Yesterday was a big day, not only was it Princess Persistent’s birthday but Darling Boy tested for his next belt in karate.
Here he is, our little Brown Belt and his very proud momma!
35mm prime lens, 1/100 sec at f/1.8, ISO 800
Mar 312012
Mar 302012
Thoughts on the passage of time often seem to catch me off guard
Have Veronica and I really been together for 21+ years?
What do you mean it’s okay to play Guns ‘N Roses on a classic rock station?
I’ve been driving for 25 years?
Both of my parents are retired now?
Princess Persistent is 6 today?!
Yes she is. The passage of time seems especially fast when it comes to kids. It seems like yesterday that Darling Boy, soon to be 12, was born. He was 5 1/2 when his sister was born and he was six 6 when we moved from Pennsylvania to Massachusetts. Now it’s Princess Persistent who is 6 and I can hardly believe it.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful little girl!
From spring of 2010
Veronica also has a post today about PP
Oct 302011
Goddamn I’m tired!
The drive to Pittsburgh and back wasn’t terrible, 9 hrs 45 min to get there and 9 hrs flat to get home. Fortunately DB was in agreement with me that we should stop as little as possible and just get the driving over with. When all 4 of us made the trip in August for our family vacation we took our time and it was an 11 hour trip.
Would have been nice to have someone to share the driving with though.
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I almost didn’t make it home Sunday evening!
I do my best to avoid getting gas in Connecticut, for some reason prices are typically $0.20-0.25/gallon higher there. Traveling on I-84 in NY I did the mental arithmetic and figured that I could easily make the truck stop just off exit 1 in MA. We get to MA, I exit the interstate and find that one of the gas stations is out of gas. WTF? I go to the other one and it’s out too.
And then my gas light comes on.
Instead of getting back on the interstate I take a state highway toward home, where I find station after station after station is closed. That storm that hit Sat night/Sun morning? There’s power outages all over the state (including my home for about 4 hrs Sat night) and without power, of course gas pumps won’t work.
Now I’m starting to get nervous, I’ve never seen the needle on the gas gauge that low. Fortunately no sooner than I called Veronica to let her know what’s going on did I find an open gas station.
I put 21.1 gallons of gas in a 24 gallon tank. I theoretically could have made it home, but was glad I found an open station!
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Apparently “stoic” is not a personality trait to ascribe to my mother.
Yes, she had a car accident last Tuesday and has a bruised sternum, I’m not doubting that it hurts. But every movement elicited a groan, a sigh, a grimace on her face.
For a while on Saturday I welcomed to chance to escape to her home office and update her iTunes and iPad, at least there I didn’t have to hear her whining.
If that makes me a bad son, so be it…
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Darling Boy may live to regret being so eager to help his grandma. Vacuuming, emptying the dishwasher, walking her dog, and numerous other tasks, all done without complaint.
Unlike at home, where he grudgingly does what he’s asked to do. I’ll be reminding him of his difference in attitude.
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Sitting here Sunday night, for all of my grumbling, I’m glad we made the trip, mom really appreciated having us there.
Maybe I’m not such a bad son…
Oct 282011
As we age, eventually our roles with our parents change. Where once they took care of us, we gradually help take care of them. I just wish it wasn’t starting to happen already…
My dad is 67 and mom is 64. Even a year a go, if you asked me to guess which would need more help eventually, I would have said my dad. As it turns out, I think it might be my mom.
Last Fall she was driving to NY to see my sister and had an accident on the highway. It was raining pretty hard and she hydroplaned, right into the concrete center divider. Fortunately the only damage was to her car, which was considerable.
Over the summer we visited her and my step-dad and I noticed some damage under the passenger side doors. I asked her about it and she made some comment about a pole or curb jumping out to get her.
And then Tuesday morning happened
I’m at work and get a phone call from my sister – “First of all, mom is ok. She’s been in an accident and they’re taking her to the hospital. I haven’t spoken to her, but the paramedic says she’s alert and just most likely banged up some. As a precaution they’ve got her on a backboard and neck brace until they can check her out at the hospital.”
My sister told me that she was leaving for moms ASAP and would call me once she knew more. As the day goes on, we learn that mom just has a bruised sternum, due to the seatbelt doing its job. We also learn that it was a single-car accident. Somehow (she says it was foggy out) mom managed to plow into a telephone pole before she even left the condo complex.
Not only that, but she hit the pole hard enough to break it.
She was discharged from the hospital later that day, and my sister has been staying with her. Since my step-dad passed away last month, mom is alone there. I told them I would hit the road if they needed me to, but neither of them thought it was necessary.
Now my sister has to head back home, but mom isn’t ready to be alone yet, so she asked me to come visit.
By the time this post goes up, Darling Boy and I will be on the road. We’re having him skip school today, knowing full well that as much as mom will like to see me, having a grandchild around will please her to no end.
9 hrs and 525 miles each way. This is going to be a long weekend. If I think mom is in the right frame of mind, I think we’re going to have a talk…
Sep 112011
Born in Pittsburgh in October, 1923, his early life was probably like many others, I suppose. World War II intruded on his college education and in the fall of 1944 he found himself in France, in Belgium, and later involved in the Battle of the Bulge. He was trained as an artilleryman. It was during this time that he first began to feel his calling.
After the war he started work in the steel mills of Pittsburgh while he finished his degree from the University of Pittsburgh. The calling grew and eventually he left Pittsburgh for Berkeley Divinity School and was ordained to the priesthood.
Years passed, he and his wife adopted 2 children, and his ministry grew. Around the time of his retirement he and his wife divorced.
In 1991 he meet my mother at the church’s tri-annual General Convention. A year later they were married. A year after that, he participated (but didn’t officiate) at my wedding to Veronica.
In 2000 he baptized Darling Boy.
In 2006 he baptized Princess Persistent.
His health was really starting to fail him, but he managed to make the trip to State College and baptize her anyway. He was one of those old men with his oxygen bottle that he carried everywhere and had very little stamina. Fortunately our parish priest was very accommodating and did all that was necessary to permit him to participate within his physical limitations.
We thought we were going to lose him in early 2009. Darling Boy and I took a quick trip to Pittsburgh to see him, but he eventually recovered, somewhat. Gradually the combination of pulmonary disease, an immune deficiency, and progressively worse congestive heart failure began to take their toll.
Earlier this summer he seriously thought about stopping all of his medications and letting go. He stayed on his meds until family could all visit from Iowa, from New Hampshire, from New York and from Massachusetts. We left their house and continued our road trip 18 days ago.
At 3:00am on Sunday, Sept 11, 2011 he passed away with my mother at his side.
He was my step-father, Veronica’s father-in-law and grandpa to Darling Boy and Princess Persistent and we love him very much.
With Darling Boy, Fall 2002
Sep 112011
Imagine there is a bank which credits your account each morning with $86,400, carries over no balance from day to day, allows you to keep no cash balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course!
Well, everyone has such a bank. Its name is TIME.
Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the records of the day. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the “tomorrow”. You must live in the present on today’s deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success!
For the victims of the 9/11 attacks and the untold 1000s who have perished in conflicts since then, their time prematurely ran out.
For my step-father, his time ran out earlier this morning, he passed away in his sleep.
Rest in peace “Dad”
Aug 302011
I almost went there, but I refrained!
As I’ve mentioned before here and on Twitter, we’ve been without cable or broadband internet at home since around noon on Sunday. Comcast keeps telling us that they’re working on it, we keep waiting. Due to the power still being out at my office, I’ve had Monday and Tuesday off, which actually works out pretty good, since school starts for DB on Wednesday and we had no one to watch him.
Monday I kept suggesting activities, we could go for a bike ride, he could play with his friend next door, he has plenty of toys, there’s the Wii, he could read, and so on.
His response? Grumbling about the cable *still* being out.
One of these days, he WILL be getting the “when I was your age” lecture from me!
On the bright side, at least this won’t be happening anytime soon. I hope…
Aug 222011
Because it’s 18 years old today!
I can still clearly remember how the day started. I spent the night before at my dads place. For our honeymoon Veronica and I were going to be driving to a place in the Poconos. Unfortunately when I pulled into my dad’s driveway and got out of the car on Saturday night, I heard an ominous hissing sound. A quick inspection revealed that a radiator hose had sprung a leak! Rather than spending Sunday morning pacing around with pre-wedding gitters, my dad and I were looking for an auto parts place that was open and repairing my car. Fortunately we got it done in time and the rest of the day went off without a hitch.
After 18 years of marriage to Veronica, I can honestly say that I’m still inexhaustibly aroused by the woman I married 
Happy Anniversary Veronica, thanks for continuing to put up with me!!
Jun 192011
I came across this on CNN.com the other day, I try my best, even if I don’t always succeed.
Happy Father’s Day to my fellow dads out there!
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I have been sent here today, on behalf of the stay-at-home mothers of the world, to convey to my fellow pops a message of love and hope in this lead-up to Father’s Day: Wake the hell up.
Really, wake the hell up. Now. I understand that most of you have 9-to-5 jobs, that you leave tired and come home tired and just wanna chill in front of SportsCenter with a bowl of chips. But, seriously, you have no remote idea: Being a stay-at-home parent is exhausting. At the office, you can hide. You can take lunch. You can pretend you’re working while scrolling the Internet for Yankees-Blue Jays and, ahem, Lindsay Lohan news. You have genuine social interactions with folks over the age of, oh, 12. People ask questions about your day — and listen to the answers.
I envy you, but I sort of pity you. Kids grow. Age 1 turns to age 3, which turns to age 7, which turns to 15 and 18 and 21, all in the blink of an eye. If you’re there, as I am, it flies. If you’re not there — if you’re almost never there — it barely exists at all. Which is why I just can’t stomach those millions of dads who view their days at home as recovery from work, who’d rather rest than engage, who have no problem with passing the tykes off for more alone time with mom and who, literally, moan to their wives, “You have no idea how hard I work.”
For you, I offer these 10 commandments of righteous fatherhood. Pay close attention, because, behind your back, people are pitying your wife:
Veronica could get this card for me
1. No golf on weekends: Seriously, it’s ludicrous. Your spouse is home with the kids all the time, and you think it’s OK to take five hours on a weekend day to pursue your own pastime? Selfishness, thy name is Father.
2. Wake up: Literally, wake up. With your kids. On at least one of the two weekend days — and perhaps both. I know: you wake up early for work. Not even remotely the same thing. Rising alongside the kiddies is hard. And crazy. And (gasp!) sorta fun, if you’d just stop moping.
3. Change diapers: If you have little kids, and you don’t know how to change diapers (or, even worse, refuse to change diapers), you’re pathetic. That’s no exaggeration — p-a-t-h-e-t-i-c. It’s not all that hard, and though the poop sometimes winds up on the fingers, well, uh, yeah. It just does. Wash your hands.
4. Play with dolls and paint your toenails: How many fathers do I know who refuse to get girlish with their girls? Dozens. Dude, put aside the machismo, break out Barbie and slather on some pink polish. You’ll make a friend for life — and nobody else is watching.
5. Do things you don’t want to do: It’s easy to take the kids to the driving range — because you want to be there. Now try spending the day having a tea party at American Girl. Or crawling through one of those wormholes at the nearby kiddie gym. Fun? Often, no. But this isn’t about you.
6. Order the wife to bug off: I recently met a mother who told me her husband hadn’t been alone with their 9-year-old daughter for more than two hours … ever. Inexcusable. Let your wife do her own thing: relax, take a run, whatever. Entertain your children solo. They don’t bite.
7. Surprise! Just once, on a random day without meaning or purpose, show up early at your kid’s school/camp/wherever, say “Get in the car!” and take him/her somewhere special. Just the two of you, alone. A movie. A park. A hike. The memory lasts — I promise.
8. Dishes Don’t Clean Themselves (Nor Do Toys): It’s amazing how this one works. You pick up a dish, run it under hot water with some soap, rub it down with a towel and place it back on the shelf. Then repeat.
9. Wake up your kid: Not often. But if you want to score big points and create a killer memory moment, walk in Junior’s room at, oh, midnight, wake him/her up and go outside for 10 minutes to watch the stars.
10. For God’s sake, tell your kids you love them: They never see you, and they’d probably like to know.
May 042011
the doctor says to your wife “wow, he looks a lot worse than the last time I saw him”
Unfortunately, this isn’t some joke, the wife is my mother and the patient is my step-father. It’s gotten to the point that whenever I get a phone call from mom and it isn’t the weekend, I think “this is the call.” She called me on Tuesday evening while I was in the Baltimore airport waiting for my flight home, and that’s when she shared that quote from the doctor.
His health has been failing for several years now, when he baptized PP almost 5 yrs ago (he’s retired clergy) he wasn’t strong enough to carry her to the back of the church where the baptismal font was located. A little over 2 yrs ago he had hernia surgery and was in such bad shape afterward that DB and I made a quick trip to Pittsburgh to see him, thinking that it might have been our last chance.
Let’s see, what are his ailments
- he’s had an immune disorder for many years, one that requires a monthly gamma-globulin infusion (even with my kinda-medical background, it’s still not clear to me just what’s the condition)
- he has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, he’s one of those frail old people with the oxygen bottle whenever he goes. He named it “George”
- he has congestive heart failure
- his blood pressure regulation is a mess
Someone with a medical background probably sees that the combination of cardiac, pulmonary, & cardiovascular ailments creates a messy clinical picture that makes treatment difficult. To complicate matters further, he’s allergic to the entire penicillin-rated family of antibiotics so when he does get sick, treatment is that much more difficult. And at 87 years old, well, shit starts to really fall apart eventually.
Talk lately has turned to pain management, palliative care, and dying with dignity.
We might need to make another quick trip to see him again, I’m not at all optimistic about the prospect of another recovery like 2 years ago.
Yeah, this was a bit of a downer post, sorry about that. When I’m in a different frame of mind I’ll write about Katie sharing pictures of me with her hot co-worker…
