Small Communities

The strength of a small town was hammered home yesterday.

I just spent the day away from my wife and son, helping out at a golf-scramble in memory of a tremendous young man that I worked with. His loss was a terrible accident. He came into my life for a short time, but was a part of this community.

There were people in pain, but coming together to help each other come to grips with what has happened and make it into something positive ... there was so much raised for his fiance and son-to-be ... and it wasn't about the money; at the core, this was about helping each other.

I spent a few hours talking to his grandfather ... every topic under the sun. The biggest thing that ran through the conversations was the value in living in a small town ... a tight-knit community.

As I sat thinking about all this last night, I realized that these are the same values that I was raised with as a "military brat." My parents were from this same type of town and had instilled this small community into each of us children ... my family is that small community in itself. What a wonderful revelation.

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"Hello?"

We walked into my parents house ... looking for Papap. "Hello," we called. "'Ello," Patrick mimicked. "Hello," we called again, laughing a bit. "'Ello," Patrick mimicked again, delighted that he could get us laughing that easily. Out in the back yard, he went for the shovel (small blue plastic one I got for him a while back). "Maybe he should go shovel in the sand-box," Papap said ... Off he went to the sand-box, lugging the shovel. Later I asked him if he wanted raisins. Shaking his head no, he headed for the fridge. "Eeze," he said ... Cheese, he intended. His comprehension and vocal capacity is growing by leaps and bounds!

Terror or Anger

Jennifer and I woke about twenty minutes ago to Patrick crying ... nothing unusual. I asked her to get him since I have to start getting ready for work in about three hours (yes, I have to work on a Saturday). Where things became unusual was the loud, sustained crash, and Patrick's cries rising to a hefty scream. Being the concerned parent that I am ... with visions of his changing table collapsed on top of him, I rushed to their aid. "What was that?" I cried. Jennifer, weakly replied, "I fell down the stairs." With Patrick screaming at the top of his lungs, I think I actually asked her to repeat what she said. I found my wife sitting, with her legs out and my son in her arms, at the bottom of the stairs. Asking if she and Patrick were OK was mixed into confused questioning about what happened. Somehow, her feet went out from under her (we suspect a couple of the leaves that Patrick likes to play with were on the steps). While my real concern was i

Grandma, Papap, and a Cell Phone

His visit with Grandma and Papap was cool. We played with everyone ... kind of bouncing in between. We ate dinner. This went well until I gave him Grandma's old cell phone (deactivated, should only be able to dial 911 ... waiting for that one). Once he got the phone, there was no interest in food. You have to remember that he has always been fascinated with cell phones, but is usually monitored very closely and rarely gets to hold it for long ... and, he can tell the difference between the real one and the fake one ... this one was real! Eventually, we got the phone away from him and he did eat ... Later, after more playing, he turned to his Grandma and waved goodbye. He then proceeded to give out hugs and kisses. When asked, he indicated that he was ready to go home ... rapid head nod (Yes). He indicated the same when asked if he wanted to come back tomorrow. I guess he was ready to go ...

Fatherhood

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