Toby Goodshank Original Art 2025

Life with Chicken and Broccoli

Category: dance

  • All State

    All State

    Last night we went to the All State Dance Banquet at the Aqua Turf Club in Southington, Connecticut.

    My daughter was honored there. She was a recipient, a winner, a true star. Newtown had an incredible showing, with eight students recognized in All State Dance and seven in All State Academic. Most other towns seemed to have two or three, and far fewer on the academic side. I have always said we must have good water in Newtown. It grows the kids tall and apparently makes them pretty smart too.

    It was a very special night, and I was so happy to be there celebrating my daughter’s accomplishments. Over the years, my wife and I have often divided and conquered when it came to the kids’ activities. That usually meant my wife and daughter were the ones going on the dance excursions, trips, banquets, and showcases. Because of that, it felt especially important for me to be there. Really, there was never any question that I would be.

    They put on a beautiful event for the young women, and for one young man named Jack, who all the girls from Newtown seemed to know and love.

    My daughter’s journey through these years has truly happened in the blink of an eye. It feels like I just looked up and suddenly she is grown, getting ready to leave for college this fall. Where did all the time go?

    In some ways, time moved slower in the beginning. When she was little, and my wife was commuting to Norwalk, I was the one getting her ready in the morning and bringing her to my mother’s day care, then picking her up later. Those felt like slower days. Sesame Street would be on in the background, and Abby Cadabby would keep watch over her while I got ready for work.

    There are so many things that change as they grow, and then one day they are grown. I saw something recently about how many moments in life happen for the last time without us even realizing it. You only recognize them later, when you stop and think. I found myself thinking about something as simple as holding her hand. How long has it been since we last held hands? The last time she reached for my hand while crossing a road probably felt like yesterday then, but in truth it was many years ago. So many years ago, just like the car seat rides and booster seat rides home, singing songs together in the car.

    There is something natural about the rush to prepare your children for the world, to help them become capable, confident, and independent. That is part of a father’s job. And yet there is also something heartbreaking about doing it well, because the very success of it means they cannot stay young forever. You cannot keep them small. You cannot keep them reaching for your hand. I still think about those quiet moments watching her shows beside me in bed, holding her favorite sippy cup. I have always been sentimental about the past, about the ache and beauty of nostalgia.

    But I am just as grateful now for this new season of her life. For all the firsts still ahead of her. For all the adventures, lessons, friendships, and memories she has yet to make. Last night was not just a celebration of what she has accomplished. It was also a quiet reminder to me that life keeps moving, whether we are ready or not.

    And maybe that is the bittersweet beauty of being a parent. You spend years helping them grow, praying they become strong, capable, and ready for the world. Then one day you look up and realize they are. The little girl who once held your hand is now stepping forward into her own life. It is hard to let go of the old days, but what a gift it is to have lived them. And what a privilege it is to still be here, watching her shine.

  • The Last Holiday Show

    The Last Holiday Show

    Sunday came and I found myself getting ready, excited to attend our final Christmas show recital. It was Olivia’s last holiday performance as a senior, and it struck me all at once that seventeen years have passed in a blink. Where did all this time go? The days feel long while you’re living them, yet the years slip by before you even have a chance to catch your breath.

    All those seasons of gathering our family for the holiday show came back to me. The performance has always been something special, a bright spot that lifts my mood just as the weather turns cold and dreary. It marks the beginning of Christmas, with all its magic, love, and giving.

    She looked beautiful on that stage. I felt like the proudest father in the audience. Every routine showed how much she’s grown, how hard she’s worked, and how steadily she has become her own person. I remembered those early performances when she was small and nervous, and how each year she stepped out there with more confidence and talent. All the practices, the patience, the late nights, the dedication were visible in every movement.

    I’m grateful to my wife for the countless hours she devoted to making it all possible—practices, recitals, overnight trips—staying steady through the friendship drama, cliques, breakups, and reunions that came with growing up.

    My pride in Olivia is beyond words. I always admired the seniors who stayed committed long enough to reach that moment when they received their flowers. Watching her become one of them felt surreal. Life moves quickly, and moments like this reveal everything that mattered along the way.

    I think about how many things I never finished myself, which makes me even more grateful that my children have their own sense of follow-through. They see things through to the end. They carry a strength that feels like its own kind of blessing. Every day I feel lucky to be their father, and especially blessed to have a daughter as talented, determined, and beautiful as Olivia.

    When the show reached the March of the Wooden Soldiers, my thoughts drifted to my parents. I felt the ache of knowing they weren’t physically with us after all the years they sat in those seats cheering her on, and sometimes dozing off. They didn’t get to see her big senior moment. That ache lasted only a heartbeat before a sense of comfort settled in. I knew they were with us in their own way, watching from a place we couldn’t see, feeling pride and joy beyond anything we could imagine.

    Sitting beside my brother reminded me how grateful I am for him. He has been steady through every chapter of our lives, carrying memories only the two of us share and bringing a sense of grounding and humor that makes our family feel whole. We were still very much the little boys who grew up wrestling, laughing, and knocking into one another. He is the last piece of our original tribe, and having him there made the night feel complete.

    Our extended family filled the row around us, in-laws who have become as real and true as any blood relative. Their presence added warmth to the evening and reminded me how lucky and blessed we are to have such a circle.

    By the end of the night, I felt refilled with love. The kind that settles deep inside you long after the lights fade, quietly reminding you that every step, every year, and every moment is a beautiful mystery worth living.