Adventures in Post Modern Fatherhood

Duty

Last year at this time I was planning my last trip of the year and secured about a hundred gift cards to Dunkin Donuts as a way to express my thanks to everyone who works in those "I help get you from here to there" kind of jobs that I could not make my living without. That is when I learned that the TSA will not allow any kind of gift to be accepted. Not even a $3 dollar cup of coffee. This year I decided to express my thanks and holiday cheer in a letter. Next time you stand in line think hard about what these great people do and how much they must want to laugh at what they see. Every one of these really happened and from coast to coast I have learned to pack light, fill the bins fast wait till I leave the security area before I laugh!

 

Transportation Security Administration

US Department of Homeland Security

Washington D.C.

 

December 4, 2008

 

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Duty and vigilance are words that rarely appear next to courtesy and welcome, and yet that is what I observe week in and week out of the TSA professionals in the Philadelphia International Airport. I fly well over 100,000 miles a year and my weekly travels almost always begin and end in terminals A, B, C or F but they can and do take me to almost every airport in the country large or small. In my professional life I act as a consultant on process, customer service and performance, as a result my habit of observation is never really turned off.

 

I hold the work, attitude and demeanor of you and your associates in the highest regard. I am continuously impressed with the speed and efficiency of your work; while at the same time I see many bags rerun, interior bag searches and countless questions answered. I would like to extend to you all a hearty "Job Well Done!" and at the same time say thank you to a few agents in particular whose names I do not know but I am sure will know themselves by my words.

Thank you to the agent:

Who was so gentle in explaining to my six year old son why his "Power Rangers" tooth paste was over sized and would have to say behind. Special thanks for his understanding and laughter when my son informed him, and I quote: "Yeah my Mom and Dad both told me that, but I snuck it in my suitcase to see if you guys would really catch it."

Who convinced a non English speaking couple NOT to put their baby through the x -ray machine.

Who maintained their composure while performing an interior bag search for a fashionably dressed octogenarian whose bag contained the widest (both in selection and actual size) assortment of battery operated anatomically correct personal devices I have ever seen in one place. Extra credit should be awarded for professional deportment when the lady asked the agent "Do you need me to turn any of them on?"

Who was, I am sure, as we all were, horrified by the foot odor that emanated from a college students sockless running shoes. Extra points are awarded for being able to slip those latex gloves on without any noise or loss of efficiency.

Who goes home at night hoarse from repeating "Jacket's off, please" at the seasons change.

Who smiles and lets pass the baseless and senseless comments from the casual traveler that exclaims "This line is taking too long, I wish I got paid to stand around all day" Extra points are awarded for not insisting they be selected for a "special search" where every item in their carry on is displayed and commented on in public view although many of us wish you would.

Who tirelessly stacks and restacks those grey plastic bins.

Who convinced someone that things really would be a WHOLE LOT BETTER if all the stainless steel tables were all the same height.

In closing I would like to thank you for the very hard work that you do, and the way you make it look so very easy. I could not get to work without you, and were it not for you and your efforts the nation would work far less efficiently. My warmest regards to you and your families and best wishes for long term happiness and success.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What I Meant to Say Was…

 

Dream the biggest of dreams. They don't cost anymore than the little ones. The big ones can change the world just by making your corner of it better. Just remember that only you can make them come true. If you believe it can happen for you, it will. Just dream. Most of all dream when you are awake.

Live in the now. No one can change yesterday, even if they wish really hard. Make your peace with the past or just let it fade away like the little mile marker signs on the side of the road. Do everything you can right now to make the future the kind of place you want to live in. Don't save any of your passion for a later date. Love it all, and everyone as hard as you can right now. There are no do overs. Second chances are rare, and the truth is we rarely need them. Just be. Most of all be curious.

The cure for everything is love. We can't make anyone change to our liking, but we can love them right where they are. Remember the nature of a bird is to fly. Don't be surprised by what anyone does or says. Don't be angry or disappointed either. Puppies knock over the trash and they poop on my floor. The fact that it is my new floor or that I just cleaned up the trash doesn't matter. They (like people) do what is in their nature. Remember it is okay to love some people from a distance. Just love. Most of all love who you are.

Prayer is important. Seems strange for a lot of people, maybe because they think they have to memorize it all. Prayers can be short or long; one word or many; questions or answers. I thanked God for my big toe after Ian played piggy with it this morning. Just pray. Most of all pray in thanks.

Maintain your connections. Family and friends are the threads we weave our lives from. You can't tell which thread is most important because they all are. The truth is that that the thinnest of threads can be the strongest connections we have. Just connect. Most of all stay connected to me, I would miss you and miss out on too much fun without you!!

I realized that I forgot to tell you some things on the phone yesterday. Whatever the reason, just know. Most of all know that I love you!!

 

 

For Kathy With Love…

"Happy Birthday Daddy!" My Boo Boo Chick is now squeezing the life out of me. "Thank you Boo!" I manage to catch my breath and ask how her day was. Mine was great because I was home but I have not been out of my office all day. Her hug is medicine, her conversation, recuperation. "Mommy said Aunt Kathy put something on the family website about something you should write about in your book." Kathy is my number two sister in order but she is also my God Mother and with the exception of one really bad long sleeve tee shirt with a satin apple tree appliqué she brought when I was eight she always got me the coolest Christmas gifts. The best gift really was not a thing but time. She always listened to my wild stories about rocket ships and robots and mad scientists that were plotting to take over the world. Better yet she compelled and when I say compelled I mean forced all her boyfriends to listen too. It was a test of character. If they couldn't be patient and listen to me how would they shape up as a husband and father? It was, after all, a package deal. Marry her; and we all came along.

I am bound by the thankful kid code to give her whatever she asks for at this point in time, so I swing my chair around and click on my web browser. I loved tabbed browsers. All my favorites are open at once and I click on our family's web site and find the post.

"What does she want you to write?" I am quiet for a minute while I digest it.

"MMM hard to say Boo, but basically she wants me to tell stories about Pop Pop Happy and the Great War."

"Was Gramsey Anna in the Great War too?"

"In a way Boo, everybody was, the entire Country made enormous sacrifices to get through that time." She smiles and says

"Sounds good to me, what are you going to write about first?"

"Oh Boo there are so many stories I'm not sure what to write first. What would like to hear first?"

"How did they meet?"

"Ahhhh the love story! Well that was before the war started. They met in New Jersey."

"More, please…"

"Okay, okay already!" I say as a turn and open a new post.

"DADDY! EMPH!" she says with a stomp of her foot.

"What Boo?..."

"You CAN tell me while you type you know…"

"I know but let me finish this for Aunt Kathy and I will read it to you for a story, okay?"

I really never get an answer but the hug tells me I'm not out of the club yet.

He worked in an Ice Crème Parlor before the war. It was considered a good job. If you played your cards right you could be the manager and raise a family on that wage. It was the slow time of the day, between lunch and when the schools let out. The cleaning was done and the ice crème tubs had been shaved down the sides cleanly so the remaining product looked like delicious clouds of fluffy goodness. He was having a cup of coffee at the far table from the door.

Richie took an old table cloth and spinning it like a matador's cape; he finished with a flourish and tied it around his friends neck. Richie wanted to go to Barber College and as the fabric of the red and white checked cloth floated down, he smiled and thought "The Barber of Seville himself would be proud of that." His self admiration was interrupted by the smirk on his friends face. Richie knew the look. He was gonna say something dumb about getting back to work. Richie cut him off. "Happy m' boy you look positively harried. Haggard even. Let me fix you up. A fresh shave will make you look like the assistant manager you are!" Happy thought about that for a minute, it did have a nice ring to it. But the title was not really his. The title didn't really exist. In the whole Tompkin's Ice Crème chain there were exactly no assistant managers. The manager was sick, that's all. He was only doing now what he would have done if the manager was here. Richie was a little over half way into the shave when the bell on the door announced a customer. "That's all for now Richie, we have a customer." Glancing over his shoulder Richie said "Yes we do, and Freddie will take care of him. Let me finish this you can't have a half a shave."

The gentleman was very distinguished and wore a suit made of fine cloth that had been expertly tailored. He had what amounted to barely a taste of his ice crème when he sat the spoon down on the table and left. The three of them looked at one another in disbelief.

"I'm sure he'll be right back" said Freddy.

"Anything wrong with it Freddie?" asked Hap. Richie was done with the shave and with confidence said "How about a trim? It's pay day and you'll look better than anybody at the picture show. You wearing your gray suit?" With that they all laughed. It was an old joke and like most old jokes it was funny because it was true. Hap's gray suit was his only suit. "Yeah but this time I'm going to wear the one with the cuffed trousers" They all laughed louder this time, as the dust settled Richie began the serious work. The trim would take about an hour as it was harder to do than just a shave. Richie was quick with a shave. It was easy to make all of something disappear. A trim was much harder because only a little bit could go. Richie clipped and snipped, eying each cut like Michelangelo sculpting the Pieta. Hap kept thinking about the customer that just left. "Hey Freddie bus that table will ya? That Ice crème is about to melt out of the dish and we only have one tablecloth in the back and I need it for this table. What did that guy order anyway?"

"Two scoops vanilla ice crème, no toppings just the cup. Why?" Richie stood still, stopped cutting and talking which he rarely did.

"He said it just like that? Two scoops vanilla ice crème, no toppings just the cup?" Richie could feel the shivers in Hap's voice.

"Calm down Happy! That's an old wives' tale anyway. Means Nothing. We're fine. Coincidence. That's all. Fine, we're all fine."

Freddie, with a confused look on his face was clearly asking what was going on. "Tell him Richie, he needs to know." Said Hap.

"Know what? What did I do? The ice crème was perfect I swear. I made it just like he asked."

"That might be the problem." Said Hap. "Rumor is that Mr. Tompkins checks up on the stores from time to time and he always orders two scoops vanilla ice crème, no toppings just the cup." Freddie was looking green.

"The key word is rumor Hap" chirped Richie.

"Well here is something that is not a rumor. Tompkins is an older gentleman who wears a different suit every day and is said by all who know him to have a distinguished look. Finish up friend we got work to do. School is almost out and we need to be ready for the rush."

"Rush? You can't rush perfection! Five minutes I swear and you are ready for the picture show." A snip here and there, Richie was liking his work when the door bell jingled again. "Customer, Richie. We are done now? Asked Hap. "Almost, Freddie will get the customer. Lucky devil, she is quite the looker too. Hips like battleships! Freddie, get the Lady whatever her nickel desires."

Hap told his buddies to knock off the jokes and he sat up and began to discretely shake out the table cloth. Despite Richie's protests and Freddie's willingness to serve, Hap could see something the other two had missed. They had been focused on this amazing girl with the ruby red lips and legs that went all... the... way... down to the ground. He had spotted that she was wearing a Tompkin's uniform. She was also wearing a name badge. Only Managers wore badges. Hap was still trying to shush Richie and hide the cloth when she began to speak.

"I am Miss Kelly. Mr Tompkins sent me over with the pay envelopes. Which one of you was getting a shave earlier today?" The group was stunned in silence and no one could move, let alone speak. She cut an impressive cloth. She was younger than the men but Hap could not tell by how much. Her features were very angular and her hair was …well it was just perfect. No one really answered as much as slumped and slinked away; Richie and Freddy a little faster than Hap.

"What is your name?" her tone was very businesslike.

"Harold Ba…" She cut him off

"No buts Mr. Harold, Mr. Tompkins would like you to report to the office immediately." Clearly this was no girl. This was a woman that was not to be trifled with.

"No My last name is Barter. My first name is Harold but my friends call me Happy. What should I call you?" He was in trouble but this woman was extraordinary and he thought he should take his shot. Richie was in awe. That confidence is what made him "Happy" instead of Harold. Freddie was just grateful to be in the clear.

"My mother calls me Anna. You may call me Miss Kelly." With that she turned to the other two and said. "While the cat's away the mice will play! I am going in the freezer to check the inventory and when I get back that table better be dressed and the mess gone or you will all be gone." She held her finger so rigid it was curving slightly backwards and the fire in her eyes was framed by one eyebrow that was raised higher than the other. She walked with precision and confidence. She liked to be in charge, it was obvious. Hap spoke first.

"Jeez I hope she doesn't melt all the ice crème."

"Stay away from that one Happy. A Dame like that will change your whole life."

"Richie, it would be awful boring, a life with no changes."

"Ixnay with the alkingsay! Here she comes!" said Ritchie.

"Mr. Harold…" she intoned.

"Ahem! Barter, Happy… Barter" he corrected her. Richie was rolling his eyes and thinking about kicking him hard in the shins. Freddie was about to faint. She stepped closer, almost nose to nose. She was wearing heels but even so she was tall. And lean. And she smelled intoxicating. "Mr. Harold Happy Barter or whatever your name is Mr Tompkins waiting for you and I was told by him personally to send you directly to the office. Please go now."

"Right away Miss Kelly, but could I have a moment in private. Please just a moment?" Richie was sweeping the floor and could barely contain himself. Freddie had a crooked smile now. This was quite the show.

"Just a moment, and then I'll have to call the office."

"Am I getting fired? Because if I am I would just as soon catch the train to Dover now. If I am at the office late and miss the train it's a long walk and I don't want to tell my father I got fired after that kind of long walk."

"Dover? Did you say Dover? As an Alumna of Morristown High School I shouldn't do this but if you leave right now I will phone the office and put a good word in for you. The store really is in great shape. The freezer is neat and the tubs are all shaved just the way Mr. Tompkins likes them."

"Morristown? The Thanksgiving Day game is coming up would you like to go?" asked Hap.

"Uhhhg!" Said Richie unable to contain himself at the sheer madness of this exchange. Freddie's grin was broad. This was better than the picture show.

"I'll consider your invitation after you meet Mr Tompkins. Now go!"

Hap tipped an imaginary hat and gave the guys a two finger salute as he literally skipped out the door. Anna picked up the phone and asked the operator for LEWis 3645. She looked up and saw that she had an audience. "You with the broom, get that dust in the corner. And you with the Cheshire Cat smile, quit leaning and get cleaning." Richie and Freddie were scurrying like mice when the phone connected and she asked "Miss Kelly for Mr Tompkins please…"

 

 

 

 

They Call Me Ho Zay

"That is not my name; my name is Daddy, or Andrew!" I narrow the focus of my eyes for effect and the stern tone in my voice should be enough to tell Ian, at age 3, that I am serious. Matching me with both intensity and tone, he grabs my scruffy face in his hands and exclaims, "NO! NO! NO! You name is HO ZAY!" I have no idea where this coming from but I do not like it. I am pretty flexible with the kids on most things but if I make a request, I expect that they comply, and quickly is my preferred timing. Ian is a really sweet kid and up until now we have avoided the temper tantrums and angry refusals that begin in year two. I've never seen his jaw set this way and as a Dad I am pleased to see this side of him, this sense of self and projection take place. As his father, I am growing weary and am looking for compliance. The tension between my two selves keeps me wondering who will give in first. His eyes soften a bit and I am positive that I have won. Keeping the momentum in my favor, I bark more than say "Ian, I am serious!" I say, "Do not call me Ho Zay!"

 

Ian takes a shy posture proving that three year old kids really believe that they are invisible when they hide their eyes behind their hands. I regret my harsh tone and soften my voice along with my eyes and ask him gently, "Ian… come give Daddy a hug…" He sways back and forth and shakes his head no. "Please Ian, Daddy doesn't understand. Let's have a hug and you can tell Daddy what you mean…" His posture bursts like a bubble and with one fist clenched near his shoulder, he pulls his arm down and lets his elbow swing up and back while he giggles and springs his punch line. "NO WAY HO ZAY!" He is in full belly laugh now delighted that he has brought me to the edge, pulled me back, and tossed me over precipice.

I am instantly reduced to wriggles and my knees drop a few inches while my brain tries to stop my laughter and get a little more oxygen. He runs like a puppy with a sock fresh from the laundry basket, and I am powerless not to follow. We stomp our feet and giggle and laugh as we move from room to room, every time he is caught I pretend to gaff so he can escape. We come full circle and I sweep him up in my arms and cover him with kisses. We plop down in my favorite chair and catch our breath. Ian snuggles me close and asks, "Daddy, will you be my Ho Zay?" I ask "Why do you want to call me Ho Zay?" "I don't know…Sometime you call people Ho Zay…you be my Ho Zay, Okay?"

 

The twinkle in his eyes tells me that he is inviting me to play a game that he will play with no one else. I have had these moments with my other children and it is rare and special thing for a parent to hand control over to the child knowing that the trust is well placed. I ask him if Mommy or his siblings can be his Ho Zay and he is insistent that it can only be me. The deal is made and the bond is forged. I will be many things for him in his life and some of those roles will be one time only, but from now on I will always be his Ho Zay. That night when we say our prayers I lead him through all the "Mary Mother of Jesus pray fors" and when I say, "my Daddy," he repeats back, "My Ho Zay," and gives me a little snuggle while he giggles.

The next day I announce that I am leaving the house to drop Patrick off at football practice, Ian grabs his shoes and shouts "Me come with you guys, okay?" "Sure, you can come along but I am not staying to watch, I am coming right back here okay?" He nods his head and bounces to the car excited to be with the big boys. The door slams as Patrick and I shout goodbye at one another, the silence settles after the click and we head back home. It is a perfect Pennsylvania fall day. Bright blue sky and cotton candy clouds, colored pink and blue as the sun goes down. "Hey Ho Zay, you want go to mickdonulds?" "Uhh I don't know pal, I think Mommy has dinner cooking, we need to get home." "NO WAY HO ZAY! Let's go now!"

"Can I take your order," crackles through the speaker set and I ask him what he wants. "Ahhh Batman toy!" I chuckle and place our order as I reach for my cell phone and punch speed dial 65 for My Love. She answers as I pull into a parking spot that faces the mountain, "Ian and I will not be home for dinner, we have decided that we need some father son bonding time" There is a pause and then I hear her voice, "Don't be long Ho Zay, Nora has math homework and Seamus has a spelling test and a reading assignment." I tell her we'll be back soon and hit end.

I adjust the rear view mirror so I can see Ian play with his Batman toy while he munches on fries and makes his burger fly like a plane. I look out at the Blue Mountain and think to myself, "They call me Ho Zay!" This really is a perfect Pennsylvania day…

How Did We All Get Here?

It was a grueling day that began so far before sun came up that a sane person would have referred to that time of day as "yesterday". Drained as I was from all the driving and my work day, I was burning with anticipation and bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of meeting my new son. My first son. It was a moment that I thought would be the end of a long journey for My Love and me. One that I had pictured in my mind's eye; a peaceful, perfect day in the sun by a lake or on a beach, the three of us dressed in white and cool breezes flowing through our hair, carrying all our burdens and toils away like dandelion seeds. I felt more like we were on the edge of a cliff, the breeze more like a category five hurricane.

The decision to adopt was an easy one for us. We had conceived many times but each new pregnancy ended in miscarriage, every time a little farther along, yet hopelessly far from the finish line. It was the supermarket a few towns away where My Love met Shirley, the adoption lady. I am still fuzzy on the details of who spoke first and how the topic turned to our family size, but no matter. It turned and it has been a turn for the best. A road filled with a lot of twists but truly more ups than downs.

"The average wait is over a year for an infant, and there is a lot to do. Forms to fill out and a home study; we need to write an essay about one another, video our house, and then we have a lot to do to get ready for a baby. Paint the nursery, buy clothes; I want to get started right away". 

It was April 1996, the sky was gray and her mood for change was not. Were it not for the fact that our anniversary was just around the corner in May, I would have thought it was the fall. I love Joanie in every season of the year, but I love her most in the fall. The fall colors and her auburn hair paint a picture that is as intoxicating for me as the perfume of wood smoke in the crisp fall air. She was radiant and the tone of her voice was bubbly. We were sitting at the dining room table as she walked me through each form and what it meant, plus how much we had to write the check for and to whom. All the while I kept thinking, "How loooong did you two talk in that supermarket?" We passed the papers back and forth for a few hours filling in all the long answers in the short little boxes. Just 7 years out of college some of the questions were excruciating to answer. "List all the adults 18 and over that you have lived with for more than 2 weeks in the last ten years. Attach extra pages as needed." There were exactly five spaces. Having lived in a fraternity house for a couple of those years, (not to mention the US Army) it was a week and nearly five pages before I felt confident that I had gotten every name listed. Thank God they didn't ask for current addresses and phone numbers. It would have taken years.

I was away on business when most of the boring stuff happened, social workers touring the house, the state police calling to say that our background checks were complete and we could pick them up. The big day that we had been prepping for happened on a Friday night. I was working locally that week so the drive was fairly short for me. Shirley, the adoption lady, was over to review our paperwork and be sure that all the jot and tittles were in order.  Everything went smooth and in the end she brought out a new form that we had not seen before. The bold type across the face said "Preference Sheet". The purpose it would seem was to have us "order" up a child to our liking. We could preference ethnic background of either biological parent along with things like eye color and hair color. Oddly, we could specify the religion of each biological parent, as if the infant would know that they were say Methodist, and wail during sermons in a Baptist church. I liked Shirley but the whole idea of the form had taken me by surprise and had really left me cold. Instead of dreams of the perfect baby for us, my mind was filled with the images of kids without families because I had checked a box for "Irish" and had excluded thousands based on a choice that seemed so impulsive, and so permanent.  I cannot say what I thought would happen in terms of a match, I had always considered it a matter of faith that it would work out just the way it was supposed to.

My silence, the cold look on my face or both told Shirley that something was wrong and she broke the silence, "You can take your time with this, I don't need it back right now…"

"No, it's not that, I just don't know how to express how I am feeling right now. I am looking for a different box to check but I can't seem to find it…" I say as I flip the paper over and over passing it over to Joanie to inspect.

"What box is that?"

"The one that says bring me the next kid who needs a Mom and Dad. I don't think I can check any of the other boxes and sleep at night."

"Look here at the section on disabilities, does that apply here as well?"

I looked over at My Love and saw agreement in her eyes. I also saw a look that would repeat itself a few years later when a pushy doctor kept insisting that we screen for Downs Syndrome so we could "Take care of it early…" I was raised a Roman Catholic and while I was loose (some might say slack) on some of my faith's practices, the good Sisters of Charity had made sure that I knew the reasoning behind them. I knew full well what my marriage vows meant to the Church and to me. I promised "To accept all children, with love and respect…" 

"Shirley, I made a vow that I would take every child the man upstairs sends me unconditionally and without reservation. I appreciate that you are trying to protect us but if we were to do this in the usual way there would be no protection, so just bring us the next kid who needs a Mom or Dad and that would be fine with us."

She stumbled through a few more what ifs and Joanie or I would defuse them and soon she put the paper away and said: "This might pick up speed from here, are you sure you are ready?" We assured her that we were and after we helped her to her car, we sat on the front porch for quite a while looking at the stars and snuggling.

Barely six weeks had passed and we were now sitting in a reception area in a Philadelphia hospital at the end of a very long day where we logged about 800 miles and were never more than two hours from home. The question running through my mind was, "Are we ready, can we handle this?" We had limited experience with parenting. Our experience thus far is limited to dogs and none of them were what I would call "role models". There was some last minute wrangling by a social worker that was opposed to black children being adopted by white families but Shirley put that right in short order by reminding them that Bill Clinton had recently signed a federal law that forbid discrimination of adoptive families based on race and we were told, "He is on the way down…"

My heart was pumping hard but slow and time seemed to stand still. I was off to the side when the nurse gave the baby to Shirley, who then passed him to My Love. Joanie held him up and looked at his face that was mostly covered by his very large hands and then she pulled him close. He let out a sigh like he missed her and then he did something I have never seen another baby do. He grabbed a fist full of Joanie's sweater and curled it up around his little hand and would not let go. You could pull it out of his hand but he would get it back and cry the second he didn't have a hold of his Mom. We went over all the checklists and signed the release papers and off we went into the great unknown. Two of the things we could not possibly be prepared for were just how much this boy loved his binky and how much he loved to eat.

The Bunny Speaks

We had a busy Saturday with Seamus getting his yellow belt (He broke that board HARD in one shot) and shopping for Communion Dresses. We got home around 9pm and thought we had it all covered BUT something was indeed missing.

Here is the note that the bunny left at our house:

Thank you for the nice note Nora.
What no carrots this year?
You guys are officially on probation!
PS I bet Santa got his cookies! Quick name three things that were in your stocking? Thought so.
Signed EB

Joan was not amused. Neither was the Bunny. Seamus has vowed to grow a garden. Ian say's "DHAT"S AGUDBUNEEEEEEEEE BRING E CONDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Candy for breakfast, Mass as soon as we can find the babies shoes!

Happy Easter to All!

Big Sharp Knife

"Hey Seamus what's in that bowl?"
"Strawberries and sugar".
"Wow that looks really good, can I have some?"
"Sure I made it just for us"
"That is so cool Dude! Thanks! Did Mommy help you cut these up?"
"Nope, I did it myself"
"Really what did you use?"
"A big sharp knife, and no cuts at all. Look my hands are fine."
"Wow, I didn't know Mommy taught you how to cut things yet."
"She didn't. She's in the basement cleaning, but I've been watching her my whole life. I'm really good, look at my hands."

Hail Mary, Mother of God.....

The Good Saint Joseph

I just got back from the annual Saint Margaret Queen of Scots Christmas pageant and I am now officially in the Holiday Spirit. There is something magic for me when I see bed sheet angels and wise men with crepe paper crowns, bath robe shepherds and the Good Saint Joseph all dressed in brown. It makes me wonder about the other side of the first Christmas. The part we don't hear about but I know existed. My good friend Bud Macfarlane Jr. set me right about it one year and it has been with me ever since. If you are a father you know what I will say next is true. If you are not  a father, you should say thank you next time you see your Dad for shielding you from all of this throughout your life.

Think about the Good Saint Joseph for just a minute.  Jesus had the angels, Mary, and the shepherds. But without Joseph, Jesus would have been murdered. Herod went on a satanic killing spree. Tiny little hearts were pierced by the sword, and mothers and fathers everywhere in Israel after that first Christmas began their new year with a funeral and endless months of emotional agony over their loss. And Joseph, warned by the angel in his dream, took his family on the run to a foreign land. Instead of heading back to Nazareth, they rushed off, just the three of them, into the unknown. All the pictures and programs show Joseph with Mary riding on a donkey with the child in her arms. Few details are ever given, and it is usually a pleasant scene, almost warm and tender, with the camera angle showing them from a gentle distance, walking under the stars. Yet the reality must have been so harsh. We don't know for sure that they even had a donkey. We'll wager they were forced to walk, and this, after a long journey to Bethlehem for the Roman census. The roads of the ancient world were stalked by thieves and brigands.

 

Joseph was afraid.

 

As fathers we know what it is like for women after giving birth, even weeks later. Joseph must have carried his baby most of the time as they trudged along, mile after mile. He gave Mary most of the food he scrounged to make sure she could give milk. Carefully hiding valuable gifts from the wise men, not knowing how long he would have to make them last, or how much would be needed to establish a home in Egypt, he surely took as little for himself as possible.

 

Joseph was hungry.

 

Travel was not easy and not safe back then. As they rested by the side of the trail at night, every little sound in the darkness must have perked up Joseph's ears. Alert for danger, he prayed for protection. Hoping, during his short, furtive naps, for another dream to guide him. Wondering if there would ever be another dream.

 

Joseph was tired.

 

The year that Jesus was born must have been the hardest year of Joseph's life. Trying to find work and a place to live in Egypt, not knowing the local language, wondering when God would call them home. He wasn't perfect. He was flesh and blood. He didn't know what would come next.

 

Joseph didn't know the details of the future.

 

Yet, during quiet moments, he held Mary's hand and she gripped tight in return. Her smile gave him strength in a hard, cold world. When his wife and son were asleep, Joseph would often stay awake, despite his fatigue, trying to figure out what to do next.

 

Joseph trusted in God.

 

Joseph raised himself up on an elbow, one hand on his beard, and in the light of a full moon, beheld the two lovely faces of Mary and the baby, asleep, and his heart practically burst at the beauty of it. He did not want to awake them.

 

Joseph was silent.

 

Maybe, just maybe, during our most difficult times, when we're asleep, God shows Saint Joseph our faces, and we're beautiful, too. His heart swells. And, Joseph silently vows again to carry us during our darkest times, when we are strangers and sojourners in cold and forbidding lands.

 

Joseph is with us.

 

He is my constant companion and inspiration; my confidant and intercessor. When I am tired, hungry, and scared it is the Good Saint Joseph that I ask for inspiration, when I leave my home, I ask him to protect and guide my family while I am away. Please know that I ask him to watch over all you too this and every day.

 

I am wishing you a Happy and Holy Christmas and a Grace-filled 2008.

Not Even Close Dude! Not Even Close!

"Ian, who do you love more, Mommy or Daddy?" I ask.

"MAMA!" comes the answer with a finger point and a big smile.

"Who do you love more, Daddy or Patrick?"

"Ahh, DA-DEE" matter of factly.

"Who do you love more, Daddy or Boo Boo (his big sister Nora)?"

"BOO-BOO!" finger pointed straight up in the air this time his voice rising in a crescendo.

Damn! The Dad popularity ratings are down this quarter with the under three crowd. I will have to brainstorm ways to improve this and quickly. I press on.

"Who do love more Daddy or Seamus?"

"Hmm…Dunno"

"What are you doing Dad?" Asks Nora

"Asking Ian who he loves the most, but it's not going so well."

"Well, who does he love the most?"

"So far Mommy and then you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing is really wrong, I just thought I would finish a little higher, that's all."

"It makes perfect sense, Dad. Mommy is the Mommy, and I'm his miniature Mom.

"Yeah but I'm the Dad. THE DAD! The really fun dad; The goofy guy that makes faces and funny voices, and gives him flippies on the big bed!"

"Not even close Dude! Not even close!" She flips her hair and purses her lips and I'm left feeling that my problem may be worse that I first thought.

*    *    *    *

"What ARE you doing?" my love asks not so sweetly as I rummage about in her office.

"I'm looking for the phone book!" I say not hiding my frustration even a little.

"What for? And by the way it is in your office where you have decreed it must reside." The smart look on her face making me all the more determined."Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well what are you looking for?"

"I need to hire a PR firm."

"Did the baby say he loves me more than you?"

"Arrrrggggghhhh"

The Quiet Man

 

 

"I'm really proud of you Bud, you're a good guy, and it shows." I say the words easily, but have a hard time keeping my eyes from watering. My oldest son Patrick has proven himself again to be one of my heroes. After an incredible first half, his team absorbed a stinging loss at the hands of a winless opponent. Patrick is 11 years old but could easily pass for a kid in high school. While his physicality allows him to appear much older (he is well over five feet tall, nearly 150 pounds and has a 12.5 shoe) it's his quiet maturity and affable manner that let people see past how young he really is.

"Dad we lost today."

"I know, Pat…" I pause to pick up a yardage marker and place it in the back of a coach's pickup truck, as much as I do to consider what to finish with. "… everyone takes a loss Pat, there's no way to avoid it. What matters more than anything is showing up. I'll be proud of you anytime you play, but what made me proud today was how you held it together at the end of the game. All the little things you did, like jogging back to the huddle, and handing the Referee the ball at the end of the play. But most of all, this" I say opening my arms wide and making a sweeping motion that encompasses the whole field.

"What are you talking about!" he says, scratching his head, his smile returning for just an instant.

"All the other kids couldn't wait to get out of here, but you took off your gear and got a couple guys to play pickup with you. That is huge, my man! Those guys left after a loss feeling good about themselves and good about the game. Look around Pat, there are at least 8 or 9 of us out here picking up with Coach, and I bet most weeks he does this alone."

"Dad, can I go to the High School game with Joey and Kenny? Joey's Dad is going and Joey said I could come along."  He tosses another marker into the truck.

"I don't have a problem with it, but Mom has to approve. Your Aunt and Uncle drove along way to see you play and I think they want to go out to lunch when we are done."

"Can I tell Mom that it's alright with you?"

"Sure thing, my man, but make sure you bring some money along and pay your own way."

The details of the afternoon are quickly ironed out by the Moms and I see him head off with his buddies having recently secured a twenty from his Mom and his smile back where it belongs. As he trots away I intercept him, cupping his face in my hands and ask him a series of questions that he knows by heart.

"Hey before you go, tell me again, what's your name?"

"Patrick."

"Patrick who?" I press a little harder.

"Patrick Barter"

"Who's your Dad?"

"You are."

"And what does that mean?"

"I need to act like your son so everybody knows who I am."

"And just who are you?"

"I'm your son."

"Yes you are my son, and don't you forget it either Buddy!"

"Don't worry Dad, I won't!" he says through a big smile.

I watch as he jogs away, his arms effortlessly finding their way through the straps of his back pack. He gets about ten steps and I shout "I love you!" too loud for anyone's comfort, I'm sure, let alone his. I flash back to one night of many in my parents New Jersey living room when it was my turn to answer similar questions. The activity always ended with my mother intoning her sternest of warnings, "Remember, you're my Son!" She never said why we should remember, we all knew why.  Patrick's developing baritone brings me back to the now.

"I love you too Dad!" he says turning momentarily around, jogging backwards, and then back on course as I think to myself "I will never get tired of hearing that!" and I say a silent prayer that every Angel in Heaven will surround him and protect him while he is away from me. Before I am fully ready, he is gone, and I am alone in my thoughts. Surrounded by voices and yet in total quiet, wondering how Patrick will turn out when he is older, how he will look and who will he marry, what I will say when I hold his son for the first time…

"Do you want to go to Pizza Hut or not?" my wife asks.

"Sure Babe, you bet. Sounds great, let's go…"

Damn the now.