June 22nd

 Today is Kris’ birthday.  He would have been 31.  On the morning he was born, I was staying with my grandparents.  My grandma had to wake Jake and me up to tell us we had a phone call.  I held the phone up to my ear as the sun shined through the kitchen window.  It was good news.  I remember the moment as if it had happened this morning. 

We get together every year on his birthday for dinner.  When we were all kids, pizza was how we celebrated every birthday.  For several years after Kris died, we kept this pizza tradition going.  This year we are changing things some and going to a centrally located park for a picnic and games for the kids.  The weather should be perfect with partially cloudy skies and temperatures in the 70’s.  Everyone is planning on being there. 

This year we almost had a major scheduling conflict with Nancy’s family.  Fortunately everything worked out when the other event was moved.  Actually, I didn’t even know about the conflict until it had already been resolved.  Even so, I was pretty frustrated about it and glad I wasn’t forced to make a choice.  This was a bit of a jolt that gave me some time to think about this yearly tradition with my family and what it means to me. 

Over the years, and for several reasons, the gathering has evolved to represent more than just Kris’ birthday.  The biggest reason is that most of the people coming tonight never met Kris.  When he died, almost 10 years ago, our family consisted of 10 people, including six adults, one teenager and three grandchildren under the age of three.  Now there are 11 grandchildren, none of whom have memories of their uncle Kris.  Additionally, the teenager, now 25, will bring along his girlfriend and her young daughter, bringing this year’s total up to 20 people. 

Since most of the people attending know or remember Kris only from stories and photos, change is inevitable.  Additionally, this is often the only family event everyone makes an effort to attend, and because most of my mom’s sons have birthdays in the summer, this celebration is almost as much for all of us who are there, as it is for the one who is not. 

That is not to say that Kris’ birthday will be pushed aside or forgotten in any way.  Oh no, my mother will never allow that.  She will have a big sheet cake with candles for the grandchildren to blow out.  She will have balloons for each child to release into the heavens at the end of the day.  She may even make everyone sing the happy birthday song, though this is less likely as the years roll on. 

In reality there was no scheduling conflict at all.  Tonight, like last year, and the years before, like next year and every year following, I’ve already chosen what I’m doing on the evening of the 22nd of June.  Regardless of what the weather is like, or what else is going on, or who else is there, I will be at dinner with my mother and brothers, celebrating the birth and life of my brother Kris. 

This isn’t an obligation for me, nor will it ever be an event I will just make an appearance at before quickly heading off to something else.  I go because I want to go and because it is important to me.  I go because I want to remember my brother’s birthday and because my other brothers will be there too.  I go because, well, even if there is no pizza, I like birthday parties.

Simple Ties

 
This is a repost from my old blog that is no more.
First posted 06-17-09

Last week we had the opportunity to tour the brand new Oquirrh Mountain Temple, prior to its dedication later this summer.  As we walked through, I pointed out to my daughter how the base molding changed subtly as we went through from room to room.  I have always been interested in the simple symbols used in architecture, used to demonstrate the importance of one area in relation to another.

In almost any building you can find simple things, like vaults or intricate flooring or larger windows, designed to accentuate and bring attention to an important area or room.  In our house the nicest molding is in the dining room.  It is still simple, but layered and painted in a way that gives the room prominence.

When we first moved into this house, we ripped out all base and casing of almost the entire upstairs.  We replaced the old, 2 ½”base with a simple, tall, flat molding that has a routed bead at the top.  Tonight as I sat in the baby’s room, rocking him to sleep, I noticed again how good it looks and thought about how well it fits us and this house.  Next to the original, single panel doors, it looks especially good, like it has always been here.

Like all out of control home improvement projects, we made this as complicated as possible by doing the trim a little different in almost every room.  Some rooms have wainscot, some rooms have crown molding or chair rail, and some rooms have bead board, etc.  To tie everything together, we always used the same 7 1/2” flat baseboards with the same 3” casing around the doors.

Earlier this evening, before dinner, our oldest son had been sent to his room for the night.  Later, Nancy decided he should be allowed come up to eat dinner with the family.  Her reasoning was that dinner is the only time we spend, sitting and eating together.  She is worried that this daily tradition of eating dinner as a family is losing its important place as our only time each day to come together and share the stories of our busy days.  In time, she persuaded me and up our son came to spend an hour, eating with the family.

This dinner together was nothing unusual as far as dinners go: always good, always loud, always entertaining.  Tonight we enjoyed a large loaf of delicious bread from a new recipe.  While we ate, one child told of his visit to Nana’s house, another child, dressed in her dance leotard and tiara, told us about her first day at piano lessons, and one child, wanting the dinner to last as long as possible, ate very, very slowly.

Though this meal together could be considered fairly typical, it can also, in very subtle ways, be considered a new beginning for us.  What it lacked in originality, it made up for in resolve.  Tonight was, in fact, history in the making.  Though we have eaten together thousands of times before, today it was forever set, no matter what, each day, as a family, we will always enjoy at least one meal together.

Once, a long time ago, and years before I had a family of my own, I saw a billboard in Chicago.  The message was clear to me then, and still rings just as true today.  It read, “A family that prays together, stays together.”  Yes, giving thanks, with and for your family, is essential because it, among other things, creates bonds that help to hold, or tie us together.  And it is to these ties that we can add depth and variety by stopping once a day, and sitting for a time in one another’s company, by telling stories, worries, and experiences, and by daily, with the ones we love, breaking and sharing a warm loaf of bread.

Letting Go

It was dark when I came in the house from working in the yard.  I was dirty and went immediately to the shower.  We have an old tub with an afterthought shower setup.  It includes a long chrome pipe, sticking out of the top of the tub faucet.  Normally, on newer houses, this runs inside the wall.  Ours is outside the wall, inside the shower.  Near the bottom is a second shower head on a hose.  To use one or the other, you turn a little valve.

Ever since we moved here, I have typically been the only one that uses the upper shower head.  Most everyone else uses the tub faucet or the shower head on the hose.  Lately though, one of my children has gotten into the habit of using the upper shower head.  This wouldn’t be a big deal except for he always changes the setting to massage, only the massage setting doesn’t really work.  Mineral deposits inside the shower head have locked the moving parts in place.  So instead of an alternating spray out of six holes, three at a time, the water shoots out in three laser beam streams. 

Okay, not a big deal.  I know this.  But I’m still bugged.  Maybe I’m bugged because I have asked him to change it back when he’s done, and still he doesn’t.  Or maybe it’s because he has to stand on the sides of the tub to reach the shower head and could easily slip or fall.  Or it could be that I get sprayed all over, trying to figure out which way to spin the little dial, returning it to the setting I like.  Lame as it sounds, the most likely answer is that the upper shower head is just mine, it’s always been mine, and I don’t like people touching it.  Like I said, I realize its lame.  

Tonight, as I reached up to change the head back to my setting, I thought about how it really isn’t a big deal, and maybe I could just let it go.  Suddenly, memory took me instantly to my high school days, when my old truck was in the shop, and my mom let me take her car once in a while.  She hated it when I adjusted the mirror in her car, and let me know about it whenever I forgot to change it back.  Eventually, it was easier to just stop adjusting it and use the other mirrors instead.  The mirror adjusting issue is so ingrained in my psyche that I still think about it almost every time I adjust the mirror in Nancy’s car. 

It was so strange for me to suddenly make this connection between these two seemingly unrelated events.  It’s also interesting that I didn’t make the correlation until I was actually reaching up, the way you would reach up to adjust a mirror, and at the same moment, I told myself to just let it go, the same way I wished my mother would have done for me.

Sometimes this boy and I don’t see things quite the same way.  He makes a lot of noise and has a hard time staying on task.  These two things are sometimes hard for me to deal with, especially when he should be clearing the table or going to bed.  I try so hard to be nice and to listen and to understand.  I constantly remind myself that his actions and behavior are all age appropriate, but, all too often I am just complaining about how he does this or that wrong, or how he could have done this or that differently or better. 

My own mother didn’t like a few things about me and tried to correct what she could.  But it was very rare for her to find fault or get on me about every petty thing.  She loved me, and I knew she loved me.  No matter what, I never questioned that about her.

She never let her frustrations with me get in the way of the relationship.  Or if she did, I never knew about it.  I honestly don’t know if my son can say the same thing about me.   

Today, when I got home, he ran up the stairs yelling, “Daddy’s home!”  He said it the same way all the kids did when they were younger, and grew out of saying when they reached the age of six or so.  I gave him a hug and rubbed his back for a minute.  “That feels good,” he cooed. 

I thought about how he doesn’t get much attention like this anymore, at least not from me.  I believe it’s time for that to change.  It’s time for me to change.  He is what he is.  He doesn’t know any other way.  I’m the one who’s wrong.  I’m the one who needs to let it go. 

“Daddy’s home.”  The words keep echoing in my mind.  Maybe I’m not completely there, but I’m working on it.  And I will keep working on it until the relationship is right, until I have let it all go, and until I can fully accept him for the person he is. 

I’m coming home.  And yes, that does feel good. 

Welcome to Summer

This is a repost from 06-04-09

Tomorrow is the last day of school for the kids.  After that, everyone will be chillin at home, going on bike rides, reading books, playing rock band, and sipping lemonade in the yard – all while I’m at work.  Don’t get me wrong, I would much rather be employed than have the summer off without pay.  No question about that.  But, the first few days of summer are always kind of tough for me.
 
This year it seems to be a little harder than years past.  It might be partially because we don’t have much planned this summer as far as vacations.  Last year at this point I was planning on being out of town seven weekends before school started up again. 

It was not only a very fun summer, it was very expensive.  And this year we don’t have a ton of money saved up for going out of town.  So the vacations we do have will mostly be around the house.  I have tons of projects to finish in the yard.  So if I can get some of them done, I will be happy because we will be improving things around here. 

One of the biggest projects is the playhouse.  It would be nice if I could get it done before the kids move away.  I started it four years ago and got a ton done the first year.  But it hasn’t progressed much since then.  It turns out projects around the house are more expensive than vacations.  What seems like a simple need for gravel or mulch, eventually turns into an addition on the back of the house and a new roof too.  Oh, and our driveway is shot and desperately needs to be replaced.  

So, while it would be fun to take the summer off to travel, work in the yard, or spend a little time screaming into a microphone in the privacy of my basement, I guess I'll go ahead and keep the day job this year.  It does pay the bills, and it keeps food on the table.  And, ironic as it seems to me now, it’s also my best option for supporting my many home improvement habits.

Enjoy your summer kiddies.  I’ll see you at 5:30.