December 14, 2012

During an horrific ordeal, resulting in the deaths of twenty innocent children, numerous heroes emerged.
 We count our daughter among them.
Julie did not step in front of a murderous bullet, she did not lead a class room of kids to safety.  She did not rid the earth of a menace.  Other heroes performed those acts.

Mid morning, December 14, 2012, Julie was worried about her family of friends in Sandy Hook.
Early afternoon, information sketchy and incomplete, she was distraught.
Late afternoon, information all too clear, she was overwhelmed with grief.  Julie's best friend's daughter, her  God daughter, Olivia Rose, was gone.  Julie suffered, severely, for 3 days.

She cautiously reached out to her friend, Shannon, mother of her God daughter, offering to help in any way.  Shannon accepted.  Julie de-emphasized her own agony, and crawled into the lowest depths of hell on earth for five days, to help her friend heal.



Julie didn't retrieve Shannon from this living hell, but she did drag her closer to the surface, with kindness, love, and as much understanding as possible, for a circumstance far beyond comprehension. 
She eulogized a 6 year old darling little girl.  I can't imagine.

Julie's actions were indeed heroic.  She is a hero.  She is our hero.

But wait; as is often the case......there is more

There was a reception after Olivia's funeral; Julie was asked to take care of Brayden, Olivia's 3 year old brother.  She, of course, did so, without hesitation.

She had help.

Miles, with an apparent understanding far beyond his mere 9 years, was attentive, nurturing, loving, to his little friend Brayden.     It was a joy to witness.

Julie, like her mom and dad, know the joys of being an
oh so proud parent.

Mom & Dad

Hey Jude

When I first met Jude, some thirty years ago, I simply wanted him to make my sister happy.  He did.
Hey Jude, you took a sad song and made it better.  Yes, he made my sister happy, but he did so much more.
Jude was a blessing to my parents, a joy for my family, and an inspiration to us all.
Thank you Jude.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

What I Did This Summer

Once again, our time in New England provided the joy, contentment and spirit that only family can provide.  A particularly busy social calendar - picnics, pool parties, birthday parties, reunions,Little League, a trip to San Francsico, an extended visit from Amy - shined on the parade that is my life.

And, I fell in love!
Olive, you are so cute; Cocoa, you are adorable.

Duh...life is good.

Still, there was loss; there was rain on my parade.

I lost a nephew, too young.  John crammed 70 years of life into the 40 years he was on the face of this earth.  Too bad he couldn't have spread it out much, much longer.  Bigger than life; perhaps too big.  You will be missed.

I lost a brother-in-law, a friend, a mentor.  But I maintain the wisdom gained just from having the privilege of being witness to his life.  I know I am a better person, especially a better father   and grandfather, when I ask myself this simple question: WWJD?

What would Jim do?

I was a rabid spectator of a loss of innocence.
For the first time, Miles's Little League games had winners....and losers.  Games previously played for shear joy, were marred by anxiety, angst, terror, tears.  It's seldom pretty when the real  world invades the fantasy of childhood.

This is the point in the narrative when I suppose I should reflect on the losses mentioned and confirm that only life matters, and baseball is really just a game.

Unfortunately, I can't do that.
I turned on my computer at 4 this morning to check out the Giants box score.  Sick.
I live and die with the Giants; no apologies.

We all have things, people, causes, we love, we are passionate about.  The more passion, the more pain of loss.   Once again..duh.

Props to Al Tennyson; he knew.

John, Jim, -  I have loved and  I have lost.






(Go Giants.......)

Yo, Tim!

Thanks to Tim & Brandi for their hospitality, spirits, and spirit.  Bubbles on a Saturday afternoon really added to the 'Frisco experience.


If this shout out isn't literally the least I can do to express my appreciation, it's damn close.
Alas, my blogger block affliction continues.  Sorry to disappoint; you can imagine how my other fan feels.  Still, thanks for your continued effusive praise.  (That's what it is, right?)


P.S. Props for calling Amy out for her demand to slow down the game of baseball.  Perhaps I'll get her a chess game for Christmas.


Cheers!

Ummmmm........

I start most days with "Morning Joe" at 6 in the morning.  Bordering on the ridiculous, I switch channels during commercials between 6:30 and 7 to watch "Family Affair," a saccharin sitcom from the  late 60's.
I watch it for the life lessons it provides, but also because "Mr. French," a Gentleman's Gentleman in the show, played by Sebastian Cabot, reminds me of a boyhood friend.
And so it goes that most early mornings, after connecting a few dots,, are filled with fond memories of Eddie D., Donald, Bartley, Raymond, Johno - a true time  of innocence in Jackson Heights N.Y.
I suppose our parents may have been concerned about bomb shelters, but us kids, at ages 6 to 10, were merely concerned the next punch ball game.

I am further contented by a daily walk/jog on the beach, accompanied by my bride and my latest fad in music.  (Currently The Avett Brothers and The National.)
Upon departing the beach though, my contentment drifts to consternation, as I pound and kick sand off of my sneakers and onto parking lot.
Most people bring sand away with them when they depart the beach. 
Nobody brings sand to the beach.  My beach.

Certainly not in my lifetime, but isn't possible that eventually there will be no sand on the beach?
That would be a shame.
And so, I implore you to leave as much sand at the beach as possible, and perhaps occasionally bring some; reasonably priced at Home Depot.

More dot connecting exercises lead me to ruminate not only on the mortality of my beach, but of myself as well.  Indeed, of all humanity.
Again, not in my lifetime, but if humanity endures, with every birth leading to death, theoretically, won't all of the land on earth be required for cemeteries?

I don't think it's too soon to start preparing for the inevitable.  Cremation is an obvious solution, but I know it's not acceptable to those who suspect body parts will be required in the afterlife.
Burial at sea is a feasible, but unwelcome alternative for those squeamish about becoming fish food.

How about vertical graves?  Not a permanent solution, but one that significantly delays the inevitable.

I remain undecided regarding the next presidential election, but I will be swayed by the candidates stance on this "hot button."  I suspect none will even broach the subject.

Is it me?  What?
Chill.

Monday morning, with Mr. French acting as my enabler, I will once again transport to the age of my youthful exuberance, but really, who's kidding whom?
If my biggest fears and trepidations flail around such topics as sand and cemeteries, it remains clear that, as I've said so many times before, in so many ways......the best of times is now.

The Future

Just finished a good book, "Middlesex."  (Given the nature of the plot, title was too cutsie for me.)

I thoroughly enjoyed the plot, sub plots, and characters.  I was particularly grabbed near the end, when the death of the father of the primary character was "rationalized."  Given the issues the primary character was dealing with, some family members came to the conclussion that her father's death was for the best; better he not have to deal with whatever complications may follow.

Not for me.
 I'm not usually comfortable quoting Steven Tyler, but, when it comes to the future of my family,..... "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing."

And I won't.  What I'm saying is, Peter Pan is alive and well!

If there are unfortunate "things" to deal with, I will, but there are so many positive events I look forward to.


I want to be there when Miles decides between baseball and swimming.
Then I want to be there when he makes his acceptance speech for being the best at whatever he decides.

I want to be there when Landon asks me if  "I want fries with that?"
Then I want to be there when Landon asks me if I want to invest in his tenth McD's franchise.

I want to be there when Ceci chooses a particular non gender related interest.  I'm hoping for a ball related sport, but if she chooses boxing, badminton, or ballet, I want to be there to cheer her on.
Permit me, please, for one sexist request:......  I want to dance at her wedding.

I plan to attend numerous graduations; Phd's are not out of the question.

Aw heck, I want to be introduced to my Great Grandson, "Something, James, Something."

Too much to ask for?  I don't think so.
Bring it.
I'll be here.

P.S.  "Great, Great, Grandson, Something, Something, James, Something" is not out of the question.