All I really wanted to do was go on a little bike ride. I figured we would take the boys to the park and let them play awhile. January evenings in Phoenix can be quite accommodating, so several families were out enjoying the end of another 80 degree day. With all the children and activity, I hardly noticed the little scamp of a canine running around the park…but Ethan did. He and I had seen a couple stray dogs a few days earlier when we were at another neighborhood park. We tried to corral them and locate any identification or contact information for them, but they evaded us. They looked like they had been on the run for a while. Ethan wasn’t too impressed by those dogs… they were fairly large and somewhat aggressive, though not towards him. We talked a little about the kind of dog we should get “one day” and we decided it wouldn’t be a yappy dog or a “jump on you” dog, but outside of those criterion, we didn’t really nail down a description. But, as I was pushing Ethan on the swings and looking around to see what Jaden and Dillon were up to, Ethan made a comment that I dismissed. “That’s the kind of dog we want daddy” he told me as he watched the little black dog run across the park. “I will pet it. That is a good dog.” I watched the dog scamper away from the children pursuing it and told him something about maybe trying to pet the dog once he was done swinging. He was fine with that and did not mention it again.

I took a look at the dog as Ethan and I walked over to the slides. It was scraggly and small. This was not the kind of dog I was interested in having. I’ve imagined our family dog on several occasions, and in no scenario did the dog resemble this one. I shook my head. Poor dog. Running around looking haggard and hungry. Many of the children attempted to play with it, but it wouldn’t let anyone close. I don’t know what made Ethan think that was the kind of dog he would want to pet, let alone have to keep… I let it go. We played a while longer…the little stray dog blended into the background and out of my mind. And then came the Fruit Loop.

I walked in the direction of the scruffy little pup and tried to formulate my capture plan. I figured I would get down low and offer the treat and then grab the collar to check for some contact information. Then I noticed the collar… it was brown leather with white rhinestones in the shape of doggy bones… seriously? This was certainly not the kind of dog we were going to get. I ran back through my arguments for getting a pit bull… or at least a lab. There had to be a way to sell Kendra on the idea.

The little sparkly collar dog was not the least bit interested in my cereal bait. I tried a couple more times and was ready to give up. The dog started running off to the other end of the park. Then the little girl upped the pressure. She started walking after the bedazzled mongrel and her little sister followed suit. They both looked back at me as they pressed on. “I think her name is ‘Mercedes’. I saw her collar earlier and I think that was her name.” I began to walk slowly with them as I tried to let the dog build a head start. “Mercedes”? Please.

I kept the dog in my vision but allowed it to gain ground ahead of us. I didn’t want to play chase all night, but I also didn’t want the dog to get hurt. Traffic around the park was picking up, and the little import was getting close to the streets. “I hope she don’t get hit by a ca-ah”. The little sister played the guilt card. I picked up my pace a little. Little sister broke out the “ca-ah” line again, but this time she choked a little bit and leaned into her big sister. I knew I wasn’t leaving that park without knowing that dog was safe somewhere. I have never felt more relieved that I did not have little girls than I did at that moment. I would be a mess.

The dog stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and we were able to catch up to her. I tried the Fruit Loop again. This time, she darted into the street. Great. Now cars were stopping in either direction as this little black dog with the sparkly boned collar played Frogger and weaved between and beneath the cars. I gave chase and directed traffic under the close supervision of the worried sisters. Finally, the chase ended as an unsuspecting motorist stopped her car to make sure she didn’t hit the dog. As she stepped out of her vehicle to see where the pup went, the dog jumped into the car and under the feet of the woman’s son who was riding in the passenger seat. Another driver stopped to help us as we tried to coax the dog out of the car, but it was of no use. We were able to locate a phone number on the dog collar, but when I placed a call, it went straight to voicemail.

One of the ladies remarked that she had seen this dog running the streets in the area for at least a week. I left a message on the voicemail and we stood around waiting for one of us to volunteer to take the dog home while we waited to hear from the owners.  I was not in a hurry to volunteer to take the dog home. Kendra is allergic to most dogs, and tiny dogs named Mercedes wearing jewel encrusted collars were not really my style…but we had to do something. I figured maybe I would keep her in the backyard until we straightened things out with her owners. Poor thing. At least it would be safe.

So, the lady followed me and Jaden home (we rode our bikes; she drove slowly behind), and we got the dog into the backyard. Jaden made a friend with the little boy while his mom and I got the dog situated in the backyard. We left Logan in charge of the dog. I placed another phone call and left another message, then we drove back to pick up Kendra and the other boys. It was getting dark.

The sisters walked by with their mom as we loaded up the bikes. I let them know we had the dog safely in our backyard. Fruit Loop looked up at me. “I saw another dog running around on the other side of the park”. I averted my eyes. I could not be sucked in again. “I think I caught my limit today”. I ducked my head and hurried to the driver side door. I glanced around but didn’t see any other dogs. Whew.

The plan was to let the dog stay in the backyard as we hunted down her owners. I placed calls. I left messages. We looked on websites. We drove through neighborhoods looking for postings. Nothing. I left a final message begging the people to call me back. I let them know I couldn’t keep the dog and that I would have no choice but to take her to a shelter the next day. That was the plan. But it was getting cold…and the dog had been through so much…and she really was a good dog. She loved the boys. She warmed up to them right away. She didn’t yap. She didn’t jump on Ethan. She was a great dog.

We put out a blanket and let her come inside. We borrowed some dog food, some shampoo, and a brush from some friends. She needed to eat, and she needed a bath. We couldn’t put her back outside after a bath. She would freeze. I figured she would sleep in the laundry room, but she was so good that it would probably be okay if she just slept downstairs on her blanket. We had to address the dog in some way…but I could not bring myself to call her Mercedes. Kendra had the perfect compromise – Sadie. It sounded close enough so the dog might find it familiar. We tried it. It worked. Sadie it is.

We warned the kids before bed…if the owners call or we get a hold of them, we would have to give her back. They said they understood. They tried to keep their distance emotionally. But as they headed to bed, Dillon looked at me and said, “I do think she’s happy here though”. She did seem happy. She is a good dog.

I realized around 1am that I could not find the dog. Kendra joined me as I searched. We poked through Logan’s room (his was the only other bedroom door that was open). He looked up at us to inquire as to our activities. We told him we were looking for the dog. “You already lost the dog you just found?” Go back to sleep. I went back downstairs. Kendra went back into our room. “A-ha!” Kendra found her. She had curled up under our bed.

In the morning, Sadie would not come out from under the bed. I coaxed and called. Nothing. Then, when the boys came in they knelt beside the bed and called her. Out she came. Please don’t call…please don’t call.

We took Sadie to get checked out and ended up making some appointments for shots and grooming. The lady says she is some type of Terrier mix (I called that one) and that she is the kind of dog that has ‘hair’ instead of ‘fur’… the kind of dog that Kendra is not allergic to. Please don’t call…please don’t call!

The phone never rang. The boys have all but assumed total ownership of Sadie now. Jaden and Dillon tried to fight back smiles as they went to bed tonight knowing they would wake up tomorrow and see Sadie’s little black tail wagging in delight. They are in love with this dog… and I don’t think she’s too bad either.

We did get her a new collar…and a leash… and a food dish and a place mat and a frisbee…just in case she stays a while. I never saw it coming. But sometimes the places life takes us unexpectedly are far superior to the places we plan to go.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

Right now I am remembering the days when our babies were small enough to stand on our laps and play. When they tried to balance on wobbly legs as they reached out to touch our faces…. maybe pinch a cheek or grab the nose. When they were all drool and wide eyes soaking up the world behind angelic faces and mops of hair. Right now the little girl is back to her bottle, and mom is probably thinking she is looking forward to getting her off of that thing one day. And she probably means it. Right now.

Right now the baby has a grasp on mommy’s wrist with one hand, and mommy’s thumb with the other. She is enjoying the bottle and drifting off to sleep. Off to dream baby dreams and enjoy her place on mommy’s lap, where she fits so comfortably. Right now. And I miss my boys. And I remember watching Kendra hold them for the first time. And I remember Logan calling me “dad” for the first time. And I remember knowing my life had changed so much for the better. I am so proud of all our sons and their development in life so far. I just sometimes wish I could go back and hold on to those moments… hold on to them… instead of just holding on to memories…. like right now.

Right now Logan is almost done with his first day of high school. Jaden and Dillon are now second-graders. Right now this mom is several years away from having to deal with saying those good-byes. Right now she won’t have to worry about planning the right things to say, but somehow getting caught up in the rush of a morning and not quite getting the right words out in just the right way. She won’t have to worry if they all went off into their new environments armed with the message she hoped to deliver….not right now.

Right now the little girl has fought off sleep. She is rubbing her eyes and picking at a new wafer. Mom is yawning. Right now she’d probably like them both to get some rest. But right now she is enjoying her daughter. Maybe she realizes how quickly all this will pass. Maybe she understands how much she will appreciate this moment some day. Maybe she realizes she is sitting among other parents who would give anything to hold their babies in their laps again… or have their children with them on this flight. Right now.

Baby has droopy eyes. Sleep will have its victory soon. But she is managing to smile through it right now. Logan and Jaden and Dillon are off facing new challenges and learning to handle their new experiences. They are focused on the events of their days. But as they go, whether they realize it or not, they remain in my and Kendra’s hearts and minds. Not only today, but every day…. and especially right now.

Thanks for coming along for the ride….

Kiss your kids

I was sitting one evening at the kitchen table  following up on emails and checking data when I got the call from the living room. Jaden and Dillon were lying on the floor about to watch a show, and Jaden gave the order. He popped up from in front of the couch and gave the patented furrowed brow, lowered head, raised eyed-scowl and stated firmly, “Dad, stop working!” Well then. I knew this was no time to argue. I took my place on the floor and ultimately lost myself in their world of imagination and goofiness. I love that they will call me out when I’m spending too much time on things that matter too little. I hope that they continue to care enough to do it… but more importantly, I am working to keep it in mind enough so they don’t have to. In order to assist myself to that end, I decided to add a sub list to number 10 so I can be mindful of the things that help make the time the time worth spending…

10a. building Legos… watching their minds work as they contemplate new creations, seeing the breakthrough moments, helping them apply different approaches to building, and seeing the pride in their accomplishments…fantastic

10b. playing Wii… the new Super Mario Bros. is an addiction (but not the cause of my hiatus). working with Logan, Jaden, and Dillon to conquer the levels and locate the secret passages provides many opportunities for providing constructive support and demonstrating patience with one another… i used the word “opportunities”, we have some work to do (myself included). Wii boxing with Jaden (nasty right hook); Wii baseball with Dillon (still can’t hit his sinker); Guitar Heroes with Logan (loves to show his skills on “Story of my life”); and Ethan, he is still at the age where he is fairly content holding the controller while we convince him he is either helping us out or is playing the role of an uncontrollable character in the game (e.g. Red Toad in Super Mario)

10c. reading books… Ethan is a Sandra Boynton fanatic, as were his brothers before him… and i cannot recall a day in the past few weeks where either Kendra or i (or both several times) have not read “A fly went by” to him. he gets so involved; acting out the words or chiming in on his favorite parts… it is always an active event. 

10d. talking… love to hear their thoughts on anything. they all have brilliant minds.

10e. vacations…they are great road trippers… even when i added 2 hours to our return trip from San Diego because i went on a snipe hunt to find them a funnel cake stand (which we never found) and then missed our exit to the freeway because we were too busy talking about how insane it was that we drove all over the city only to find an abandoned office in an industrial park that looked like it might have been the headquarters of a funnel cake company at one time. but on the plus side, they did get to see Mexico, or at least they would have if they had looked up from their video games. 

10f. anything…doing anything with them, even if it’s doing nothing, is time well spent. Got to love that face time…

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

Kendra and I were floored… this was our first confrontation with this type of situation, and it really hit us out of nowhere (as these things do). We needed to react, but we needed our reaction to be appropriate to the circumstance. Fortunately, we had a little time to discuss our approach and gain some perspective rather than needing to follow through with our initial emotional responses. We started to focus on the potential reason’s why this event happened rather than just the event itself. We began to realize that we were dealing with the actions and decisions of a 14 year old boy, and all the confusion, clumsiness, and insecurities that accompany that. We realized that this was an opportunity for an awakening… for a lesson in accountability…an eye-opening opportunity for growth.  It brought to mind one of my own “wake-up” events. I remembered feeling alone and out of control… that no one would understand… that there would be no way back to redemption. We didn’t want to introduce hopelessness to the situation, so when I met with Logan, one of the first things I did was tell him my story.

I was about his same age… It was summertime in Albuquerque and my friend Marque and I were bored. We were lazing around his apartment when the notion struck us to visit our friend Eric. He didn’t live too far away, but the walk to his house was all uphill and it was very warm that afternoon. We thought about riding our bikes, but the same conditions made riding an unattractive option. Eventually, one of us brought up the idea of taking Marque’s mother’s car. She was upstairs asleep since she worked nights, and wouldn’t need the car. Marque was 16 and a licensed driver. I was 14 and had logged several hours at TNT Go-Carts… not exactly the same thing. But, I wanted to be cool and pull into Eric’s driveway behind the wheel. So I begged Marque to let me drive. He didn’t want any of his neighbors to see me pulling his mom’s car out, so he agreed to pull over and let me drive once we got to the park (City View).  Yep, here we go.

The streets east of the park get fairly steep, and I was having trouble keeping the speed of the car consistent. I started to mash the accelerator to prevent the urk and jerk motion, but failed to release it when I took the final left and right turns of that voyage. A family was crossing the street a few houses up the block. I was coming around the turn pretty quickly, and I panicked. I pulled the wheel hard to the right, lifted my foot off the gas, and mashed down as hard as I could on what I thought would be the brakes. It wasn’t the brakes.

We sped toward the curb; then up the curb and through some hedges; then onto the lawn and toward the house. The people looking out their front window looked about as surprised as I was to see us barreling toward them. Somehow, we stopped. I remember lifting my feet up after we went over the curb, but I’m not sure how me finally came to a stop. I think Marque might have slid across the bench seat to step on the brakes. I just remember feeling foolish and not knowing what to say.  One of the residents came flying out of the house and was banging on my window. He was screaming something, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I rolled the window down and kept staring ahead. I remember him reaching in the car and turning off the engine.

The police came. I remember the homeowner being very upset and wanting to know what charges he could press. He was screaming and being very animated, and I remember looking at the house next door and realizing where I was and thinking, “Oh yeah, Vicky Roe lives there. Damn.”, as they were putting me in the back of the police car. I have never felt more cut off from the world… and the humiliation of having your friends seeing you like that… that lingers.

Eventually, Marque got to take his mom’s car home, and somehow word got to my friend Jay who drove by on his motorcycle and gave me a ride back home. The souvenirs from my trip? A $180.00 ticket, a promise of a follow-up call to my home regarding the damage to the property, and 6 points off of a driver’s license that I didn’t yet possess. I could’ve taken out a family, I put my friend in a bad position with his mother, could’ve damaged her car severely, ruined someone’s yard, got a ticket I couldn’t pay, and became an insurance liability for my parents before they even needed to have me on the coverage. The outlook was bleak.

I went to my brother, as I tended to do when I found myself in precarious situations, but the remedy for this one fell directly on me. He helped me come to terms with the fact I had to man up and come clean and face whatever music was in the cards.  I had an uncomfortable conversation with my dad that evening when he came home from work. Things were pretty day-to-day for the next few weeks. But, I paid my consequences and worked off my debts, and eventually, I saw the opportunity to grow that was wrapped around that situation. Our hope for Logan was to shorten the distance between the event and the realization of the opportunity. He has fences to mend and he has consequences to reap. But I am hoping the understanding that I am familiar with his path and that I understand where he is coming from will keep him from feeling isolated and strange through all this. The remedies we’ve designed should help address why he did what he did…and we are here to support him through it all.

So, we will see… I had to hit snooze a few times before I finally heard the alarm clearly. Let’s hope this tune rings loudly.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

We spent the holiday on Monday running around together. And as I watched the boys and searched their actions for any hints or signs of internal fire, I contemplated the great many contributions of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I asked myself “What if he didn’t share his dream? What if he hadn’t heeded the call to service and followed the convictions of his heart?” There were way too many possibilities for me to fully explore… I was just certain that the absence of his patience and diplomacy; his strength and courage; and his vision and hope during that important time would have drastically affected the civil rights movement. The echoes of his work and his inspiration have circled the globe several times over. Could someone else have carried that torch? Might other groups or individuals have surfaced at later points that could have put us back on or near the path he blazed? Maybe, maybe not; of course it’s impossible to say. I can’t fully imagine the world had he not followed his heart; I can only say I am glad to know the reality that exists today because he did. And as I contemplated the prospect of Dr. King not following his fire, I began to run through the same exercise with other prominent figures in history and the potential bleakness that might have been…then on to a smaller scale…to me; to my sons.

I believe we all have God-given talents and abilities. I don’t know that they are always revealed in ways we expect or at times we find convenient. They may not be the talents or gifts we would have preferred to receive or any that we find immediately useful…but they are what they need to be, and at times they may even be intended to serve others rather than ourselves. God lights fires within us to do certain things or to walk certain paths…call it passion; call it heart; call it drive… however you associate with it or relate to it, it is the unquenchable fire that moves you toward a specific goal. Sometimes those fires align with your talents and abilities. Sometimes those fires shine as passion’s bright lights to attract the people with the right talents and abilities to you in order to get things accomplished. So I watch them in hopes of catching a glimpse of a flicker of the flame… to help them recognize it within themselves, and to harness the fire and help to focus and guide it if I can.

Passions and enthusiasms ebb and flow, but once that fire is lit, it remains constantly within when the other interests fade. It can’t be ignored, but it can be denied. I don’t want them to live with the regrets of not following through and wondering what could have been if they had devoted their lives to developing their talents and fueling their fires. Langston Hughes captures the concept in A Dream Deferred. He suggests that even if the “dream” (or fire) can be disregarded, it will remain in some form as a reminder in its “deferred” state…even to the point of explosion; potentially consuming it’s carrier. No… I’d rather they embrace whatever it is at the moment of recognition and hold on tightly down whatever corridors that path takes them. If God lights the fire, He will light the way.

I love to write. I always have. I am drawn to it… it is my fire. I received some advice once…well, several times through many iterations of the same conversation with various parties. It was sound advice. It was simple. It took me a few years to hear it, but I finally heard it.  The conversation(s) went like this:

Me: “I really want to write. I feel like that is what I should be doing.”

Friend: “So write.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand… it’s complicated. I can’t just write. I don’t have a lot of time, I work too much, there’s no money in it, excuse, excuse, excuse…”

Friend: “But, you feel like you have to write? like you should be writing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “Hmm. So write.”

So right. I have to write. I may never make a living writing, but I’ve stopped making excuses for not doing it. I will encourage them to follow whatever their passions describe, and pray they have the courage to stay the course. I am eternally grateful for those conversations and for that message. It is what I will say to my sons when they tell me about their fire. So write. So sing. So cure. So think. So run. So help. So teach. So preach. So heal. So fight. So move… So live.

Thank you for coming along for the ride…

One of the many blessings of having kids in ages from toddler to teenager is having the ever-present reminder that “Dad’s Little Helper”, while a highly prestigious and sought after position early on, quickly becomes the job no one wants to take or hold for very long as the kids grow older. Logan was fantastic as an assistant bicycle mechanic. He was an expert seed thrower and jr. landscape artist. But now… the other day, I asked him to sweep the front walkway because we had people coming over and everyone was tasked with something to help out; he obliged, but I believe the word he used was “exploitation”, or some derivative thereof.

Jaden spent about 20 minutes washing dishes the other day. Both he and Dillon rush to help me pull weeds, hang pictures, fix chairs, and change AC filters. Ethan loves to help empty the dishwasher and help sweep. Dillon and Jaden used to help me make pancakes almost every weekend. Now they just help out every now and then. They’ve passed a lot of the pancake helper opportunities down to Ethan, who is a permanent fixture in the kitchen when I’m making pancakes or when Kendra is baking anything. He is in full blown “Little Helper” mode and is trying to climb that corporate ladder as quickly as his little Pumas will take him. The twins have reached the executive office level and feel like they need to start branching out. They do enjoy being BBQ/Grilling assistants though… I think it’s the lure of the fire. The danger factor plays well with them. They are looking forward to helping me take the Tiger Saw to the Christmas tree.

Yep, these days just fly… I document these things not to brag, but as evidence that these times did indeed exist, because in a few years it may not seem even remotely possible… but also to remind myself not to be impatient or get frustrated by the “help” that I receive, because the help won’t last long. My jr. executives will venture on just as the previous administration did. Ethan will ascend to the high ranks and shortly afterwards, he too will depart. So, it isn’t just the loss of my illustrator, but the eventual vacancies that will exist in all the helper categories that make me want to appreciate every one of the little things they do today.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

I was in one of those hurries the other day… we were heading out for dinner before going into Phoenix to see the Christmas illumination extravaganza known as Zoo Lights. I had a plan, and timing was of the essence. I had figured that we could get to the restaurant and finish before the rush, then arrive at the zoo just after sunset and hopefully beat the mob that would be arriving after dark (I don’t like crowds. At all. It isn’t so much the people, it’s just that there are so many of them… and they get in my way…I digress.) We started out on track… I hustled everyone out of the house right at the desired time. I figured 10-12 minutes to the restaurant door to door and then all the pieces would fall into place. All was well.

Somehow, and I really cannot even recall how this came up, just a few blocks away from the restaurant we discovered that Dillon had forgotten his shoes… Yeah. Frustration began to set in. I could feel my firm grip on the schedule slipping away. I started calculating the time it would take to turn around, drive back home, find his shoes, and then get back to this point of the journey… I figured we’d get stuck at 2/3 of the lights each way. Kendra offered to drop the rest of us off at the restaurant, go back with Dillon to get his shoes, and then return to eat. I declined. It would only add to the slippage of time, too many unknown variables could enter the equation… I made a U-turn.

I sped homeward. The boys were in their respective places: Logan in the 3rd row listening to his iPod and reading; Ethan in the middle of the 2nd row in his car seat chattering; and Jaden and Dillon on either side of him alternately reading and playing with random remains of Happy Meal toys. Dillon extended his stocking-ed toes over the armrest periodically; taunting me with the reminder of the cause of this detour. I maneuvered swiftly through the traffic intent on making up as much time (safely) as I could. I was focused (Now, Kendra might try to argue that I was sulking, but that is just not the case… I was merely reflecting on the recent events and intensely working through a solution in my mind… just for the record).

We arrived home and Kendra hopped out to go find some footwear for Dillon (who was completely unconcerned about having forgotten his shoes). While we sat in the driveway, I kept running through the schedule I had laid out and it began to dawn on me why we were in the car together going out that evening in the first place. Embarrassed, once again, by my behavior, I let go of all my frustration (notice, I did not say, “stop sulking”). I decided to take this as an opportunity to start the trip over again and actually enjoy the time with everyone while we had the night together. Kendra returned with shoes and we were off once again…and that’s when I saw it.

Due North of us, just over the mountains (hills) in our sight line was a descending hot air balloon. It appeared very small at firs and seemed a great distance away. I pointed it out to the boys, and we spent the next several minutes spotting it out of windows as we made our way back toward the restaurant. It was growing larger and clearer in view. It was headed our way. Ethan had never seen one of these in “real life” before. His eyes were open bright and wide as he watched that orb float closer to us. He had an opened mouth grin plastered on his face as he watched in amazement.

The balloon still lied a good distance ahead of us, and it almost appeared that it was going to land in the middle of road we were on. My mind immediately jumped to thoughts of the traffic that would cause, but thankfully those images quickly vanished and were replaced by thoughts of how cool it would be for the boys to be able to get out in that kind of a traffic jam and check out the balloon up close. I was beginning to slow down.

We entered into a largely residential stretch of this boulevard, and trees lined the eastern shoulder. The hot air balloon began to descend quite rapidly and disappeared behind the wall of foliage. “Did it land on someone’s house?” “Did it land in a yard?” We were full of wonder. I slowed my pace as we approached the area the balloon appeared to have landed. Ethan’s eye’s were fixed on Jaden’s window. Jaden and Dillon searched around as we passed by the neighborhood… then a clearing… then, “Balloon! Balloon! Jaden, Balloon! Dillon, Balloon! Logan, Logan… Balloon!” Ethan was awestruck.

This huge checkered balloon had landed in a greenbelt park at the edge of the neighborhood. I slowed down as we passed by. The chase vehicle had already parked and had the trailer ready to load the gondola. We continued on towards dinner; the car full of excitement and conversation. The rest of the night was fantastic. We ate dinner outside in the cool evening air and the boys ran and played on the lawn. We all enjoyed the Zoo Lights, and even ran into some old co-workers there. We saw cool light shows and crazy otters. We saw Komodo Dragons and a talking giraffe… and from what I understand, there was apparently quite a few people there.

Over the next few days Ethan would erupt with a random utterance of“Balloon! High! Balloon!” I would sit and talk him through the entire event again… how we saw it way up high; how it landed in the park outside Jaden’s window; how it was bigger than the houses and the trees. He would stare off as if he was seeing it all over again… nodding slowly as we talked through it. Then he’d look at me and whisper “yeah”.

These are the things that wait for you to take the time to notice them. They are out there to observe everyday. Sometimes we just need the speed bumps in our way to force us to slow down and enjoy what beauty and courage and strength and imagination and whatever else inspires you exists in our everyday walk. I’m beginning to be on the lookout for speed bumps, and in doing so I am slowing myself down enough to notice more of the things I’ve been speeding by. It was an impressive precision landing, and it sparked a lot of great conversation for us about balloons and flying… and it made a lasting impression on Ethan… probably the greatest thrill of his life so far. Which also cemented a trip for us next year to the Balloon Fiesta! All because Dillon forgot his shoes.

October 20th, 2009: Logan turned 14. The plan was for me to meet the family for dinner after work at Logan’s choice of restaurant (as is tradition on birthdays), this time Joe’s Real BBQ, and then he and I were going to go run a few birthday related errands. He had just come back from Lake Havasu with his grandparents and some family friends; we had just returned from South Carolina with the younger kids. I was unsure of what to expect. I wanted to really catch up and have a discussion with him that wasn’t on anything superficial. It just seemed like a while since we had connected. A couple years ago, we made a point of going out for lunch once a month or so, just he and I. Those were good “check-in” opportunities. I didn’t worry about “how” to talk to him back then; I just talked to him. And he talked back.

I think I had been building this 14 year milestone up in my mind for a while…as if some cloud would appear and darken his mood and transform him into some brooding teenage malcontent that I would be unable to reach. Thirteen had come and just about gone without any “teenager” episodes, but as October approached I was dreading the changing of the year… waiting for the shoe to fall. It may have affected my conversations with him. I was probably more direct and pointed in my interactions in anticipation of resistance. And, in anticipating resistance, I received it. This always made the first few moments of any conversation I initiated very awkward. I didn’t want to go through that with him again, and especially not on the night of his birthday dinner. So, I thought carefully about how I would fill those critical first moments.

Dinner that evening went as dinners out usually do… a little bit of excitement and chaos surrounding good company, and a wide variety of splintered conversations. After dinner we all enjoyed a spirited game of tag in the grassy courtyard, and then it was time to tackle our list. Logan and I helped Kendra get the younger boys situated and then we were off to be on our own. I was looking forward to it. I had a plan. I made note of the typical conversational topics that I would lead off with that would ultimately result in either an argument or absolute catastrophe and made certain that I did not lead off with any of those. I realized that I had basically been running status checks with him – “How was school?” “Do your homework?” “How are your grades in X class?” “What did you get on your test?” “Did you take care of X like I asked you to?” – all rules and compliance questions… nothing at all to indicate I was the least bit interested about him. Plus, if the responses weren’t what I was expecting, the conversation would deteriorate. Quickly. (It gets better. Honest.)

The transition from knowing where your kids are all the time and knowing what they are doing and who they are with to having them gone for significantly longer than you have them around happens SO swiftly. There is no warning or trial adaptation period. It just happens to you, and not always when you think it might. The reality of Logan being in Eighth Grade was affecting me. I thought I had been dealing with it fine, but I realize my reaction was to try to focus on what I saw as blind spots or areas I thought he might not see as needing more attention. This was clearly not the best reaction, but it was how I reacted. So, after finally realizing that I exercise more diplomacy in dealing with my employees than my own son, I knew I had to abandon my approach and introduce some flexibility in my communication. It wasn’t that I would avoid those status topics. I just made it a point that I would not lead off with them.

We sat down in the car, and I was ready. I had a list of things in my mind that I had decided I wanted to know by the end of our conversation. Delete. I knew if I tried to structure the conversation, I would end up resorting to my usual questions (see the first sentence of this post). It was silent for a few seconds as we buckled up and I started the car. I wanted to start things off on the right foot but I was drawing blanks. It was excruciating. I looked over at the curious teenaged creature in my passenger seat and suddenly remembered being there. I just talked to him like I would have wanted someone to talk to me back then. I just wanted the approval of my parents, a safe environment to learn and grow, time with my friends, advice when I sought it, and some slack when I made mistakes. I wasn’t complicated. There were no “tricks” to communicating with me, and there weren’t any for Logan either. He’s just a kid. A taller, lankier kid with longer hair and a cracking voice, but a kid nonetheless. And just being 14 didn’t change that. I just needed to approach him

He was holding a CD that he received for his birthday. “Hey, is that the White Album?” “Yeah, Grandma got it for my birthday. You want to listen to it?” “Oh yeah, throw it in.” We drove around and completed our errands to the tunes of the Beatles. We covered everything in conversation from music, to friends, to girls, to sports, to politics (I’ve got some work to do). We even covered the dreaded “status check” items. But, since they came up during the course of the conversation and were not introduced with any hostility or argument, there was no angst. We didn’t fill every second in the car with conversation. There was no need. We spoke when something occurred to one of us and carried the topic through until it was completed or trumped by one tangent or another. It was comfortable. It was informative. It was enjoyable.

I hate that the obvious points are the ones that seem so difficult for me to identify and grasp sometimes. This situation had been building for months, and I was too foolish to see how easily it could have been remedied. Either that, or I was just too lazy to do something to address it. Whatever the case, it seems too common a condition. I observe parents interacting with their children at every opportunity. It is all too easy to see when it is observed in someone else. I only wish I could learn to see my own reflection in those interactions much sooner. But, at least it has been resolved.

I did have to adjust my communication style… just not because of some teenage condition. I allowed that excuse to perpetuate my reaction to him growing up and me choosing to focus on the status items instead of taking the time to have a real conversation. The reality is he wanted to have the talk. He was willing to share information on everything I asked him about, he just needed the opportunity to share it. He is growing up, and it is a fantastic thing. I don’t have to transform into some gregarious raconteur in order to have a discussion with Logan just because he is 14 and heading to high school next year. I do have to give him room to learn and grow, set a good example, tell him what he needs to hear, let him know he is safe to make mistakes, talk to him like I’d expect him to talk to me, and let him know he is always loved. This isn’t a new style; it is just the reintroduction of the old one.

He popped in the second disc on the way home. I didn’t see the CD case so I had no idea what was about to come on. I had to chuckle when I heard the music begin.

They say it’s your birthday, it’s my birthday too yeah

The teenager I spent the evening running errands with bore a strange resemblance to this four-year old I used to know; this was just a taller, lankier version of the same wonderful kid I’ve been blessed to know and love for the past ten years… with a slightly deeper voice.

I’m glad it’s your birthday, happy birthday to you!

The realization of the gravity and actuality of the attack struck me as I watched the first tower fall. We had been going through our early morning ritual of getting ready for work and school when the news broke. We’d been listening and watching and answering panicked phone calls. It was very surreal, but it felt temporary…initially. Then I saw it fall. Until that point, I think I had been harboring hope that it would be over soon; that the damage could be undone; that lives could be saved. When the camera panned to the vacant space…my hope evaporated. Kendra, Logan, and I stood and stared at the mayhem. I thought about the view from the deck on top of the tower. We held Logan, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright. I may have even managed to say it. But I certainly did not believe that at the time.

We spent most of that day following the news. It was probably far more exposure than a 5 year old should have to that kind of horror, but we were transfixed and it was the reality of the day. We couldn’t turn it off… it was as if we were waiting for the horror to spread…for another attack…we watched and waited. I continued to think about the towers and the impossibility of it all. I had only visited them once, my uncle took us there in 1991 during a summer trip to visit my aunt and cousins. I can’t think of that place without thinking of him.

I cannot adequately describe the immensity and presence of the buildings. I was awestruck. I was so intimidated by the height and the thought of going all the way to the top that I struggled to walk through the doors and onto the express elevator at mid day beneath clear skies. How humbling it was to see men and women charging in force through the doors and up thousands of steps toward fire and smoke and the unknown. How heartbreaking to know so many were consumed by the collapse and that their lives, and the lives they sought to save, were taken. But how hopeful to see the figures in the streets covered in ash and soot, combing tirelessly through the rubble in search of loved ones…and strangers. There is the courage. And how inspiring to hear of the passengers that seized the opportunity to make a stand. There is the courage.

In the days that followed, we talked to Logan about the attack as often as he wanted to. Some days he had a few questions and had some thoughts to share; other days he wouldn’t bring it up at all. I tried to tell him about the World Trade Center…about the enormous elevator that rocketed us to the observation floor…about floor to ceiling windows that allowed you to look out across the city and, for those so inclined, to look straight down. I tried to tell him about standing on top of the building and feeling like I was in a dream. Endless visibility in all directions. No sensation of moving or swaying… feeling as firmly planted as if I was standing on the sidewalk down below…looking out into limitless possibilities… and sharing that vision with countless, nameless people from anywhere and everywhere. I wish he could have seen it.

While I mourn the loss of lives and the tainting of memories, and detest the cloud of fear and suspicion that has since settled upon our society, I try to dwell on the compassion and strength that was demonstrated in the wake of the attack and it helps me believe we can shake this funk and focus on those things again. And I am glad he did see that.

I will never forget the atrocity, but I will always remember the courage.

Thanks for sharing the memory… tell the ones you love you love ‘em.

When we took trips to New Mexico or California to visit family or see the Mouse, we would step outside at night with the boys and say, “see? There’s our moon!” As we were preparing to move to Kansas, we talked about all the things that would be the same in their lives to help them with the adjustments of the transition. We talked about the constancy of our family and the security that comes with that consistent familiarity. Dillon asked if we would be able to see our moon there as well. He seemed very content to learn that we’d still be able to look up and find our friend; even all the way in Kansas. Our tradition of stepping outside at night to star gaze continued for a while… those evenings slowly evolved into random  nights on the trampoline, laying with eyes skyward into the great expanse. We’d never say much. We would occasionally call out a constellation or remark in awe about a shooting star. Mainly we would lay there in silent observation and enjoy the fact that we could see the familiar phases of our old friend, and appreciate that we were all pondering the wonder of the heavens together.

We took the skies for granted when we moved back to Arizona. We had the terrestrial and familial comforts that we’d known before we left, so it didn’t seem necessary to anchor ourselves to the habit of seeking beauty and consistency up there. Still, I introduced Ethan to the moon early on, but we didn’t really get into seeking it out regularly until a few months ago. I was amazed by how much he seemed to enjoy going out and searching for the moon. Ethan seemed disappointed the first night we couldn’t find it, so I pointed out all the stars we could see. I raised my arm up toward the sky and sang twinkle twinkle little star to him while motioning with my fingers to keep his attention and his focus above us. He smiled when I was finished, then raised his hands and flicked his fingers open to let me know he wanted to do it again. So I did. We stood out there for a few more curtain calls and admired the beautiful night with our arms stretched up toward the stars. We continued to seek the moon and stars a few times per week.

A few days ago Ethan and I went to look for the moon, but could not find it. We searched the front yard, the back yard… stared out his window… went out on the deck… nothing. Visibility was poor due to cloud cover, so even the stars were difficult to see. We tried the next night, but still it was to no avail. The following afternoon at our friend’s house, Ethan stood outside and raised his hands toward the sky and started flicking his fingers. He looked over to me. He didn’t understand that it wasn’t quite time for that; the sun was high in the sky and night wouldn’t fall for hours. He was seeking it. I had no idea he was so into the hunt.  I picked him up and looked at the blue sky with him, and I didn’t have the right words.

I don’t know what it is about staring into that unknown that never fails to enchant me… it could be the insignificance it allows me to attribute to any stress or difficulty I am experiencing at the time or it could be that I just see all the delicate deliberateness that envelopes us and I feel the hand of God in it all. And I realize that I have a small part to play in some of it… then I see my sons stare into all of that mystery and come away feeling content and connected and amazed. This evening, just before sunset, Logan and I went into the backyard to get the younger boys inside for dinner. Dillon, Jaden, and Ethan were on the trampoline. I walked up to the gate in the net to call Ethan over and I noticed a familiar phase. I called out to Ethan and pointed toward the sky. He turned and looked upward, then let out an excited shriek! He clasped his hands and bent over with laughter. He turned his head slowly and looked back up to the sky, almost as if he didn’t expect it to still be there. The five of us looked up at the moon for a few moments…the setting sun casting a brilliant glow. “He’s smiling at us Ethan!”, Dillon laughed as he jumped around his little brother. Ethan stared and pointed as I carried him toward the door. He repeated, “moon!” to each of his brothers until they acknowledged and looked skyward with him. Logan looked proudly at his youngest brother, “You found it Ethan”. Indeed. So Ethan smiled back at the moon.

Thanks for coming along for the ride. Kiss your kids!