Father.

Running the brush through my 4 year old's pony tail this morning, separating each strand, enhancing each one, I marvel at how soothing this act is for both of us. No matter what may be happening in the world, at this moment, there is just us. 

How did her hair get so long in such a short time?

*

Her grasp of the world around her constantly amazes me. More-so are the questions that confound me. 

"Dad - What is metamorphosis?" 

I can't remember if I ever even pondered such questions when I was her age. Mind you, I can't remember if I had a second cup of coffee this morning. 

*

Accidental art while painting balloons for Halloween. She sneezed. This happened...

Sure - she was proud at first but then we freaked each other out as the face on the plate started to move. 

*

From 6AM on Sunday morning, my 8 year old was at the living room window. 

"It doesn't look like rain Dad." 

6AM... I am not supposed to be awake yet. 

"It doesn't look like rain." 

I have my doubts. He has his tears. Those tears break me every time.

We go. Raise the mast. Hoist the sail. And launch. By the time we're on the water, the sun shines down - almost as if he has willed it himself. 

Look at him will you...

The sail was filled - as if by his own hand. 

How could I argue with this?

*

This may seem disconnected but, this morning, I am reminded of a scene from the movie "Raiders of the Lost Ark", when Indy and Marion are bidding farewell to Sallah on the dock in Cairo. 

In a final moment between friends, Marion draws Sallah close and kisses him on the left cheek...

"That is for fire," she whispers softly. 

She kisses him on the right cheek...

"That is for your children...and this is for you..."

Her final kiss is a long and tender one, placed upon his lips with affection and gratitude...for a passionate man. A passionate father. A passionate human...

*

I am nothing without my children. 

DFA. 

Life Lessons from the Toilet Exhaust Fan.

Over the weekend, my children experienced the reality of death and dying. There was an awful sound coming from the toilet fan this afternoon. Upon popping the cover, a poor little mouse was hanging, trapped between the blades. My daughter Lucy gasped upon seeing it. But I gasped when I gently tried to extricate it from the fan and it squeaked in desperation, clawing at me to free it. 

It was still alive.

With great care, I was able to get the little critter down and, with Lucy's help we made a little bed for it in a margarine container. The mouse was severely shocked and undoubtedly injured but, as the old saying goes, where there's life, there's hope. Lucy sat with the mouse, cradling the margarine container, weeping softly and asking me if she was going to be alright. I told her I didn't know but if you stay her and let her know you're there, that would be very good. That might help.

After a couple of hours, the dear little mouse, quietly slipped away on her little bed of Kleenex. Lucy said a little prayer and we gently put the lid on the margarine container. We buried it in the garden. 

Life comes and it goes. How each life affects us, makes all the difference.

DFA.

Connecticut.

Like many, I woke up on Saturday morning to learn the news of the senseless massacre at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. 

As the details of this horror act of senselessness filtered out, I became aware of the gravity of the situation and I looked to my own two children Xavier, 6 and Lucy 3. I tried to fathom what the parents of those children in Connecticut must be going through both then at the outset of the violence and now some two days later. 

My social media stream became filled with various reactions, stories and updates from this small town across the far side of the world. I read through the comments with an increasing sense of frustration at the outpouring of grief, emotion and platitudes and thought to myself "Words are cheap". 

So I set about looking for some way to make a tangible (albeit) small contribution which I hope will do something - ANYTHING - for those parents, siblings and families whose lives have been irrevocably affected by what happened on Friday morning. 

The Newtown Parent Connection is a grass roots organization which was established by concerned parents and other informed citizens of the Newtown Community, to address the problem of substance use and abuse among young people in their community. Its role has expanded somewhat to offer services and groups that manage a wider range of parenting and family issues. 

In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, the Newtown Parent Connection established a fund to which people can donate to directly help the families and victims of the tragedy at the Sandy Hook Elementary School. 

I couldn't ignore this and so, I reached out and gave a donation via Paypal to the fund.  Their bona fides are sound. I would urge you, if you can, to give a little to this worthy cause. At this time of year, when so many families are readying themselves for Christmas celebrations, these families will be trying to make sense of their shattered lives. 

Why am I donating to this cause?

These are children - like yours, like mine...

Vale...

Charlotte Bacon, 6 Daniel Barden, 7 Rachel Davino, 29 Olivia Engel, 6 Josephine Gay, 7 Ana Marquez-Greene, 6 Dylan Hockley, 6 Dawn Hochsprung, 47 Madeleine Hsu, 6 Catherine Hubbard, 6 Chase Kowalski, 7 Jesse Lewis, 6 James Mattioli, 6 Grace McDonnell, 7 Anne Marie Murphy, 52 Emilie Parker, 6 Jack Pinto, 6 Noah Pozner, 6 Caroline Previdi, 6 Jessica Rekos, 6 Avielle Richman, 6 Lauren Rousseau, 30 Mary Sherlach, 56 Victoria Soto, 27 Benjamin Wheeler, 6 Allison Wyatt, 6

DONATE.

DFA.