Baby Sister

Our 2 year old granddaughter Anna is about to become a BIG SISTER.  Our daughter’s second baby is due next month.  It’s amazing how the baby becomes the big brother/sister literally overnight.  When our daughter was born our son Tyson was only 19 months old – instantly he became THE BIG BOY.  Of course he was still sleeping in a crib and he was still in diapers but in comparison to his newborn sister, he was a big boy.  The same will be true for Anna – she’ll always be our special baby girl but next month she’ll be the BIG GIRL when compared to her infant brother or sister.  And so it goes…

When I was ten years old I was still the baby of our family.  I had two older brothers and it seemed that I was destined to always be the little one.  But then the most amazing thing happened:  My baby sister was born!  Being 10 years old and having a baby sister might have been traumatic to some kids (I think my parents were secretly worried that I might strangle her in her crib) but I was the happiest kid on the block.  The baby was OUR BABY.  We (my brothers and I) all got to share her.  Mom allowed (or needed) us to help out with diapers and bottles and babysitting.  I felt so big!  I wasn’t the baby anymore.  And I loved it.  Even more – I loved her.  And I still do!

Kay and me - Christmas 1968

My sister Kay will always be my baby sister.  She’s a grandmother now but she’s still my baby sister.  I often think about how God has blessed me with Kay.  The obvious blessing was that it got me out of being the ‘baby of the family’.  But more importantly I got “hands on” training with an infant, and then a toddler, and then a  preschooler, and so on.  When I became a parent myself, I wasn’t afraid of my own baby like some young parents – I’d already done a lot of this stuff!  Plus I learned some important LIFE STUFF, too – like how to share and how to love someone more than myself. 

I can still remember so vividly that tiny pink bundle in Mom’s arms the day she came home from the hospital.  I knew then that was I the luckiest brother in the world (and I still am).  I became a dorky teenager and while kids my own age were interested in things that I lacked the maturity to handle (they likely did as well) I could retreat into play-time with my little sister.  As we grow older we grow even closer emotionally.  We are joined in a way that brothers and sisters are meant to be – emotionally, spiritually, eternally.  I talk to her most every day and she understands things about me that only she can – we were raised by the same two parents (it’s called sibling empathy).  Even though we are ten years apart we have many of the same emotional triggers and we share a lot of the same quirks.  We laugh at the same lame jokes and we sometimes “get it” when no one else does.  We have shared good times and bad.  And we will always be there for one another, even for the shitty stuff. 

I hope that Anna has the same joys and blessings with her baby brother or sister that I have had with mine.  I thank God each day for her.  At ten years old I didn’t know what was coming my way – God’s plan is still being revealed to me even today.  But I do know that my baby sister is one of His many blessings and I will always be a grateful BIG BROTHER.

I love you, Sissy!

Peace,

Denis

Entertainment Value

One of the guys on my staff has told me that he comes to work sometimes purely for the entertainment value.  I have to admit that sometimes I do too.  Our office is probably not unique with its assortment of odd inhabitants but they’re the ones that I have to deal with everyday; so it’s all I know.  Some days are weirder than others and usually all you can do is laugh (screaming and cussing is frowned upon even when justified – stupid HR rules). 

There is a person in our office that appears to be a cross between “Doc Brown” from “Back to the Future” and ‘The Clown’ from Stephen King’s “It”.  But he acts stranger than either of those characters.  There’s the ‘Office Know-It-All’ – if you ask that person for the time, they tell you how to build a watch.  No office would be complete without the ‘Brown-noser’, although as the boss I’m only slightly annoyed by this one.  But then of course, there’s the woman who always gives ‘left-handed compliments’ – she can insult you with a smile!  At times I am truly in awe of her ‘gift’.  And then there are our customers and vendors – we have, “The Drama Queen”, “The Jerk-ass” and there’s the overbearingly loud woman, who if she were Native American would be named, ‘One Who Shouts Constantly’ – even her e-mails are in ALL CAPS!  I could go on and on.  And I’m sure they all have their opinions of me – no matter how wrong they are.

The good news is that for every weirdo in any building there are at least two normal people (or people like me that think they’re normal) and of course the weirdos in every office have weirdo friends that think that they’re normal (like me) – don’t think about this too long or you’ll get a headache. 

What a wonderful world we live in!  A world where we can come to work and be entertained by others’ odd behavior and appearance or we can be the entertainers.  Either way it makes work fun and I believe that it helps relieve stress.  As the boss, I like to think of myself as a benevolent dictator – I try to allow a certain amount of foolishess in the workplace.  So if we can laugh at one another and be playful without being hurtful then I’ll be the ‘biggest duck in the puddle’.  Some things are off-limits and common sense should always prevail.  But let’s all try to lighten-up.

Personally I’m glad that God has a sense of humor – he created me didn’t he?  And if I can provide some entertainment value for my staff, customers, and vendors so be it.  Just take it easy on the skinny-leg jokes!  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Peace,

Denis

It’s Not The Heat; It’s The Humidity

We’re having a heat wave in Saint Louis right now.  Triple digit temperatures with heat indexes nearing 120 degrees.  When people complain about the heat around here, you often hear other people say, “It’s not the heat; it’s the humidity”.  We actually make excuses for the weather – like somehow the heat doesn’t mean to be so hot; “if it just weren’t for that darn humidity!”

How often do we all make excuses (or allowances) for other people’s bad behavior or bad manners or bad mood?  I used to make excuses for my kids all the time – “he’s tired” or “she didn’t mean to…” or “he’s just being a boy”.  And we make excuses for bad adult behavior, too – “everybody knows not to talk to her before she’s had her coffee”.  Often women will make excuses for their husbands – “he doesn’t know how to do anything around the house”.  REALLY?  Doesn’t know or doesn’t want to know?

My point is that we seldom hold people accountable for their actions.  If someone behaves badly there MUST be a reason – something is beyond their control.  Or maybe if I really took the time to figure out what was bothering them, then I could help.  Or perhaps I just misunderstood what they said or did, etc., etc.  I have a friend that CONSTANTLY makes allowances for everyone.  She has such a good heart and is so trusting that she always believes in the goodness of others.  I used to joke that in High School she was probably voted ‘Most Likely to Date a Serial Killer’.  She shames me with her kindness!

Now I know that I tend to be a little cynical at times and I might sometimes jump to the conclusion that someone is just being a lout.  But really, I think that sometimes some people are just being a–holes.  I don’t know; maybe they just like being jerks.  But I for one refuse to accept boorish behavior.  Sadness, grief, pain, heartache – okay.  Simply being bombastic because you can?  Take it somewhere else! 

Starting today, I am going on notice that I will no longer tolerate, accommodate, or otherwise make excuses for ANYONE that can’t be civil or won’t grow up and deal with their own issues.  IT IS THE HEAT AND THE HUMIDITY!  DEAL WITH IT!

Sorry for the rant but this heat has really taken a toll on me.  I usually don’t go on like this…

Peace,

Denis

Happy Birthday Deborah!

Today is my wife’s birthday – I won’t tell her age.  Let’s just say that we’ve spent a few birthdays together in the last 35 years.  Birthdays sort of lose their excitement after too many years.  Birthdays are lots of fun when you’re a kid – balloons and cupcakes!  And then when you’re REALLY OLD and Willard Scott announces your name on T.V. they get exciting again – can you believe he or she is still alive?  Deb and I are in-between the excitement.  But that doesn’t mean we won’t celebrate in our own way.

Daughter and son-in-law have suggested dinner and cake but Deb’s a little ‘under the weather’ today so that may have to wait.  Of course my gift to her won’t arrive until tomorrow – damn you UPS!  So this birthday is going to register near the bottom of the GREATEST BIRTHDAYS EVER list.  But still we will celebrate.

We’ll celebrate another year together.  Another year of life.  And look back on all the great times we’ve had and look forward to all the great times ahead.  We have lots to celebrate – next weekend my best friend’s son is getting married; in 4 weeks my nephew is getting married; in 6 weeks our third grandchild is due; and in 3 months my niece is getting married.  And in November our son Tyson will have 30 days of leave and will be home!

So even though today is not going to be “Birthday-palooza”, Debbie will have some cheer.  Hopefully her aches and pain will give way to a moment or two of joy, even if the real celebration has to wait until a better day.

Happy Birthday Deb!  I hope that I’m still somewhere in one of your wishes when you blow out the candles.

Love,

Denis

Cousins

Our granddaughters are cousins –  five year old Charlise is our son’s daughter and two year old Anna is our daughter’s daughter.  These two really love one another and they love being together.  It’s pure joy to watch how they talk and play and care for each other.  They live about an hour apart now and we try to have them spend time together as often as possible.

I love to eaves-drop on their conversations when they’re playing. They play a lot of “pretend” and Anna usually follows Charlise’s lead but sometimes Anna decides to do things her way and Charlise usually obliges. Depending on what the “pretend” game is the conversations vary but generally it’s some variation on Disney Princesses or Dora the Explorer.  Most often Charlise is Dora and Anna is Boots, Dora’s faithful monkey friend.  Pretty fitting actually – Anna climbs on everything and Charlise likes to wear a backpack.

Yesterday they were playing together in the ‘blow-up’ pool on our patio.  Charlise has been taking swimming lessons and was showing us how she can hold her breath and swim underwater.  Of course whatever Charlise does, Anna MUST do as well.  When Anna put her head underwater she took a big gulp and came up coughing and frightened.  She started to cry and immediately Charlise held her in her arms gently and sang very softly “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  The two of them held onto each other until the song was over.  And then Anna let out a little ‘fake cry’ and the process started all over again – both of them embraced, Charlise singing and Anna being comforted.  How I wished I would have had a video camera – talk about your Hallmark® commercial moment”! 

But unlike Hallmark® commercials this moment was completely unscripted.  And it wasn’t done for attention or approval.  It was just one sweet girl cousin comforting her baby girl cousin because she loves her and because she cares.  And I was blessed for having witnessed this.  These girls will grow up and may grow apart (but please God don’t let that happen!) and they probably will choose different paths.  Like many cousins they may have very different lives some day.  But for this one brief moment they connected in a way that was so profound it brought me to tears.  And I thanked God at that instant for granddaughters that love one another.  And I thanked God for parents that have taught their daughters so well.  I can’t help but wonder how many times Charlise has been comforted with “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  And how good it must have felt in her little heart to share that gift with “Baby Anna”.

Dear God, thank you for our beautiful granddaughters.  It’s true that You give us more than we deserve!

Peace,

Denis

Lil’ Orange

Today Lil’ Orange died.  Lil’ Orange was our granddaughter Anna’s pet goldfish.  Anna is two years old, so Lil’ Orange’s death came as a complete surprise to her.  I’m told she was sobbing and crying out for her ‘baby fish’.  It is heartbreaking and I wanted to rush to her side!  I’m certain that a replacement later today will ease her pain.  Until then Goldie, the surviving goldfish, will have the bowl to herself.  FYI – all goldfish are girls according to Anna. 

Anna with Pawpaw

The death of Lil’ Orange has upset me, too.  Anna now has to confront death.  She has to learn that nothing or no one lasts forever.  And she may or may not find solace in the idea of “fish heaven”.  A tiny piece of her innocence is gone forever…

This is one of those “teachable moments” that some parents hope for and all parents must face.  The first loss most children experience is the death of a pet. Of course, now Anna is very focused on this event – what does it mean that Lil’ Orange died?  This is a great opportunity for Mommy and Daddy to teach her about death and new life.  Her sadness will be temporary but the knowledge and understanding that she gains should last her lifetime.

No parent (or grandparent) wants to see a two year old grieve but hopefully with tenderness and patience, Anna will come to accept Lil’ Orange’s passing as part of God’s greater plan.  She will find comfort in knowing that Mommy and Daddy care about her loss.  She will be consoled by their concern toward her and her pet.  And she will understand that sometimes bad things happen, but love always remains.

I still want to rush to her side, hug her and kiss away her tears.  I’d like to lie to her and tell her that Lil’ Orange was just taking a nap and will be back soon.  But I know that my daughter and son-in-law are smarter than that.  They will use this “teachable moment” to educate Anna and instill in her compassion and love – the same compassion and love that they will show her during this agonizing time.  Now, I need a hug…

Lil’ Orange R.I.P.

Peace,

Denis

Humility

Two years ago I was diagnosed with Zoster (Shingles).  It’s a strain of the Chicken Pox virus that attacks your nervous system.  Often Zoster presents itself around a person’s torso; in my case it was the right side of my head.  At the onset, the pain was excruciating and my face became swollen and slightly disfigured.  It felt as if someone was sticking needles through my head from the inside out.  Even my hair hurt!  It lasted for several weeks and finally localized in my jaw/ear and became manageable.  After a couple of months it was completely gone.  Now the only reminder is a scar on my chin and some tenderness around my temple. 

At the time, Deb suggested (after a day of me feeling particularly sorry for myself) that maybe this was a “humbling experience” that I needed.  She reminded me that there are many people that live in constant misery and have no hope of comfort or recovery.  She felt that perhaps it was an opportunity for me to be more compassionate towards others and more understanding of those who are suffering in our world.  I’m trying really hard to forget what I muttered under my breath to her at that moment!

But you know what?  She was right.

I’m afraid too often I take for granted the blessings God has bestowed on me.  I somehow feel that I’ve earned what I have or that I’m responsible for my own success.  I sometimes forget that God’s hand is active in everything that I do (or don’t do).  I’ve heard it said that the problem with “self-made men” is that often they begin to worship their maker.  I’ve been guilty of that.  Time and again, it’s all about me!

And I find myself judging others without understanding their struggle.  I see sadness and injustice everywhere but it’s too easy to turn a deaf ear or a blind eye to the real causes.  When I encounter profound suffering, I often find myself wanting to run from it – to ‘bury my head in the sand’ so to speak.  At times I lack any real empathy.  Do I really believe that others somehow deserve their suffering?  God, forgive me!

Having my painful episode with Zoster did help me become compassionate, if only briefly.  From time to time I have to recall that pain when dealing with others’ hardships.  I need to remind myself that I am not the master of my destiny.  I need to be reminded that not everyone’s misfortune is their own doing.  And that while it is easy to sometimes look down on others, it is important to remember that God is ALWAYS looking down on all of us.

This is what Jesus tells us in Luke’s Gospel: 

“Two people went up to the temple area to pray; one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector.

The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself, ‘O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity–greedy, dishonest, adulterous–or even like this tax collector.

I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.’

But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’

I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

I thank God for “my humbling experience” and for a wife whose love and devotion helped me to see it.

Peace,

Denis

Mister Magoo

My wife likes to tell the story of the time we stopped at a McDonald’s® for something to drink and I pulled into the drive-thru lane to order.  It was a very hot day AND we were extremely thirsty AND I was undoubtedly fatigued.  As I was sitting there waiting for the ‘electronic voice’ to take my order, Debbie asked, “What are you doing?”  I replied, with some irritation, “I’m waiting for someone to take my order!”  Her response, which registered somewhere between disbelief and sarcasm: “That’s the trash can, Mr. Magoo! – why don’t you pull up to the speaker?”  We have laughed about this many times since.  And when I say ‘we’ what I mean is Debbie and our children.  And friends and family that she has told, etc., etc., etc.  Boy, make one simple mistake…

Not that I need to defend my actions (a simple mistake anyone could have made) but that trash can was shaped kind of like one of those ‘ordering thingies’ and though I am not as blind as Mister Magoo, I may not have been wearing my glasses that day.  Anyway, I guess it’s good sometimes to be the butt of the joke – even if it’s me that’s the butt. 

 You know, it’s healthy to learn to laugh at yourself.  We all know those folks that take themselves WAY too seriously.  We all know that person that gets upset when you question anything they do or say.  I have a friend that ABSOLUTELY MUST be right about everything and can never admit to a mistake.  I always want to say, “but you know… ” Of course, then I would become the friend that must be right about everything. 

It’s enough for me to know THAT I AM RIGHT.  I don’t need to tell everyone or prove it to all the poor misguided nincompoops.  Superiority has its own rewards.

So as I bask in my self-righteousness, you should know that I was just joking around the day that Debbie thought I was trying to give my order to the trash can.  I would never do anything so foolish. 

See you out there, ROAD-HOGS!

Peace,

Denis

Spiritual Desert

Like me, do you ever find yourself in a spiritual desert?  Those times when my prayers seem empty and perfunctory, it feels as if I’m just going through the motions.  And maybe I am.  So I pray: God, please help me!                                   

During those times I will attend Mass and sing and pray along and listen to The Word but I might as well be driving through the Automatic Car Wash.  My experience is completely passive and it barely registers on my psyche.  It almost feels as if I’m watching someone else – it’s not worship; it’s not prayer; it’s just sort of dutiful religious regurgitation.  Not exactly inspiring!

But sometimes maybe just BEING THERE is enough.  Maybe just being in the presence of others that are truly engaged spiritually has its own grace.  Perhaps being part of a community of believers means that sometimes we carry one another along the journey.  Possibly the prayers and singing of the ‘inspired ones’ can lift me up before God when I can barely pull myself into the pew. 

I sure hope so.  Because lately these desert experiences have been coming along more frequently and lasting much longer.  I sometimes fear that this life on earth may make me lose out on eternal life.  Too many times I approach the altar angry or hurt and can’t (or won’t) let go of my outrage.  Too often I have judged others as hypocrites.  And I it find more and more difficult to forgive and yet I expect complete forgiveness for my own shortcomings.

So I trudge along; hoping that maybe just by being at Mass and participating, however vacuous, I might find some grace and be touched by the Holy Spirit.  Witnessing my family’s worship, during these empty times, I wonder why I can’t feel God’s presence as they do.  Sometimes when my spirituality feels particularly bankrupt I find comfort in just holding my granddaughter in church.  She is certainly closer to God and just that simple act brings me a measure of peace (God’s peace?). 

Some days my prayer is just this:  God, please help me!  And there are times when that’s all I’ve got…

Peace,

Denis

Riding Bicycles

Remember when your bicycle was your only mode of transportation?  When I was a kid my friend Alan and I would ride just about everywhere – pavement was optional. And our bikes weren’t mountain bikes with 18 gears and European traction.  They were Schwinn’s or Huffy’s with big fat tires and fenders and baskets in the front to accommodate our paper route jobs.  Later we graduated to “Banana Bikes” with the crazy handle bars and “banana seats”.  We would ride to school.  We would ride to our friends’ houses.  We would ride to the neighborhood stores.  We would ride to the park or swimming pool.  Having a bicycle meant freedom and we relished it!  At about 13 years old we road our bikes across two river ferries to a State Park in a neighboring state – to my knowledge our parents still don’t know about this.  My point: if we could get somewhere on two wheels – we would go there!  We didn’t need to ask for a ride (in a car) and we often didn’t ask permission to go beyond our normal boundaries (see State Park trip above).  We just rode our bikes.

Now I know that those were simpler times and maybe there weren’t as many child predators then (but I doubt it).  We grew up in a relatively small town and I suppose there was a certain amount of naïveté that came along with small town life – bad things only happened in the BIG CITY.  We were safe.  The only thing we had to worry about was getting home before dinner or dark – whichever came first.

Recently my wife and I bought bicycles.  We thought it would be healthy and fun!  We bought BIG cruisers with BIG seats and BIG tires.  Debbie’s bike even has a bell, like the one she had as a girl.  Apparently these bikes are made for “people our age” as the snotty-nosed punk at the bicycle shop pointed out.  Incidentally, I think that kid was high.  

Anyway, you know how they say “it’s just like riding a bicycle; you never forget”?  Well I’d like to know who in hell said that and how they know, because I seem to have forgotten a lot about riding bikes.  For instance:  I don’t remember my thighs burning after a 3 mile bike ride.  I also have apparently forgotten that you pant like a dog and sweat like a pig just cruising through your subdivision.  I also don’t remember my butt being sore from a short trip to the Qwiki-Mart down the street.  And I certainly don’t recall ever having to soak in a tub after a FUN BIKE RIDE.  Oh, my! 

God certainly has a sense of humor.  Why else would he let middle-aged people think that they should ‘start’ riding bicycles again after a 40 year hiatus?  Come to think of it – calling ourselves middle-aged is pretty funny, too – unless I live to be 110 years old.  And that’s not too likely if I keep riding my bicycle!  I need to quit writing now and go ice something.   Happy Trails.

Peace,

Denis