Tag: Family

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The Fight For What’s Right

I had been thinking for the last few days I should put up a post here, kind of a scattered thought semi-mess of some of the events from the last several days plus the pending visit of a couple guys from the firehouse.

That all changed this morning when I read this post from my daughter-in-law, PhojoMama. In truth, I had read a draft of it last night, she asked my opinion on a couple things and I offered my input, fwiw. But when I saw it was posted, I sat down and read it again. And, like with my son’s earlier post, this time I read it as a Dad. Now, I know many of you know us IRL, so you may have aready seen her post. And if you have we appreciate you. But if you haven’t seen it yet, please take a couple minutes to read it. It’s an incredibly powerful, intensely personal look into the spouses perspective of PTSD and touches on a few of the hurdles she/they had and are having to overcome. I will tell you this though. If you’re not in a location where you can let emotion flow, wait until you are before you read it. As I looked at the laughing face of my son in the photo she chose to use on the post, I thought, again, about how close we came to losing him. She makes several key points too, not the least of which is that spouses, significant others, or really, any loved one, needs access to the information to get the help their first responder needs when they need it.

Yesterday marked the start of National Suicide Prevention Week. A couple quick statistics for you from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention website- Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S. In 2017 there were 1.4 MILLION suicide attempts. 47,173 Americans died by suicide that same year. So to say I’m grateful to the powers that be for my son choosing to seek help rather than an end, it’s possibly the largest understatement of my life.

A couple other points I’d like to make. First, for those who brush, either suicide or an attempt at suicide, off as a sign of weakness, I’d like to ask you to perform an act that’s anatomically impossible. If you need clarification, it rhymes with “Go truck yourself”. I’d also like to ask you how it is that you can so deeply understand the history, the psyche, the trauma, the scars, the fears, the, well, the everything of a person that truly feels they have no alternative other than to end the pain? Really. What makes you an authority? And maybe more importantly, what happened in your past that sucked the compassion from you?

Ok, that’s starting to take a turn on me and I’d rather stay a little more focused. Because here’s the other point I’d like to make. I don’t claim to know a lot about politics or politicians. But here’s what I do know. When constituents call, write, or stop in for a chat, they tend to listen. And when whatever you present to them is compelling, they tend to act on it. And they should be shocked to learn that we lose roughly the same number of first responders each year to suicide as we do to on-the-job line-of-duty deaths. That’s pretty compelling. So here’s my larger point behind writing this today. Especially for my friends and family still in Illinois. Contact your elected state officials; State Representatives, State Senators and let them know this. Currently, in Illinois, there are minimal protections in place for psychological injuries sustained on-the-job. That needs to change. Blow out your knee on a call and you’re covered until you are ready to return to work. But blow out the synapses that keep you mentally in tune and you’re shit out of luck. Now, I’ll tell you this up front, firefighters are generally loved and respected right up until the point they ask for something. So if you talk to Mr. or Mrs. or Ms. political person and they seem all bright and happy until you explain what you’re looking for and then their mood changes, well, that’s why. On the good side, legislation to help protect first responders shouldn’t be cost-prohibitive from a tax standpoint. On the bad side, I feel it likely would add expense to a municipality to provide this higher level of coverage. Also, I feel confident in saying the insurance industry will probably fight passage of a bill of this sort. So our work is cut out for us. Maybe you’ll find out the value your politicians place on their first responders. As a resource, Kentucky recently passed legislation to this effect. And you can share that information with the politicians as a way to get the ball rolling. As I move towards the end of this, I’ve got one last link, at least for my Illinois friends. If you don’t know your elected officials, by clicking here you can enter your address and find out how to contact them. Now, I’m not going to put a link like that for all 50 states, but I would like to say that it really is easy to find out who represents you in your statehouse so fire up your Google machine, you non-Illinoisans and get some help for the people that have your backs 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, whether you realize it or not. And if any of my non-Illinoisan friends would like to share this and put up state-specific info for wherever they are, I would be truly grateful.

Ok, I lied. Here’s one more link, in case you or someone you love needs it. It goes to Illinois Fire Fighter Peer Support.

Let’s make a difference.

Peace.

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The End Of August

If you come by here, really even semi-regularly, you know how I feel about August.

As the end of this particular month approached I thought about, well, a couple things actually. I thought about a potential post to mark my tenth anniversary as a blogger and I thought about how the 31st day of this month is the anniversary of Dad’s passing. And I thought about how I’ve never written about him. I put out three pieces after Mom passed away, but never did anything on him. It’s been twenty four years. It’s time.  It was my first real experience with losing a loved one. I still have some vivid recollections of his final weeks. One in particular. He was in the hospital, I think it was after his first stroke. He had started to regain some motility but nowhere near enough to do much of anything for himself. So Mom asked me if I would shave him, since it had been several days. I took his electric razor and cleared the stubble off his face and neck. He smiled when I was done. I have many, many fond memories of Dad, but that one may be the most meaningful for me and I’m not sure I know why.  Maybe because it was so near the end, maybe because it was just some small thing I could do for him to make him feel better albeit briefly.  Yes I had acted as “his” paramedic until I realized I needed to be his son and I was incapable of being both simultaneously.  But for this man, that had done so much for me; this small, simple act, one that gets replayed in my head every time I look in the mirror if I’ve gone several days without shaving myself, is probably the closest I’d ever felt to him.

I don’t mean that as a negative either. I never, for even an instant, doubted my parents loved me. And I’m sure my siblings all feel the same way. I don’t remember hearing Dad say the words “I love you” to me. I always kind of took that as a byproduct of his own upbringing. My grandparents died when my Dad was 9 years old. He, his three surviving sisters (his oldest sister died at the same time as my grandparents) and his brother all grew up in an orphanage in Dundee, IL. So I kind of assumed that had everything to do with it. This picture, courtesy of my sister the Cheesehead, is Dad and his sisters June, Margaret, and Pearl, waiting for the train to take them from their home in California to the orphanage in Dundee. His brother was too young (about 18 months old) for admission when this all went down, so he stayed with a family friend out west (or relative, I forget) until he was old enough. His childhood was not something he and I ever really talked about. I mean, not like it was some deep, dark, secret or taboo, more that, I knew the story, but I never really sat down and made a point of asking him about it, the emotions about it, the touchy-feely kind of stuff I tend to write about vs Dad’s generation which was far more stoic. I know he had a pretty good childhood, all things considered. They all had chores to do, not like child-labor, sweat-shop stuff, but chores they were responsible for. And he and his siblings spent a lot of time together during their years there.

Like so many of his generation, when World War 2 came along, he did his patriotic duty and enlisted in the Army Air Corps, the precursor to the Air Force. Get a load of this handsome guy-

Whenever I look at this picture, I see just how much the Heir To The Throne looks like him. The hairstyle may be a little (or, significantly) different, but geez he looks like Dad.

Throughout most of my life, especially when I was younger, people always said how I was just like Dad, same easy-going demeanor. But the more I thought about it, I’m far more like Mom was personality-wise anyway. Mom was quick to anger, but equally quick to get over it and move on.

Dad was always unruffled. I think I was 12 years old before I ever heard him swear. A vocabulary skillset my own kids learned from me at a much younger age. My brother had gone to a high school basketball game and I remember he got a flat tire. Dad went to help him change it. In a snowstorm as I recall. I’m not sure why I was there, since I know I was pretty much useless at that point (hold your comments please) but Dad, while digging through the pile of tools in the trunk said “Where’s the damn jack?!?!” I was petrified. I later learned Dad could cuss with the best of them, but I rarely heard it. I think the worst I ever heard from him was an occassional “shit”, certainly never an eff bomb. My brother would work with him sometimes and confirmed that yes, on job sites, Dad could sling those around freely too. But I digress. Kinda.

I was always sorry Diane never really got to know him. We had only been dating for a couple months when Dad died. I think they would’ve have gotten along famously. I can almost hear him making one of his Dad-joke puns and her rolling her eyes, laughing along with him. I may have gotten more of mom’s personality, but I definitely have his sense of humor. Dad loved to laugh. Whether at some terrible joke he told or at some tv show he watched. He laughed freely and often. And it’s a wonderful characteristic. Sometimes it’s the only response worth having. Trying to find humor in some of the hurdles life puts in the way has helped me inumerable times over the course of my life, and I have him to thank for that.

I got my love of sports from him. Dad was a pretty good halfback during his high school football days. Our favorite story was when he ran the wrong way one game. This was, of course, long before anyone knew anything about concussions or their long-term effects. I don’t recall if he scored for the other team or not, but he always laughed about that incident. When my turn to play came around, Mom and Dad were always there. Every football game and every home track meet. Those were a little tougher to get to, since they were both working back then. And they both loved going to the high school basketball games. Especially if Dad’s friend Wally was one of the referees. If Wally made a call Dad disagreed with, he made sure Wally knew about it in no uncertain terms. Reasonably good natured, but Wally knew it if Dad thought he’d blown a call. One Friday night my senior year, we had an indoor track meet a half hour or so away. I didn’t expect much that night, so Mom and Dad went to the basketball game. As it turned out, I’d had a pretty good night. After we got back to school they announced our results during the game. I was in the locker room so I had no clue that happened, didn’t learn about it until years later. But they said he just beamed as people came up to congratulate him.

Dad is, as much as anything, the reason I became a firefighter/paramedic. He had a heart attack back in the mid 1980’s and, as I watched the ambulance head towards the hospital, with him in the back, I never felt more helpless in my entire life. So, a couple years later when I had the opportunity to go to EMT school and then paramedic school, I was all over it.

And it was due in large part to being unable to help Dad in his time of need.

There were many things Dad was not. He was after all, human, and he had his share of foibles, as we all do. But one thing he always was, was proud of who the four of us, and all of our assorted children, had become.

Oh and pay no mind to the 90’s porn star mustaches my brother and I are sporting. It was, after all, the 90’s so…

This was taken at the folks 50th wedding anniversary. I took three swings at it and couldn’t even hit 25 years cumulatively. Obviously I didn’t pay close enough attention to the model Mom and Dad set.

Dad, I miss you each and every day. There are so many times I wish I could meet up with you over a cup of coffee and ask one of the million or so questions I now have for you. It doesn’t seem possible you’ve been gone for 24 years.

On to September.

Peace.

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High Times

So, as I was driving up to the coffeehouse today, I passed an exit (as I do every time I drive up here) and the names of the two towns at said exit gave me (not literally) pause, as they often do, making me wonder how people choose to name places. In this instance the two towns are Climax and High Point. Now, as far as I’m concerned, climax IS the high point, amirite? But, in addition to these two towns, there are also towns named Apex and Pinnacle out here. I haven’t bothered to look for an Acme, NC or a Zenith, NC or an… well you can probably guess where I’m going with that one. But it wouldn’t surprise me if either existed. Except that last one. I’m pretty sure there’s no town out here named that.

Speaking of altitude (I crack myself up sometimes) I spent a recent weekend in suburban Denver, CO. The youngest son of The Great Vincenzo, my long-time partner at the firehouse, got married out there and they asked me to perform the ceremony. Long time readers may recall from this post that I got myself an online ordination a while back so that I could be the officiant for my niece/goddaughter’s wedding. Which, of course, sounds better than saying I officiated the wedding since I don’t wear Zebra stripes and a whistle as part of my ensemble. Although that might be something to consider moving forward…

I followed up the wedding weekend five days later with a trip to Lexington, KY where I attended the first ever Railbird Festival. Thirty bands over two days headlined by the Raconteurs, Brandi Carlile, Gary Clark Jr. and St. Paul and the Broken Bones, the weekend did not disappoint musically. I also got the chance to listen to a handful of bands I’d never heard of (or hadn’t paid much attention to) before and decided as they come to my area I’ll definitely check out Ona, Futurebirds, and Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors. I had pretty decent food too, including something called Burgoo which is a kind of stew. I must say it was pretty tasty even though the weather wasn’t exactly what I’d call stew weather. 90º and humid both days is typically not weather I’d eat something like that, as it feels more like a cool weather meal. However, as I think I pointed out here, the fact that I am becoming more repulsed by the thought of waiting in line as I get older, when I saw the Burgoo line was basically nonexistent I stepped right up. And was rewarded with a lovely, reasonably priced meal I might add. As an added bonus I found not one, but two wonderful little locally owned doughnut shops very close to my hotel. I also picked up some sunblock since my newly-shorn dome would be more susceptible to burning. Yes, you read that right, I went back to shaving my head. The novelty had pretty much worn off after letting it go for as long as I have. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized the time was right. I didn’t want Drew and Ang to be showing someone their wedding pictures ten years from now and have that person ask them how in the world they got Doc Brown to marry them. So, yeah, it was time.

Getting back to the weather, I know there are some (you know who you are) that might feel the urge to make a comment about the weather I experienced in Kentucky. I will just say this about that. If I have to lose my derriere, I’d rather sweat it off than freeze it off.

Random side note; as I was leaving Lexington the morning after the festival I noticed a sign in front of a law firm- Somebody, Somebody, Somebody, Mains and I thought, well that’s not something you see every day. Between my self, my siblings, and my cousins, there’s not a lawyer in the lot of us. Just sayin’.

Ok, I started this several days ago, but the 21st being what it is, I decided to push this back a bit so I could pay attention to that particular day and produced this one. As it turns out the titles are similar-ish but thanks, of course, to Colorado, have totally different meanings, if you smell what I’m burnin…

Hey if you can’t make yourself laugh then what the heck good are you, ya know?

So to take this thing to its conclusion, last night I went to (cue the Andy Griffith voiceover) Raleigh to see Judah and The Lion. I’d never heard of them before last year’s road trip to the Moon River Festival in Chattanooga and I really enjoyed their set. They recently went back out on tour to support a new album and yeah, if they’re coming by you, check them out. So, last night’s tour was in an outdoor amphitheater in downtown Raleigh. Nice place. The openers had recurring technical issues, but whatevs. Judah and The Lion came out and just. lit. it. up. for the first five or so songs. And then Mother Nature did the same and the show got cancelled.

Sigh.

Like I said the last time I had an epic fail concert experience– ya pays your money and ya takes your chances. Especially at an outdoor venue. At least this time there was no hotel expense and only a one hour vs a four hour drive each way. My fails are getting less fail-y maybe. Here’s hoping.

Peace

PS. etc, etc. In the time between wrapping up this post and making time to actually, ya know, post it, I got an email from the promoter regarding the above-mentioned concert. It’s been rescheduled to September 4th, so yay me!

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Time

As I looked back through some of my posts over the last couple years, and thinking about some that I put up on the old site, I realized that so many have titles relating to the passing of time. This is, of course, a recognition on my part of the course my family’s lives have taken over the last 16+ years. As I was chatting with the Oldest One on our daily phone call as she makes her way home from work, we talked about today (since we talked yesterday, it was actually tomorrow then…) and, as I’ve written before, today is unalterably the most bittersweet of days. We celebrate the birthday of the youngest grandchild while acknowledging another year since Diane died.

To be honest, when I sat down yesterday to work on this, my first thought was to just do some cursory introduction-type thing and then put in an excerpt from what I’ve previously written about Diane and Caitlin. After I ruled that out I thought maybe I’d just re-post a piece I’d written on an earlier August 21st.

Neither of those things felt right as I looked at them (the posts) more closely, and the more I considered it, the more I knew the day deserved its own post.

So here goes.

As the Little Diamond gets older, I want to make sure she knows the Grandma she never got the chance to know. I mean, obviously, I want all of the grandkids to know her; the Reigning Princess shares some of her personality traits after all. The Heir To the Throne and the Boy Genius, while maybe not remembering her, at least had moments with her. Moments saved on film (or, you know, digitally) that the three younger ones never will have. So, while I don’t want to gloss over the other littles, because of the connection inherent in their “shared” date, it’s important to me that LD knows her Grandma. I know they would’ve been fast friends, LD has some of Ellie’s personality and she and Diane had a pretty solid relationship, after a time. I think, Diane would’ve been in on the Jojo Siwa phenomenon too. Maybe not to the point of wearing bows and/or unicorn headbands herself but, yeah, she would’ve loved taking LD shopping for Jojo-wear at the drop of a hat. I know her heart would have been so full watching the first dance recital last spring too, just for one example.

Quick side story, one of my favorite Diane/Grandma Ellie stories at that. When the Boy Child was in the Army he bought his first new car; a Jeep Wrangler. He really enjoyed driving it with the doors off and the top down. As you might imagine, this made for a pretty windy trip wherever you were going. Diane was pretty particular about her hair. I don’t mean to say she was obsessive about it or anything, but she always looked pretty dialed in before she left the house. One day, while I was at the firehouse, the two of them got in his Jeep and went for a ride. Someone else was with them, but I’m drawing a blank on who it was. And since that part isn’t germane to the story, I’ll leave it at that. Since it was a forty-five-ish minute drive from the house in Wondertucky (not the town’s real name) to the Greater Burlington Metropolitan (all 500 citizens) area to say they were a little windblown is an understatement of epic proportions. To further set the scene, Mom’s eyesight wasn’t stellar by this point in her life. As I wrote about on the old site after her passing, it wasn’t so bad that she wouldn’t point out (real or imagined) road hazards; other cars, dogs, deer, tractors, you get the idea, but it was bad enough that she wouldn’t always see faces clearly unless they got really close. So, when they stopped in for a visit, and the Boy Child greeted her with a typical “Hi Gram!” her response was an enthusiastic “Hi Ryan! Who’s your friend?”

We all had a good laugh about that one, and reminded Ellie about it from time to time. And it’s actually memories like that one that have helped soften the loss as the years have passed. It also feels a lot healthier mentally to laugh about our past than it does to weep over it. Kind of a celebrate what you had versus mourning what you lost perspective. I’ll always be able to connect with the last days. But I try really hard not to tap into that. Especially since I’m no longer doing VIP’s. I felt like ripping open that particular vein and bleeding on the stage helped get my point across. Now that I’m done with that part of my life, my grief can finally mellow. It will never go away completely but it allows me to live a normal-ish life.

Well this is starting to take a turn on me, so let me try and get back to where I was originally headed with this thing. I FaceTimed with the Little Diamond and her Daddy this morning, and she told me they were going to the coffeehouse and then the play place. I’m fairly certain there are (were) bunny cookies and a cupcake in her future. As there should be on a birthday, amirite?

Sweetie, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. But one day I’ll sit you down and show you pictures of an amazing woman. I’ll explain to you how she was the life of every party she attended. I’ll explain to you how much she meant to, not just our family, but through her advocacy work, to people she barely knew. I’ll explain to you how much she would have loved spoiling you, and your big brother, and your cousins if she’d had the chance. And maybe one day you’ll understand why sometimes, on your birthday, I get a little tear in my eye.

Happy birthday sweetie, I love you!

Peace

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Ok, I’ve got to get a couple things out of the way first… A.) Thanks so much for the overwhelming response to my last post. The sheer volume of readers was overwhelming as were the comments both on this site as well as on the various social media platforms I use to get this stuff out there. It was one of the most viewed posts and THE most shared post I’ve had in the (almost) ten years (side note, Holy Crap! Ten years?) I’ve been doing this. So from the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of my family, thanks!

Oh yeah, I mentioned “a couple things” didn’t I? Brief senior moment… So, B.) Often times the title I choose is a tad bit misleading. Sometimes they make perfect sense to me, sometimes they don’t and sometimes I just like the sound of it even though it doesn’t remotely fit what I wrote that day. Such is the case today, since what I’m about to put down for you here is neither about summer nor vacation. Rather, I’m going to attempt to put a literary bow on my trip back to Illinois.

Life is about discovery.  It starts at an early age, really. Toddlers discover new skills regularly and, as we grow, more discoveries, both similar and brand new come to our consciousness.  With a little luck, discovery is a part of our lives for the duration. 

For example, while I was home I made a very important discovery.  At the Heir To The Throne’s graduation party the Reigning Princess and the Little Diamond were seated next to me at one point and each was enjoying a lovely cupcake. A lovely homemade cupcake at that. Some wonderful human being made several dozen of these small delights, and I, for one, was grateful as you might imagine. I asked the Little Diamond if I could have one. She looked at me sweetly, and said simply, “No.”

I said “Wait a minute, who took you to the cupcake place and bought you cupcakes?” She pointed at me. “And who took you to the park to play all those times?” She pointed at me. “And who took you to the coffeehouse and got you juice and bunny cookies?” With a mouthful of cupcake frosting, she pointed at me.   “So, now can I get a cupcake?”

Her reply, again, was a resolute “No.”  With an impish grin for added emphasis.

Now what, you might ask, did I discover?  Simply this.  When I’ve lost control of the things that make me me and it comes time for the family to make decisions on my behalf, I want that kid nowhere near the process or I’ll end up living in some rat-infested dump of a nursing home.  And if my room has a window, (and I feel like that’s a big IF) it’ll probably be overlooking a bakery that specializes in cupcakes that are bigger than your head.

I’m joking, of course. Mostly. I’m fairly confident she’ll get out-voted anyway. So far.

Ok, I’m gonna keep this one a little on the shorter side than the last one was. But I want to end it with a question and I’d really like to hear from some of the faithful on this. Honest opinions, at that. I think I’ve talked about this before here, at least in passing, but I’m thinking about it again. Specifically, I’m thinking about selling ad space on the site. Tbh, I haven’t really dug deep into that yet, so I don’t know what kind of revenue would be generated. I’m fairly confident it wouldn’t be huge, based on the volume of “clicks” I generate, and a part of me kind of enjoys providing you with content that, while it may not be Pulitzer material, is at least also not clubbing you over the head with ads for E.D. meds or whatever Godawful fashion bit is trending at any given moment. I recognize that Godawful fashion is probably not the kind of thing advertisers want their website typing, but hey, I’mma speak my truth. So think about some of the other websites you peruse, and tell me what you think about having ads alongside whatever it is you may be viewing.

Like I said, I really want to hear some opinions on this from those of you that read me. So please comment, either here or on whatever social media platform drove you here. Thanks in advance for your input, and, as always, thanks for reading the stuff I put out here.

Peace

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Dates

I know I’ve written about this before, I’m not sure if it was here or on my old site, maybe both, but once again the calendar has managed to tie a wonderful moment in the history of our family with a horrible moment.

Regular readers, or people that know me (us) IRL might recognize May 24th as the anniversary of the day Caitlin died from her injuries after being struck by a drunk driver in 2003. From this point forward we can add May 24th as the date the oldest grandchild graduated from high school.

There’s no small amount of irony to me here, as Caitlin was one week shy of her own high school graduation when she was killed. This whole senior year for the Heir To The Throne has been filled with bittersweet memories. As I’ve watched his accomplishments in this final year of high school; from Honor Rolls, to FFA Banquets, going to three different Proms, to Senior Night, to walk-off home runs, to being named All-Conference catcher, I find it’s almost impossible to not think about how thrilled Diane and Caitlin would have been to watch this year unfold.

I haven’t had that conversation with him, but a couple of the offspring and I have talked about how proud Diane would be, not just about HTTT, of course, but of all five of the littles. But she loved baseball. We went to as many of her nephews games as we could and she was always yelling her encouragement to them. And she always told them how well she thought they played whether they had an 0-fer or got a hit every at bat. The Oldest One tends to be a wee bit vocal at HTTT’s sporting events. That’s an understatement, btw. On par with saying the Titanic had a mishap with an iceberg. And I don’t say that to make fun of OO (well, maybe a little) but rather as a point of reference, because I’m fairly certain Diane would have boosted the decibel level significantly above that produced by OO. Had she been in attendance at the walk-off she may well have jumped the fence to greet him at home plate with his team. And to hear he made All-Conference? I truly believe she would roll down her car window in traffic to tell random strangers about her grandson’s accomplishment. For real for real. As I wrote that I got a vivid image of her doing that very thing. And I laughed a little (I try really hard not to literally lol when I’m writing in a coffeehouse) when that popped into my head.

So yeah, tonight will be another in the line of bittersweet days for us all. I mean, we’ll get through it alright, we always do, but it’s just another example of the ripple effect. They never stop coming, it seems. There may be lapses between them, but they’re always lurking. At least it seems like it.

Before I let this devolve into anything darker, I’m going to wrap the post up with a couple pictures

The first is the HTTT with his (unanimous) All-Conference pitcher, the second is the HTTT with Caitlin taken Mother’s Day weekend in 2003. I felt like they were a far better way to end this post.

And so I am.

Peace

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Time Does What It Does

Marches on, that is. Monday marked the 12th birthday for the Reigning Princess. I still remember when the Quiet Child told me she was expecting, shortly after Diane died. I have never been more certain of the gender of a baby than I was that day. I knew, with 100% confidence, that this baby would be a girl. What I didn’t know, was that she would combine the best traits of her Grandmother, Aunt, and Mother. She has the vivacious personality of Diane and Caitlin, and the Quiet Child’s natural beauty. She grabbed my heart and wrapped it firmly around her tiny fingers from the very first moment I saw her and has never loosened that hold. Whether she’s sending me a random “Hi Papa, I love you, I miss you!” text or, when she sees me in person and launches herself into my arms for a ginormous hug from as far away as she can possibly leap and still stick the landing, she’s got a constrictor-like grip.

As it should be.

Without question, the most difficult part of my decision to move 800 miles away from the cold-ass environs (the week started with 4frickin5 degrees here. On May 20th and 21st. WTF? btw W in this case stands for weather) of northern Illinois, was the knowledge I’d see less of my favorite small humans than I had been accustomed to. Of course I see less of my favorite larger humans too, but that’s a different thing altogether.

I consider myself pretty fortunate to be able to be a part of so much that’s happened with the family littles this spring, from Heir To The Throne’s last baseball games, to the Former Beatle Baby’s first ever baseball game, with the Reigning Princess’s games sprinkled into the mix. From the Little Diamond’s first ever dance recital (a 3 year-old in a tutu, is there really anything on the planet more adorbs than that?) to HTTT’s high school graduation. Oh, just to complete the sweep, I got to try out the Boy Genius’ virtual reality rig while I’ve been back. That was pretty incredible. It also made me feel like a dinosaur as I thought back to the first ever “computer” we had back in the day. And I use the quotation marks, because while it was technically a computer, as compared to today, it really wasn’t. Oh, here’s a thing. Last night Went to the Spring Sports Awards Night at the Heir To The Throne’s school. He got a medal as the leading Run Producer (Runs Scored plus RBI’s) so that was cool. My favorite part of the evening came after, as the Oldest One and I were chatting with the family of HTTT’s pitcher. These two have played ball together for 12 years, and almost from Day 1 the were pitcher and catcher. As we chatted there in the almost empty auditorium, we found out both boys had made the All-Conference baseball team. It was an incredibly cool moment and showed the amount of respect they had earned from the other coaches in the conference, since coaches made up the voting body.

So, yeah, it has been a pretty cool (Ha! See what I did there?) spring here in northern Illinois.

Oh, here’s a random side note. You wanna know how you know when you’ve found a great coffeehouse? When you bring in your (teetering on the brink of a mini meltdown) three year-old granddaughter immediately post hair-braid-tie-thingy (I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’re actually called, but you know what I mean) malfunction and one of the baristas not only has a spare hair-braid-tie-thingy but also rebraids the part of the three year-olds braid that unraveled due to said malfunction. AND gives her extra bunny cookies. Yup, that place is a keeper. As much as I enjoyed the place I used to frequent when I lived here, this coffeehouse is now, solidly, my go-to place when I’m back in Illinois.

Getting back to the theme I had intended with this; I’m down to less than two weeks before I head back to central North Carolina. I know there have been a bunch of people I haven’t seen on this trip, that I had intended to. So, if you’re on that list, I apologize. However, I should have a wee bit more disposable time for the remainder of my stay, so I’m hopeful I can still see many of the people I had planned on seeing. Fingers crossed, right?

Peace

PS- Sixteen years ago tonight our world turned upside down. And I’m learning we’re still dealing with the waves as they ripple through the years. No profound message, no heart rending pleas, and I’m not looking for thoughts, prayers, or sympathy. Just thinking back on sixteen years.

Again, Peace

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Senior Moments…

So, from the title it should be pretty much obvs where I’m going with this. And while I did have to correct the Oldest One when she tried to stick a label on one of my foibles (More on that later. Probably. Maybe.) that’s not where I’m going with this one.

Tonight is Senior Night at the Heir To The Throne’s baseball game. These aren’t a new phenomena, I remember mine (Although in my case it was Senior Day since the football field didn’t have lights back then. And to the smart asses that might be reading this, it wasn’t because it pre-dated Edison’s invention. The school just didn’t have lights back then) from mumble-mumble years ago, standing out on the football field flanked by my parents, as were all of the other senior football players and cheerleaders. I also remember being alongside the Boy Child at his Senior Night mumble years ago. So I figured my time for this stuff was gone.

Wrong.

I was talking to the Oldest One the other day and she told me the HTTT wanted me to join them on the field. Of course I’m honored to do it. I’m also incredibly thankful she gave me a heads up, otherwise I might’ve gotten some dust, or something, in my eyes. She said she wasn’t sure if he wanted to surprise me or not so I should act surprised. Ok then. I’m not positive, I may still lose my shit tonight. As I’ve written here lately, this is his last year of playing baseball, and I don’t know if he feels any emotion on that front yet, but I sure do. I know the OO does too. I’ll let you know how it goes…

So, I wrote everything you just read yesterday. And, as it turns out, the Oldest One and I both made it through Senior Night unscathed. I can’t however, say the same about my truck. Top of the 4th inning, one of the batters lifted a high pop up into foul territory behind home plate. And as I watched it drift back, high overhead, arcing up and then back down, the thought occurred to me that it would land very near my vehicle. In fact, it landed this near-

I guess if I’d been thinking I could have taken a close-up so you could have seen the little remnants of the thread from the baseball embedded in the glass. As aggravating as this was, I almost instantly realized there was nothing I could do after the fact. I also recognized there was no little irony that, after all these years of going to his baseball games and parking in roughly the same spot for each and every one of his home games, that on this, his final home game, I “caught” a foul ball. I suppose the perfect irony would’ve been if he’d been the batter, but hey, nobody’s perfect amirite? The only thing more aggravating came when, after about 30 minutes on the phone with a nationwide auto glass repair/replacement company that promises on their website “Broken glass? We’ll fix it fast.” See, here’s the thing about that; my definition of fast is worlds away from theirs. According to this company, eight days is a perfectly acceptable answer to the question “How quickly can you get me in for a replacement?”

Needless to say, I’m waiting to hear from another auto glass repair/replacement company to see if they can get me in faster and for less than the $750.00 I was quoted. Sigh.

So, back to the Oldest One and her failed attempt at maligning my mental faculties. I’ll admit, I tend to say things like “I was just going to tell you something but whatever it was vaporized…” I tend to say things like that because things like that tend to happen to me. Typically the thought returns in due time, although not always. My Mom was well known in the family for cycling through about five or six names when talking to any of her grandkids before she’d land on the correct name. We lovingly and laughingly referred to it as a “Grandma Ellie moment”. So, the other night, when good old OO experienced a lapse of what she wanted to say, she tried to pass it off as a “Dad” moment. Now, I’mma tell you something right now. This will not fly. And I told her that in no uncertain terms. Laughingly, of course. Still, things like these must be nipped in the bud.

Lastly, before I leave you with the impression nothing good came of yesterday, it was really a wonderful day. To be able to share this moment-

with these two meant the world to me. And I can’t wait to see what the future brings for him.

Ok, one last thing. Since I’ve been back I’ve done, basically all of my writing at a lovely coffeehouse in Algonquin. And one recent day, one of the baristas and I were chatting and the topic came to this humble little blog. So, when I ordered my Daily (not a typo btw) vanilla latte, she told me she would craft a duck into the foam. Lo and behold, I give you the I Can Relate To Ducks (not its real name) latte –

Pretty cool, no?

Peace

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Pride

It goes without saying, I’m proud of my kids and grandkids. For any number of reasons. In the case of the adults, for example, they’ve all grown to be loving. caring, human beings, the type I’m glad to spend time with, and I would even if they weren’t my kids.

In the case of the littles, I’m proud of the traits they’ve started to exhibit, which leads me to believe they, too, will become amazing adult human beings. But this particular post isn’t about the littlest ones. Instead, it’s about the biggest of the littles. Number 18 in your scorecard, number 1 in your heart, yes, this post is about the Heir To The Throne.

This season marks the end of his baseball career. That saddens me. But I get it. Much as I’d like to believe otherwise, I don’t think he’s quite good enough for the MLB draft and he has no desire to continue his education in college. He wants to get into the trades, specifically he’s taken an interest in welding. I’m ok with that btw. One of the things I’ve learned over the years was that going through an apprentice program in one of the trades is roughly equivalent to getting a four-year degree from college. The difference is that, in approximate numbers, in college roughly 90% of the learning takes place in the classroom and 10% takes place in the field whereas in an apprentice program those numbers are reversed. But the total amount of time spent learning your craft is (again, roughly) equivalent. And on an even bigger plus, he won’t come out of the education phase with a huge college loan debt hanging over his head, rather he’ll come out of it at close to top of grade pay.

So, I’m proud of him for that decision, and I’ll do all I can to support him, just as I will with the four younger littles, whatever they choose to do when their time comes.

But this post isn’t about that. This post is all about memories. Specifically the ones I’ll carry with me in HTTT’s post baseball days. Like for instance four years ago, in his first season of high school baseball when, after delivering a couple of key, run scoring hits, the guys on the bench started chanting “He’s a freshman!”. That will always make me smile. So, I’m not sure I’m as ready for this end to come as he is, but I’ll say this. The lessons he’s learned from baseball will be useful in his future, wherever he may end up. He’s learned leadership skills, as evidenced by watching him give pre-game pep talks to the team after the coach has said his piece. I’ve watched him call time to go out and settle down his pitcher (he plays catcher) countless times. I’ve seen him interact with numerous plate umpires and opposing players and I’ve seen him, almost without fail, represent his team honorably. We won’t talk about the rare occasions where the family “red ass” rears it’s head, but it has happened a couple times, almost always directed at himself. I also won’t mention the family foot speed, other than to make a blanket apology for bestowing it upon him via the gene pool.

One of the things I tried to teach him over the years about hitting was this; don’t step into the batters box until your head is right. You don’t have time to react to the pitch if you’re busy thinking about stuff. So think about situations; what the pitchers might throw, how many outs there are, the count, things of that nature before you step into the box. And if you find yourself thinking about, well, really, anything, ask for time and step out for a few seconds to clear your head.

So, let’s go back to last Wednesday, shall we? (I know, I know, it was almost a full week ago. It took me awhile to figure out how to embed the video) Your Hiawatha Hawks were playing in Big Rock. Due to rotten weather this spring (I know, right? Bad weather in Illinois in the spring? Who knew?) the Hawks were actually the home team in this game. They started out in a 2-0 hole after a sloppy 1st inning. The deficit grew to 3-0 after 3 innings. The Hawks fought back to 3-2 after 5 innings and going into the bottom of the 7th, found themselves down by the same score. The first two batters struck out. It wasn’t looking too promising for the good guys. Then, the leadoff batter worked a walk. So did the number two batter. That brought HTTT to the plate. He fouled off the first pitch he saw, a fastball he was a little late on. Same thing with the second pitch, fouling it almost off his foot. He stepped in for the next pitch and as the pitcher got his sign, HTTT asked for, and got, time from the plate umpire. He stepped out, got his head right, and stepped back in. The third pitch was close, especially if you were from Big Rock as they groaned when the ump called it a ball. And then, this happened-

You may have heard someone exclaim “Holyyyyyyy shit!” in that video. It may have been me. That’s what you call #sorrynotsorry in the online world. It was a pretty cool moment, definitely one I’ll remember fondly for the rest of my days. I hope he never becomes too cool to look back on it the same way. Life doesn’t give you many opportunities for walk-off homers, when you get one and are able to deliver, it should last in your personal highlights for as long as possible. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere but I’m not sure I’m clever enough to pull it into better focus.

So, yeah, I’m pretty proud of 18. I’m going to miss the heck out of watching him play ball. Senior Night is next week and I’m hopeful I can keep my shit together that night because one of us is kind of an old softie. The Reigning Princess has started her softball season, or will if the weather ever cooperates, and the Former Beatle Baby will start his first ever baseball season soon too. So there will be more fond spring sports memories in our futures, I’m sure.

I can’t wait.

Peace

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More Random Conversations With A Three Year-Old

As promised, the Little Diamond continues to educate me. As a bonus for you, dear readers, I’ve also included some of the running commentary I’ve had with her seven year-old brother, the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed hearing them.

As part of our regular routine on days when it’s just the two of us, LD joins me at the coffeehouse (where the baristas spoil her with “bunny cookies”. These are small butter cookies shaped, as you may have guessed, like bunnies, and they’re a big hit) and after my daily latte fix (I may have a problem. Except it’s not a problem) we go to a park of her choosing. One of her favorites has a long slide. The other day, as she finished one of her trips down the slippery surface she proclaimed, to anyone listening, “Best. Slide. Evaaar.”

She’s also fond of facepalms when I (or any other adult she spends time with for that matter) says something she finds unbelievable. And, while that’s pretty funny to watch, my favorite LD special effect has to be either the sad trombone noise she’s perfected (“Wah, wah, waaah”) or when she says something she considers hilarious, and wants to ensure a reaction she feels is suitable, will finish it with “Anybody? Anybody?” I’m waiting for her to recommend the veal and to remind me to tip the waitstaff next.

Lastly on the LD front, apparently Jojo Siwa is a thing at that age group. I had never heard of her before, apparently she owes her “fame” to some reality tv show. But she’s quite a thing in LD’s eyes. If you’re unfamiliar with her, you should probably avoid GTSing her or your search suggestions may get flooded with teenage “musicians” and I’m guessing nothing good will come from that.

Moving right along. This happened one day last week. Actually all of it did. It was quite a week.

Former Beatle Baby “Grampa Joe, are you married?”

Me “Nope.”

FBB “Cause you’re too old, right?”

Me :-l

Or this- While holding his sister’s lip balm.

FBB “Can Lilly lick this?”

Me “No pal, that’s not for dogs.”

FBB “Oh.” “She kinda did.”

Me “She kinda did?”

FBB “Uh huh”

Me “Ok, then.”

In case you’re wondering, I washed off the lip balm before I gave it back to the LD.

This came from the bathroom yesterday-

FBB “Don’t stop, believin’…” Which, btw, sounded better than Journey since, you know, Journey. But I’m not sure why he felt compelled to sing that song, let alone to sing it in the bathroom. Also, at random times yesterday I was treated to Coldplay’s “Paradise” and possibly “Livin’ On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi? At least that’s who I think it’s by. I don’t care enough to look it up. I get enough off-base music suggestions (artificial intelligence my ass) as it is. I’m beginning to question his parenting though. Not really. But kinda.

Finally there was this, at a fundraiser breakfast for the fire department where I got my start lo those many years ago, and where we were joined by his Aunt, the Oldest One. Tossing a sugar packet in front of his Aunt, FBB said

“You dropped your name tag.”

As you might imagine, the table erupted into some pretty hearty laughter. But the best part was when he leaned over to his Mom and asked

“What does that mean?”

Peace

PS- I’ve got another one of these brewing, but first I need to figure out how to whittle a video down to a size that will allow me to embed it into a post. You’ll know it if I’m successful…