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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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...

Morning Rite

This morning was unusual. Patrick woke at three in the morning and was still up and about when I got up for work at five. While there was nothing unusual to this point, having him join me in the bathroom as I got ready for my work day was ... I was closing the door and turning on the lights, when the door opened back up and there stood my son. He joined me. I put him on the counter with his feet in the sink while we brushed our teeth. I left him to his mother as I got into the shower. Patrick quickly opened the door to the shower. "Patrick, Papa's going to get cold in there," his mother intoned. I told her that it was warm enough in the bathroom. No water was splashing out, so I had few concerns. I passed toys to Patrick, only to have them thrown back at me. All fun and games! Then, he wandered off for a few seconds ... and the toilet flushed. So much for a warm shower! All in fun. What an amazing way to start the day ...

"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!

Fatherhood

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