Category: family

Popeye’s Maxim

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Sometimes, we just are who we are.  Popeye was never apologetic on this point.  We can struggle against it, but our strengths and our flaws together define us as individuals.  Tonight I learned even more than I should embrace this fact and just be me.

This evening we were at a dinner party with my in-laws and, as is not uncommon at such events, various topics of conversation swirled around the table.  The subjects ranged from what defines moonshine to the finer points on making a successful risotto.  Among the non sequitur  topics my sister-in-law brought up a story involving a song – Dream Weaver – which naturally rolled into a conversation about who sung it.  Unfortunately no one at the table actually knew, but several hazarded off-based guesses.  My natural inclination was to whip out my iPhone and Google it, but I resisted being ‘that guy’.  As the conversation wound down and slowly morphed on, I had noted that it would simple enough to find the information online.  My wife responds with “Don’t you have your iPhone right in your pocket?”  So in the end I conceded and was ‘that guy – I AM ‘that guy’.  There is little point in trying to evade it.

Unfortunately my sister-in-law seems to live in one of those clear areas so frequently seen in Verizon’s advertisements as of late on AT&T’s 3G coverage.  So the information remained tenuous (it was Gary Wright, by the way – I’m also that guy who will keep things like that in his head to look into at a more opportune time).  But my reputation as a trivia nut precedes me.  I guess I should expect as much – I’ve never hid it well (who do you think ended up spewing information on what defined moonshine when it came up).

Happy Birthday, Cricket!

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Cricket at play as Alice at the Please Touch Museum
Cricket at play as Alice at the Please Touch Museum

Today my Cricket turned 6 years old.  It is weird to see you becoming a little lady so fast.  It is hard to believe that those days of making you giggle on your bouncer was so long ago.  Now you are in Kindergarten learning to read and write and do math.

We had a party for you this past weekend – we had a bunch of your friends both from school and from our old stomping grounds up near Allentown (your mother was not too happy with me for having beer at the party, but there were as many adults present as kids).  As I sit here writing this the streamers and banners are still hanging in the doorway, only feet from the Christmas tree and the stockings.  Also as I sit here, I can feel the dinner and ice cream from Friendly’s sitting heavy in my stomach.

I have to say that there is no way to impress upon a non-parent the love that a parent has for their child.  I love my wife, I’ve loved others before, and I will always love my parents and my sisters, but none of those compare.  No other love can rival the unconditional love that is so full of hope and eager anticipation, so full of tolerance for anything and everything, so lacking in selfishness that a parent feels for a child – that I feel for you.  Always.

I love the little rituals that we share.  A part of me looks forward to giving you a kiss, a hug, and a very special bug as you leave for the prom, as you graduate from high school and college, as you walk down the aisle.   I love that we can talk about nearly anything, no matter how trivial.  I love to see you see the world through your own eyes – without my particular brand of bias – and see what conclusions you might reach of your own accord.

It is funny to see you interacting with school friends now – and how much of myself I see in you when you do.  I see some of the same shyness that I tended to have with new people, and then the same bawdiness that I tended to have with those with which I was comfortable.  You also have that same tendency to politely argue against things – with your “Well actually …”.  I love that at 6 you can use words like actually, essentially, similar, and dozens of other multisyllabic words that even I didn’t tend to use until much later.

Happy birthday, Cricket.  It is hard to believe that I’m already 1/3 of the way to having to let you go away to college.  There is so much to learn between now and then.  But so far I’m enjoying my lessons.

Thanksgiving – Check!

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Reciprocating saw – check!  Crow bar – check! Various other tools and hardware – check!  Two gimpy guys prepared for a fair amount of cursing – check!

Thanksgiving is a time for families to be together and to share experiences with each other.  This Thanksgiving I was able to share the experience of a 2-day battle to replace my front door with my Dad.  And with him suffering from a gout flare-up and my hip deciding to give me a hard time, we were quite the pair limping around Lowe’s repeatedly to acquire the various tools and supplies we needed to do the deed.  Given that our old door was crooked, had a single-pane window, and a 1/2″ gap underneath, it was due.  So we got our supplies in order, left our suspension of disbelief at what we would find within the wall at the door, and started hacking away.

Despite our best laid plans and our care in measuring things thoroughly, we had to cut almost everything twice and had to go back to Lowe’s three times for items we forgot or hadn’t anticipated needing.  We attempted to mitigate the loss of heat while the opening was gaping by tacking a tarp over the orifice, but the wind seemed to have other ideas – it only seemed to hang down over the opening when one of us was measuring or cutting something from the outer part of the opening (the wind seems to enjoy irony).

Also, regardless of our expectations knowing the age and history of the house, we were continually surprised by what we uncovered beneath the drywall.  First was the fact that in place of normal studs we found rough-hewn 4×4 beams (painted white).  Next was the apparent framing for an old window above the door where we expected a header … framed with old floor boards.  Also a beam that was above the door that we assumed might be load-bearing turned out not to even be strongly attached to anything.  And if the choice of lumber wasn’t odd enough, the fact that most of the nails we pulled appeared to have been made by a blacksmith was certainly unexpected.

After spending all day cutting, recutting, rasping, filing, and cutting again, we were finally able to fit the new door into the opening (and after taking it back out of the opening so we could remove the screws that fastened the door to the frame, we were able to put it back in and screwed it in place). And as a result I now have a three early Christmas presents from my parents:  a nice new front door, my own reciprocating saw (look out windows – you’re next), and pain and memories to carry me through the holiday season.  And eventually I’ll finish the paint and trim around the new door and put my tools away so my entryway and front porch don’t look like a small construction site.

One successfully executed home-improvement project (that I can claim on my taxes in the name of improving energy efficiency) – check!

My Daughter, the Rock Star

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The funny thing with kids – no matter how complete your life may have felt before, once you have kids you can’t imagine life any other way.  Cricket and I have some interesting ways that we bond.  We play video games together, we read stories together (currently we are going back and forth between Nancy Drew and Harry Potter books), and we watch the cartoons together (some of them are quite fun even for adults).  Recently the kids and I had some free time together in the evening and opted to go to some nearby shops.  After doing a round at the pet store and passing in and out of a bike shop and a mattress store (who doesn’t like to bounce on beds?), we walked into a game shop to check out what Wii games were out and coming soon.

After browsing the selection and playing a round of each of the games they have on their demo systems, my son and I turn to see his sister having put a Rock Band guitar strap over her head getting ready to play it (mind you, she has never actually played any such games – she is only 5).  She gets her hands in position and shouts to the audience of the store “I’m bringin’ the THUNDER!”

Being her 3-year-old little brother, Grasshopper had to follow suit by getting his own guitar and repeating the phrase as best he could remember it.  In hindsight, I’m glad we had gone to the stores in the order that we did, because that was a better finale to the evening than the typical ‘don’t touch that’-fest that any trip the the pet store always becomes.  This event easily washed all of that away.

From Terrible Twos to Thrilling Threes

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Today my little Grasshopper turns 3 years old.  Happy birthday, buddy!  It seemed like only yesterday you were barely crawling but trying to climb everything.  Now you are running, jumping and in constant motion (and still trying to climb everything).  You are certainly a combination of me and your mother – at times so happy and mellow, at others ready to kick butts and take names.  You are active (nearly hyperactive at times) as well as cautious and deliberate in your actions.  While I wouldn’t want to pigeon-hole you in any way, you already seem to demonstrate innate talents for sports and performance.  I look forward to continuing to watch you grow and encourage you in the things you want to pursue – no matter what those things are.  You are my boy and I love you and will always be there for you.  Happy third!!