Monday, October 8, 2012

January 18, 2012 - Dear Doc,


Dear Doc,
Today Alex declared that he wants to be a doctor.

"Like Dr. K (his pediatrician)," I asked.

"Maybe I can take care of him when he's older," Alex said.

January 15, 2012 Dear Christmas Blue,

Dear Christmas Blue,

You were with us only a short time.  You were a good fish, a good friend and good for the X Boys.  I'm so sorry we didn't take care of you better.  Next time we put the fish bowl away from the cold door.

January 14, 2012 - Dear Alex,

 Dear Alex,
You have this way of explaining things that amazes me and makes me laugh.

Today you were crying and I couldn't figure out why.

You (the self-dubbed Baby Elephant) explained "Baby elephants always cry when they hurt themselves or want something."

I hope you didn't hurt yourself.

And I hope that my laughing was what you wanted.

December 25, 2011 Dear Grandparents,





Dear Grandparents,
We took a recent family cruise to celebrate Irma's parents 50th Anniversary.

The trip with Alex & Max's grandparents made me think back to my grandparents and think about my kids' relationship with theirs.

I knew three of my four grandparents -- just as my boys do now.  Unlike them, my grandparents mostly lived nearby. 

Just like them, my dad's dad died when I was fairly young.  I was about 10 when my Grandpa Gene died.  Max and Alex didn't get to know their Grandpa Phil at all.  He died when Max was not yet one and Alex wasn't yet born.

I have some memories of my Grandpa Gene.  Perhaps better memories than my dad did of his father.  To me, Grandpa Gene was a magician who always had a different girlfriend whenever I saw him.  To my dad, my Grandpa Gene used magic and girlfriends to avoid being a father.

I had issues with my dad -- stuff I'm sure I'll tell my boys all about some day.  However, mostly the memories are good

Of my grandparents, I was closest to my dad's mom Grandma Gert.  I remember her sense of humor and her ability to adapt.  She was divorced when couples didn't get divorced, inherited lots of money after raising three kids on little, saw most of her grandchildren marry outside the faith, live in sin and a whole bunch of other stuff.  And although she didn't like a lot of it, she accepted it all because she loved us so.

"Bobby," she asked me one day when I was probably in my late 20s, "have you ever dated a Jewish girl?"

"Yes, grams," I have.

"Was it so bad?" she asked without a hint of sarcasm.

I remember going to her apartment on Lake Shore Drive.  I remember the root beer floats, walks to Buckingham Fountain and Jew spaghetti.  I remember learning to play poker, guessing which hand had more coins in it and seeing the Totem pole from the window.  Later, I remember her complaining about the old neighbors, the aches and how she was living too long.  There was the sense of humor and the practical jokes and the complaint of not being able to buy half a celery.

One time I was home from college and I went to visit her in her 90s.  She complained about my dad's weight, wondered why cousins didn't marry the woman they lived with and told me that the two most important things were sex and money.

"I thought you told me it was love and money, grams?" I questioned.

"Ahh, love," she said. 

Years after she died, Cousin John said at a family gathering "It's remarkable that not one occasion goes by that she's not the main topic of conversation."

That's my grams.

My mom's parents I knew but for whatever reason not as well.  They seemed to be in-and-out-of illness and moved to Florida for several years while I was growing up.  I remember going to their Old Orchard apartment pool, visiting them in Florida and going to The Club and hearing the stories of the Powelite factory -- something that probably should have made them rich but only resulted in disappointment.  I remember hearing about their home with the movie theater and seeing my grandpa's love of singing, dancing and entertaining.  I remember tasting Grandma Francis' way too sweet bad coffee.  There was a true sponge cake for some party.  I remember grandma telling me I drove too fast one time I drove them to some doctor appointment and her giving me a quarter for every fingernail I grew longer than hers.

The saddest memory I have is watching my Grandpa Herman waste away from Alzheimer's Disease.  Each time I went back to Chicago I'd go by the home where he'd live.  The first visits were full of confusion and talk about why he shouldn't be there.

The most powerful and strangest memory I have is a conversation I had with him sitting on a bench outside the home.  We had just taken a walk around the property -- something I was told later was not allowed.  I wish I had somehow been able to record that conversation or remembered the details or could shake the feeling I had when I left and went back to my car.

In probably a five minute conversation he took me backward and forward through his whole life starting with himself as an 80-year-old man and slowly regressing to when he was in his 20s and then back up again telling a story of each age as if it had just happened.  He was an old man who forgets thing and then he was a young gun starting a business and building a house and then soon he was living one place and now here and he was confused.

The hardest thing I ever witnessed was watching my mom and aunt get my grandfather ready for my grandmother's funeral.  They had to tell him every few minutes why he was putting on a suit and why he was leaving the home -- a place by then he felt secure in.  He cried each time and then quickly forgot what was happening.

Wow.

When I started this blog entry I had intentions of expressing sorrow that my kids' wouldn't have the relationship with their grandparents like I had with mine.

By the end here, I'm wondering if I wrote more about sadness than happiness.

Irma and I moved away from our homes and started a family together in a new place.  Nashville has been darn good to us and I'm overall happy to be here.

Times like this, though, I realize that by moving here, I did give up some stuff -- for me and my children.

Friday, October 5, 2012

December 19, 2011 Dear Cruise Director,

Dear Cruise Director,
Just wanted to write a quick note telling you how much stuff on this boat makes me laugh -- especially my boy Alex.

We put the X Boys in Camp Carnival for just a couple hours today to get a break.  First, I can't believe some parents leave their kids in there all day long -- including dinner!  Second, I can't believe some kids like being in there all day.  I think that's just something your camp people say.

My boys?  I asked them if they liked the camp.  "No," Max replied.  Why not?  "Because everyone has to do the same thing." 

It made me smile.  My boys are already Montessori kids!

Later, Alex started getting mad because a few ladies looked at him and laughed.

"They're laughing at me," he said not understanding that they were smiling and laughing because they thought he was "so cute."

My next favorite story of the trip had nothing to do with my boys.  A young girl told her mom she was tired of sitting for photos at the staged places on the boat.  "Do we have to do another one?" the daughter complained.  "We don't have to but we're going to because it's free."  The mom insisted on photo op after photo op until they got the perfect one for their holiday card.  "How many have you tried?"  one of the photographer asked.  "All of them," was the reply.

It all kind of reminded me of the food.  "We don't have to eat it all but we're going to because it's free" seemed to be the motto of most of the people on the boat.

Actually, that didn't make me laugh.  Kind of made me sick to see how much food everyone was eating -- especially the big dishes of ice cream for breakfast.

The funniest line of the trip went to my comedic Alex.

The boys were going back and forth about who should shower first.   Finally I said I was going to get something and while I was gone they should figure out who goes first.

Max did his best to con his brother into taking the shower first.

"When he gets back we'll both say Alex goes first," mama told me Max said.

"Yeah," Alex responded.  "And Max, you pretend to be Alex!"


November 24, 2011 Dear Lentil,

Dear Lentil,
Here's something on Thanksgiving that I'm thankful for.

We all wore name tags tonight listing what we're thankful for.

Alex chose:  stuffed animals.


I always believed stuffed animals were magical.  My Alex gives me more evidence every day.

I'm thankful Lentil, that I chose you to be his stuffed animal.

November 12, 2012 Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
You have this comedic and story-telling ability that's hard to explain.  You constantly tell elaborate stories about stuff that makes no sense but is so intriguing we have to keep listening.  You're so serious in your story telling and your eyes twinkle when you get to the end and we all know you're just being silly.

"It's true," you tell us.  And we all laugh.

So today mama tells you and Max how I helped at Las Paletas when the two of us were dating.

"I was good at putting them in wrappers," I said.  "I was good at tasting them too."

Max added "I'd be good at that too."

And then you (after a short pause) said "I think I'd be good at taking them out of wrappers."

November 10, 2011 Dear Thief,

Dear Thief,
You stole so much more than my computer when you broke into our new house that first week we lived there.  I was smart enough to back up our family photos in the cloud.  However, the videos didn't come back.

Bring back my computer.  I want my little boys back!


November 10, 2011 Dear Tedx,

Dear Tedx,
The line I heard at the TedX Nashville conference today that I want to tell my children about came from Anderson Williams.

"We choose to give back to comtmunity because it's esier than being part of a community," he said.

So true.

It is easier to write a check than to get involved.

I hope my boys find their passion and get involved in their communities.

November 4, 2011 Dear man at post office,


Dear man at post office,
We met you today at the post office in the Frist Center when we went to get passports for our December cruise.  My boys got a bit bored with all the waiting so they went out to the lobby and did their dancing, running and messing around.

You, a 60ish gentleman in a suit, seemed to enjoy watching them do their thing.  You perhaps stayed longer than you needed to.  You smiled as you watched my guys cause a bit of a ruckus.

"They remind me of two boys I used to know," you said.

And it hit me once again.  My five- and three-year-old boys won't be this size forever.  They'll grow into teenagers with stinky arm pits, college students with student loans and perhaps spouses with children of their own.  And it really isn't all that far away.  Just 13 years before Max is off to college and a couple more for Alex.

I adore these boys and love seeing them learn about the world.  They can tire me out.  Yet the mostly inspire me to be my best.

I hope I always remember these boys as they are right now.

And I hope seeing my boys helped you remember yours a little bit better.

Thanks for giving me a reminder to be truly with them 'cause they won't be who they are right now for very long.

November 9, 2011 Dear Woody,




Dear Woody,
At the risk of sounding like a cliche, I really liked your early funny movies.  I'll someday show my boys those and those of Chaplin, Monty Python and others.  I figure they'll appreciate the humor and probably develop a bit of their own.

And it's not just me talking here.  Coach at swimming said to me about Alex:  "You know he's funny?  I mean he's comedian funny."

Yep he is.  He's got the expressions and story telling ability of the best of 'em.

One of his favorite current expressions that makes us laugh is "I think so.  But I don't think so."  In context, Alex says it and cracks us up.

Here's hoping he takes after the early you.