I was on the freeway when I received the call. I was about three quarters of the way through my morning commute, and in the middle of a teleconference. I couldn’t tell who it was…the caller ID displayed my office phone, which had forwarded the call. I almost ignored it and sent it to voice mail, but I just had that feeling. I knew I had to answer the phone. I could feel my body tense up as I pressed the answer key. I said hello… the caller identified herself, and began to state the nature of her call. She said my son’s name… I am not certain I breathed again for the next 10 minutes. My head was in a fog… I felt physical pain, like I’d been trampled and kicked by horses. I vacillated between rage and despair; consumed by fear for the future of our child. I somehow managed to conduct the conversation and navigate across several lanes of traffic towards an offramp while I slowly felt slip the grip I thought I held on my world and my reality. Bleary-eyed and shaken, I turned the car around and headed towards home. Read more…
I can remember moments in my childhood when I was doing some bizarre thing or another and I would happen to catch my parents watching me. They wouldn’t say anything; maybe chuckle or smile. I’d ask “what?” but they’d never reply. They would just have that look. I now understand that thoughtful gaze. I look at my boys the same way sometimes and I just think, “Wow… What lies ahead?” I wonder what paths they will choose…who they will become… what kind of lives they will lead… but most often, I wonder what fire will burn deep inside of them. What will be the thing that drives them? What will be their great passions in life?… Will they pursue them?
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Dillon resigned as my illustrator the other day. He said he was retiring, getting out of the game… or something like that. He’d gone through about 5 pages of illustrations, and the mood suddenly left him. He was tired of carrying the weight of the team…now I’ll have to farm it out somehow. It’s a shame, because they were good pictures too… he translated the activities in the story perfectly and caught the main focus in each section with his renderings. Where am I going to find another illustrator that can bring my words to life like he did? and one who will work for snickerdoodles and pez? Dang child labor laws. Alas, another talent burnt out at an early age.
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I love new years…not so much because they bring an opportunity to start over, but because they add new layers of life and mystery and chance over the trials, lessons, and accomplishments of previous years. There is a certain optimism associated with opening your eyes for the first time on the morning of a new year. Even though I awoke in much the same way the 364 times prior, I had an old feeling of wonder and calm this morning that reminded me it was the dawn (or, more accurately mid morning) of a new year… a new decade. My mind started to churn through the possibilities of what this new era might hold, and Jaden ambled in. Read more…
Ethan knows right from wrong. It has been an interesting few days watching the battle of good vs. evil wage within the mind of this two year old boy. I’ve tried to stay on the sidelines and not interfere too much with his sorting process, but let’s face it… I’ve got a vested interest in seeing this thing turn out the right way. So, I nudge and prod and influence as I can. Enough to guide him, but not so much that he doesn’t feel like the conclusions he is drawing are his own. Manipulation? No way! I like to think of it as actively facilitating the learning process (Okay, I did play the Santa card one time, but it isn’t like you think).
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