Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Thursday, November 01, 2012
The gift of children, a gift to a child
All who work among adults would do well to remember this truth, both for the sake of the children and the adults.
"If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in."
--Rachel Carson
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Speaking of generations. . .
During days of rest and inactivity, like today, my mind and heart grow clear and turn to my family. Sweet, sweet reality that keeps me going.
Can't find a way to resist sharing this recent photo of my little gang of "joy agents."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Full circle
Cleaning out the house my parents called home for almost four decades feels a bit like a long road trip to visit all of my relatives, my own personal history and the inner recesses of the mind and heart of the two people who gave me life.There have been more than a few tears along the way.
Also, a few surprises!
Here's one that combines amusement and romance.
I've found hundreds of "love notes" scribbled on paper dinner napkins, mainly from my dad to my mom, stashed in drawers all over their house. Mom returned the favor a few times herself, leaving dad notes in his desk. The notes were written and left for the other, but few seem to have been discarded. Touching, sweet stuff. No surprise they were married over 68 years!
I've also found lots of stuff that relates to me, their only child. Some of it surprising.
I found these toy trucks hidden away in a large plastic container out in their garage. When I discovered them, I was instantly transported back to the magic period between age 6 and about age 10. There is no way to know the number of hours I spent playing with these trucks.
I remember loading them down with toy soldiers and reenacting the fiercest battles of World War II! The red truck had been converted to a Nazi troop transport. The U. S. Army green, of course, carried all American troops.
I remember my best buddy, Eddie Wilson, and I dug a "fox hole" in the vacant lot beside our house. There we fought so many battles, the trucks and our toy soliders always present. My dad, who was beyond meticulous about his yard, never objected to our exploits or to our digging projects.Rain or shine, I played with these trucks.
Recently, I brought the trucks home to share with my grandchildren.
When Wyatt first saw them, he stopped everything to explore their possibilities. To my delight, he loves the trucks and during a recent visit, we played with them on the living room floor. I have a hunch that Owen will feel the same. Gracie found them curious. She laughed watching us play.
Taking care of my memories and, hopefully, creating more.
Life has a way of coming full circle.
.
Friday, January 02, 2009
My place in line
It was my first Christmas without parents. A friend reminded me that this will be my first New Year as an "orphan."
It is very difficult, more so than I ever anticipated.
Sadness, gratitude, joy and hope all mixed up in an emotional bundle I didn't see coming.
This Christmas forced a time of refocus, of realization, of recognition. I expect the New Year will be the same.
Both my dad and my mom are gone.
Hard to grasp.
Brenda's folks passed away over a decade ago. They were precious people, and very important to me and, of course, to her. She warned me of the surprising emotions that would wipe me out. No warning could really prepare me. You just have to be there, as so many of you know as well as or much better than I.
Today I realize, possibly for the first time, just how much my parents loved me, how much they sacrificed for me. This "after-the-fact" realization adds to the burden, as well as the gratitude.
Complicated.
I miss them. Not complicated.
At the same time, I realize in a brand new way just how much I love those who remain near my side.
Brenda and I will have been walking together for 40 years, if we make it until June 2009.
Where did the time go? Sounds so trite, but the feelings are anything but routine. She has put up with an awful lot! When we married, she had no idea! She couldn't have been a better partner than she has been and will be. I'm grateful for her. Somehow, again an unexpected result of their both having left us, I am more in touch than ever before about just how much I love her.
This death-induced magnifying glass has had the same affect on my heart as I think of our daughters, their husbands and our three grandchildren. My family means everything to me. We are so very blessed. My parents taught me that, tried to help me see it while they were here. It is almost as if their departure provided the last, best lesson about just how important my family is to me, and will be until it is my turn to move on.
We are on a journey through life.
Those closest to us who accompany us are the most important to us.
We need each other.
And, we need other people as well. Friends, neighbors, community members, community life and the support and joy it brings us. I felt and experienced the power of community in the passing of both of my parents. Working to sustain and to expand relationships with other people is a good way to spend one's days.
Today, January 2, 2009, my mom would have celebrated her 88th birthday.
But, she is gone.
And, I am at the head of the line now.
It feels okay to be "next."
What is most important is clearer today as the new year begins.
You know, you just see things differently from the front of the line.
.
It is very difficult, more so than I ever anticipated.
Sadness, gratitude, joy and hope all mixed up in an emotional bundle I didn't see coming.
This Christmas forced a time of refocus, of realization, of recognition. I expect the New Year will be the same.
Both my dad and my mom are gone.
Hard to grasp.
Brenda's folks passed away over a decade ago. They were precious people, and very important to me and, of course, to her. She warned me of the surprising emotions that would wipe me out. No warning could really prepare me. You just have to be there, as so many of you know as well as or much better than I.
Today I realize, possibly for the first time, just how much my parents loved me, how much they sacrificed for me. This "after-the-fact" realization adds to the burden, as well as the gratitude.
Complicated.
I miss them. Not complicated.
At the same time, I realize in a brand new way just how much I love those who remain near my side.
Brenda and I will have been walking together for 40 years, if we make it until June 2009.
Where did the time go? Sounds so trite, but the feelings are anything but routine. She has put up with an awful lot! When we married, she had no idea! She couldn't have been a better partner than she has been and will be. I'm grateful for her. Somehow, again an unexpected result of their both having left us, I am more in touch than ever before about just how much I love her.
This death-induced magnifying glass has had the same affect on my heart as I think of our daughters, their husbands and our three grandchildren. My family means everything to me. We are so very blessed. My parents taught me that, tried to help me see it while they were here. It is almost as if their departure provided the last, best lesson about just how important my family is to me, and will be until it is my turn to move on.
We are on a journey through life.
Those closest to us who accompany us are the most important to us.
We need each other.
And, we need other people as well. Friends, neighbors, community members, community life and the support and joy it brings us. I felt and experienced the power of community in the passing of both of my parents. Working to sustain and to expand relationships with other people is a good way to spend one's days.
Today, January 2, 2009, my mom would have celebrated her 88th birthday.
But, she is gone.
And, I am at the head of the line now.
It feels okay to be "next."
What is most important is clearer today as the new year begins.
You know, you just see things differently from the front of the line.
.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Accountability and my constituency
My daughter, Jennifer, and my son-in-law, Brandon, were discussing the current race for President as they watched the evening news one night this past week.
As they talked, Wyatt, their four-year-old, interrupted with a question.
"What do you mean 'the American people'?" he asked.
They went on to explain in terms he could understand what an election was all about, who was running this time and what it meant for the nation.
Both of them told Wyatt who they had decided to vote for in the upcoming election.
Wyatt sat quietly for a moment.
"What do you mean 'the American people'?" he asked.
They went on to explain in terms he could understand what an election was all about, who was running this time and what it meant for the nation.
Both of them told Wyatt who they had decided to vote for in the upcoming election.
Wyatt sat quietly for a moment.
Then, he looked up and, in his trademark husky voice, declared, "Well, I'm voting for Granddad!"
I love that boy!
No one has a better constituency than I do!
I love that boy!
No one has a better constituency than I do!
Talk about accountability!
Thanks for your confidence, Wyatt. I'll do my best for you.
Thanks for your confidence, Wyatt. I'll do my best for you.
And, never forget, I love you!
.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Two soldiers
I've been thinking about the two of them all weekend. I suppose it's the Memorial Day holiday that has focused my attention and memory.
Two soldiers who served in WWII.
One, my dad, served in the U. S. Army Air Corps prior to the creation of the U. S. Air Force as a separate branch of the U. S. Armed Forces. He served throughout his assignment in Lubbock, Texas at the Army Air Base there, working as an airplane mechanic. As was the case with many farmers, my dad was discharged so that he could return to the farm and join the war effort there. He never served overseas. I think he regretted that all of his adult life. This fact from his life may explain why I am alive.
The other, my father-in-law--Clyde Erwin, served in Europe after his basic training. He found himself caught up on the front lines during the historic Battle of the Bulge. He crossed Normandy beach six days after D-Day. He lost every man in two units as he fought his way across France and into Germany. He was blown off of a Jeep during one battle and nearly killed.
He told me on several occasions about Christmas Day 1944 when he and his fellows woke up buried in snow as they waited orders to continue forward toward what would be a German surrender. He spoke of the experience of liberating the concentration camps, of the smell of death and of the horrid condition of the people imprisoned in such inhumane places. He seldom spoke in great detail and he never accepted praise for his service. He always became emotional whenever he spoke of the war.
Both of these men are gone now. Both lived as men of peace, devoted to their families, their communities and the nation. Both were spiritual men of faith, integrity and honor. Both hated the notion of war. Both served as called on by their nation. Both were models in every way for me.
I miss them both, every day. Today I'm thankful for their lives, their service and their honorable devotion to their nation and to the values of our democracy and to freedom for everyone.
.
Two soldiers who served in WWII.
One, my dad, served in the U. S. Army Air Corps prior to the creation of the U. S. Air Force as a separate branch of the U. S. Armed Forces. He served throughout his assignment in Lubbock, Texas at the Army Air Base there, working as an airplane mechanic. As was the case with many farmers, my dad was discharged so that he could return to the farm and join the war effort there. He never served overseas. I think he regretted that all of his adult life. This fact from his life may explain why I am alive.
The other, my father-in-law--Clyde Erwin, served in Europe after his basic training. He found himself caught up on the front lines during the historic Battle of the Bulge. He crossed Normandy beach six days after D-Day. He lost every man in two units as he fought his way across France and into Germany. He was blown off of a Jeep during one battle and nearly killed.
He told me on several occasions about Christmas Day 1944 when he and his fellows woke up buried in snow as they waited orders to continue forward toward what would be a German surrender. He spoke of the experience of liberating the concentration camps, of the smell of death and of the horrid condition of the people imprisoned in such inhumane places. He seldom spoke in great detail and he never accepted praise for his service. He always became emotional whenever he spoke of the war.
Both of these men are gone now. Both lived as men of peace, devoted to their families, their communities and the nation. Both were spiritual men of faith, integrity and honor. Both hated the notion of war. Both served as called on by their nation. Both were models in every way for me.
I miss them both, every day. Today I'm thankful for their lives, their service and their honorable devotion to their nation and to the values of our democracy and to freedom for everyone.
.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The Bucket List
Looking to see a movie with a message?
Needing to laugh long and hard?
Searching for meaning in the face of death's reality?
Wondering about the importance of friendship and community with others?
Go see The Bucket List, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.
Needing to laugh long and hard?
Searching for meaning in the face of death's reality?
Wondering about the importance of friendship and community with others?
Go see The Bucket List, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.
I promise, you won't be disappointed!
.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
68th Wedding Anniversary
Today marks my parents' 68th wedding anniversary.
On November 18, 1939, they eloped to get married in Peacock, Texas. What's more amazing is that they came back home and kept it a secret for about a year! Makes me feel better about some of my teenage antics!
My dad was 19, my mom 18. They both grew up in Stonewall County, about 50 miles north of Abilene, Texas. Both were members of relatively poor farming families who, as children of the Depression, struggled to wrestle a living out of the red, dry dirt of that part of Texas. Cotton, cattle, wheat, feed grasses--that was their life.
After the War, they moved to Des Moines, Iowa seeking a better life economically. Then, they relocated to Spokane, Washington where my father worked for the county as a purchasing agent. I was born there after they'd been married a little over 10 years.
We returned to Texas in 1953. My dad worked as City Secretary (much like City Manager) for the little town of Richardson until 1959 when he joined a private real estate development firm that literally developed almost the entire the west side of Richardson. Until his very recent health problems, he was still going to the office one day a week to handle some company investments and to "help out" with things.
My mom was fortunate to be a "stay-at-home" mother. She kept things running smoothly in our home. My dad worked very hard. They both taught me what it meant to be a decent person in a world of difficulty and joy. They have always been sensitive to and concerned about the lives and status of laboring people and the poor. They taught me that every person deserved my respect without regard to possessions or the artificiall status that wealth tends to manufacture.
They have been members of the Richardson East Church of Christ (where I served as minister for 14 years) since 1961. They evidence this staying power in regard to just about everything they find to do.
They have what seems like a million friends!
They certainly found a way to make their marriage work. My observation across the years tells me that the keys for them were daily give and take, a willingness to listen, mutual respect, clear commitment, enduring romance and practical love.
Two young kids, some would say, foolishly running off to get married without their parents' approval. They sure have done well for themselves and for me and my family and so many friends who've enjoyed watching them make a great life together.
This anniversary will be unlike any other they've experienced.
I dropped to my knees
In that field on your Daddy's farm
Asked you to marry me
All I had to give was my heart
While other kids were divin' in the swimming holes
You and me dove off into the great unknown
We were barely getting by taking care of each other
And I became a daddy
You became a mother
It was an uphill battle nearly every day
Looking back I wouldn't have it any other way
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things will come and go
But love never will
Oh, I'm proud, I'm proud of the house we built
Still working our way through the land of milk and honey
At the end of the day there's always more bills than money
I close my eyes at night and I still feel
The same fire in my heart out in that field
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things will come and go
But love never will
I'm proud, Oh, I'm proud of the house we built
Oh, look at us together
Oh, we've come such a long, long way
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things come and go
But love never will
I'm proud,
Yeah, I'm proud of the house we built
.
On November 18, 1939, they eloped to get married in Peacock, Texas. What's more amazing is that they came back home and kept it a secret for about a year! Makes me feel better about some of my teenage antics!
My dad was 19, my mom 18. They both grew up in Stonewall County, about 50 miles north of Abilene, Texas. Both were members of relatively poor farming families who, as children of the Depression, struggled to wrestle a living out of the red, dry dirt of that part of Texas. Cotton, cattle, wheat, feed grasses--that was their life.
After the War, they moved to Des Moines, Iowa seeking a better life economically. Then, they relocated to Spokane, Washington where my father worked for the county as a purchasing agent. I was born there after they'd been married a little over 10 years.
We returned to Texas in 1953. My dad worked as City Secretary (much like City Manager) for the little town of Richardson until 1959 when he joined a private real estate development firm that literally developed almost the entire the west side of Richardson. Until his very recent health problems, he was still going to the office one day a week to handle some company investments and to "help out" with things.
My mom was fortunate to be a "stay-at-home" mother. She kept things running smoothly in our home. My dad worked very hard. They both taught me what it meant to be a decent person in a world of difficulty and joy. They have always been sensitive to and concerned about the lives and status of laboring people and the poor. They taught me that every person deserved my respect without regard to possessions or the artificiall status that wealth tends to manufacture.
They have been members of the Richardson East Church of Christ (where I served as minister for 14 years) since 1961. They evidence this staying power in regard to just about everything they find to do.
They have what seems like a million friends!
They certainly found a way to make their marriage work. My observation across the years tells me that the keys for them were daily give and take, a willingness to listen, mutual respect, clear commitment, enduring romance and practical love.
Two young kids, some would say, foolishly running off to get married without their parents' approval. They sure have done well for themselves and for me and my family and so many friends who've enjoyed watching them make a great life together.
This anniversary will be unlike any other they've experienced.
They will be apart.
My dad is still in skilled nursing--he is very ill. My mom at their apartment home. We'll get them together for a little celebration later today. I know it won't be exactly what they would prefer, but the love will still be there, and the joy in each other's company.
Sixty-eight years is a long time.
Congratulations, mom and dad. We love you both.
As I consider the blessing they've been to me, it strikes me that the new country hit by Brooks and Dunn, "Proud of the House We Built," pretty well sums up the life they've enjoyed together.
My dad is still in skilled nursing--he is very ill. My mom at their apartment home. We'll get them together for a little celebration later today. I know it won't be exactly what they would prefer, but the love will still be there, and the joy in each other's company.
Sixty-eight years is a long time.
Congratulations, mom and dad. We love you both.
As I consider the blessing they've been to me, it strikes me that the new country hit by Brooks and Dunn, "Proud of the House We Built," pretty well sums up the life they've enjoyed together.
I dropped to my knees
In that field on your Daddy's farm
Asked you to marry me
All I had to give was my heart
While other kids were divin' in the swimming holes
You and me dove off into the great unknown
We were barely getting by taking care of each other
And I became a daddy
You became a mother
It was an uphill battle nearly every day
Looking back I wouldn't have it any other way
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things will come and go
But love never will
Oh, I'm proud, I'm proud of the house we built
Still working our way through the land of milk and honey
At the end of the day there's always more bills than money
I close my eyes at night and I still feel
The same fire in my heart out in that field
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things will come and go
But love never will
I'm proud, Oh, I'm proud of the house we built
Oh, look at us together
Oh, we've come such a long, long way
I'm proud of the house we built
It's stronger than sticks, stones, and steel
It's not a big place sitting up high on some hill
Lot of things come and go
But love never will
I'm proud,
Yeah, I'm proud of the house we built
.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Considering the circumstances of my demise
No one who believes in life can choose the details of his or her ending.
My parents continue to teach me about the tough reality of growing old. Movement to life's end can be halting, harsh, humbling, humorous and, at times, horrible.
So, I find myself working on a check list of hopes relative to the conclusion of my own journey. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1) I hope I live fully until the last minute, sixty seconds after which I long to fall over dead and gone. Then, let the party begin! I am currently working on a list of friends who will be invited to tell jokes on me at my funeral, that is, if they can rise from their own wheelchairs.
2) I hope to be delivered from long stints in unfamiliar and dangerous hospital beds where the floors around are always too slick for common sense, weak legs and distended bladders. I suppose bugs in the rugs are more of a threat than broken bones on the linoleum.
3) I hope never to be "delivered" to any "skilled nursing center"--since I now know that is simply code for "nursing home."
4) I hope never to be "roomies" with anyone who doesn't remember his name or who insists on singing off key all night long.
5) I hope when someone says to me with a stupid grin, "Well, I bet you have seen lots of changes," that I have the good sense to say, "Well, not nearly enough!"
6) I hope I never need a pill box to keep all the meds straight, morning and night, that I can't keep up with in my head.
7) I hope, if I have to have doctors, that they will have the good sense to talk to one another, at least occasionally.
8) I hope I never end up on some chaplain's list for "rounds" and prayers that I haven't asked for. Why does that line, "May I say a prayer for you?" always make me angry?
9) I hope my running buddy, Dan and my development partner, John and my long-time friends, Edd and Randy, as well as others I won't list here, come by to see me just because they want to and not because they feel obligated. I also hope they sneak in hamburgers and milk shakes!
10) I hope I get sweeter and softer--however, I fear I'm already headed in the opposite direction!
11) I hope I'll be able to communicate to my children, grandchildren and, if I live long enough, great grandchildren just how much I love them in a manner that will make them laugh and understand deeply without feeling any embarrassment.
12) I hope I remember my name, at least every now and again.
13) I hope I'll keep up with technology so that whatever is coming after my laptop will be something I use daily. I hope I can think clearly enough to write something or someone every day.
14) I hope I still read the box scores during baseball season. I hope I can get out to a game or two or 10 every year.
15) I hope that I die before I leave the battle I most believe in.
16) I hope, even if I am forced to sit down, that I never give up.
17) I hope I don't outlive those I love the most.
I'll keep working on this list. You got one?
.
My parents continue to teach me about the tough reality of growing old. Movement to life's end can be halting, harsh, humbling, humorous and, at times, horrible.
So, I find myself working on a check list of hopes relative to the conclusion of my own journey. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1) I hope I live fully until the last minute, sixty seconds after which I long to fall over dead and gone. Then, let the party begin! I am currently working on a list of friends who will be invited to tell jokes on me at my funeral, that is, if they can rise from their own wheelchairs.
2) I hope to be delivered from long stints in unfamiliar and dangerous hospital beds where the floors around are always too slick for common sense, weak legs and distended bladders. I suppose bugs in the rugs are more of a threat than broken bones on the linoleum.
3) I hope never to be "delivered" to any "skilled nursing center"--since I now know that is simply code for "nursing home."
4) I hope never to be "roomies" with anyone who doesn't remember his name or who insists on singing off key all night long.
5) I hope when someone says to me with a stupid grin, "Well, I bet you have seen lots of changes," that I have the good sense to say, "Well, not nearly enough!"
6) I hope I never need a pill box to keep all the meds straight, morning and night, that I can't keep up with in my head.
7) I hope, if I have to have doctors, that they will have the good sense to talk to one another, at least occasionally.
8) I hope I never end up on some chaplain's list for "rounds" and prayers that I haven't asked for. Why does that line, "May I say a prayer for you?" always make me angry?
9) I hope my running buddy, Dan and my development partner, John and my long-time friends, Edd and Randy, as well as others I won't list here, come by to see me just because they want to and not because they feel obligated. I also hope they sneak in hamburgers and milk shakes!
10) I hope I get sweeter and softer--however, I fear I'm already headed in the opposite direction!
11) I hope I'll be able to communicate to my children, grandchildren and, if I live long enough, great grandchildren just how much I love them in a manner that will make them laugh and understand deeply without feeling any embarrassment.
12) I hope I remember my name, at least every now and again.
13) I hope I'll keep up with technology so that whatever is coming after my laptop will be something I use daily. I hope I can think clearly enough to write something or someone every day.
14) I hope I still read the box scores during baseball season. I hope I can get out to a game or two or 10 every year.
15) I hope that I die before I leave the battle I most believe in.
16) I hope, even if I am forced to sit down, that I never give up.
17) I hope I don't outlive those I love the most.
I'll keep working on this list. You got one?
.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Biggio
Last Tuesday, after twenty years in the game, Houston Astros second baseman, Craig Biggio announced his retirement at the end of this season.
His speech was filled with uncharacteristic emotion, even tears. He thanked everyone on his long list, but the heart of his statement was all about his family and about getting to be more involved with them.
The articles that filled the Houston Chronicle last Wednesday morning are all worth reading (http://www.chron.com/), actually whether you love the game or not.
"B-G-O," as the Houston fans shout to him during home games, has been a special player--a cornerstone talent with a giant work ethic and a heart to more than match. In a day when the NBA is in turmoil thanks to a basketball official shaves points to cover bets, a professional football star gets caught up in a cruel dog fighting enterprise, and lots of other baseball stars "jack up" their game with the help of steroids, Biggio represents the best of professional sports--a very different sort of player. No wonder the fans love him.
Tuesday night was incredible--that's how it turned out--just incredible.
Coming to back in the bottom of the sixth inning, with two outs, the bases loaded and tied with the Los Angeles Dodgers 3-3, Biggio ripped the first pitch from right-hander Rudy Seanez six rows up into the left field seats, known as Crawford Boxes.
Grand slam!
Talk about a magic moment.
From now on when people ask why I love baseball so much, I will tell them this story. It's what the game is all about--moments like last Tuesday evening. . .and the twenty years leading up to it.
His speech was filled with uncharacteristic emotion, even tears. He thanked everyone on his long list, but the heart of his statement was all about his family and about getting to be more involved with them.
The articles that filled the Houston Chronicle last Wednesday morning are all worth reading (http://www.chron.com/), actually whether you love the game or not.
"B-G-O," as the Houston fans shout to him during home games, has been a special player--a cornerstone talent with a giant work ethic and a heart to more than match. In a day when the NBA is in turmoil thanks to a basketball official shaves points to cover bets, a professional football star gets caught up in a cruel dog fighting enterprise, and lots of other baseball stars "jack up" their game with the help of steroids, Biggio represents the best of professional sports--a very different sort of player. No wonder the fans love him.
Tuesday night was incredible--that's how it turned out--just incredible.
Coming to back in the bottom of the sixth inning, with two outs, the bases loaded and tied with the Los Angeles Dodgers 3-3, Biggio ripped the first pitch from right-hander Rudy Seanez six rows up into the left field seats, known as Crawford Boxes.
Grand slam!
Talk about a magic moment.
From now on when people ask why I love baseball so much, I will tell them this story. It's what the game is all about--moments like last Tuesday evening. . .and the twenty years leading up to it.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Dads
In a game against the Colorado Rockies, on June 28, 2007, Houston Astros' Craig Biggio became the 27th player in Major League Baseball history to pound out his 3,000 career hit. The record hit came in the 7th inning of the game.What caught my attention after his major accomplishment was a dugout photo, published in ESPN Magazine (July 16, 2007, page 20), of Biggio kissing his son, Conor, who serves as an Astros' batboy. I haven't been able to find that particular shot online. It is a classic.
Biggio has always been a great player with lots of heart, hustle and class, at least in my opinion.
But, photos following his 3,000th hit made it very clear that he enjoys a powerful relationship with his family. Conor; his daughter, Quinn; and his wife are all involved at the moment of his triumph. The photos included here, all shot by AP photographer David J. Phillip, document the sort of dad Biggio tries to be.
One thing I've learned in every community where I've lived and worked: kids need dads who care and who aren't afraid to make their love, care, commitment and concern known again and again. . . to the child.
But, it goes beyond the family.
Communities need fathers who care and who love their kids.
Need some proof? Ask a teacher or a police officer or a retailer or a community organizer.
Community health depends on strong fathers.
Suburbs.
Inner city.
Rural villages.
The nature of the geography or the demographics doesn't much matter. The needs and effects are the same.
Dads who love their families are prerequisite for thriving communities.
I suppose I am so sensitive to this reality because I've seen and known so many children and so many communities whose dads have let them down.
The reasons are important, and sometimes complex, often sad or maddening. But, the reasons don't matter much right here.
The facts are clear.
Dads need to step up the plate. They need to stay in the game. They cannot quit.
When committed to the joy of loving their kids, fathers will be champs with outcomes much more significant than 3,000 career major league hits! What we're talking here is "hall of fame" performance. . .day-by-day.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Owen James
Owen James Frazer entered my world one year ago today!As a result, May 7, 2006 will always be one of the very best days of my entire life!
From the first moment that I saw him, Owen drilled into my heart and carried me away, just like his two older cousins.
He reaffirms for me the amazing truth that no matter how many grandchildren you have, each one of them gets all of your love!
He reaffirms for me the amazing truth that no matter how many grandchildren you have, each one of them gets all of your love!
Owen is my third, and what an amazing and special little fellow he is.
Well, not so "little," actually.
At one-year-old today, Owen is almost three feet tall and weighs in at around 30 pounds! Talk about a "squeezable" little bundle of love!
Isn't it amazing how every child is different, their own unique person from the moment they arrive?
Owen is physically strong and big for his age. He has a gentle spirit and an extremely calm soul about him.
He can be as serious as a judge, as he carefully observes his world!
He can also laugh with cut-loose joy and hilarity when we tickle him or sing to him or play with him.
He can be as serious as a judge, as he carefully observes his world!
He can also laugh with cut-loose joy and hilarity when we tickle him or sing to him or play with him.
He reminds me of both of his parents.
He loves balls and toys and Einstein videos and dogs and Taco, the cat.
He's always excited when his dad comes home from work and he always seems glad to fall into my arms. And, he waves his arms when he sees me and he's even started to share my granddad growl that both of my grandsons seem to understand instinctively. Gracie just laughs at me and says, "Oh, Granddad! You're silly!" The boys growl back.
He's always excited when his dad comes home from work and he always seems glad to fall into my arms. And, he waves his arms when he sees me and he's even started to share my granddad growl that both of my grandsons seem to understand instinctively. Gracie just laughs at me and says, "Oh, Granddad! You're silly!" The boys growl back.
He started walking this week. . .it would probably be good for the walking part if we would all just put him down more often, but everyone fights to hold him!
He has been a "good baby" since he got here, whatever exactly that means! I think it has to do with crying and sleeping, etc. You know, parent concern sort of matters that relate to ease of care and hours of night time sleep! Everyone who really understands the meaning always seems to say this. And, I certainly agree, he is a good baby.
Like his granddad, he loves a good meal and good company.
Owen has no way to understand how much I love him, though I know he gets part of the story already. I'll spend the rest of my life letting him know how important he is to me and just how deep my love really is. It has no limits.
Grandchildren remind me of how much I love their parents. They also reveal what life is supposed to be.
Nothing is better.
Happy birthday, Owen!
Granddad loves you, boy!
Monday, April 02, 2007
Wyatt James
April 2, 2004 stands out among a handful of days that I rank as "the best" and "the happiest" in my life so far.
Three years ago today, Wyatt James Toombs found his way into the world and, he too, went straight for his granddad's heart!
During a good bit of the first year of his life, Wyatt and his family lived in New Braunfels, Texas. As a result, I didn't get to spend much time with him until his family moved back to Dallas about two years ago when he was a bit less than a year old. Since then, I've tried to make up for lost time!
Wyatt is amazing.
Active beyond words, possessing a bit of a quick temper and a highly competitive spirit, Wyatt has a tender heart and a deep reservoir of emotional energy. He will grow up to be a sensitive man with lots of passion, I expect.
Already he loves tools and trucks and trains and action! He can be so very funny!
He displays the ability to really connect with people. He is a charming little dude!
Like his big sister, Wyatt can slow me down in a heartbeat.
"Come on, granddad! Let's go upstairs and see my trains. Percy needs a battery," he calls out to me, as he leads up up the stairs, flying ahead of me because he knows I will come every time.
Or, "Granddad, where are you?"
Talk about automatic and on-going self-inventory!
And, like his sister, he teaches me what life is really all about. Purpose, direction, meaning, hope, laughter, surprise and joy are all wrapped up for me in getting to be his granddad.
He cannot know today how much I love him, though I tell him every time we are together. I hope I live long enough for him to know the full extent of my love.
Today is hard for me because I find myself out-of-town on business. Even though we have a big family party planned for Wyatt and Gracie next weekend, this afternoon I'll miss his party with his friends at "Pump-It-Up."
I can just hear him telling me again, "Granddad, I can jump a lot and I can go down the big slide!"
I hope I don't miss another birthday party. I know I'll be trying not to from here on out.
Happy Birthday, Wyatt!
Granddad loves you!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Gracie Bea
March 31, 2002, five years ago today ranks as one of the very best and happiest days of my entire life.
It was on that very special day that Gracie Bea Toombs made her way into the world and right into my heart.
It is difficult to realize that she is already five-years-old, but she is. If you don't believe it, just ask her!
Gracie teaches me many things, among the best lessons so far is this understanding that life flies past and that you have to be intentional about the moments. I don't always do so well with this truth, but every time I stop to be with her or every time she shares time with me, I always feel better, more alive and in touch with what matters most in life.
Gracie's namesake was her great-grandmother, Bea Moore Erwin. Gracie shares in the richness of her great-grandmother's spirit and love. Bea died before Gracie was born, but I have this feeling they know each other.
She has a wisdom about her beyond her years, a focus, a joy, a curiosity and a built-in sense of adventure and playfulness that makes me feel much younger than I am. I expect this is the plan God has for grandchildren and grandparents. This plan makes me very, very glad.
Gracie is fun and funny! She is smart and sensitive. She cares and she loves.
Nothing is more satisfying than simply watching her in the ordinary moments.
Gracie has no way of understanding just how much she is loved by her granddad. Maybe someday she will.
I know today is special to her mom and dad--and, her brother is working on it!
Of course, there is a reason for all of this. Plain and simple, it is all about love, commitment and being fully, hilariously, outrageously, wonderfully human!
I see everything that is good and hopeful and eternal about life in this one little girl.
She makes me grateful that I have lived.
Happy Birthday, Gracie Bea!
Granddad loves you!
It was on that very special day that Gracie Bea Toombs made her way into the world and right into my heart.
It is difficult to realize that she is already five-years-old, but she is. If you don't believe it, just ask her!
Gracie teaches me many things, among the best lessons so far is this understanding that life flies past and that you have to be intentional about the moments. I don't always do so well with this truth, but every time I stop to be with her or every time she shares time with me, I always feel better, more alive and in touch with what matters most in life.
Gracie's namesake was her great-grandmother, Bea Moore Erwin. Gracie shares in the richness of her great-grandmother's spirit and love. Bea died before Gracie was born, but I have this feeling they know each other.
She has a wisdom about her beyond her years, a focus, a joy, a curiosity and a built-in sense of adventure and playfulness that makes me feel much younger than I am. I expect this is the plan God has for grandchildren and grandparents. This plan makes me very, very glad.
Gracie is fun and funny! She is smart and sensitive. She cares and she loves.
Nothing is more satisfying than simply watching her in the ordinary moments.
Gracie has no way of understanding just how much she is loved by her granddad. Maybe someday she will.
I know today is special to her mom and dad--and, her brother is working on it!
Of course, there is a reason for all of this. Plain and simple, it is all about love, commitment and being fully, hilariously, outrageously, wonderfully human!
I see everything that is good and hopeful and eternal about life in this one little girl.
She makes me grateful that I have lived.
Happy Birthday, Gracie Bea!
Granddad loves you!
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