Let me share with you the lyrics to a song written many years ago by ex-Beatle John Lennon for his son, Sean, who was almost five years old at the time. It's called "Beautiful Boy", and whenever I hear it, I always think of you. I wish I could sing it to you before you go to sleep tonight. For me, the most beautiful line of the song comes near the end in the advice John gives his son; I've found it particularly true in my own life and hope you also take it to heart: "Life is what happens to you/While you're busy making other plans." Here's the words to the song:
Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run and your daddy's here
[Chorus:]
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better
[Chorus]
Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient
'Cause it's a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime
Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans
[Chorus]
Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Your first football 'coach'
A couple of the neighbor boys were playing football outside with one another last night. It made me think of all the times we played football together. We didn't really keep score, just practiced skills, like tossing the ball to one another. As a father, I must tell you there's something quite relaxing about playing catch with your son inthe backyard.
Do you remember how I taught you to catch? You hold both hands out in front of you, and then when the ball arrives in them, you pull it into your chest. You got pretty good at it!
And then there were the tackling "drills," which I think you liked best. I would sit on my knees (atop a pillow if we were indoors), holding the ball in my hands, and with your shoulder you'd bash into me, wrapping both arms around my waist or chest, and knock me backward. Sometimes you'd wrap your arms around my neck, and I'd call you for a horse collar tackle penalty! You couldn't get enough of those tackling drills, and you always wore me out!
Other times you;d get to carry to ball and run at (or more smartly around) me, and I'd tried to catch you while still sitting their on my knees. You loved that, too.
I also taught you how to place kick a ball, which I held (as we didn't have a tee). And then I taught you take a handoff and to handoff the ball. Those weren't too exciting for you, though we always made it fun.
I wasn't trying to turn you into a football player (In fact, with your imagination and play acting skills, I figured you'd end up in theater or forensics as a high school student, and that's cool, too - I was in forensics and had a lot of friends in theater), but I figured every boy should know how to play football. My dad didn't have a lot of time to teach those skills to me, and I wanted to make sure you never were left out or at a disadvantage once you got to elementary school and the other boys wanted to play football.
Sure wish you were here right now to play some football. I think we could challenge those two neighbor kids to a game - and I'd bet we win!
Do you remember how I taught you to catch? You hold both hands out in front of you, and then when the ball arrives in them, you pull it into your chest. You got pretty good at it!
And then there were the tackling "drills," which I think you liked best. I would sit on my knees (atop a pillow if we were indoors), holding the ball in my hands, and with your shoulder you'd bash into me, wrapping both arms around my waist or chest, and knock me backward. Sometimes you'd wrap your arms around my neck, and I'd call you for a horse collar tackle penalty! You couldn't get enough of those tackling drills, and you always wore me out!
Other times you;d get to carry to ball and run at (or more smartly around) me, and I'd tried to catch you while still sitting their on my knees. You loved that, too.
I also taught you how to place kick a ball, which I held (as we didn't have a tee). And then I taught you take a handoff and to handoff the ball. Those weren't too exciting for you, though we always made it fun.
I wasn't trying to turn you into a football player (In fact, with your imagination and play acting skills, I figured you'd end up in theater or forensics as a high school student, and that's cool, too - I was in forensics and had a lot of friends in theater), but I figured every boy should know how to play football. My dad didn't have a lot of time to teach those skills to me, and I wanted to make sure you never were left out or at a disadvantage once you got to elementary school and the other boys wanted to play football.
Sure wish you were here right now to play some football. I think we could challenge those two neighbor kids to a game - and I'd bet we win!
Friday, June 22, 2012
How I miss your voice, Kieran!
Perhaps one of the biggest mistakes I've made these past five years is not recording your voice, Kieran. I have hundreds of pictures of you, but not a single audio recording of your voice, other than a brief, 10-second video of you as nine-month-old.
Oh how I miss that voice today! And your laugh. And the songs you'd sing and little sound effects you'd make as playing.
The sad irony here is that I'm actually allowed to talk to you every day - but the courts have decided that only you may initiate the phone calls. You're barely 5 years old! You don't know how to use a phone let alone have access to one. With decisions like that, is it any wonder so many people have lost their faith in the American "justice" system?
And certainly your mother and her family aren't going to suggest to you that you can ask to speak to me by phone! No doubt they've decided that it's in your "best interest" to not speak with your father.
When you are old enough to use a phone and can access one, call me. I will talk to you as long as you like. There is so much I want to tell you and so much I want to hear about you. My phone number is 661-233-2692.
Oh how I miss that voice today! And your laugh. And the songs you'd sing and little sound effects you'd make as playing.
The sad irony here is that I'm actually allowed to talk to you every day - but the courts have decided that only you may initiate the phone calls. You're barely 5 years old! You don't know how to use a phone let alone have access to one. With decisions like that, is it any wonder so many people have lost their faith in the American "justice" system?
And certainly your mother and her family aren't going to suggest to you that you can ask to speak to me by phone! No doubt they've decided that it's in your "best interest" to not speak with your father.
When you are old enough to use a phone and can access one, call me. I will talk to you as long as you like. There is so much I want to tell you and so much I want to hear about you. My phone number is 661-233-2692.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
A little about myself
So far, most of the entries here have been about my memories of you. But I thought you might like to know a little but more about me.
I run and own my own business in which I edit people's writing and help them get published. I edit all kinds of things but mainly novels and nonfiction manuscripts. I also write books, which help other people become better writers, get published, and sell their books; another set of my books is about how to hike with children (which is largely based on my experiences hiking with you when we were together!).
Helping other people write better books brings me real pleasure. First, I like to read, so someone paying me to read their book is a lot like someone paying a person who likes to fish to spend his whole day fishing! Secondly, I like to teach and mentor others; it gives me a lot of joy to see others achieve their goals in part thanks to the help I gave them (In much the same way, I so enjoyed helping you learn and master new skills when growing up, from learning your colors and counting to using a scissors and throwing a great spiral pass).
I also like to write, but most of my efforts these days are on nonfiction pieces rather than fiction - though I've got plenty of short stories and novels started. They are just very time consming (albeit fun) to write, and I find penning nonfiction and editing others' works more lucrative. Scan through my blogs and websites, and you're certain to come across my published writing.
The first story I ever wrote that wasn't a class assignment was in second grade. I wrote a "Star Trek" tale for a friend of mine, who was an Asian-American. Mr. Sulu was his favorite character, and he always complained that there were no episodes in which the helmsman saved the day. So I wrote a story in which Mr. Sulu rescues Captain Kirk on a dangerous planet!
You always loved to make up and to hear stories when we were together. I have a confession to make: I'd always guide your storytelling and teach you terms of the trade in hopes that you'd become an excellent writer one day yourself! In fact, in one story you were going to have our main character die, and I said, "But you can't kill him! He's one of our lead characters!"
Like a typical writer, you weren't too keen on having someone else tell you how your story should go, but after a while, you relented!
I run and own my own business in which I edit people's writing and help them get published. I edit all kinds of things but mainly novels and nonfiction manuscripts. I also write books, which help other people become better writers, get published, and sell their books; another set of my books is about how to hike with children (which is largely based on my experiences hiking with you when we were together!).
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| My company "logo." |
I also like to write, but most of my efforts these days are on nonfiction pieces rather than fiction - though I've got plenty of short stories and novels started. They are just very time consming (albeit fun) to write, and I find penning nonfiction and editing others' works more lucrative. Scan through my blogs and websites, and you're certain to come across my published writing.
The first story I ever wrote that wasn't a class assignment was in second grade. I wrote a "Star Trek" tale for a friend of mine, who was an Asian-American. Mr. Sulu was his favorite character, and he always complained that there were no episodes in which the helmsman saved the day. So I wrote a story in which Mr. Sulu rescues Captain Kirk on a dangerous planet!
You always loved to make up and to hear stories when we were together. I have a confession to make: I'd always guide your storytelling and teach you terms of the trade in hopes that you'd become an excellent writer one day yourself! In fact, in one story you were going to have our main character die, and I said, "But you can't kill him! He's one of our lead characters!"
Like a typical writer, you weren't too keen on having someone else tell you how your story should go, but after a while, you relented!
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Garbage trucks: Your fave Matchbox cars
When you were two years old, Kieran, little Matchbox cars by far were your favorite toy. Should we go to Target or Wal-mart or Albertson's supermarket, you were certain to want to look at them and get one. You most liked the garbage trucks. I'm not certain why, for you were deathly afraid of real garbage trucks whenever they came to our house each week! If you heard one on the street, you'd come running and crying to me for protection. Then I'd take you outside and hold you as we watched the garbageman pick up the neighbor's bins and then our own. They didn;t seem so frightening in my arms. You always waved at him, and usually he honked his horn back.
Another favorite Matchbox car of yours was the street sweeper. That you never were afraid of when it made its way once a month down the street. We also went out to wave at the driver, and he almost always waved back, and then we'd go inspect how he'd cleaned the curb of leaves and detritus.
Just a couple of quick memories for you. The picture at above right is of two of your Matchbox garbage trucks. A little fuzzy (my apologies), but pehaps one day if you ever want to collect the toys of your past, you'll now know what they look like.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
I love you, Kieran
I hope you're able to tell by the entries on this blog that I love you, Kieran. I'm certain you are; you've always been very intuitive and quick to pick up on others' emotions. Still, sometimes the words simply need to be said. And that's all this entry is about. I just want you to know: I love you, Kieran - I always have, I do now, and I always will.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Some places we built some memories of
There were the famous "Kirk Rocks," as you liked to call them, where Captain Kirk fought the famous Gorn. It's really Vasquez Rocks County Park, and we went there quite a few times (the picture at left is from April 2011), hiking the same trails Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock did, often playing our own "Star Trek" and later cowboy adventures.
Speaking of cowboys, do you remember the McDonalds in Acton that had a horse atop it? Everytime we drove past it while making up cowboy stories, we'd joke about how it was Sheriff Jack's horse, Luke, and say "Get down from there, Luke!"
And as far as McDonalds go, we stopped many times at the one in Santa Clarita next to the new Kohl's along Hwy. 14. Whenever heading into Los Angeles, it was a certain pit stop for a snack or bathroom break.
Maybe one day we'll be able to go back to all of those places again. I hope we don't have to wait so long that you will have a son of your own who we take on the trip - though I can't wait to meet my grandchild!
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