parenting is a celebration of the lessons we learn from some of pop culture’s most famous families, but it’s also a book about the different ways we share and shape our visions for a better future. We do it with stories and imagination, and we do it with friendship and community.

Thank you.

xxo

Heart Critters

Posted on 30 March, 2016

We said goodbye to our sweet Tiger today. He went gently and peacefully.

There are animals that come into our homes, our families, and our lives who carve out special places in our hearts. They become family.

Tiger was family.

For those of you who met Tiger, you know. He was a one-of-a-kind, world-traveling, head-butting, always-talking, always-purring, curmudgeonly-muttering, toilet-drinking, chicken-hunting, ever tolerant, affectionate dog-cat.

His name was one of the first words for each for our children–children who would carry Tiger around the house as soon as they were able to walk. (Since Tiger’s weight fluctuated between 14 and 18 lbs, this usually meant holding him under the arms and half-carrying, half-dragging him from place to place.)

Tiger might mutter in protest from time-to-time, but he never bit or scratched the kids. He put up with all their love: being dressed up in scarves and doll clothes, forced to sit for tea parties, and placed into the center of elaborate train track setups where he would tolerantly watch the kids play.

The kids gave him extra love last night and said goodbye this morning.

The title for this post is phrase I am borrowing from my writer-friend Brooke Bolander: heart critter.

Tiger was our heart critter. He was a part of our family for 16 years, and he will never be forgotten.

On Walks and Zombies

Posted on 30 March, 2016

When my sister and I were young, my father was a Chicago cop. His schedule varied, but he often worked nights. Sometimes when he’d wake up and I’d come home from kindergarten, we’d go for a walk. My little sister, father, and I would meander through our neighborhood on Chicago’s northwest side. He would share stories about when he was a boy, and I would talk about school or dancing or something we saw on television.

Sometimes we would just walk quietly and watch the seasons changing: new flowers growing or leaves falling; or we’d catch clouds making shapes in the sky. If we didn’t already see her there, we would stop to call the cat who always sat in the second story story window of one particular apartment building on Patterson Street, and we would cheer when she came to the window.

We did a lot of different things with my father: he was a fun dad, eager to indulge the creative whims of his two young daughters, whether that meant allowing my sister and I to “fix” his hair or play Uno, Yahtzee, or Monopoly. But going on walks was one of my favorite things. It’s one of my fondest memories, and it’s one of the activities I treasure most with my own kids.

It may seem an odd message to get from a show about killing zombies in a post-apocalyptic America, but it’s one of my favorites in our book, Geek Parenting.

The Walking Dead doesn’t seem an obvious place to “get a lesson” about parenting, but that’s kind of the point of our book. There is certainly value in reading reference guides that give you lists and milestones for parenting. But so much of who we are is shaped by our daily interactions, by the things we read, watch, and do. So yes, we are influenced by the shows we watch, and sometimes those shows remind us of important things:

Even when we’re not dodging zombies, taking a walk removes many of the distractions competing for our attention. A family amble around the neighborhood or through the park gets us out of our heads and into the world.

Precocious toddlers and young children love the chance to ask questions while meandering. If you’re unsure how to start a conversation with a grumbly tween or a reluctant preteen, point out a car that reminds you of when you learned to drive, or a dog on a walk that looks like a former pet. Perhaps more important, ask questions of them: Who do you think lives in that house? Can you see a face in that tree? What kind of an apartment would you like to live in when you’re older?

Whatever we see, whatever we talk about, wherever we go, remember that when we set out on a stroll, we are spending time together — come what may.

You can read the rest of the excerpt that highlights Michonne and Carl Grimes from The Walking Dead here, on the Geek Parenting site.