June 24, 2009 Dear Alex

Dear Alex,
A few days after Father's Day and I'm thinking about you, your brother and these blogs. I'm not sure I ever explained to you why your blog is so different than your brothers.

Max's started by fluke. I wrote the story of his birth just for your mama and me. Then a few weeks later Max had his picture in the paper. The paper came out on a Tuesday -- the same day he was born. Thus, the idea of "Tuesdays with Max" (an obvious rip off of the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" was born. Writing his blog has become an obsession and a great way to look back on the week and at his development.

And then you came along. "Saturday's with Alex" just didn't have the same ring to it. I thought about merging Max's blog with yours and starting "The X Boys" or "My Two Sons" or something like that. Eventually you'll learn that I'm not the type to repeat myself. I can also be resistant to change. Thus, I decided on a new type of blog for you and to continue Max's blog.

I did make a couple changes. I added "and a bit about Alex" to Max's blog and "and Max" to yours. I know I need to do a better job specifically documenting your progress.

The idea of "Letters for Alex" was to have a way to tell you about you, me and those around us. Initially the blog was called "Letters to Alex." I changed it to "Letters for Alex" when I realized there was stuff I wanted you to know that was best told to others. Someday I suspect you will look at this blog like someone who finds a bunch of saved letters in an attic.

May 14, 2009 Dear Van Man,

Dear Van Man,

Thanks for stopping by a few days after you scared the hell out of me to apologize. I'm sure you had the right intentions when you stopped to tell Max to move away from the street. But you scared the hell out of me that day.

I never thought I was the paranoid type. But when you stopped, rolled down the window and said something to my three-year-old son I freaked out. I watched the whole thing from my side porch where I was putting away a stroller while Max played in the front yard. He never left my site for a second.

I saw your van stop.

I saw the window go down.

And I sprinted toward the van as it pulled away.

You stopped.

You explained that you were just trying to be nice by telling this small boy to get away form the street.

I said "you better have" and memorized your license plate number.

Later that evening I told my wife what happened. She thought it was important for me to call the police. They came by after our boys were sleeping. They assured me that it was most likely just as you said it was: someone trying to be helpful.

But I've seen the shows and my wife has produced the TV shows that have little kids disappearing in just these type incidents. So I freaked. And I held that feeling for a few days.

Then you came back a few days later and apologized and pointed out that you live just a few doors down the street. You told me you thought about the incident too and that you have a granddaughter and if you were in my position you'd likely have reacted even stronger.

I accept your apology.

I also accept my reaction.

And I feel bad that I don't know more of my neighbors.

May 23, 2009 Dear Alex

Dear Alex,
You're nine months old today. You're a happy boy who seems to want to grow up quickly -- to do whatever your brother is doing. You're crawling, you're using whatever you can find to stand up and you're constantly looking around to find your brother. You've also started taking baths with your brother -- and your mama or papa who hold you up.

Sometimes your mama and I think we had twins two years apart. You two look alike and play alike. Many nights or mornings you two wake up at the same time.

Of course, you also are your own person. You have a quick smile that lights up the room and you are determined to get what you want. The only time your brother gets a bit annoyed with you is when you take whatever he is playing with.




Video: May 10, 2009

May 1, 2009 Dear Therapist,

Dear Therapist,
I had another rough dream last night. Somehow I was laying down -- pinned down by a guy who had a knife at my back. Across the way was another guy with a knife pointed at my son Alex.

The guy next to me casually dropped his knife and I quickly picked it up. I figured the power turned.

"Go ahead and stab me," the guy says. "Then perhaps you can win a battle with the guy over there. Just think of this, though: he'll kill your kid before he does battle with you."

I froze.

"I know you think his (Alex's) life is more valuable than mine so I know you won't make a move."

So, what's this one mean?

Another protection dream, sure. But what was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? Of course I thought my kids' life was more valuable than this thug's. What does that say about me?

April 18, 2009 - Dear Dad - soccer

Dear Dad,
As I watched Max run around during his soccer game I thought of you. I know how much you liked watching me and my brothers play sports.

Now I get it.

There was something magical about seeing Max in his uniform, running up and down the field with a sense of pure joy made me tingle.

It's moments like this that I regret not being able to talk to you. I want to know what moments gave you that same kick. I want to know what you liked about being a dad, what you regret and what you feel when you see your grandson -- or me as a dad.

We never had conversations like these; that's another regret.

April 13, 2009 Dear Therapist,

Dear Therapist,
I had this scary dream.

Max and I were lost somewhere and a stranger offered to give us a ride. First, they took us to their club. There, we were wined and dined and eventually Max took off to play with the other children.

After awhile, I realized Max wasn't coming back. I tried to go to him but was stopped by a man.

"You can leave, he said. "But he's staying here."

Trying to get Max was useless. There was too many of them.

"I'm staying," I said.

"Don't do it for him," the man said. "In a week he won't remember you're his dad. In six months he won't recognize you at all."

I stayed.

I saw Max disappearing from me. I could see him from a distance. But he never looked at me.

One day, he was in a line of children and he was about to pass right by me without so much as a glance in my direction.

"I love this boy," I said repeating the phrase I say to him every night before he falls asleep.

He turned toward me and gave me a puzzled look.

So therapist, "What's it mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

I woke up about then with such mixed strong emotions. I was scared to lose my boys. And I was somewhat satisfied to know that despite him not even being three-years-old, there is an unbreakable connection. I felt like it meant that my boys will remember me no matter what.

Dear X-Boys, March 19, 2009

Dear X-Boys,
Today I closed the hatchback of my car on Max's hand. In one of those life turned into slow-motion moments, I saw Max's face as I closed the door and there was nothing I could do but look into his eyes and feel terrified about what I was about to do.

Being a parent is an incredible wonderful responsibility that continuously amazes, thrills and scares me. Max has learned to tell me that my job as papa is "to protect me." I promise to do the best I can.

Max's hand was fine (even after I spent much of the next hour at Bongo Java icing the wrong hand).

Yet the incident made me think about all the ways I influence you and all the stuff I want to protect you both from. I frequently have flash forwards of stuff that could happen to you: falls, hit by cars, kidnappings, etc. And in some more reflective moments I think about the mental stuff I want to protect you from as well. I don't need to list all my issues. Let's just say I want to protect you from those too.

March 13, 2009 - Dear X Boys,

Dear X Boys,
Your mom and I talked about lots of stuff before we got married: stuffs about how we wanted to live, how we wanted to raise children and what we wanted to do with our lives.

We knew we wanted you both to have a more creative and better school experience than at least I had.

We just never really expected to be putting our children in full-time, private school as early as three-years old.

However, today we wrote the check, signed the forms thus committing ourselves to sending Max to Montessori school this fall. We're darn excited about it and a bit overwhelmed with the responsibility. We visited two Montessori and one Walforf school before settling on Abintra. We looked at and debated such issues as location, foreign language programs and school diversity. We're not 100% convinced this school or even our decision to send him full-time is the best decision. We do feel good that we made an informed decision.

School bored me. My dad taught me to think through math and logic problems. My mom taught me to explore my creative side. Both taught me to do things myself. The lesson at school was to conform and memorize. I did just enough at school to get my B average. I was bored.

I'd love to feel good about putting you in local public schools. However, the more I look at these schools and the more I hear about this cray No Child Left Behind program, the more commited I am to finding something different for you. Children don't need to take tests and tests.

I know school can be so much more. I had one professor in college and one more recently who taught Spanish that got me excited about learning. They didn't simply lecture, hand us a textbook and give us a test. They challenged me and made it all interesting.

I want you both to be happy reaching your potential.

I want you both to have a life-long interest in learning.

I want you both to follow your own passion.

I want you both to be confident in wha you do and comfortable with your achievementsl.

I watch you both be so excited every day in your play, exploration and learning. I want this excitement to last forever.

I'm not 100% positive this is the right school or right program.

I am 100% pledged to finding what is right.

February 23, 2009 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex, You've always been described as a happy baby and at six months that's exactly who you are. Every time we went for a prenatal check up, the midwife would check your vital signs and day "this is one happy baby." The day you were born was no different. Mama went through 36 hours of labor and lots of pain and pushing. Through out it all, the midwifes would say "your baby is happy" or "that sure is one happy baby."

Six months later you are still full of smiles. The other day you and I were sleeping next to each other. We seemed to wake up at the same time. And after a quick gathering of our senses, you looked at me and smiled. What could I do but smile right back? Your face glows when you smile.

You're also a big baby. Despite being born a month early and having a mama who is barely 5-feet tall, you're now in the 90+ percentiles on size and weight. You weigh 20 pounds!

As much as we hate to compare you and your brother, you two are so much alike: you're both big, happy, strong boys. We called Max "bam bam" when he was little because he was so strong. You're the same. While Max would pick things up, you seem to push things around and move everywhere. The other day mama said "what other six-month-old boy could wiggle out of his Bumbo chair."


Speaking of your brother, you've also brought out a side of him we never would have known. He's the most passionate, loving big-brother you can imagine. "I love Alex," he says over and over. On his own he goes to hug you and kiss you. Of course, sometimes he's overly anxious to start playing with you. He throws balls to you and talks about playing ping pong and chutes and ladders with you ("You just watch, papa. I play with Alex."). We all look forward to seeing the two of you run around and play your real and made up games.



You've started eating solid foods. Mama has you on the same begininng diet as your brother: organic brown rice cereal, avocados and sweet potatoes. You're a true Bernstein: you gobble it all up! And you're like your brother, you drink from a glass! Max nevre used a sippy cup. And the way you grab the glass to get sips of water we doubt you will either.

You've made our life more hectic and more fun. Admittedly sometimes I'm so tired I just want to run off and spend a couple days alone in a hotel. But then I see you smile or discover something new or hear your brother say something totally silly and I realize how lucky I am to be in a position to be able to spend so much time with my two sons. Happy Half Birthday!

December 30, 2008 Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
I shaved my head today as a way to connect to you. You had your head shaved last week because mama believes that a baby should have it done at four months so its hair will grow in thick.

Your mama and I had no idea how hectic our lives would be with two children. Seems like we've barely had time to think and plan since you came along. For obvious reasons, mama has mainly taken care of you. This means my main job has been to take car of Max. Doesn't mean I love you any less -- it's just the way it is.

Lately I've been spending more time with you. Your growing and are alert for longer periods of time without needing to eat. Thus, mama can leave and I can hold you.

I'm learning to make you smile and to understand your moods.

I look forward to getting to know you better.

December 28, 2008 Dear Little Girl,

Dear Little Girl at Monkey Joes,
I was climbing up the stairs to the Big Slide behind Max when you approached me and asked "Are you his grandfather?"

I figured I'd get that question when Max was in high school when I'm in my early- to mid-sixties or perhaps even in Jr. High. But I'm only 46 -- yes, just a couple weeks from 47. And I look darn good for my age if I do say so myself.

I know I'll always be an older parent. But I've pledged to myself, my wife and my kids that I'll stay in shape, eat right and do what I can to be part of their lives for as long as I can.

December 24, 2008 Dear Santa Claus,

Dear Santa Claus,
It's fun to think of you again. This was Alex's first Christmas and the first one Max seemed to understand what it was all about. Max was excited to see you ate some of the snacks we left out and that you left him a note. He, of course, also liked the drum you left.

Just before nap time on Christmas Eve I explained again to Max about Santa and Christmas. As he was falling asleep he said "Santa is coming to my house tonight."

Without really thinking about it I've recreated my childhood Christmas's. All the stuffed animals come out to wait for Santa. Snacks are left. And Santa replies to it all with a note.

I'm going to have to ask my mom why a Jewish family got in the habit of celebrating Santa. And I'd love to know from my dad how he got into leaving reindoor paws in the snow and writing the Santa letters (I do know it wasn't a struggle to make it look like Santa ate the cookies we left out for him).

Last year when Max was a year-and-a-half, it was darn cute to see him just as excited to see the animals out in the living room as it was to see the toy kitchen Santa left him. First he jumped into the animals' lap. Finally he looked across the room at his toy kitchen.

This year Hannuakah and Christmas overlapped. As non-religious as I am, I enjoyed teaching Max to light the candles and say the prayer. By night eight, it was Max who insisted we light the candles before opening presents.

So Santa, thanks for the presents, letters and memories. And thanks for now being back for my kids!

November 22, 2008 - Dear Alex and Max,

Dear Alex and Max,
Today I got another reminder of how hard parenting is. Max was pushing the buttons on a train set at the Science Center. Another boy ran up to where Max was playing and stood right next to him. It was obvious that the boy wanted to push the buttons. "Let the boy have a turn," I told Max. When Max didn't immediately let the boy push the buttons, I told Max again a little more forcefully. The third time Max walked away.

I did something similar later when another child wanted to play with whatever it was Max had.

I thought about it all and realized what I was doing. I was teaching my son that it wasn't okay to get what he wanted. I also realized that that is one of my personality traits: I don't grab stuff; I wait for others to recognize my stregnths. I also realized how much I don't like this about myself.

I learned something today. Hopefully it'll make me a better dad.

November 4, 2008 - Dear President Elect Obama,

Dear President Elect Obama,
My wife, my two-month-old son and I were in Grant Park tonight to be part of your Victory Party. Your candidacy, campaign and victory were just what this country -- and my two sons -- needed. Most point to the historic part of this campaign being that the first African-American was elected President. I believe this campaign was all about change -- which you nailed with your campaign theme.

When I was about 12-years-old, I wanted to be President. I caught the political bug at an early age. Working on the 1984 Presidential campaign cured me. Your campaign made me excited about politics for the first time since I gave it all up nearly 25 years ago.

You seemed to be the only candidate that was in touch with our times. The current President and his Administration created such a disaster. The country has been in such an emotional funk. We've felt like we had no power to change anything and everything was going wrong. The other candidates offered various versions of let's do it the same way but I'm better so we'll be better. Hillary, your main rival, had nothing to offer the country but more of the same with a woman at the head.

I truly believe the color of your skin didn't matter. You could have been White, Hispanic, Green, Blue or Red. You preached the right message at the right time and you looked, acted and were different. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Dream came true: you were judged by the content of your character rather than the color of your skin. Those that think this campaign was about electing the first Black President missed the point. The point was: We need different right now and you offered it.

I have two little boys. I want them to understand how truly historic this election was. The only way they'll know that is if you make your Presidency truly about change. Please don't do a Bill Clinton on us and govern from the Center and do only what seems easy and possible. We need change starting with a new attitude. We need to get people excited about politics and government. We need people to start thinking for themselves and to realize that these Right Wing idiots on talk radio are either stupid, lying to us or being paid by Special Interests. We need people to start thinking of the others rather than only about themselves. We need something to care about.

For my sons, please govern boldly. We need change.

October 20, 2008 Dear Alex and Max,

Dear Alex and Max, I hate cliches. But sometimes they just work. Being a parent is the best and hardest job there is.

Today we agreed to give Alex immunization shots. We did the same with Max when he was this age. I wish I felt good about the decision or even the way I made the decision. We asked Dr. Klinsky specific questions. Yet we didn't say "Not yet"and go do our own research. There has been so much in the media about potential harm these immunizations could cause.

There are so many decisions we have to make on a daily basis -- some obviously more important than others. We promise: we do our best.

September 29, 2008 - Dear White Sox,

Dear White Sox,
If there was any doubt about whether Alex was the right name for our second son, it was erased when Alexei Ramirez hit the Grand Slam tonight to continue the dream season.

After waiting 43 years for a World Series Championship, I got one while my wife was pregnant with my first son. We jokingly named him "Joe Paul El Duque Scott Iguchi Bernstein" -- using a name from each player who made a key play during the playoffs.

Who knows if our second son will bring me a second World Series. However, the Grand Slam was enough to convince me that Alex was the perfect name for our son.

September 28, 2008 - Dear Picole

Dear Picole,

I believe that stuffed animals are powerful and magical. I remember my stuffed animals as being my best friends during my childhood. They were, of course, great to hug when I went to sleep. They were also always there to listen and they never complained when I threw them across the room when I was upset.

My childhood teddy bear alternates sitting on my bookshelf and keeping your brother company.

I suspect that you'll be one of Alex's favorites along with Lentil, the dog I bought him and Segundo the elephant who came from friend Kate. Zap, who our same friends gave to Max when he was born, is one of your brother's constant companions.

This, of course, is both a great honor and a great responsibility. I have great confidence that you have the patience to help Alex though his rough times and the wisdom to help him find his way in the world.

Welcome to the family!

September 26, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
Tonight I walked you in the stroller around the neighborhood. We stopped at Rosepepper Catina, the restaurant where your brother and I go weekly to have a father-son dinner. I pulled the stroller inside and found Max and my favorite waitress and hostess. I wanted to show you off.

We've started bonding a bit more this week. The family is getting into somewhat of a routine. Mom takes her times out of the house or to rest. During those moments I hold you or just sit next to you. The past couple nights, I've taken you for a walk.

Other fathers of two agree that it takes longer to bond with child #2. The papa is so busy making sure everyone has everything and that #1 is entertained. Thus, time with #2 is a bit short.

I'm a #2 and never felt deprived. Hopefully this is just a stage and it's ending.

September 16, 2008 - Dear DTs,

Dear DTs,
I'm glad I made the trip and that we were able (just barely) to have our historic reunion. I'm sorry I had to leave just after Henry arrived. But it's great that we were able to get the picture of all nine of us together. Not sure any of us remember the last time we were together and not sure if any of us are confident that it'll ever happen again.

Reunions are always weird in the sense that you get to see where people that you knew ages ago ended up. With this group it's even more meaningful since we were friends during our (god I hate that I'm using this phrase) formative years.

And how weird is it that I had my second child the day Pudd dropped his oldest off at college?

I'm not sure where I put myself in that marriage pool we did ages ago. If I remember my own childhood correctly, I don't even remember thinking I'd ever be married. Perhaps I just listed my name in the lower half because at that point in my life I did some stuff (believe it or not) just to fit in. Actually, I think Chicken won the pool mainly because he listed me on the bottom. Maybe he (and all y'all) knew me better than I knew myself.

Well here we are after nine marriages, two divorces, too many kids for me to count at 2am and -- ahhhhhhhhhhh, I hate this -- one bad illness.

I know my kids will one day hear stories about my school years (whether they want to or not) and they'll hear about all of you. We had great times. Every time I think about any of you I think about all of you and all the stuffs we did.

Now I've got two sons. I'm sure they'll do some stuffs I did (please don't tell them everything). I hope they develop a group like I did.

September 9, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
As I held you today and looked into your eyes, I wondered what special talents and gifts are hiding inside you.

Do you love sports, music and books (in that order) like your brother?

Or are you going to be a writer, artist or scientist?

Oh the adventures the four of us are going to have!

September 7, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
I hope you don't feel I've been ignoring you these first couple weeks. Perhaps I have gone a bit too far in my making sure Max is okay mode. I know you need your mama now. I've felt it important to make sure Max doesn't feel left out.

I too feel you and I haven't fully bonded yet. But I remember the same feeling the first couple weeks with Max. My days then were filled with making sure your mama was okay and making sure the house was relatively clean and that we had food. This time your mama is feeling much better. However, I still have a side job: making sure Max doesn't feel ignored.

You and I have plenty of time to get to know each other. I look forward to it all!

August 27, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
You got your name today. Your mama and I were pretty sure we had your named picked out the day after you were born. However, we waited to be sure. Today we got perhaps the sign we needed. We gave you your name in front of friends and family and then we all did the Bernstein Traditional Dance around the dining room table.

We didn't expect to be one of those couples that takes our baby home from the hospital without a name. Perhaps we should be so surprised. We took three days to name your brother (and yes, I and my brothers did the silly dance around Max in the hospital when we named him). So taking four days with you wasn't too different.

Alex fit all the criteria we wanted in a name: short and easy to pronounce in several languages.

In addition to Alex, our short list of names included Leo, Luke, Adam, Noah and Paz (your mama's maiden name).

If you were a girl, your named would have been Luna. (I joked with your mama that if you were to be a girl I'd have a son and a moon. And if you were a boy you'd be the Second Son of a Second Son of a Second Son.)

The first sign that your name should be Alex came on Sunday -- the day after you were born. Your Aunt Vanessa Alexandra said "If you're looking for another named with an X you could use Alex." She didn't know Alex was on our short list and that we were planning on asking her permission if we chose that name. We almost took that as a sign and named you right then.

We were set to name you Monday morning before leaving the hospital until I remembered another name on our short list we forgot to rule out: Levi. Your grandma dressed your brother in jeans that morning and he demanded to skip school to be part of your homecoming. The jeans had a big "Levi" on the cuff. I thought that was the sign I was looking for. I wasn't convinced, so you left the hospital without a name.

You also were almost named Monday night. Your Aunt Vanessa Alexandra was over for dinner. It was just us and her. Your mama and I looked at each other because we knew this could be a perfect moment. However, we let the moment pass.

The final sign came on Wednesday. Your mama had her swearing in ceremony to become a U.S. Citizen. She was alone with you when a gentleman from India came up to look at you. "What's his name?" he asked. "Actually we haven't named him yet," your mama replied. "You snooze you loose," he said. "His name is Alejandro." Your mama was amazed. When she told me the story I must've scared the man as I asked him to come off the elevator so I could take his picture.

Later that night with your Grandma, Uncle Kenny, Aunt Norma, Cousins Brandon & Nicolas, friend Ramsey and, of course, Aunt Vanessa Alexandra you got your name and your dance.

August 25, 2008 - Dear Paz Sisters,

Dear Paz Sisters,
I'm happy that you got to share in the birth of your nephew. I should know by now that any event involving anyone in this family will attract a crowd. And this tend-to-be-private guy has learned to enjoy it all!Thanks for doing all the stuffs I'm not even quite sure you did during and surrounding Lentil's birth. I know there were massages and taking care of Max and food to gather. I'm sure there were so many other things I was too out of it to recognize that y'all helped with.

I didn't grow up with sisters. It's fun to grow old with them now!

Augst 25, 2008 - Dear Brandon & Nicolas,

Dear Brandon & Nicolas,

I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for being such a good cousin and friend to Max and to ask you do the same for Lentil.

Max loves you guys. He gets excited when he hears your names and always wants to play with you.

You have seen him grow from baby to the happy two-year-old boy he is today.

I hope that the now four of you boys have a lifetime of friendship.

August 25, 2008 - Dear Maria and Jeff,

Dear Maria and Jeff,
As much as I thank you for everything you did during the delivery, I thank you for the phone call a couple days later. You told me the experience was the biggest thing you remember doing. That pretty much says it all.

I have to admit that before it all happened I had no idea how comfortable I was with the idea of anyone being in the room when my child was going to be born. Even my image of a dullah was skewed. Somehow I imagined that what Irma would really only need was a quick massage of the back or shoulders early on in the labor process. I figured the two of us would then be alone during the delivery.

Instead what we got was team of helpers, a festive atmosphere and an incredible experience that we will never forget.

Perhaps Jeff summed it up best (and maybe started the party): "I'm not leaving until someone kicks me out."

Thanks for everything! You guys were incredible.

We asked for someone to give Irma massages during the labor. What we got was a couple of massage pros that jumped right in and litteraly helped form head to toe (with some photography and videography thrown in as well).

Lentil may not yet have a name. What he does have is an instant family!

August 25, 2008 - Dear Waddy,

Dear Waddy,

I think I thought more about you during this pregnancy than I did during the first several months after you died.

In weird ways your memory and your lessons were with me the whole pregnancy from start to finish.
You taught me to think quickly and to hastily do basic math in my head. Thus, when Irma and I decided to try for a second child I did the quick math and realized 40 weeks from that fertile moment would roughly be your birthday. I told Irma then that after six months of being so sure I wanted a second child I now wanted another month to make sure I was sure. I only told her the truth about the reason for my delay after Lentil was born.

The other thought that kept going through my head was that if this baby were to be a boy it would be the second son of a second son of a second son.

I ended up with a second son born a month early -- thus just 12 days after your birthday. With all that, how could I not think about you?

I'm sorry our relationship wasn't in a good place when you died. We grew apart as we grew older. And we were never able to have that Big Talk you see in Hollywood films that suddenly resolve years of frustration. I've developed a comfortable understanding of our relationship -- even if it's not totally realistic or perhaps even fair.

I know you weren't perfect; noone is. I could fault you for lots of my issues. However, I'm an adult now and I'm prepared to claim them as my issues and something I need to deal with rather than your faults and something you need to apologize for.I think my anger toward you came from disappointment.

Mom tells me that when I was young, you were my hero. When I'm able to clearly think back that far, I know she's right. I remember how far you could throw a ball, how fast you could run, how strong you were, how fast you could do math and how quickly you could spell words backwards. More importantly I remember how you played with us and all the other kids in the neighborhood, how you bought our Little League teams ice cream win or lose and how you showed up at every game.
Mom also tells me that you had this great desire to be a father. You wanted to right the wrongs your father had done to you. Perhaps this was another reason you became your sons' hero.
Somewhere along the line things changed.

Perhaps it's a cliche to suggest that my hero worship and thus your motivation died the moment we both realized I could compete with you. But perhaps there is truth in it. We all tell the story about the day you challenged your three boys to a foot race believing you could still out run at least two of them only to finish a distant fourth. I used to laugh at that story. More recently I've used it to symbolize my anger with you.

I felt that somewhere along the line you gave up and that's what angered me. I felt you stopped carrying about yourself and therefore those around you. You kept eating and ignoring doctors orders and your family's pleas.

Maybe it was the day of the race. Maybe it was earlier or later. Perhaps you were always like that. I'll never know for sure. I just know I was mad at you for it.

Another part of the pregnancy that made me think of you are these two quotes from the book Big Fish I posted on my office wall. The Big Fish in the book was like you in many ways. In fact, the story is much like one I wrote about you that you never liked. Basically the son characters in both stories come to eventually appreciate that the numerous stories their father told them over and over again were more "A man lives on if his stories are retold." "A man is a success if his son loves him."

I remember yor stories and I do love you.

August 24, 2008 - Dear Kenny,

Dear Kenny,
I'm glad that you were in the delivery room for awhile and I'm sorry if I didn't make it more clear that you were welcome to stay. I'm sure you were a bit confused when you walked in and saw all those people in the room. We didn't plan for the delivery to turn into a party. But that seems to be the way things go in this family. We ended up with people giving massages, advice and encouragement and others taking video and still photos. In addition, of course, there was the two midwifes and the nurse.

I'm glad you got to experience at least part of the birth of your nephew. I know you saw part of the laboring including some of Irma's screaming. I know you weren't in the room for the actual birth. I just wanted you to know that seeing you in the room for at least a moment helped me. In a selfish/egotistical way it allowed me to be proud: this was my wife and my child I was showing off to you and the world.

The result: Max has a brother. I didn't care if Lentil was to be a boy or girl. Perhaps it'll now be a bit easier for me since I know the brother relationship. I know it and I'm happy for it. Brothers are incredible things. Growing up their best friends, fiercest rivals and biggest critics. As adults, they help validate your past and give meaning to your common stories.

We've certainly had our ups and downs. Yet despite it all, we're together. I'm glad I have you as a brother and glad Max and Lentil have each other.

August 24, 2008 - Dear McGee,

Dear McGee,

I started a letter to you the day your sons Ryan & Cole were born. In it I wondered what parts of our childhood you would pass down to your children. Would your Jewish children celebrate Santa Clause? Would they be told that you learned all your incredible tricks in The Orient? Would you teach them poker at an early age and would they be the only ones in the neighborhood playing Hit the Penny?

Like many of my good intentions, that letter never got completed.

Four years later I have two sons of my own and you've added a daughter. As much as I wonder what you'll pass on, I'm more focused on what I'm going to do. Mom and dad gave us a lot of good and some bad. Somehow we need to filter it for the next generation. It would be nice if we could call a Time Out so we can make a plan before these kids get too old. Sometimes I feel like I'm winging it and that I'm messing up.

I didn't care if Lentil was a boy or girl. However, the reality of having a second son is bringing back many childhood brother memories. I remember the three of us goofing around in the back seat of the various station wagons on the annual summer road trip. I remember the constant competition between us in every real and made up game -- especially over who had to sit in the middle when we didn't have a station wagon with the third seat. I remember the jokes about eating your shrimp, who is bigger on top and cliches. I remember how excited you were to come visit me at college (and how drunk I got you). I remember beating you up after Kenny beat me up and how you felt bad mainly because you didn't have a little brother to beat up.

I'm looking forward to seeing how our childhood plays out in our children.

August 24, 2008 - Dear Grandma,

Dear Grandma,

Your fifth grandchild decided to come exactly a month early yet he waited until you had time to get here from Chicago. I'm happy you were able to share this incredible moment with us.

Irma had been in labor on-and-off for some 30 hours when I saw you walk into the room. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking or feeling at that moment. Thus, I'm sorry if I didn't tell you then or soon afterwards how glad I was that you were there.

Having kids obviously brings back parts of my own childhood and has made me realize all you had to sacrifice and endure for me and my brothers. Sometimes I felt guilty for not saying thanks enough times for all that. Having kids has made me realize that you didn't do any of it to be thanked; you did with the hope that we'd end up happy and healthy.

So, more than thanks I say you succeeded. I'm happy and healthy. And on top of that, I now have a wife and two sons.

August 23, 2008 - Dear Max,

Dear Max,
All the worries I had about how this new baby was going to affect you went away when I saw you immediately bond with your brother. After a bit of observing him, you were ready to sit next to him, rub his head and hold his hand.

There are so many great things about having siblings. They're your first best friend and hopefully your last best friend. You'll make other friends along the way and there will be times you and your brother will go in opposite directions. However, those other friends will come and go; you and your brother will always be connected.

You two come from the same place. Some day when you're older you'll be able to share notes about your childhood and upbringing and figure out together how you became who you are.

I know about the brother bond because I have two of my own. We've gone through much together and despite our differences we'll always be together. I spent years playing with them, years competing with them and years recovering with them. They know me better than anyone and I know them best. We may disagree on lots of stuff. Yet, when need be, we're there for each other.

That all being said, there were many times during this pregnancy that I worried what having a second child was going to do to you. I love and admire you so. You're so full of life. I love watching you learn and grow. I worried that a second child was going to take time away from you and somehow lessen your spirit.

I first started to let this feeling completely go when your brother was born. I remember the relief it brought me when I said "It's a boy." I never cared whether you or your brother were to be boys or girls. Yet there was a sudden peace both times when I learned you were boys. This was especially true with your brother, who we expect will be our last child. Somehow just knowing that I had two boys helped me picture the rest of my life. It would have been the same feeling if he was a girl. The reality gave me peace.

After your brother was born, I remember walking to the waiting room where you and other family was gathered. I remember picking you up to show you your baby brother in the cart that was being wheeled by. You said "My brother" and again the worries further disappeared.

My dad always told the story that when Uncle Kenny first saw me he said "Do we have to keep him?"

You took to your brother instantly. You quickly sat next to him, patted his head and held his hand. Watching you bond with him was remarkably beautiful.

I hope that you and your brother become best friends for a lifetime. And I thank you for helping me get over my worst fears.

August 23, 2008 - Dear Irma,

Dear Irma,
You're incredible.

You're incredible not only because you were strong for 36 hours of labor, not only because you carried this beautiful boy, not only because you've been a wonderful mother to our other son and not only because you've helped bring out the best in me.

You're incredible because you believe it's all possible and you make it seemingly effortlessly so.

I didn't have any clue that when I walked into your popsicle shop so many years ago that I'd end up with all this. When I saw you behind the counter I felt something strange and wonderful. It was so powerful that I ran away from it (and you) for a long time. Eventually I gave in -- we both gave in -- and eventually we ended up on a bridge saying I dos.

We talked about children as part of the 15 Topics to Discuss before Marriage. We both wanted them and we both thought that two would be the perfect number considering our ages. We also agreed that we should go for it right away.

We got it all. We got the perfect wedding, the dream African honeymoon and now the two children we talked about.

I know life with me sometimes isn't perfectly easy. Yet I know that our life together has been magically imperfectly perfect.

I also know that these two boys of ours are going to be something else.

I remember saying way back when Max was just a few months old that I felt he knew everything and was just testing us. Now he's two-years and three-months old and I'm more in awe with him every day. He's smart. He's athletic. He loves to learn. He's beautiful. And best of all -- as you've taught me -- he's happy.

And now he has a brother.

Two boys of course reminds me of my brothers. I saw him come out of your belly and I had flashbacks of my childhood and flash-forwards to seeing him and Max running and playing and doing all the stuffs I did with my brothers as a child.

I also can't stop thinking about my father. I thought more about my dad during this pregnancy than I did during the first few months after he died.Our son is the second son of a second son of a second son. Our son's birthday is also just 11 days from my dad's. And this is the first -- and likely only -- grandchild that my dad will never have met.

I missed my dad during Lentil's birth even though there were so many people there.

The delivery and waiting rooms were filled with family and friends. This is another thing you taught me: if it were up to me, I'd have been alone with you through it all; I'm glad I didn't make that decision because I would screwed up the best Birthday Party ever!

You're incredible because you hosted this party while going through labor.

I know a bit about pain: I've run marathons, played football and rode a bike through the Ozarks in the middle of the summer.

I still have no idea how you went 36 hours without any medication, little food and no sleep.

The fact that you were giving instructions and pep talks to your team of helpers through it all didn't totally surprise me. You are after all a producer!

"C'mon team," you said right near the end. "We can do this!"

I wanted to massage you, hold your hand and tell you things to calm you down during the pain and motivate you to push when necessary. I know I did a bit of all of it. Yet, all I remember was watching our baby make his way out of your belly and into this world.

Max's birth was beautiful in its way. We were together; I held your hand and rubbed your head. Miles Davis was playing and the lights were low. The c-section didn't seem to matter. When the doctors pulled Max out and I saw this crying baby with outstretched arms and legs I was in awe.

This birth was beautiful in its way. Friends and family were there. You morphed into an animal, athlete and zen master at the perfect moments. The team was strong, funny and comforting. And our baby remained calm until he popped out.

I wanted you to hold our baby when I told you whether we had a son or a daughter. I wanted to make a big annoncement full of suspense.

However, when our baby came out, I was in awe. "It's a boy," I said as he fell into the midwife's arms.

We have two sons. We are a family . We got what we wanted. Our life has been and will be incredible.