My dad died three months ago. I haven’t found the words to write about it, and I don’t know if I ever will. Some painful things surrounded his death; I’m having trouble sorting through that.
So here are some things that are not entirely related to that loss but not entirely unrelated either.
• I began attending a Death Cafe a few months before my dad died. It’s a place where you can go to talk openly and honestly about death, a topic that’s often taboo. I knew my dad’s life was coming to an end — although I didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did — and I wanted to approach it from a healthier place than when my mom died.
I told the group about a picture book my son has, in which a fox is hit by a car and runs into the woods to die, the animal’s body then feeding the earth and other creatures. In this book, death is not an ending but a continuation. It’s a vital part of life.
• Shortly after my father’s death, I climbed Acatenango, a dormant volcano in Guatemala that is joined with Fuego, an active volcano.
My family camped there overnight and sat around a fire as the earth shook, nearby Fuego belching black smoke and fire into the air. Sometimes a rain of ash followed, soft and fine as talcum powder. Other eruptions covered us in soot. I relished that violence, the topsy-turviness of it. Everything seemed upside-down, the black rocks falling from the sky.
Meanwhile, my son saw hearts in the smoke.
• I used to have dreams that my teeth were falling out. Dream interpretation books told me this symbolizes a recent loss or transition. The night I returned from Guatemala, it actually happened in real life. One of my molars crumbled on New Year’s Eve. It was a loss I couldn’t fathom until it happened, a pain I thought I somehow deserved.
• We went to the animal shelter to meet a dog named Milo, but another dog, a mellow, slow-eyed puppy, caught our attention instead. I fell for her immediately. “Let’s wait and think about it,” said my 9-year-old.
That night, my son confessed he was still bereft over the loss of grandpa, and he didn’t want to risk loving anything else that might die. I explained that’s what love is. It’s the everyday bravery of making your heart tender. It’s knowing that you’ll feel pain and loving anyway.
The next day we adopted the dog.
• I had a massage recently and sobbed on the table. The therapist was afraid she had hurt me, but the hurt was already there. She only released it.
When we talked about the upcoming holiday season, there were plenty of activities to put on our calendar: Light parades, breakfast with Santa, baking cookies, ugly sweater parties, touring neighborhoods with decorated houses.
But my 9-year-old wanted to do something entirely different. He wanted to learn how candy canes are made.
It was a humble request, but it seemed about as possible as making reindeer fly. Where in the world would I find a place to make candy canes?
Turns out I didn’t even have to go to the North Pole. Logan’s Candies, a small, family-operated shop in Ontario, California, has been hand-making candy canes since 1933. Tickets to attend a candy-making demo are just $5 per person.
Nearly everything about the process has remained the same since 1933: Same recipe, same stove for boiling sugar, same marble block for pulling and stretching the candy.
Even sweeter than the candy were the kids, pressing their faces against windows to watch the seemingly magical process.
Owner Jerry Rowley stretched and pulled the warm sugar until it turned stark white.
Then he added stripes of color, used to achieve their signature candy cane look.
Afterward, everyone received a warm candy cane to shape however they wanted. We opted to make hearts, since ours were so full.
If you go
Logan’s Candies is located in downtown Ontario, 125 W B St, Ontario, CA. Street parking was free.
When: The shop does candy-making demos year-round. This time of year is more crowded and chaotic, but it would be a fun activity for someone who enjoys Christmas year-round or for celebrating Christmas in July.
Also good to know: The shop sells 31 flavors of homemade ribbon candy, and it’s also home to the world’s largest candy cane!
Planning a family trip to Universal Studios Hollywood felt like a Choose Your Own Adventure where every option was somehow the wrong choice and would lead me toward doom.
To spend hundreds of dollars for one day at the park, but skip the ride lines, turn to page 17.
To spend slightly less and get a nine-month pass to the park, but waste your one wild and precious life waiting in all the lines, turn to page 23.
We opted for the latter. Instead of trying to cram everything into one day, I figured we could go a few times and focus on a different area each visit. Even though this meant we’d have to wait in line for the rides, it wouldn’t matter as much, since we wouldn’t be on a tight timeline. And who knows? I thought. Maybe we’d luck out and there wouldn’t be any lines.
Alas, that was the strategy of a much more naive version of myself — the Maggie I was before I waited 2.5 hours to get on Mario Kart: Bowser’s Challenge.
Here’s how the day went, where we went wrong, and what I’ll do next time.
What it costs
That’s not so easy to answer. Regular tickets start at $109, two-day general admission tickets start at $159, express passes start at $209, and various other passes go from $179 to $639.
Why do I keep qualifying that with “start at”? Because the price varies wildly by day. Peak times, like weekends, holiday breaks, and more desirable days are significantly more expensive. So while I tried to find that elusive $109 ticket price, it never aligned with our work/school schedule.
Instead, I found a discount on the nine-month California Neighbor Pass, bringing it down to $150/per person. That is still expensive, but I can justify the cost by making multiple visits.
Note: I don’t want to tell you how expensive parking is. I can barely admit it to myself. But you should know that parking is my second-least favorite thing to pay for, because it’s just GROUND that my car is borrowing. Stupid.
Food and beverages
That brings me to my least favorite thing to pay for: Water.
Thank goodness Universal Studios allows you to bring in refillable water bottles. (Maximum of two liters).
The regulations also say you can bring snacks and small food items, and I did that too. But I didn’t bring enough. Later I saw people pulling hoagies the size of Buicks out of their backpacks, so I could’ve packed more substantial items. Next time.
Instead, we ate at Three Broomsticks in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I had the vegan shepherd’s pie, which was food. It kind of looked like someone started to make shepherd’s pie, then got tired of it halfway through.
Everest plowed through whatever he ordered — a platter of cabbage and mashed potatoes and tomatoes and sausage and peas and some spare change, I think. Jason had a salad, which he regretted because he hates salad, so I’m not sure why that order was ever made.
The real winner was butterbeer, something I’ve wanted to try ever since I first read Harry Potter. It was delicious, like a butterscotch cream soda, and I think I could happily live on a butterbeer-only diet. It would be a short life, but a satisfying one.
The rides
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an amusement park, so I had forgotten what it feels like to wait in line for a ride. And everything in the new Super Nintendo World required a wait. We waited in line to enter that section of the park (sometimes there’s a virtual queue, but it wasn’t an option when we visited). Then we waited 2.5 hours for the Bowser’s Challenge ride. We waited for the interactive games. We were about to wait in line for photos with Mario, but Mario went on a break. Bless you, tiny plumber.
There was another ride in the Super Nintendo World area, but I could actually feel my soul leaving my body, so at that point we left.
Then we waited 45 minutes to ride Revenge of The Mummy.
Later, we waited for the Flight of the Hippogriff ride.
That’s it. THREE RIDES. But those three experiences topped our priority list for the day, and we accomplished that.
The other stuff
Yes, I visited Ollivanders Wand Shop. I was curious how it would compare with what I imagined long ago, when I first read the Harry Potter series. And it was, in fact, pretty darn magical.
The whole point
A few months ago, Everest said he wanted to ride his first roller coaster, and I wanted E to love roller coasters the way I do.
I remember going to King’s Island with my family when I was growing up — devouring hot, greasy funnel cakes, posing for keychain photos in front of a fake Eiffel Tower, riding the Beast and then hurrying to get back in line — those are some of my most treasured memories.
That was the impetus for this Universal Studios trip. The exhilaration of being THIS TALL TO RIDE, the lap restraint pressed a little too tight, the click-clack of cars chugging up a steep hill, and finally, taking flight.
I wanted to give that to my child.
Well, he hated it. On the two coasters, Everest clutched my hand until my fingers turned blue. He murmured, “No. No. NO.” His eyes were as big as saucers, and those saucers were full of terror.
So he’s not a roller coaster kid. At least not right now, and that’s fine. It just means that when we return to Universal, we’ll be the folks enjoying the shows instead.
I’ve been interested in Cirque du Soleil ever since the company was founded in 1984. But I honestly never thought I’d see Cirque for a few reasons: 1. The performances usually take place in large cities. 2. I don’t tend to see shows when I travel. 3. I am very bad at making plans. (I once tried to buy same-day tickets to see LOVE in Las Vegas. It was Valentine’s Day, so … yeah. I struck out harder than my freshman year homecoming date.)
This time, however, was different. This time Cirque came to me.
For a very limited time, the touring production of Cortéo is appearing at Palm Desert’s Acrisure Arena, and I had an opportunity to attend on opening night.
Written by Daniele Finzi Pasca, founder of the Swiss clown troupe Teatro Sunil, Cortéo is the story of an Italian clown named Mauro who watches his own funeral procession. Beginning with Mauro’s deathbed, the procession unspools into a carnival atmosphere with dreamy scenes that look back at childhood memories but also take the viewer into otherworldly, ethereal realms.
First off, I’ll admit that I was nervous about taking my 9-year-old son to the show, since he is a vibrating ball of existential dread. I wondered how Cortéo would tackle mortality and how the show would present concepts of death/ the afterlife. I worried it would leave us feeling melancholy or distressed.
Would it be scary?
Worse, would the clowns be creepy?
Now I can firmly say my biggest worry is that my son will run off and join the circus. He was CAPTIVATED.
“This is so joyful,” he whispered as the performers leaped from one oversized bed to another, showing off gravity-defying acrobatic skills.
“Please don’t be joyful at home,” I whispered back. His bed doesn’t have good springs.
I also didn’t know if a circus would feel relevant today, when we have access to so much and can watch fantastical stories with jaw-dropping special effects on our own screens. In an era of AI, what did acrobats, aerialists, and some Italian clowns have to offer?
Well, I don’t want to give it all away, in case you end up seeing Cortéo yourself, but I was surprised and delighted. The show was far funnier than I expected but also weirder, like a Fellini fever dream. There were big, remarkable moments with gymnasts in spinning hoops and aerialists on swinging chandeliers (“That is not safe,” my son said). But the small, quieter scenes made an impact too.
I appreciated the innovative use of the set in its entirety — the trap doors and swooping angels, the balloonist who floated above the audience, the trampoline that ran the length of the stage and seemed like a runway to something beyond this world. It felt both grand and intimate, a real marvel.
Then there were the performers who were so strong and skillful, they seemed to be some other magnificent species entirely. Watching them was like gazing at Beyoncé, like, are you sure we’re all humans here?
Of course, they are human. And that’s key to why Cirque resonated for me and won me over.
It’s not just that Cirque is good despite not having special effects — it’s good because it doesn’t have special effects. At a time when reality is increasingly virtual, here was something real. Here was something alive, (albeit wrapped up in a story about death).
For me, the magic of Cirque lies in the fact that it is wildly human, and what they’ve created in Cortéo embodies life in all its beauty, power, and absurdity.
And when it all comes to an end, let’s hope we go in a cloud of glitter too.
A mom in Utah recently made headlines after creating what she calls “How to Be a Person” camp for her children. She curated a wide-ranging list of things she’d like her kids to learn this summer — everything from blowdrying hair to how to wash and cut produce.
I’m a list-maker by nature, so the concept was instantly appealing. (I did, however, balk at the name. I know a lot of neurodivergent folks, and I don’t want to imply that there’s only one way to be a person or that not possessing these skills makes one an inferior person.)
So I sat down with my 8-year-old son, Everest, and we created a list of things to learn this summer.
I highly recommend collaborating on the list, because I was shocked by how many things Everest wanted to know, I simply haven’t given him the opportunity to learn yet. Things like following a recipe or putting clothes in the dryer.
Other items on the list address things E has tried but hasn’t mastered, like double-knotting his shoelaces. This is his chance to practice.
We’re calling it Everest’s Life Skills Summer Camp, and he’s really looking forward to tackling each item. So I think I found a way to successfully pawn off the laundry on my kid? *fist pumps the air*
Here’s what’s on our list
I’m curious what else you might add? (Keep in mind that something like this is going to vary wildly by the child, their environment, and their family, so I don’t think this is a one-size-fits-all situation.)
Double-knot shoelaces
Address an envelope
Make a simple meal
Memorize social security number
Use a screwdriver
Hammer a nail
Load the dishwasher
Wash and dry a load of clothes
Use a sharp knife
Follow a recipe
Memorize mommy’s phone number
Call for help
Simple first aid
Floss well
Order politely at a restaurant
Figure out a tip
Clean the bathroom
Microwave food without blowing anything up
Change batteries
Change a lightbulb
Use leftover food/transform leftovers
Write a grocery list
Offer a genuine compliment
Graciously accept a compliment
Make a sincere apology
So tell me: What do you consider to be essential life skills?
