A Sense of Adventure

   

It's so easy to lose sight of the gifts this life affords us, Conor.  When you get caught up in the day to day, when the scenery never changes, when life becomes "routine", it's so very easy to find yourself drowning in your own apathy.  But then there are those times that reinvigorate you.  Those moments that fly in the face of 'ordinary'.  The times you can look back on and remember exactly when, and where, and how all of the circumstances of that moment made you feel - good or bad.  That's when you truly embrace life.  Or more, that's when you embrace what life is.  It's those moments that will bring you squarely back to your sense of self.  And today was one of those days for me, Son.

Everybody you'll ever meet in this life is a little bit different from the next person.  Truly, people are like snowflakes - no two are ever the same.  The things that make some people embrace life can be vastly different than what makes your engine go.  For some it's a social activity or an encounter with another person, for others it may be championing a business deal, or perhaps besting your fellow man in sport and competition is what makes you tick... Whatever it is, it's that 'thing' which awakens the senses of the pursuant person and it's that thing that brings them back for more.  Their drug of choice, so to speak.

For me that thing which grabs a-hold my soul and awakens me to the magnificence of this gift of life is the road.  It's seeing the world.  The whole world.  Or at least as much of it as I can see at any one time.  I'm truly never more at peace than when I'm exploring a landscape that is unknown to me.  When I'm experiencing another man's "everyday", that's when I'm closest to self.   

"Nosce te ipsum" ... It's Latin for "Know Thyself".  Traveling and seeing the world around me is the key to my soul.  It unlocks the dark and dusty corners of who I am and ignites a fire to do and see even more.  The road allows me to get back to basics.  Ground zero.  The very center of who I am...  And this seems especially so when I'm traveling alone.  Of course I'd love to have a travel partner on these adventures!  On days like this one there was so much to see, the opportunity to share it with a friend or loved one would of course be great!  But then, it may also reshape the entire experience. Change the direction, the outcome, and the quiet solitude true reflection requires.

Today was one of those rare days for me, Conor.  Today was a day for exploration, enlightenment, and deep reflection.  Reflection as it relates to you, to Mommy, to family, and to friends who've come and gone and who are alive and dead.  Today was one of those rare days, Boy'O.

I've spent the last two days - and will spend the next two days - in a series of meetings between several tribal gaming casinos in the Pacific Northwest; an area of the country I'd previously never visited.  Flying into Portland, Oregon yesterday morning, I picked up a roller skate of a rental car - a Ford Festiva (money's tight when you're on a start-up budget, Son) - and made my way North into the State of Washington for a pair of meetings in the Olympia, Washington area.  The ride North was fine despite seven hours of flight time having made a connection in Detroit, Michigan.  Though sitting on a plane and the hustle that takes place in moving from one flight to the next can be utterly exhausting, and so my three hours of road travel when leaving Portland would take place primarily on highways, and in a non-stop pouring rain to boot.  Certainly nothing to write you about.  Though today would be vastly different.

Following a two hour meeting yesterday evening and five hours of meetings this morning, I had the better part of the afternoon and evening today to make my way back South into Oregon.  More specifically, the Oregon coast.  I mapped out a route that would take me away from the highways and bring me down a part of this great country that is as scenic as any I've ever driven.  In fact, I dare  to say it was the best drive I've ever taken - and I've taken some really incredible drives, Son.

Making my way through an otherwise overcast day in Washington State down Interstate 5 to Oregon Route 30 West, I weaved the roller skate through the scenic countryside of mountainous terrain West toward the Pacific coast.  Absolutely wide open and beautiful roads with nay another vehicle in sight, I buzzed my little Ford rental car through a canopy of towering pines clustered together so tightly that the forest floor was barely visible, if not pitch black.  As I made my way further and further West the skies cleared, the Sun shone through, and the visuals took on a life of their own.  Massive shadows cast themselves across the countryside allowing piercing beams of light through the tree tops only heightening the experience of seeing this part of the World I'd heard so much about.

After close to two hours in the car and nearing the coastal roadway known as "The Pacific Coast Highway", I came upon a town in the deepest Northwest corner of Oregon - Astoria.  As I pulled into town I spotted a sign for pub and grub called "The Rogue Public House" and decided to stop for something to drink and a bite to eat.  It was perhaps the second best decision I would make on the day; the first being to take the scenic route in the first place.  The Rogue Public House is a brew pub boasting forty home brewed craft beers with each food item on the menu incorporating some element of that beer into the ingredients of the dish.  The food was good, the beer was better, but what really made this place wasn't either of those - it was the location.

  

   

The Rogue Public House sat out far on a pier, maybe 300 yards across a small one-lane wooden bridge into what seemed like the middle of the mouth of the Columbia River as it meets the deep blue Pacific Ocean.  The channel itself was lined with row of Super Tankers awaiting the drop-off and pick-up of their payloads at a nearby port and was flanked on both sides by sweeping mountains covered in towering, thick pine trees.  The restauranteurs turning an old abandoned fish cannery into a seaside destination of libations and good times; perfect for a weary traveler like me.  A perfect stop, to say the least.

After a quick bowl of some Cheddar and Beer soup and a few tastes of several of their craft beers, I was back on the road to the PCH.  State Road Highway 101.  The most scenic drive I would ever take...  Leaving Astoria I crossed a broad bridge that switched back and forth across the Columbia River eventually taking me South along the Pacific Ocean and the brilliant setting Sun.  The views were absolutely stunning as this lonesome two lane highway twisted and turned along the jutting rock formations and majestic pines.  The drive was pure bliss.   With hardly another car in sight I gunned the little Ford in and out of sweeping turns and hard switch-backs, all the while the Sun sizzling into the Pacific Ocean over my right shoulder.

In several other posts to you I've mentioned what I believe are the moments where God will reveal himself, if only for a moment, provided you're graced with the capacity to believe in such a thing.  This drive would be one of those moments, Conor.  As I drove along this lonesome seaside roadway, the troubles of life washed away, my senses heightened exponentially, and the purity of self shone through bright as the full Moon who took the place of the setting Sun.  I felt euphoric; totally at ease and blissfully unaware of the troubles of man.  Just me, the majesty of the North Oregon Coast, and the road ahead.  Total enlightenment, if only for a moment.  And I couldn't wait to share it with you in these very words I write to you now...

 Eventually reaching my destination of Lincoln City, Oregon - a Hotel Casino and Resort called "Chinook Winds", I checked in, dropped my bags in the room, and walked out to the beach in the dark of night to look upon the full Moon as it refracted it's gaze across the mighty Pacific; the quiet sound of the rising tide gently kissing the shore and the low light of the Moon glimmering off the water would be all I would need to reflect on an otherwise perfect day on the road.  My only hope being that you experience these moments yourself, Son.  And that one day you realize in all the times of your life, good or bad, you always have the opportunity to take a drive, think long and hard and introspectively, and recognize just how absolutely beautiful life truly is.

I love you, Conor.
-Dad      

A Dog's Life

Life Conor... It can throw you from time to time.  We take for granted so much about the world around us that when one of those things so often taken for granted is suddenly taken from you, it feels a lot like being kicked in the chest by a Clydesdale.  Today was one of those days, Conor.  Something was taken from us, Boy'O.  More, someone was taken from us, and he cannot be replaced.

People who don't care for pets can never truly appreciate the bond that's created between the animal and their human.  I say "their human" because in fact, we as humans do not own animals.  They own us.  Or at least, they should.  Certainly that's always been my experience.  Sure, it's the human's responsibility to care for the animal, but what that animal gives in return is ten fold whatever you do for them.

Today we lost one of the best friends I've ever known.  One of your beloved dogs, Bruiser "The Man" Yerkes, has gone on to his great reward.  And while we all have a way to process things , my way is a stiff drink, some mellow tunes playing in an otherwise quiet room, and reflection, remembrance, and story telling.  This note to you will I hope some day tell that story and give you just a little bit more of the history you'll undoubtedly crave to know and understand of who you are and where you come from...

In September 2003, long before you were born, your mother and I bought a townhouse in Fairfax, Virginia.  It's the home we still share today, better than 10 years later.  At the time we had another dog, Jazz, who happened to be the first gal to ever capture my heart.  However, Jazz was very much "my dog".  What I mean by "my dog" is, I'd come to meet Jazzy-Girl in Daytona Beach, Florida some nine years earlier as an eight week old puppy; six years before I ever met your mother.  I raised her, trained her, fed her, and loved her with all my heart.  Though to be sure, Jazzy-Girl gave me far more than I ever gave her.  Jasmine Von Volusia, as was her full AKC name per her Rottweiler heritage, gave me everything she had as a friend and as a companion when I'd never needed one more.  In fact, Jazz saved my life, Son, and more than once.  But that's a story for another time.  Jazzy and I were as inseparable as any two sentient beings could ever be, and I still carry her with me to this very day.   Never the less, we traveled the country together, Jazz and me, and for a very long time.  I belonged to her, and she belonged to me - in life and ever after.

Jazzy Girl

 While Jazzy was still in great health upon moving to this townhouse in '03, she was turning the corner as a "Senior" and slowing down quite a bit.  Her raucous play, sturdy stature, and steady eye were giving way to mellow moments laid across my feet and old and creeky bones - her highest level of excitement coming by way of the unexpected dog treat or discarded pizza crust.  As this decline transpired before my very eyes, I often wondered what I could do to make this transition that much better for my old and faithful friend.  After several conversations with others who'd also seen their beloved canines move into their retirement years, one suggestion stood out far more than in home holistic remedies and pharmaceutical cocktails... It was suggested that we get a puppy! The idea being, the puppy's youthful enthusiasm and energy would breathe life into the old dog.  Seeing as how Jazzy was always very much "my dog", your mother took a fondness to the suggestion and began looking for adoption agencies where we might find a companion who could use a good home...  And we wouldn't have to look for very long. 

On one website in specific, a pet adoption agency calling itself "A Forever Home" was having an adoption drive at a local pet supply store in Chantilly, Virgina.  A Forever Home had images of all the available dogs and puppies, and your mother spotted one litter in particular that she was absolutely sure would have the perfect puppy to be a great addition to our family.  Though much to my dismay, the litter was that of a Chihuahua / Rat Terrier mix!  As the proud owner of a 110 lb Rottweiler who, in her prime, was as magnificent and as powerful a specimen of dog as any there ever was, the idea of walking the mean streets of Fairfax with a 3 lb toy dog was absolutely DREADFUL to me.  Still, she'd convinced herself that was what she wanted and, though you don't realize it now, Boy'O, you'll soon realize that once your mother sets her mind to something, there will be no changing it.  Even if I wanted to formulate an argument, it'd be futile.  So off we went to see the Chihuahua mix litter...

On Sunday November 9th, 2003 your mother and I made our way into the previously mentioned PetCo. in Chantilly to see this litter of critters.  Though upon arrival we were informed they hadn't arrived yet, and so of course we decided to wander around and look upon all the other litters, if for nothing else because they were cute to see!  We happened upon one litter labeled "Boxer Mix" and, for the most part, these puppies were predominantly black with a few distinguishing marks and stars on them.  While standing over the open pen staring at these adorable and helpless creatures, a woman came walking up holding a tiny shivering mass of wet fur in a towel.  It seems his litter mates had rolled him in some excrement, clearly driving down adopt-ability, if for nothing else than nobody would want to hold him!  So, this freshly washed, soaking wet, tiny, scared-stiff 3 lb 8 oz trembling puppy appeared in the arms of one of the volunteers.  Your mother asked the woman if it'd be okay to hold him, and so as she handed him over this sweet little puppy would fasten himself to your mom in a way that would make Annie the Orphan blush...

Mind you, I never saw this exchange as I was still transfixed on the litter of puppies at my feet.  Suddenly your mother appears before me and before I could even say a word she looked at me and said excitedly, "This is the one.  This is our dog, Shane.  Can we take him?"  I looked at your mother curiously for a moment and then craned my head to the side to try and get a peek at the tiny face nuzzled into her neck, still vigorously shaking from being wet and cold and undoubtedly afraid.  I pointed at him and, with a very bewildered look and questioning tone said, "That?!  That's the one you want?"  She nodded sternly to the affirmative, and off we went to the adoption table.

The process was fascinating actually.  Having bought Jazzy Girl from a breeder in Florida, I'd never gone through a  pet adoption and frankly, I didn't know what to expect.  I filled out all the requisite forms and answered a series of questions, including questions about existing pets.  When I explained that we have a ten year old Rottweiler at home who's been with me since she was eight weeks old, the interviewer lit up!  "A Rottweiler!  What's the dogs name?" She asked.  "Jasmine", I explained.  "She's a great dog.  Loving and loyal.  We're actually looking to adopt as much for her as for us."  The woman on the other side of the table beamed... "Well, anybody who's owned a Rottweiler for ten years is okay with us.  Ordinarily you'd have to wait a day or two until we could have a volunteer come by your home for an inspection, but I'll tell you what, you go ahead and take him home with you and I'll come by personally later this evening.  I'd love to meet Jazz, and of course see where this little puppy will be living.  Have you picked out a name?"  Your mother spoke up, "Bruiser.  Bruiser Yerkes is his name..."  And off we went with our new family member.  Bruiser Yerkes.

We paid the adoption fees, thanked the woman who'd interviewed us, and walked through the PetCo. grabbing all we'd need for this new life in our care.  A training crate, puppy food, a few chew toys, a tiny collar, and a leopard print dog bed no bigger than a serving tray.  Happy with our new addition, we left the store and brought Bruiser home to 4002 Gregg Ct, Fairfax, Virginia where he would spend his entire life...

When we arrived home your Uncle Justin came immediately over to the house to meet him.  He brought with him a gift - a tiny elephant chew toy that Bruiser took to immediately.  We watched our Washington Redskins play the Seattle Seahawks while spending the better part of the afternoon looking after this tiny curious puppy wandering around his new home, inspecting his surroundings.  The representative from A Forever Home came to the house, made her inspection, met Jazzy-Girl, and left satisfied that Bruiser was in good hands... After the game Uncle Justin headed home and we all retired for the night.  Bruiser would have to get used to his new dog crate that we would place strategically along side of our bed in order to get up periodically and let him out of the house to relieve himself.  Though things did not go as planned...

Some time in the early morning hours your mother heard an awful noise.  Bruiser was hacking and wheezing and sounded as though he was struggling to even catch his breath.  When she woke me up and I flipped on the light, we witnessed an awful site.  Pardon the descriptive nature of this part of the story Son, but Bruiser had made quite a mess in his tiny crate, and it was coming out of both ends.  Both vomit and stool were scattered around the crate, on his bed, on himself, and on the carpet.  The color of what was coming out of this poor little puppy was a deep auburn brown with distinct crimson red coloring - indicating blood.  And a lot of it.

We jumped out of bed to grab Bruiser and get him cleaned up in an attempt to understand what was happening.  Though no explanation would be found.  What was clear however, is that we were losing him, and fast.  Your mother told me to call A Forever Home and tell them what was happening.
"But Sara!" I protested, "It's 3:00am!  There's nobody there to take the call!"  She looked at me with a look of both determination and fear.  "I don't care, Shane.  You call them right now.  We don't know what else to do!"  Knowing she was right and without giving it another thought, I picked up my phone and called them.  To our great surprise, someone answered!  When I explained what was going on the person I was speaking to told me they would have a veterinarian to the house by 6:00am.  I was both surprised and pleased with the level of response they were promising, and so we sat up with Bruiser and waited.  True to their word, at 6:00am a large white van pulled into the driveway and a Doctor emerged with a black leather bag reminiscent of something I'd seen of a family practitioner making house calls in an old movie.

The Doc came into the house and began to diagnose our little puppy.  Turned out he'd contracted a tiny mite that embeds itself into the stomach lining of the host where it can grow and spread causing internal rupturing, hence all the blood.  This condition is known as 'Coccidia', and is potentially fatal.  the veterinarian explained that it could be treated, though it would be difficult and risky as the puppy may not survive it, despite the medicine.  He offered to take Bruiser for euthanization and reimburse us for the money we'd spent.  "Absolutely not!" your mother spoke up.  "We took on this puppy and all that comes along with it.  He's our responsibility now.  We'll see him back to health."  Clearly impressed with her vehemence, the vet gave us the name of a veterinarian in Chantilly, Dr. Martin Toehill, and told us that if we make all of our follow up appointments with him, they'll cover all the vet costs for the next six months.  Treatment, shots, the works...

Bruiser would go absolutely everywhere with me for the next several days.  I placed him in a small cat carrier box and brought him into the office, to the gas station, the grocery store, and of course, the veterinarian.  Everywhere.  And he recovered beautifully.  What we got in return was a fiercely loyal friend, a great dog, and an animal worthy of this acclaim.  Bruiser was quite possibly the best dog I've ever raised.  Well behaved, good tempered, highly disciplined (not one of my three puppies have ever even seen a leash until they were 6 months old, learning quickly to hang on to my every command when out of doors) and most importantly, he loved us without bounds, Son.

Now having said that, make no mistake.  Bruiser was your mother's dog.  You see Boy'O, a dog can have many masters, but only one heart.  From the moment they connected at the pet store in Chantilly, Bruiser and your mom were kindred.  Connections like that do not come along often.  Where she went, he went.  Always.  And in the good times as in the bad, Bruiser was there for her.  If he were in the room, rest assured no harm would ever come to your mother.  Bruiser was a dog who would absolutely give his life to protect his true love - and she was certainly that.  While I was predominantly Bruiser's caretaker, trainer, and disciplinarian, your mother was Bruiser's master, make no mistake.

Bruiser was in our lives four days shy of a decade.  In those ten years are memories that we will carry with us to our graves, no doubt about it.  A wonderful dog, a loyal companion, and a fierce and trusting friend.  And while I couldn't be here to say goodbye before he shuffled off this mortal coil to a far better place, I take great comfort in the fact that your mother was with him when he took his final breath.  She was there, lying along side of him and holding him close, just as they were when they first met almost ten years ago.

 
There is no greater bond than between dog and man, Son.  I truly believe that.  Though if you live according to God's plan, you have to realize that you're going to outlive them.  That's part of the deal.  They'll give you all they got until they can't, and then you have to say goodbye.  That's the deal.  But for a dog like Bruiser, I'd take that deal one hundred times over... 

Bruiser was a great dog, Boy'O.  And he left us all, you included, better than when we welcomed him into our lives.  And he will be missed, always.

I love you, Conor.  And I love you too, Bruiser Man.  Sleep well...
-Dad

The Story of Us

Well Conor, it's been some time since I've written anything to you, Son.  Months in fact!  And while it's no excuse as you are far and away my ultimate priority, I will say that starting a business and navigating the seas of change is somewhat trying.  No doubt it's taken a toll on me.  At the same time though, these last 11 months have shaped me, given me perspective, worn me down, and lifted me up.  And while I am a man built on his passions, there will always be times in life when the things we love must be cast aside in order to overcome the obstacles ahead of us. 

Never the less, it's time I get back to who I am and what I stand for and my writing and passion for the written word - whether reading it or writing it - is among those things I need to absolutely find time for...  I love my job.  I love my career.  I believe wholeheartedly in the vision my workmates and I have for the company we've started.  Though even when worry and doubt casts a shroud of uncertainty, perseverance and belief will always pay off... Always.  Life is a balance, Boy'O.  And in order to maintain your happiness, you have to maintain that balance.  No matter what. 

Remember this Son, if I teach you nothing else in life, please remember this - Be who you are.  Stay true to yourself, stay honest, stay hopeful, and remain passionate about who and what you love.  Do this and you will have lived a full and joyous life.  Do it not, and you'll always live in doubt.

Okay, enough of that.  Let's get to the 'Story of Us', shall we?

Wow, where to begin?!  I met your mother years before we ever went on our first 'date' (there's still some debate as to our first time out together being a date - Mommy says no, I say yes.  Semantics...).  In fact we met through mutual friends, one being your Uncle Justin.  Those initial conversations were nothing if not casual.  I mean, sure, she caught my eye, your mother is a beautiful woman!  But as far as I was concerned she was out of my league.  Like, not even in the same sport!  So of course I never gave it much thought... Then one night I got a phone call from Uncle Justin asking if I was interested in coming over to his place to shoot pool on our old family pool table we'd set up in his basement.  He'd mentioned your Mother as being there with a guy, Brian was his name, and more than anything Uncle Justin wanted someone more familiar in the house while his then-girlfriend, Kim, was entertaining her friend and colleague, Sara (your mother) and her date, Brian. 

Upon my arrival it was exactly the scene you (as an adult) would imagine.  Two couples standing around the pool table talking about nothing in specific, drinking beer, shooting stick; just hanging out.  I said hello to everyone and met Brian.  He seemed like a nice enough guy.  And then he spoke... 

I try not to be judgmental, Son.  I do try.  But sometimes you just gotta call a spade a spade - and Brian?  Well, Brian was dumber than a bag of hammers.  Again - nice guy!  But a little slow... I may have wondered to myself what your mother was doing hanging out with a guy whose got the conversational aptitude of a llama, but as I said, there were no romantic interests so I also didn't care.  Regardless, as the night wore on, and with Brian standing in the room, your mother started outwardly flirting with me.  I found it to be somewhat amusing, especially because Brian never seemed to notice!  Still, that was the first night your Mother truly caught my attention, albeit just a bit of harmless flirting.  Nothing came of it.  And once again I paid it no mind.

Mommy and Uncle Justin - 1997

Some months later your mother and I had some mutual friends who were getting married, and so once again we would be in the same room, maybe making eyes at one another and having a bit of small talk, though nothing more.  And for some time this kinda thing continued.  We may have happened into the same place at the same time, said hello, gave a wink and a smile, and away we'd go.  But then one night, that all changed...

Thirteen years ago to this very day, Hallows Eve in the year of our Lord 2000, our paths crossed yet again.  Only this time the conversation wasn't so passing and intentions were high when inquiries were made...

Your Uncle Justin and I were attending the Monday Night Football game at FedEx Field to see the Washington Redskins take on the Tennessee Titans and, as mentioned, it was Halloween.  In fact there were three of us as Uncle Justin's then girlfriend, Kim, was also at the game.  When the game ended and we were exiting the stadium, I happened to look over my right shoulder at a striking blonde woman whose presence can easily overpower so many passer-bys.  I stopped...
"Hey Kim, isn't that your friend, Sara?"  Kim nodded and flashed an excited smile.  "It is!" she said, and hurriedly turned to make her way over to surprise your mom.  Uncle Justin and I followed along, dragging our feet in disappointment following the Redskins loss to the Titans...

Daddy dressed as Deion "Prime Time" Sanders

When we arrived to where Kim and your mom were standing, hugging and saying their hellos, your mother turned to face me and let out a huge laugh while commenting on my Halloween costume!  You see Boy'O, at the time the Redskins had perhaps the most flamboyant player in the history of the NFL, Deion "Prime Time" Sanders, playing Corner Back for them, and I was dressed to imitate him, if not outright mock him.  I was a 6'3" 180 lbs gangly white guy dressed up as a dynamic super-star black athlete, albeit in total jest.  But more important than what I was wearing, I still remember what she was wearing.

It was a cool night, as late October in the DC area generally is.  Your mother was wearing a tan suede jacket, turquoise scarf, blue jeans, and tan suede boots to match the jacket.  Her hair was perfect, make up was flawless, and she had a smile and a way about her that could make any man stop cold and just want to meet her, if for nothing else, just to say he had.

The conversation went something like this...
"Hey Shane!  How are you?  Great costume!  What are you up to these days?"  I smiled a wry smile.  "Hey yourself!  Great to see you... And thanks!  I'm really good!  In fact, I'm moving to Scotland on a two year contract in a couple of months, so really looking forward to it.  How are things with you?"

This chit-chat continued for a bit longer before your mother finally said to me, "Well we should get together before you go!"  Of course I agreed, got her email address, and said I would be in touch.  Waiting the obligatory couple of days (never rush into these things, Son - trust me) I emailed your mom about maybe getting together over the weekend to watch football at my place; the thought being, "Well, we met at a football game so she must be a football fan!"  And to my great pleasure, she accepted!

We watched the game at my place in Centreville, Virginia and then decided to head out to grab a drink and a bite to eat.  This is where the debate comes into play as to whether or not this social hour at a local restaurant was a "date".  My contestation being that it was because A) it was just the two of us and B) I paid.  Hence "Date", but I digress...  And it was this "date" when my interest and intrigue in your mother peaked.

She was wearing a black cashmere sweater and red leather pants.  I'll certainly never forget that because earlier in the week I'd made some comment regarding what I thought about overly pretentious women wearing faux leather pants and how that kind of person did nothing for me.  This was also about the time your mother forcibly placed my foot squarely in my mouth by letting me know that, not only does she have several pair of leather pants, but they certainly are not fake.  Never the less, aside from her breathtaking beauty and powerful presence, what really struck me about your mother was just how different she was from any woman I'd ever met.  And she remains so to this day...

We sat at the restaurant bar in Fairfax, what was then Don Pablos - a restaurant I once managed in my earlier years - and talked for hours.  It was a night I preferred would never end.  The opportunity to dive into one's soul and listen to what moves them, what ignites them, and what makes them who they are.  Those opportunities are so very rare, Conor.  And all the while knowing I would be moving 4,000 miles away in 3 months time.  It was a bitter-sweet "date", to say the least.

Your mother told me then and there, at 26 years old, that she would be a CEO of a company some day.  She told me how much she loved children and that it was her desire to "have a baseball team" of children.  She spoke of her family and of her father, your natural Grandfather, who died in the service of his country and the wonderful man who adopted her as his own when she was just four years old, and why she's the woman she is today as a result of that pairing.  It was a fascinating conversation, Son.  One I will never forget.

The night ended as all nights do, though an impression was made upon both of us, and we decided that we'd like to see one another again.  Perhaps go out on a more formal "date".  And so we did...

Two weeks and several dates later, I received a phone call from your mother asking me if I'd be interested in attending her cousin's wedding with her.  Of course I responded affirmatively, though what happened next began cementing what would be an inseparable relationship.  When I asked where the wedding would be and she told me Ocean City, New Jersey, I stopped dead in my tracks.  "Ocean City, New Jersey?!" I said excitedly.
"Yes" she said, "Why?"
"Because my Mother lives in Ocean City, New Jersey!  How random is THAT?"
And that would be the first time your Mom-Mom would meet your mother - her future daughter-in-law, even if she didn't know it...

After a fantastic time 'Down the Shore' with your mom for Donnie and Lori's wedding, I received another email asking if I'd be interested in traveling with her yet again, only this time to Boston for a conference she was to be working.  I'd done a considerable amount of work in Boston the year prior and knew it well, so the thought being, your mother had never been to Boston and considering I knew the city pretty intimately having all but lived there for a month, I would go up with her and show her around.  Unfortunately, and yet not, I responded with regrets to tell her that I would be traveling to Edinburgh, Scotland for a week to find a flat in the city and to interview my team in Livingston, Scotland.  

Almost jokingly I responded back, "I'm sorry I can't make your weekend in Boston, but if you wanna bag it and go to Edinburgh for a week, cover your airfare and I'll get the rest!"  Surprisingly, fifteen minutes later I received another email with a list of airfares on the dates I'd be traveling asking which one she should choose!  Needless to say I was shocked that she was amenable to the idea, though of course pleased as well!  You see Boy'O, at the time I was working my way up through the telecommunications industry - an industry that, in its time, was as booming as any in the modern age.  The money was seemingly free...I traveled the country, as well as abroad, for almost two years as a single man with a laptop, a cell phone, and an American Express card in a time when those things were either novelty or necessity.  Certainly not common.  And all the while I never saw a single expense report.  I was in my late 20's and the World was my oyster, so long as I was willing to perform the duties assigned to me.  And I was.

Never the less, your mother booked her airfare and off we went to Edinburgh.  Given my then status as a traveler and the access and resources afforded to me, that would be a week to remember for a lifetime.  We stayed in the Hotel Caledonia, Edinburgh's only Three-Star Michelin Rated hotel located at the base of the Castle steps and the Royal Mile - home of the oldest crown jewels in existence.  What's more, we were there during the week of St Andrew's Day - Scotland's equivalent to the United States 'Fourth of July'.  Needless to say, it was a fantastic time, despite the work and the effort to find a place to live, meet the team, etc.  Though the flight home would be sullen...

After an experience like that, Boy'O, short of digging up some sort of mental disorder or genetic disposition to finding happiness, you're in love.  No two ways about it.  And it bears mentioning that at this point, your mother and I had been dating for all of three weeks.  THREE WEEKS! 
Still, the fact I was moving overseas for at least two years loomed like a storm cloud.  Then, the most interesting thing happened...

I was set and ready to move to downtown Edinburgh on January 15th, 2001.  I'd given up my condo, was prepared to sell my truck, my Dad -your Pop-Pop, was going to take my dog, I'd signed a lease on a downtown apartment, or 'flat' in Edinburgh... It would be inevitable.  Your mother and I would say our goodbyes and I would move away and that would likely be the end of our perfect romance - despite her promises to come and visit once a month.  And then one day in late December, I was called into my Division Vice President's office and informed that, regretfully, the entire European Operation was Chapter 11.  Bankrupt.  Tits Up.  Done.

Talk about dodging a bullet, Son.  I've dodged a number of bullets in my life.  Car crashes and motorcycle wrecks, poor decisions under the influence, and questionable characters with crooked intentions being introduced into my life, but this would be the mother of all bullet dodges.  I was all set and ready to give up everything and everyone I knew and move to another country for AT LEAST two years, and the carpet was pulled right out from underneath of me!  I'd have been swimming the Atlantic to get back to the states without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of!  Crisis averted...  And here we are.

Upon receiving this information and realizing that I would still have to give up my condo - your Aunt Tracy rented it and I had to rent it back from her - and with your mother's then roommate, Melissa, moving to Los Angeles with the love of her life, we both found ourselves in a unique position.  Either  get places of our own and keep shuffling back and forth between our respective apartments, or move in together.  We chose the latter.

Your mother and I were dating for less than eleven months before I asked her to marry me and we were married just over a year later on October 5th, 2002 at Woodlawn Plantation in Mt Vernon, VA.  The ceremony was as perfect as the nuptials themselves.  Weather, attendees, food, drink... Perfect.  In under two years I'd met your mother, fell in love, made some crucial and lasting life decisions, and here we are.  The Story of Us.

 
It bears mentioning, Conor - Relationships can be difficult.  In the thirteen years to this very day your mother suggested we get together before I move a World away, we've certainly had our ups and downs.  The early years of our life together were all about the celebration.  Traveling the World and experiencing all of what life has to offer.  Seeing it all and throwing caution to the wind.  Staying up late and sleeping in later.  The only thought in mind being, "what do we do today?"  We were surrounded by wonderful people and friends who were as close as family.  Though what we've learned is, we all have a path to follow.  And sometimes that path can lead us into some pretty thick stuff.  It's easy to become entangled in corruptible thoughts and "what if's" when times get tough.  But the truth is, in this life you'll only ever meet a handful of people who will stand by you, no matter what.

 
The party eventually ends, no two ways about it.  And what you're left with are the people who accept you at your core.  They may not always understand you, but they accept you.  They accept you because they love you.  Sure, your mother and I may not always agree, but there's no such thing as a perfect union.  There's only what you can accept and understand.  Truth is all there is... Who will be there for you no matter what the circumstance, consequence, or outcome?  For me, that's been your mother and a very select few others - excluding family of course.  Blood will ALWAYS be thicker than water, and you'd be wise to never forget that...

 
Now, 13 years later, I'm writing this letter to you.  My Son.  The light of my life.  A boy who's redefined what I stand for.  Who's allowed me to see that in fact, the party didn't end, it just became a different kind of party.  A party that includes the best of both of us.  You.  And without question, no matter my greatest achievements or most humiliating and humbling failures, you are now and will always be, both mine and your mother's greatest reward.  And you will be loved, Boy'O.  You will always be loved.

I love you, Son.

Always,
Dad         

Parenting is a Joy

Parenting is a joy with you, Conor.  No sarcasm in that statement.  Or that one.  You are a joy...  Still, you have your moments.  This phase of the game sees you beginning to understand that in fact, you are more than capable of expressing your own free will; albeit in a conduct becoming an 18 month old... Fits.

They're rare, but they are noticeable...  There's certainly nothing wrong with your pipes.  When you feel as though you need to get some attention, there's little doubt as to your intent.  The windows actually shake!  It's something else.  Still, you're also getting a firm grip on what is right, and what is wrong.

Early this evening while I was preparing our dinner, I heard the shuffling of what sounded like glass across wood.  And then it happened... SMASH!!!  Unfortunately one of the Absinth lids on the glassware set your Grandpa K9 got me for Christmas fell victim to a short drop and a sudden stop. Glass went EVERYWHERE!  Of course I reacted by shouting your name rather loudly, but I was far more concerned about you amongst a sea of busted glass than I was the item itself.  Absolutely anything can be replaced, but not you, Boy'O.  Anyway, when the glass broke and I shouted your name, you calmly turned and walked down the hall and sat down on the lowest step with a look of both regret and concern.  It was perhaps the sweetest thing you've ever done.

I walked over to you and knelt down, told you that it was all going to be okay but that you have to be careful and not touch things that aren't for you - as if you were going to understand anything but my tone.  Still, you looked me square in the eye and followed along, and when I was done I kissed your cheek, and you looked back at me and said "ball?"  And just like that, all's forgiven.

Parenting is a joy with you, Conor.  My greatest joy...  Thank you, Son.

I love you,
-Dad

Walkin', Talkin', and Amazin'

Well Conor, it's been a good long while since I've written to you, Boy'O!  I'll tell you, as quickly as you're growing and given what my days and nights have been like, I'm just happy to get to hang out with you!  Let alone write about you!!  But when we hang out, boy do we have fun...

You have a house full of toys, Son, and despite your curiosity driving you around the room in search of things you shouldn't necessarily touch, I'm still your favorite play thing... When Daddy is around we're typically having a good time!  And I can't even begin to tell you how much I need that every day...

As for you, well, so long as I'm rolling on the floor with you, swinging you around, playing "trucks" and "buses" (two favorite words in your ever growing vocabulary), or just about anything else to engage you directly, you're smiling and laughing... No sound on Earth can match the sound of your laugh, Boy'O.  It is truly the sweetest song these ears have heard, and I've heard a lot of songs.....

Your little Laurel and Hardy walk coupled with your determination to achieve whatever you're focused on at the time is also every bit as fun to watch.  You do so much with such focus and drive, it's actually inspiring!  For your every achievement, no matter how menial to me, is absolutely colossal for you!  And from that there's an exceptionally humbling lesson to be learned - focus on the little things, because the little things become enormous...

That's all for tonight, Son.  I'll try to not be so far and in between in so far as these posts.  But no matter what, know this - I love you.

I love you,
-
Dad

Bumps and Bruises

 

 

Well Boy'O, it's been some time since I've written anything, not just as it pertains to you.  In venturing into the world of entrepreneurship I've completely underestimated the value of my time.  My time with you, my time for work, my time for Mommy, my time with friends, my time with motorcycling.  Time.  It just ticks on by, Son.  No apologies.  It's always against us.  At least when we take it for granted.  And it bears mentioning that I'm not.  More, I'm prioritizing just about everything in my life yet again, but it's a healthy exercise to be sure...

Yes Son, I've not been much in the blogosphere of late but that doesn't mean I'm not burning to scream your every achievement, accomplishment, and milestone.  There's just not enough time in the day it seems...  Never the less, here I am!  Dropping you a long over due line.  So here goes...

Developmentally speaking Conor, you're just about all caught up.  Socially you're fully aware and communicating in all the ways you know how.  Physically you're strong enough to pick yourself up and pull yourself around virtually anything.  You're quicker than a hiccup when it comes to crawling.  Now, if you could just get this walking thing down...

Seems each time you feel brave enough to take your first step you let go whatever it is that's holding you up and promptly tale a header into a coffee table or toy box or a dog, whatever.  This has led to an inordinate amount of bumps and bruises on your head and face.  Looks like somebody's smacking you around, Son!

Of course it bothers me, as it would any parent!  Though I realize it's all a part of the experience and so I'm prepared to wait it out.  Assuredly, once we're past a battered forehead it's going to be all about skinned up knees and elbows.  A boys life.  But I've said it before and I'll say it again...  Pain is temporary, chicks dig scars, but glory is forever...  The glory of seeing you safely navigate your way around the room on your own two feet without damn near knocking yourself out will be cause for celebration, no doubt.

Soon, very soon, you'll be walking and I know how quickly I may eat some of these words.  But no matter, Conor... I'll share the sweet taste of victory with you, as I will the bitter taste of defeat.

I love you, Conor.  And I'm so proud of you.  More and more each day...

-Dad

Start the Day the Right Way

When the day begins, Conor, I like to take my time.  At least on the weekends... The weekdays are a bit different; somewhat of a more frenetic pace.  Wake up, shower, coffee, bottle for you, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, dress you, feed you, pack you up, off to daycare, get to work...  It's a grind.  And it's ever changing.  Mommy has her duties, I have mine.  The life of the dual income household.  But then there are the weekends...

I like to start my Saturdays and Sundays at close to the opposite end of the spectrum from the other five days of the week.  In fact, I won't even crack an eye until hearing a peep out of you.  At that point it's a matter of a good stretch, a walk to the bathroom, some creeks, pops, and cracks from my ailing old joints (I played a little harder than most growing up, Son.  Like all things, there are consequences to your actions, though I regret not a one...) before making my way to your room to stop your lonely cries.

At the point of picking you up though, a peace and calm falls over me that truly starts the day.  This morning for example, after taking you from your crib and getting you changed, I brought you downstairs, set you in your highchair, gave you a bottle to hang on to, and turned out some music; nice and low so as to fill the house with sound whilst I shuffle around at an easy pace doing the things we would otherwise be engaged in as though our hair is on fire...  This morning it was "Shine On" radio on Pandora, a Pink Floyd station.  And of the music playing were tunes like Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond", Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven", and Buffalo Springfield's "Something's Happening Here"...  Classics, easy, calming...

For the first time in five days I'm able to turn off my brain and simply, be...  It's time well spent, Boy'O. Down time.  Relax time.  Me and You time.  Family time.  Dog time.  Do whatever-the-hell-I-want time...  Temporary as though it may be.

As for you, it's just a joy to sit and watch you.  Watch you mimic everything we do.  Listen to you call the dogs by pointing at them and saying over and over "DAG! DAG DAG!" It's just such fun.  And though you're still not walking yet, you're afraid of close to nothing and I believe only days away from the first big cruise!  Time will tell of course and assuredly, when that day comes there will be a new blog post!

I love you, Conor... Thanks for an easy breezy Saturday.
-Dad

Keeping Up with Current Events

What a ride we're on, Conor...  Realizing I continually reference the idea that the last year has absolutely flown by, what's more interesting are the phases you're going through whilst it does.  Watching you go from preemie, to infant, to baby, to toddler has been more than an experience, it's been an honor.  And each passing day would see you develop into something a little bit more than the day before...

Now-a-days you're looking much more like a little boy than a helpless baby.  You're growing fast, moving quickly, eating anything we put in front of you, and developing your coordination such that everything is becoming a point of curiosity and equally so, a point of potential trouble.  Taking eyes off of you for only mere moments could see you into the one thing in the room that you're not supposed to be getting into; whatever that may be.  Yes sir, it's a laugh a second!  If not completely terrifying...  But certainly all part of it...

Anyway, there's truly not a lot to say at this juncture, Boy'O!  But the pictures, well, they speak a thousand words.  And more than words, your adoring public needs pictures!

Love you, Boy...

-Dad

A Day in the Life

Wow, Son!  What a day!  With your Uncle Paul out of town the last several days and your Aunt Jennifer in need of some adult companionship, your mother made her way to their house last night for a bite to eat some good girl talk; something I would know nothing about.  Never the less, she stayed the night at Uncle Paul and Aunt Jen's, and so we boys were left to fend for ourselves!

Being quite confident in myself as a parent, I didn't have a concern in the World.  We had a nice dinner, you had a hot bath, I read you a quick story (I read you a short written by Earnest Hemingway called "Oklahoma"), and off to sleep you went.  Graciously you decided to sleep in today not really waking up to the point of hollering until just after 7:00am.  Once you were up, so too was the whole house! dogs and all...  Easy enough though, I put you in your chair, gave you a bottle, turned on some music, and took to tightening up the house, walking the dogs, making my coffee, and just generally shuffling around wiping the sleep from my eyes.  And all the while you sat in your chair, drinking your milk, not saying a word...  Content as could be.  Such a good boy.

It was a truly easy morning.  Mommy finally came home and decided to sit down and feed you while I worked on a variety of projects around the house; fixing a door, hanging a mirror, and just generally straightening up.  Though after you had your breakfast and I made Mommy and my breakfast, I got my time to relax when your mother took you up for your morning nap and decided to join you!  Ahhh, peace.  At 10:30am, I was watching a movie and breathing really easy.  An exceptionally uncommon Sunday!  Especially in these times...

Though when you and Mommy were back up and moving, given the lovely weather we're having for a January day (60 degrees and sunny!) the decision was made to go for a walk, Son.  In your new Radio Flyer wagon!  Compliments of Memeow and Grandpa K9 no less... So we made our way to the park for you to spend some time in the swing.  Then we made our way to the grocery store to pick up a few things for lunch.  Then we made our way through the neighborhood to soak up the Sun.  An excellent walk!  And as if that weren't enough, we were just getting warmed up!

A special treat awaited, though unbeknownst to us all, in that I received a phone call from my friend and business partner, Jason Riffel, as he and his little girl, Lucy, were making their way to the movie theater and asked if we wanted to join!  Seeing as how your attention span is somewhere South of 14 seconds, I passed, but I did invite Jason and Lucy to come by after the movie!  Thought it'd be fun to see you have someone to play with, and so they did!  You and Lucy had a blast no doubt, but then, as if it couldn't get any better, Aunt Jen brought the boys over too!!

There we were, equal numbers children to adults, and the children were most definitely winning.. MADNESS ensued as you and your three cousins and friends crawled around banging toys together, laughing, screaming... It was as much fun as I could imagine having with 4 toddlers, and the conversation was equally as good.

Jason and Lucy would eventually head out and Aunt Jen, Nate, and Andrew all stuck around for dinner.  I prepared a roast rack of pork, Mommy made Southern green beans and corn bread, and finished the night off with chocolate chip cookies.  I'll tell you, Son... For as much as I got done today (I've not really stopped moving until only now!), I had as much fun hanging out with you and our friends as I've had in some time.  And considering the previous three stressful days, it was both welcomed and needed.

I suppose if I wanted, I could make every day this good!  It's all a matter of perspective, Son.  So I'll tell you what, I will try.  And with your help, I think we can get there!

I love you, Conor... What a fun day!
-Dad

The Knowing...

Life is invariable on only one thing, Conor; how much it actually varies... And the best part of that is coming to grips with the understanding that you will quite literally learn something new every single day. It's kind of treat if you look at it in the right light!

I have no disillusion you'll one day proclaim to know it all.  We all do.  But that only happens because, though you may begin to know yourself, you irrevocably know nothing of anybody or anything else. Wisdom can only be gained through time and experience, and as you'll no doubt learn, the more wisdom you gain, the less you proclaim to know...

I've not come to this train of thought through some Earth shattering discovery, Son.  In fact, quite the opposite.  Now and again you'll have things in your life that will rear up on you as though an unbroken horse deciding to misbehave just when you settle into the saddle.  In reality, you already know the horse is going to buck, it's only a matter of time.  But if ignored, when he rears his head and decides to test you, if you're not paying attention you end up with a broken nose and a busted ego.

Yes Boy'O, something I suppose I've always known was just trotting down the trail and I was riding along as though the pasture was just around the bend, to keep the unbroken horse metaphor.  Though as predicted, the bastard bucked and BAM, two black eyes...  Inexplicably this puts me in a bad mood because, Heaven forbid I take responsibility for the obvious; I always knew that damn horse was going to buck, but I ignored it none the less, paid the price, and got what was coming to me...

Again, it's nothing of any real consequence, just something I'd been ignoring for some time simply for the fact that I didn't want to deal with it.  Though of course, after ruining my night last night, and likely your Mother's, by being an irritable bear, I woke up this morning and addressed the issue as I should have done long before I started ignoring it in the first place.  But these are those lessons, Son.  And they're the reason I'm writing to you at all.

Inevitably you're going to make your own mistakes and learn from them, but as parents we're tasked with giving you all the advice and instruction we can so as to help you in avoiding the same.  It never really works, but the effort is made willingly, happily, and in the hopes you take away some small part of the instruction and / or advice.  So let this be a lesson to you, Conor.  When you know that horse is gonna buck, you can still take that ride!  But don't be surprised when he throws you because you were either to lazy to break him, or to proud to think that you had to...

That's all for tonight, Boy'O.  I'm gonna turn back to my cocktail and a bit of relaxation before turning in.  But I'll leave you with this, Son.  Make good decisions and you'll be just fine.  Though if you don't, realize it's nobody's fault but your own, take responsibility, learn from it, and move on.  It's all we can do.

I love you, Conor...
-Dad