sun shines, while the
bird calls and sings from its perch,
calling them all home
sun shines, while the
sun shines, while the
bird calls and sings from its perch,
calling them all home
The table is set,
should I call the rest?
It’s that time again.
to come together, and talk
about the weather, nay
politics, isn’t it rich?
Times at the table, the sun
shining outside, cascading inside
filtered light, a delight.
Grandparents in the kitchen,
one hovering over a pot,
beans of some kind,
a roast in the oven,
and kids running
back and forth,
All didn’t fit at the tiny table,
9 kids in all, with another,
oh, 20 plus or so,
we did call.
Though we didn’t all fit at the tiny table,
a much larger one
could be found on the patio,
crafted and created by my dear grandfather,
so long ago.
like this are so rich and full of life,
it’s like I can taste the food,
and feel the conversation,
at times, yes, full of strife;
and, yet love was at the center,
through tons of stormy weather.
Connections like this are rare indeed.
and love those closest to you,
when you feel the need.
In response to the WDYS #78 prompt from Keep it Alive, by Sadje.
I sit here, and
About all the things
They played in
The yard, right there,
Oh, those times were so
Very hard, dear,
As we dreamt of
While we held hands,
To us both, were all
The future liabilities
As we dangled our feet
Off the edge,
And listen with rapt
Attention, to their stead-
And wonder, oh, they
So loved each other,
Brothers until they end,
And, of course,
Also the dearest of
Through every type
Of weather, stormy
Or clear, they always
Held each other dear
And close to heart,
Until they did depart
On that fateful day,
In the month of May
When we last sat
On the porch,
Dreaming of times
When life was simpler,
Though the love we felt
Was always the same
No need of a refrain,
Only the boldness
That comes with
The duo, of you and
And the two beautiful
Boys, making a
As we continue
As we sit hand-in-hand
And watch the two
Play, from the
Of the porch
You and I made.
Sitting on the porch, rocking back and forth, I reflect upon the birth of my sons. It feels like yesterday. Just a moment ago. And, then, flash, I am 46, they are 20, and 16. What happened?
Growing up in Los Angeles was for a long time something that I took for granted. I remember the first time I traveled across the country, via car. I said something to my buddy like, wow, it all looks like San Bernardino.
If you’ve been to Southern California, and spent anytime at all in the desert areas, of which San Bernadino is a part, you will get that reference. If not. Well, let’s just say that I had an idea in my head that all places looked like Los Angeles. Not so.
Justin was born in 2000. I was 26. At the time, I remember thinking, jeez, I’m old, better hurry up and have kids, buy a house, live that American Dream everyone’s talking about. Really. WOW. I was young, not old.
We lived in two different apartments when Justin was little. First halloweens, first christmas, first-time parents. Phew. At that time, I worked close. I did work long hours, however, the work was very flexible.
I remember when I got the call. I was on my delivery truck, called my boss and said, Justin’s coming. I’ve got to go. They covered me.
Bringing him home was so nerve racking. What if I do something wrong? What if something happens? Well, my mother-in-law stayed with us for a week or two, and I called my mom regularly. Drawing upon the support we had. Very lucky to have it.
Anyway, we did end up purchasing a house when Justin was 4. Jason was born shortly thereafter. Only 4 years separate the two boys, and yet, we were completely caught off guard by having another child. Not prepared at all. Phew.
We did like many people do. We moved forward, did the best we could, and loved them both unconditionally.
Though we only lived in that house for 4 years, we did so many things together there. My memories of that time are so vivid. Possibly those memories are so vivid, as we were building a life.
Just starting out. Knew very little about what we were doing, yet we drew upon what we were taught, and created the rest. Filled the gaps.
First house, first backyard, first garage, first-time having neighbors in a house. All so new. The house was so small, yet had a huge lot. Was so great for the boys. Tons of space to roam and play.
That house was quite a ways from our extended family. 46 miles. Which, at the time, was like 5,000 miles.
All good. We took the boys to LA regularly to see their grandparents. We even sent Jenn and the boys to AZ, where her parents lived, so they could also visit them.
I remember the first time I took the Amtrak. What a different experience. Was fun. Back then you could actually smoke on a train. In a smoking car. Yep, they had those then.
When Justin was 5 or so, and Jason was 1 or 2, we decided to sell and move to AZ. It was right before the housing crash. Really. Within two years that house we bought for $150,000 and sold for $370,000, was once again worth $150,000. Crazy.
We bought a house in Surprise AZ, and I went to work for US Foodservice. Huge company. Good training program, lots of work. During this time, Justin was in third grade, and Jason was spending portions of his day at a babysitter. We both worked, did, and still do. Normal.
Third grade was a difficult one for Justin. New school, new kids, new context, new State. Very different from where we were from. As with most things, there were those things we liked about AZ, and those we did not.
We were only in that house for 1.5 years. Housing crash. Foreclosure. Emotionally trying. Actually, in every way that time was challenging mentally, physically, and emotionally.
What does it mean to “lose” a home? Difficult. We were, of course, not alone. Many, many, people were in the same position in 2007 and 2008.
The home we ended up renting was only around the corner. Helped, in that Justin could stay in the same school. They both played outside a lot with the neighborhood kids. Fun, and fun to watch.
Well, let’s save that for Part 2. I’ll end with saying that being a father to two beautiful boys has been and is one of the greatest experiences of my life. And, I wouldn’t have shared it with anyone other than Jenn.
One year ago today my father passed away. It was sudden. He was 71. There was still a lot of life left in my dad when he died. Today is difficult, and will be even more so for my mother.
I will cry, I am crying now. Yet, what I want to do in this post, is to remember my dad as he lived.
The first memories I have of my dad are of him in dress clothes, heading off to work. Work that he liked, and didn’t, yet went anyway, every day, because it was expected and needed. Expected of himself, by himself.
I remember the first time we played catch, which may sound awfully cliche, yet it was an important moment in my life. Knowing that my dad would make time to spend with me, regardless of other pressing priorities, was an important learning for me as a child.
He loved movies. I remember watching all kinds of movies with him as a child, teengaer, and adult. Spending time with him. Talking with him about movies that were upcoming, getting excited, and sharing in that joy with him.
And, yes, popcorn. I loved popcorn as a kid. We would also often add powdered parmesan cheese to the popcorn. Loved that.
I remember him bringing me home hot wheels once after work. Oh my. I was so excited.
He also loved music. One of the things I miss the most about my dad is hearing him play the guitar. Was lovely. Now, I often listen to the songs that he played most often. I feel very connected to him at these times.
My dad loved people. Loved conversation. I learned so much from him about being with people. Though my dad was an extrovert, like me, he also had a large introvert living inside of him, also like me, and most of us.
He also loved to read. I remember wondering about what he was reading when I was little. I learned later in life that some of his reading included self-development books. Didn’t know that for a long time.
The holidays were always a special time growing up. I still love them today. And, though he had to work sometimes, especially when my sisters and I were little, he always made time to put a bike together for us, even if that meant staying up super late after working all day.
I learned a lot from my dad about difficult conversations. I didn’t learn until later, that he would strategically engage me in these conversations. Why?
He also taught me that running from things that make you uncomfortable does no one any good. And, though I hid from that part of myself for a long time, it has resurfaced with wonder. I owe a piece of that part of myself to my dad.
My dad has a huge family, and he deeply loved all of his brothers and sisters, as he did his mother and father. Lots of love.
My dad would often talk about not having much growing up in Los Angeles. Helping me see and understand that appreciating what you have today, in this moment, is super important.
And, that when we want to create a new way forward, we must rely upon ourselves to do so. Though my dad didn’t always language his persistence and grit this way, he didn’t need to. He was a living example.
He also loved cars. Boy, did he. My dad and his brothers, usually his older brother, would go to car shows often. He loved to look at them, hear them, see them run, and to talk about them.
His dedication and love for his family extended to his grandchildren, of which there are several. Our sons loved their grandpa, and they miss him. My dad would always make time to talk with his grandchildren, always. He loved them so much.
There are so many things I miss about my dad. So many. What is written here is but one brushstroke of the many brushstrokes that are a living painting that my dad created with his contributions, time, dedication, persistence, and love for life and his family.
My dad’s sudden death last year reminds me of the necessity for all of us to make sure to tell those people in our life how much they mean to us. To tell them we love them, and value them. And, most importantly to show them that love.
My dad and I didn’t always get along, even as an adult. Yet, what transcended those disagreements was the love that we shared for each other. A love that for most of my life went unspoken.
However, about two years ago I went through a transformative experience, and during that time I told him and my mother how much I appreciated and loved them. Not something that we really said to each other at all. What did he say?
Because though I knew that my father loved me, we didn’t really say it. And, I was actually nervous about telling him that I loved him. I am so glad that I made that call. So glad.
Now I am a father to two beautiful boys. I am one of the luckiest people on the planet to have been given this wonderful gift. As my dad was, I am so proud of both of them; and, I see so much of my dad in each of them. I love them more than words can possibly express.
I always miss my dad, and I miss him even more today. For all of those that my dad touched and loved, know that I am thinking about him and all of you today.
For everyone else reading this, thank you. Thank you for sharing a very special moment with me, on a very difficult day.
Love, live, and be well.