A Reunion, A Wedding, & A Funeral -- There is a Time...

My family recently returned from a 10-day road trip to Colorado, visiting family on my wife's (Janice) side of the family. The vacation turned into a larger family reunion when two of Janice's sisters and part of their families flew in from Arizona and North Carolina.
Ed and Elizabeth Haws, the dear patriarch and matriarch of the family, are in their ninth decade of life and reaching their seventh decade as life partners. They are graciously playing the complex roles of parents, grand parents, and great-grand parents (not to mention loving in-laws). Ed-lizabeth relocated to Lakewood, Colorado, escaping the baking Arizona summer sun, to be closer to their eldest child (and only son), Michael, his wife, Joanne and their family (four daughters, one son and one grandchild), almost all residing in Golden.
Also in the Denver area, Littleton to be exact, are my wife's cousin, Julee Bate, her husband Terry, and their two fabulous sons. Julee and Janice have always enjoyed a special bond. Their relationship is more akin to that of close and loving sisters rather than cousins, and we are assured a fine and fun time when we visit.
Mary Ann Ogle (Ed-lizabeth's eldest daughter), her daughter, Rachel, and youngest son, Josh, flew in from Charlotte, North Carolina. Rounding out the reunion were Jeri Manos (Ed-lizabeth's third daughter and next-to-youngest child), her husband, Tim, and daughter, Zoe, visiting from Chandler, Arizona.

Like Daughters, Like Father

I am so in love with my daughters and proud to be their dad. It continues to be amazing to be a part of their life journeys.
Abby, now 13 and pictured here with her dad, is at times so very mature for her age. An independent, yet social soul, she is a woman, a young lady, and a kid all bundled together, trying and succeeding in figuring out who she is, what she likes, wants, needs--and doesn't in life. I know I need to giver her space, and I am never really successful in doing this. I want to be a part of her life so much, that I often step over the line and intrude upon her independence. But I am learning. I love it when she gets my humor and smiles or giggles at my jokes, even if it is uncool for a teenager to laugh at her parent's old fashioned humor.

Naomi, now 7 and in the video below, is quirky, comical and a bundle of energy. A natural gymnast and borderline contortionist, she doesn't seem to ever stop moving, and I mean percolating, until we put her to bed at night. She is initially shy, really shy, until she reaches her comfort zone. Then, look out! I just want to pick her up and swing her around or let her climb on me like she would a jungle gym--and she does. Right now, her passions are: toys, playing, toys, treats, playing, sleeping over at Grandma Roberta's, playing, toys, her puppy, Zacchaeus.

I see some of me in both my girls, which is fun and scary. They are teaching me how to be a more patient, compassionate, understanding person, parent and teacher.

Thank you, God, for my daughters.

38 in a 30

We planned to get on the road at "0-Dark:30", which is how my dear friend and self-proclaimed curmudgeon, Gene Ganske, describes an unreasonably early hour to have to set out on a trip. We awoke to my cellphone alarm at 5:30am. Having showered and packed the night before, we were leaving the Holiday Inn and on the road away from Kearney, Nebraska, a via point from Denver, Colorado to Northfield, Minnesota, at 6am. 10 hours later I left the 70-75mph interstates behind and was driving through the small town of Dundas, MN. Perilously close to our final destination and heading toward Hwy 3 and Cub Foods to pick up 3 different types of milk (skim, soy and lactose free) and a few other things to get us through breakfast the next morning, my wife saw the officer in the white car parked along the side of the road, before I did. I did, in fact, notice him but too late, and I knew as soon as I passed him that I was busted.
He was both courteous and observant.
He noticed:

1. Naomi sleeping in the back seat (for the first time of the entire 10-hour trip)--thank goodness she was in her booster seat.
2. I did NOT have my seat belt fastened. I am in the habit of taking it off when reachig for my wallet (or our streetside mailbox), which I keep in a compartment between the two front seats when I am driving (the wallet, not the mailbox). I didn't stop to think that he would need to see that I was legally buckled in when he came up to the van. He informed me that he couldn't see whether or not I was buckled from where he was parked on the side of the road. So, if you are ever driving without your seat belt fastened and are stopped by the law enforcement, buckle that baby up, ASAP.
3. I was wearing headphones around my neck. Asking me if I had these on while I was driving (apparently against the law) I inadvertently told a non-truth, and said, No. I actually had been listening to a favorite playlist on my iPod during much of the trip, but I honestly was NOT listening to music with headphones when he stopped me.
4. I was driving 38 in a 30 mph zone.

As I was looking at the officer's premature hair loss and wondering if I could pose as a Rogaine rep, offer him a discount on a treatment in exchange for a forgiven ticket and be on our way, he surprised me by saying he was not going to cite me today, and he let me off with a warning.
So, I was impressed with his courtesy, powers of observation, and compassion for someone who obviously was not operating at full capacity. Well done, city of Dundas!

The Underdog

Today, it was Andy Roddick. Entering today's final match at Wimbledon against Roger Federer, Andy had never won the most prestigious grass court tournament. Federer, on the other hand, had won 5 Wimbledon titles. After today's match, make that: 6 for Roger and zero for Andy. Sorry, Andy. I pulled for you; I screamed at the television in ecstasy and agony during the parts of the match that I was able to watch. I didn't get to see the match in its entirety: Naomi's ritual of watching morning television; attending church; lunch preparation. They all superseded you. I, too, was at times an underdog today in my attempt to devote 100% of my attention to watching you valiantly lose Wimbledon. You put up a great, great fight, but like most underdogs you, too, were ultimately defeated. I truly mourned your loss. Thanks for the effort, and I hope to be able to spend another 'Breakfast at Wimbledon' rooting for you, or another underdog.

My Brother's Keeper

Janice and I went to see the movie, My Sister's Keeper, as part of our 15th anniversary date night. In the film, based on a Jodi Picout novel by the same name, a young girl sues her parents to earn medical emancipation in order to prevent them from further using her to help their leukemia-stricken daughter (her sister) stay alive. Just trying to understand the previous sentence may give you an idea of the complexity of the moral dilemma the film/novel addresses.
The film left me wondering about a number of things, among them my brother, Tom, who died of cancer in 2001. Tom was just 13 months older than me.
As kids we played and fought with exuberance. I had a shorter fuse than Tom (not necessarily an attribute), but he could easily overpower me with his superior size and strength, when he chose to do so. I was lucky (and in hindsight, grateful) that he exhibited amazing restraint, even during our most heated battles. Well, if you ask a few of our neighborhood friends about a particular time when they witnessed me being slammed mightily against a wall by my gentle giant of a brother, then you would know that Tom wasn't always capable of restraint.
Our duels often started with a blow or a flurry of punches thrown by me, followed by me hightailing it out of his reach, our house, the yard and sometimes our neighborhood. I was the fast one, you see, the hare. Tom was the tortoise, the slower one, but the one with endurance. Most of us remember how the story of the tortoise and the hare turned out. Sort of a strange comparison to make when I consider that I am the brother who is still here, alive, yet Tom has left this race.
Anyway, our battles often ended the same way, with me being subdued and held by Tom until he was sure I surrendered the fight.
In later years, our love for one another became more evident and calmed the adversarial nature of our personalities and brotherhood. I once heard a joke about a Norwegian husband (Norwegians are known for their understated demeanors) who calmly stated that he loved his wife so much that he almost told her once. I see a lot of Tom in that statement. He loved me, and his whole family, with a quiet ferocity.
Getting back to the movie and its connection to my brother, when Tom first died, I couldn't get him out of my mind and emotions if I tried. He was everywhere, often uninvited, a bittersweet presence. Now, it has been 8 years since he died, and in that time I have created both an evening length dance and a short film about him, published a website to honor his relationships with others, and I highlight his birthday on the family calendar I make each year. In other words, I have made several attempts to commemorate him, grieve, process his loss, and I guess just keep his memory alive. I realized, after viewing the movie, that I feel the intensity of his loss less deeply than I used to. And that sometimes I feel sad about that as well.

Father's Day

I was celebrated last Sunday, as part of Father's Day. I am blessed and privileged to be a dad of two marvelous daughters, who continue to challenge, reward and surprise me with their creativity and accomplishments, words and actions, sensitivity and love.
On this particular Father's Day, my wife, Naomi and I were joined by Roberta (dear friend and godmother to Naomi) on a bike ride to church. I got to witness my youngest grow in skill and confidence as she realized she could change gears on her new (albeit hand-me-down) bike. I reveled in hearing the excitement in her voice as she became aware of her accomplishment.
A few days before Father's Day, I attended a Young People's Theatre performance, in which my eldest daughter, Abby was performing. The performance culminates a 3-week workshop in which the participants create characters, write a play and learn a dance based upon a pre-determined theme. This session's theme was Because I Said So. The title for Abby's play was Single Ladies Support Group, and it consisted of monologues by women of various ages, who have been jilted in one way or another. Abby chose to portray a woman with multiple personality disorder, with one of the personalities being a man named Rupert. Like witnessing Naomi learning to change gears, I thrilled at witnessing the creativity and complexity of Abby's emotional, intellectual and physical character development, as she delivered her monologue and performed in the group acting scenes and dance.
As I said before, I am blessed. My life has been unfathomably enriched by having the privelige of being a father, especially to my oh so wonderful daughters.