Monday, September 12, 2011
My Messy Life: It was just another day; and all of my heroes had ...
My Messy Life: It was just another day; and all of my heroes had ...: As we all keep reading and hearing - it was just another day. Clear skies across the country and normal people going about their normal rout...
It was just another day; and all of my heroes had it in common...
As we all keep reading and hearing - it was just another day. Clear skies across the country and normal people going about their normal routines. Everyone knows what happened on that gorgeous Tuesday. The world changed and so many heroes walked through our lives.
One reads this and hears it from almost anyone over the age of 14. It was the end of the summer and people were starting the routines with school and in my case, the final push to wrap up another year at work. I was living near the beach and working in downtown Los Angeles. My office had amazing views towards the south and west. I used to watch the airplanes in their landing patterns approach LAX or sometimes I would look down Grand and watch the sunset as it set behind the Library Tower about a half block from my building. I enjoyed those small breaks in my day until they took on such a different meaning. Days without planes in the sky. The Library Tower was another target we later learned.
Funny how you can look back at ordinary conversations and they take on such meaning with time. The Saturday prior to the 11th I spoke with my (somewhat) older brother D who was in the Air Force and stationed at Offut AFB in Nebraska. At that time he worked in National Security and mentioned he would be traveling to Florida for work during the week. On Sunday the SO - who at that time was just the BF - and I went to LAX to have a drink with my (oldest) brother C and faux Uncle. They were traveling to the Reno Air Show. They had a long layover between their flight from DC and the commuter flight to Reno. The SO was meeting the faux Uncle for the first time and this was a big deal. We had a great time talking about my father and sharing stories of our childhood. My faux Uncle pulled me aside at the end of our time in the airport and gave the SO his stamp of approval. It was also my nephew Boy's fourth birthday over the weekend. I remember thinking how grownup he was starting to sound when we spoke on the phone although he didn't like to have the long conversations his sisters would have with me. His dad, my Irish twin, and I spoke - mostly about trying to get together soon and we hung up. I have a friend, or close acquaintance, who at that time was a self described Connecticut housewife. She thinks of herself as a meek person and that morning was planning her family's annual ski vacation over the holidays.
The skies were as clear and blue in Los Angeles as they were in New York, Pennsylvania and DC. When my day got underway I already knew about the first plane and learned more incrementally as I headed to my office. But this isn't my story about my experience that day. It is the story about how heroes are born or shown to us.
My brother D was traveling with the President that day as part of the National Operations Team that shadows the President in his daily activities. D and I did not speak again until after Christmas. He, and others who serve on those teams were truly the first deployed. My sister in law (L) deserves a medal or at least a special piece of jewelry. Having said that, she just wanted her husband home with their daughter. L - like so many military spouses then and now; immediately became the sole and primary caregiver to my niece - Gorgeous K. K was was 7 and K was confused. They had no notice about Daddy's trip being extended; it wasn't on their calendar that marked his trips. She just knew that he wasn't coming home and that it was somehow tied to what was on tv. In the beginning she thought he was attacked and missing; later she asked Santa to send him home for Christmas. Their family settled into a new normal. They were fortunate because they could meet for a day periodically. D has never really talked about the events of that day. He is my immediate older brother who always entertained me, taught me how to read and do math. He has always been a hero to me and became a hero for all of us that day.
C was in Reno and was unable to leave there for something like 10 days. He was there to support a friend who was racing and to combine his two personal passions - mechanics and airplanes. He had never been away from his family for more that a couple of days and was awed by the response of people in Reno. They took in people attending the races; made sure the attendees had food, water and things to do until they could head home. It was difficult for him and his family but he had the perspective that this was nothing compared to what other families were going through all over the United States. I think we spoke more on the phone that week than we normally talked in a month. C was always a hero to my younger siblings and me but really became one during that time. He never complained and was so calming to us while we worried about D and his family. He attained superhero status for me.
Now the faux Uncle was always a hero to us and was DoD's (aka Dear Old Dad's) closest friend. He had served two tours in Vietnam when I was younger. We used to include him in our nightly prayers as well as the faux Aunt and Cousins. Little did we know that on that day his son; our faux cousin - would lose a friend who was a pilot. We add faux cousin to my list of heroes because he has always stood for what he believes in and doing the right thing. The faux cousin's friend died doing what he loved and that is heroic.
The little guy, Boy didn't understand what was going on. The TV was on and his Dad, the Irish Twin, ended up being home from work. Boy knew enough to understand that everyone was worried about his Uncle D (who probably was one of the safest people in the country) and that the adults were upset. The little guy is now taller than I am and is on track to become an Eagle Scout. Service to others is ingrained in his personality. He is my hero and I am certain will emerge as one to all of us in some capacity as he grows up.
Everyone knows that there was a horrific loss of life that day and there were many heroes and angels. The world had gaping holes; families had empty seats at their tables. The world became a small town. My family wasn't directly affected by knowing someone who was lost that day but we had our ties to NY, Pennsylvania and DC. If you flash forward to 2011 those empty seats affected us directly.
I used to take American Flight 77 from Dulles to LAX on Mondays or Tuesdays after visiting family or friends in DC. It was great because I could still get in a pretty full workday after flying all morning. Over time I learned that a former colleague (who I only met but didn't really know) had perished when the second plane entered his Tower through his office at Fuji Bank. The SO knew this person and he also lost another former colleague that morning. It is still surreal seeing those names on lists or in stories about the World Trade Center. All of those who perished that day are my heroes.
As the story goes the then BF officially became the SO and we moved to our slice of heaven in the mountains of Utah in 2004. We realized that our closest neighbors had a few children and they seemed to be in a home headed by a single mother. Until I spent some time with her and learned that her husband was a reservist. In their non-military life he was a neurosurgeon specializing in trauma such as gunshots. He ended up serving 4 tours during our 6 and a half year stay in Utah. And his family was grateful because while he was gone he could Skype with his children and help them with their homework via email. That family is among my heroes.
I became friendly with a woman in our small town through mutual friends and shared interests. We were invited to a holiday party at her home in 2006 and she confided that she hadn't entertained in a number of years; pretty much since she moved to Utah. While at her house she took me into her office to show me pictures of her new grandchild and as we turned I saw many drawings on the walls. Most were framed with notes from school children. Our hostess lost her husband in one of the towers. She describes herself as not so confident; I think she is amazing. She now has grandchildren and many new joys that she should've shared with her husband. Her eyes are still sad at times and weary. She would be surprised to learn that she is my hero.
I have a college friend who I lost touch with for many years. Thanks to facebook we were able to reconnect. She is an amazing blogger; she writes from the heart and still has the sense of humor I recall from #$%& years ago. Her birthday is on September 11th and it is difficult for her. She blogs sometimes about one of her heroes - Pat Tillman. He was part of her extended family and represents for so many a hero who was a leader and one who believed in service. He left an empty seat at their family's table and she is passionate about furthering his message and that of the Pat Tillman Foundation (http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/). And for that she is my hero.
And this post is my tribute to all of those who serve or are unknowingly pulled into situations that call for leadership, service or sacrifice. They rise to the challenge and even if they don't know it become my heroes.
One reads this and hears it from almost anyone over the age of 14. It was the end of the summer and people were starting the routines with school and in my case, the final push to wrap up another year at work. I was living near the beach and working in downtown Los Angeles. My office had amazing views towards the south and west. I used to watch the airplanes in their landing patterns approach LAX or sometimes I would look down Grand and watch the sunset as it set behind the Library Tower about a half block from my building. I enjoyed those small breaks in my day until they took on such a different meaning. Days without planes in the sky. The Library Tower was another target we later learned.
Funny how you can look back at ordinary conversations and they take on such meaning with time. The Saturday prior to the 11th I spoke with my (somewhat) older brother D who was in the Air Force and stationed at Offut AFB in Nebraska. At that time he worked in National Security and mentioned he would be traveling to Florida for work during the week. On Sunday the SO - who at that time was just the BF - and I went to LAX to have a drink with my (oldest) brother C and faux Uncle. They were traveling to the Reno Air Show. They had a long layover between their flight from DC and the commuter flight to Reno. The SO was meeting the faux Uncle for the first time and this was a big deal. We had a great time talking about my father and sharing stories of our childhood. My faux Uncle pulled me aside at the end of our time in the airport and gave the SO his stamp of approval. It was also my nephew Boy's fourth birthday over the weekend. I remember thinking how grownup he was starting to sound when we spoke on the phone although he didn't like to have the long conversations his sisters would have with me. His dad, my Irish twin, and I spoke - mostly about trying to get together soon and we hung up. I have a friend, or close acquaintance, who at that time was a self described Connecticut housewife. She thinks of herself as a meek person and that morning was planning her family's annual ski vacation over the holidays.
The skies were as clear and blue in Los Angeles as they were in New York, Pennsylvania and DC. When my day got underway I already knew about the first plane and learned more incrementally as I headed to my office. But this isn't my story about my experience that day. It is the story about how heroes are born or shown to us.
My brother D was traveling with the President that day as part of the National Operations Team that shadows the President in his daily activities. D and I did not speak again until after Christmas. He, and others who serve on those teams were truly the first deployed. My sister in law (L) deserves a medal or at least a special piece of jewelry. Having said that, she just wanted her husband home with their daughter. L - like so many military spouses then and now; immediately became the sole and primary caregiver to my niece - Gorgeous K. K was was 7 and K was confused. They had no notice about Daddy's trip being extended; it wasn't on their calendar that marked his trips. She just knew that he wasn't coming home and that it was somehow tied to what was on tv. In the beginning she thought he was attacked and missing; later she asked Santa to send him home for Christmas. Their family settled into a new normal. They were fortunate because they could meet for a day periodically. D has never really talked about the events of that day. He is my immediate older brother who always entertained me, taught me how to read and do math. He has always been a hero to me and became a hero for all of us that day.
C was in Reno and was unable to leave there for something like 10 days. He was there to support a friend who was racing and to combine his two personal passions - mechanics and airplanes. He had never been away from his family for more that a couple of days and was awed by the response of people in Reno. They took in people attending the races; made sure the attendees had food, water and things to do until they could head home. It was difficult for him and his family but he had the perspective that this was nothing compared to what other families were going through all over the United States. I think we spoke more on the phone that week than we normally talked in a month. C was always a hero to my younger siblings and me but really became one during that time. He never complained and was so calming to us while we worried about D and his family. He attained superhero status for me.
Now the faux Uncle was always a hero to us and was DoD's (aka Dear Old Dad's) closest friend. He had served two tours in Vietnam when I was younger. We used to include him in our nightly prayers as well as the faux Aunt and Cousins. Little did we know that on that day his son; our faux cousin - would lose a friend who was a pilot. We add faux cousin to my list of heroes because he has always stood for what he believes in and doing the right thing. The faux cousin's friend died doing what he loved and that is heroic.
The little guy, Boy didn't understand what was going on. The TV was on and his Dad, the Irish Twin, ended up being home from work. Boy knew enough to understand that everyone was worried about his Uncle D (who probably was one of the safest people in the country) and that the adults were upset. The little guy is now taller than I am and is on track to become an Eagle Scout. Service to others is ingrained in his personality. He is my hero and I am certain will emerge as one to all of us in some capacity as he grows up.
Everyone knows that there was a horrific loss of life that day and there were many heroes and angels. The world had gaping holes; families had empty seats at their tables. The world became a small town. My family wasn't directly affected by knowing someone who was lost that day but we had our ties to NY, Pennsylvania and DC. If you flash forward to 2011 those empty seats affected us directly.
I used to take American Flight 77 from Dulles to LAX on Mondays or Tuesdays after visiting family or friends in DC. It was great because I could still get in a pretty full workday after flying all morning. Over time I learned that a former colleague (who I only met but didn't really know) had perished when the second plane entered his Tower through his office at Fuji Bank. The SO knew this person and he also lost another former colleague that morning. It is still surreal seeing those names on lists or in stories about the World Trade Center. All of those who perished that day are my heroes.
As the story goes the then BF officially became the SO and we moved to our slice of heaven in the mountains of Utah in 2004. We realized that our closest neighbors had a few children and they seemed to be in a home headed by a single mother. Until I spent some time with her and learned that her husband was a reservist. In their non-military life he was a neurosurgeon specializing in trauma such as gunshots. He ended up serving 4 tours during our 6 and a half year stay in Utah. And his family was grateful because while he was gone he could Skype with his children and help them with their homework via email. That family is among my heroes.
I became friendly with a woman in our small town through mutual friends and shared interests. We were invited to a holiday party at her home in 2006 and she confided that she hadn't entertained in a number of years; pretty much since she moved to Utah. While at her house she took me into her office to show me pictures of her new grandchild and as we turned I saw many drawings on the walls. Most were framed with notes from school children. Our hostess lost her husband in one of the towers. She describes herself as not so confident; I think she is amazing. She now has grandchildren and many new joys that she should've shared with her husband. Her eyes are still sad at times and weary. She would be surprised to learn that she is my hero.
I have a college friend who I lost touch with for many years. Thanks to facebook we were able to reconnect. She is an amazing blogger; she writes from the heart and still has the sense of humor I recall from #$%& years ago. Her birthday is on September 11th and it is difficult for her. She blogs sometimes about one of her heroes - Pat Tillman. He was part of her extended family and represents for so many a hero who was a leader and one who believed in service. He left an empty seat at their family's table and she is passionate about furthering his message and that of the Pat Tillman Foundation (http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/). And for that she is my hero.
And this post is my tribute to all of those who serve or are unknowingly pulled into situations that call for leadership, service or sacrifice. They rise to the challenge and even if they don't know it become my heroes.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
My Messy Life: Area Codes and Life Changes
My Messy Life: Area Codes and Life Changes: "Yesterday I was filling out application forms for a new dog daycare place for the Pups. Yes, in Los Angeles you have to apply for dog daycar..."
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Area Codes and Life Changes
Yesterday I was filling out application forms for a new dog daycare place for the Pups. Yes, in Los Angeles you have to apply for dog daycare and yes, the dogs (along with their human companions) are "interviewed" for these few and highly sought after openings. I did my research; identified our first choice and backups then went and toured the facilities. It is a highly competitive process and very stressful. Private school applications or college admissions are a walk in the park compared to this. It isn't often that you have to worry about your children leaving "doodles" in the reception area or biting the admissions officer. Well, in the case of a few unnamed children that I know maybe their parents should worry about the biting. But I digress.
In our most recent move I seem to be filling out more paperwork than ever. Everyone wants the standard information including address and phone number; using these to judge what kind of person you are and what type of life you live. In the case of the pups, breed information is provided too. Imagine the confusion when our form has us living at a residential hotel with a purebred English Lab and a mutt of undetermined breeding with a 435 area code for the phone number. The SO's job has an impressive title although in his world it doesn't really mean much. My current status as a domestic goddess/diva is also cause for concern. But then they come to the area code...
The area code we currently have (435) reflects our most recent way of life. Mountains, skiing, golf (or not in my case) along with career change and lots of airline time for work or fun. We lived in a world famous small town and loved it. It was a huge change from our prior area code (626) which invoked visions of a famous parade or football game; old money and traffic. For us this area code takes us back to the early time in our marriage; discovering a new way to look at life and give up our respective former single area codes.
Our individual area codes from when we were dating showed that on paper we were geographically undesirable. Mine (310) was for the Westside. The area code, to those in the know, meant beach, fun, dinners out (or delivered) and career. I would like to think career/hipster/Carrie Bradshaw type but those who know me would beg to differ. The SO's was a suburban area; Target, soccer, inland, family oriented and a long commute (949). In those days 949s and 310s rarely knew each other much less dated. But we were able to overcome this and - with some reticence about the area code not the marriage on my part - became the aforementioned 626 couple. It only made sense.
I got my first cell phone in the immediate days after the Northridge earthquake. The area code was for northern San Diego and Orange Counties (714) as I didn't have a place to live for a little while. My father was adamant that I needed one when they couldn't get ahold of me in the first hours after the quake. (I happened to live in one of the worst hit areas so he had cause for concern.) He had been on me to get one for awhile and this was the final straw for him. When my nieces do the math and realize how old I was they can't imagine how I lived without one. One the other hand they can't imagine how any of us lived without them or what a rotary phone is either.
Which brings me back to the application and our current situation. We are househunting in the 747/818 area code and will most likely end up there. What will that area code mean? It is relatively new so people might not know how to categorize us; not old money (or no money) nor hipsters; is it urban, suburban? Will we be able to get reservations at restaurants or strike up conversations with people over it? And most important will it be held against us in the quest for good dog daycare or kennels?
Because we all know that in Los Angeles you are what you drive or in our case - you are what your area code says you are....
In our most recent move I seem to be filling out more paperwork than ever. Everyone wants the standard information including address and phone number; using these to judge what kind of person you are and what type of life you live. In the case of the pups, breed information is provided too. Imagine the confusion when our form has us living at a residential hotel with a purebred English Lab and a mutt of undetermined breeding with a 435 area code for the phone number. The SO's job has an impressive title although in his world it doesn't really mean much. My current status as a domestic goddess/diva is also cause for concern. But then they come to the area code...
The area code we currently have (435) reflects our most recent way of life. Mountains, skiing, golf (or not in my case) along with career change and lots of airline time for work or fun. We lived in a world famous small town and loved it. It was a huge change from our prior area code (626) which invoked visions of a famous parade or football game; old money and traffic. For us this area code takes us back to the early time in our marriage; discovering a new way to look at life and give up our respective former single area codes.
Our individual area codes from when we were dating showed that on paper we were geographically undesirable. Mine (310) was for the Westside. The area code, to those in the know, meant beach, fun, dinners out (or delivered) and career. I would like to think career/hipster/Carrie Bradshaw type but those who know me would beg to differ. The SO's was a suburban area; Target, soccer, inland, family oriented and a long commute (949). In those days 949s and 310s rarely knew each other much less dated. But we were able to overcome this and - with some reticence about the area code not the marriage on my part - became the aforementioned 626 couple. It only made sense.
I got my first cell phone in the immediate days after the Northridge earthquake. The area code was for northern San Diego and Orange Counties (714) as I didn't have a place to live for a little while. My father was adamant that I needed one when they couldn't get ahold of me in the first hours after the quake. (I happened to live in one of the worst hit areas so he had cause for concern.) He had been on me to get one for awhile and this was the final straw for him. When my nieces do the math and realize how old I was they can't imagine how I lived without one. One the other hand they can't imagine how any of us lived without them or what a rotary phone is either.
Which brings me back to the application and our current situation. We are househunting in the 747/818 area code and will most likely end up there. What will that area code mean? It is relatively new so people might not know how to categorize us; not old money (or no money) nor hipsters; is it urban, suburban? Will we be able to get reservations at restaurants or strike up conversations with people over it? And most important will it be held against us in the quest for good dog daycare or kennels?
Because we all know that in Los Angeles you are what you drive or in our case - you are what your area code says you are....
Sunday, June 19, 2011
My Messy Life: On Fathers Day and Father Figures
My Messy Life: On Fathers Day and Father Figures: "I was woken up this morning at five by two anxious dogs ready to get out for their morning walk. We moved from Park City back to the Los Ang..."
On Fathers Day and Father Figures
I was woken up this morning at five by two anxious dogs ready to get out for their morning walk. We moved from Park City back to the Los Angeles area and while this required some adjustment by the SO and me to a new job, traffic, city noises and all of the food delivery options the two fur companions really had to make adjustments. Walking on leashes - all of the time. No backyard to wander around in and hunt moose, elk or potguts in. Seeing other dogs being walked in outfits that match their human companions. Okay, I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that much less our dogs. We are back in the real world and no longer on our extended vacation in the Wasatch Mountains. So the dogs needed their walk, I needed some exercise and the SO needed to sleep in. After all, it was Fathers Day.
The pups and I took off; leashes on and baggies in hand. During our walk I got to thinking. The SO and his siblings were raised by his mom; who some would argue was a great father as well as a great mother. She did an amazing job and still does one to this day. I had a different upbringing with two parents under the same roof with more traditional roles. Dad aka DoD (self named as Dear old Dad aka the Colonel) was a military man; highly disciplined, loved his country and believed anyone could do anything if they set their minds to it. Mom was, and is, very similar. Her main interest is life. She thinks it should be well lived and well laughed. They both shared an incredible sense of humor which I think my siblings and I inherited.
As a military family we moved around; not as much as some military families but more than most kids. Dad's career in electronic warfare had him traveling quite a bit and working long hours so he wasn't always there for every milestone event in our lives. But we were lucky; we had other men in our lives who stepped in.
Uncle DB lived in Albany NY. He is a retired educator and administrator who has a cult following all over the Northeast and the US for that matter. This elite group consists of my cousins, brothers and me along with our families. Now Uncle DB is not a blood relative nor married into the family. But don't tell any of us he wasn't our true Uncle. He was a father figure who made it to our First Communions, confirmations, graduations and weddings. He, along with Aunt M and Uncle J (both blood relatives not related to each other at all) joined us for holidays or to settle into a new house. Since DoD couldn't do it; Uncle DB had to give the final stamp of approval on the SO. He has always been there for us; no matter where we lived. All over the country... He had no children of his own but is an important father figure to all of us.
Uncle S is another father figure to my brothers and me. He was one of my Father's closest friends having started their newlywed lives and military careers together. We probably spent more time with him and his family than we did our "blood" relatives because they always seemed to live near us over the years and all across the U.S. Dod and Uncle S experienced fatherhood with each other and shared many laughs and undoubtedly a few tears as all of us kids grew up. Now Uncle S is not our Uncle in the genetic sense; he is our faux uncle, his kids are my faux cousins and Aunt G - she was our amazing faux aunt. Which brings us to BZ; Aunt G's husband after Uncle S who also became a guiding light to the 4 of us younger kids. For me, he taught me about watershed, wildlife and the importance of river reclamation projects. But that is a whole other story for another time.
And as an adult whose parents didn't live nearby my Jewish father stepped in with advice and guidance when needed. He took a quiet interest in all that was going on with me and actually - all of the Touchstones. He stays current in what is going on in our lives and was one of the first to screen the SO and put his stamp of approval on him. Now the Jewish Mother typically gets all of the press from us; even after she has been gone all of these years. But the Jewish Father is another father figure and so important to me even as I write this.
The SO was lucky enough to have friends' fathers who were good role models. They coached him in sports, helped him with scouting projects and in one case - made him go to Mass. Now he wasn't raised as a Catholic but this influence always remained with him even as an adult who eventually converted to Catholicism. All of this prepared the SO for instant fatherhood and an instant family of 3 young children which was added to one more time by his youngest daughter. I love just observing this blended family of which I am lucky to be a part. They all share his mannerisms, his sense of humor and each one has a unique piece of his heart. He is their DoD and time spent with them brings him peace and joy. As it does for me.
We lost a young father in our family this year and I want to give his children and wife hope, leave them with some thoughts. Their dad will be missed but his influence won't be lost and he won't be forgotten. They have Uncles, faux Uncles and Grandfathers who will step in and help create more memories. On this Fathers Day I have to thank all of these important men who fill the gaps where they can. Unasked and sometimes unacknowledged. But always loved.
The pups and I took off; leashes on and baggies in hand. During our walk I got to thinking. The SO and his siblings were raised by his mom; who some would argue was a great father as well as a great mother. She did an amazing job and still does one to this day. I had a different upbringing with two parents under the same roof with more traditional roles. Dad aka DoD (self named as Dear old Dad aka the Colonel) was a military man; highly disciplined, loved his country and believed anyone could do anything if they set their minds to it. Mom was, and is, very similar. Her main interest is life. She thinks it should be well lived and well laughed. They both shared an incredible sense of humor which I think my siblings and I inherited.
As a military family we moved around; not as much as some military families but more than most kids. Dad's career in electronic warfare had him traveling quite a bit and working long hours so he wasn't always there for every milestone event in our lives. But we were lucky; we had other men in our lives who stepped in.
Uncle DB lived in Albany NY. He is a retired educator and administrator who has a cult following all over the Northeast and the US for that matter. This elite group consists of my cousins, brothers and me along with our families. Now Uncle DB is not a blood relative nor married into the family. But don't tell any of us he wasn't our true Uncle. He was a father figure who made it to our First Communions, confirmations, graduations and weddings. He, along with Aunt M and Uncle J (both blood relatives not related to each other at all) joined us for holidays or to settle into a new house. Since DoD couldn't do it; Uncle DB had to give the final stamp of approval on the SO. He has always been there for us; no matter where we lived. All over the country... He had no children of his own but is an important father figure to all of us.
Uncle S is another father figure to my brothers and me. He was one of my Father's closest friends having started their newlywed lives and military careers together. We probably spent more time with him and his family than we did our "blood" relatives because they always seemed to live near us over the years and all across the U.S. Dod and Uncle S experienced fatherhood with each other and shared many laughs and undoubtedly a few tears as all of us kids grew up. Now Uncle S is not our Uncle in the genetic sense; he is our faux uncle, his kids are my faux cousins and Aunt G - she was our amazing faux aunt. Which brings us to BZ; Aunt G's husband after Uncle S who also became a guiding light to the 4 of us younger kids. For me, he taught me about watershed, wildlife and the importance of river reclamation projects. But that is a whole other story for another time.
And as an adult whose parents didn't live nearby my Jewish father stepped in with advice and guidance when needed. He took a quiet interest in all that was going on with me and actually - all of the Touchstones. He stays current in what is going on in our lives and was one of the first to screen the SO and put his stamp of approval on him. Now the Jewish Mother typically gets all of the press from us; even after she has been gone all of these years. But the Jewish Father is another father figure and so important to me even as I write this.
The SO was lucky enough to have friends' fathers who were good role models. They coached him in sports, helped him with scouting projects and in one case - made him go to Mass. Now he wasn't raised as a Catholic but this influence always remained with him even as an adult who eventually converted to Catholicism. All of this prepared the SO for instant fatherhood and an instant family of 3 young children which was added to one more time by his youngest daughter. I love just observing this blended family of which I am lucky to be a part. They all share his mannerisms, his sense of humor and each one has a unique piece of his heart. He is their DoD and time spent with them brings him peace and joy. As it does for me.
We lost a young father in our family this year and I want to give his children and wife hope, leave them with some thoughts. Their dad will be missed but his influence won't be lost and he won't be forgotten. They have Uncles, faux Uncles and Grandfathers who will step in and help create more memories. On this Fathers Day I have to thank all of these important men who fill the gaps where they can. Unasked and sometimes unacknowledged. But always loved.
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