Roots

Went down tonight to the Streets of Southglen to watch the Christmas tree lighting and it was really nice. There was some kind of Figure Skating exhibition, Arapahoe HS band members were playing Christmas tunes (with the obligatory open case), Santa arrived, it was just a real nice hometown feel. Additionally, we called the grand parents, and they came down to spend some time with the kids, and I love that we got to enjoy that as a family. As normally happens when we go down to the Streets, we bumped into some of the folks that we know, neighbors, school families, scouting families, whomever, and D even got to run with his pack of friends from school, and while it's hard to truly cool at 10, these quys came close, following some girls, meeting up with other friends, etc. Even Amberly managed to have some hello moments that were all about kids she knew. Coming home and getting ready for bed, I was feeling really happy that the family was establishing roots.

Roots are something new to me, and something that I always wanted for may kids. See when I was growing up, we were a military family. Military families move every couple of years, and the longest we ever stayed in one spot was about 3 years. As most of my friends were also from military families, and they weren't neccessarily on the same time schedule of assignement, the longest that I got to hang with them was about a year to a year and a half. By the time I was 15, I had lived in 10 different homes. Other than the fact that my Gramma lived in the same house that my Dad was raised in, I had no concept of roots. But roots are good, they offer things that shouldn't be taken for granted, a sense of where you come from, a source of continuity, and place to remember fondly. If you are fortuante enough to have multiple generations within the same geographic location, you get shared experiences. For example, my two youngest children go to the same school my wife went as a kid, so they share the experience of being students there and my wife shares the experience of being a parent there, just like her folks were. These shared experiences create some pretty strong bonds, and that helps holds a family together through the years. So I am extremely grateful to finally have roots. I'll be writing more soon. Blessings.

Loose Tooth

My youngest recently had a tooth loose that she was being careful with, you know, not wiggling it too hard, being careful about what she ate and how she bit into it, all in an effort to preserve the wiggliness of the tooth. Over the next few days, as people asked her about how her tooth was doing, she would open her mouth and show how wiggly it was getting, but was real careful to make sure that no extra effort was expended to try and get the tooth out, it was only going to come out when it was good and ready. You see, as exciting as it was to know that she was soon going to have a tooth gone, and all that entails, new smile, tooth fairy visit, pictures and getting to show and tell for a while with family and friends, it was even more exciting to anticipate that happening, and she wanted to savor every minute of it. Tonight, after dinner, my youngest and I changed into our comfies (PJs), and a small game of rough housing commenced. Now rough housing at our house is always a crowd pleaser, and this was no exception. We were laughing, play punching, giggling, tickling, and everyone was having fun. Until...you guessed it, someone got hurt. This was thankfully a minor hurt, but tragedy had still struck as my daughter's tooth, the loose one, was now really loose. In fact, it was figuratively and literally only hanging by a thread. Now you might expect that there would have been a flood of tears, some sadness about how careful she was being with this tooth, and how now it was almost out, but no, she felt how loose it was and then worked on that tooth until it was out, happy as a clam the whole time. As I pondered this, watching in amazement as she giggled at the new hole in her smile, ran around finding the tooth fairy pillow, and showed off her tooth to the rest of the family, I realized that she was learning to live in the moment and be content with what life threw her way. It amazed me that my six year old had already grasped what a bunch of adults never do, and I couldn't help comparing her attitude to my own. While I didn't fail this comparison, I recognized that there are some things that I don't exactly roll with, and that I can learn from the behavior modeled for me. It seems that sometimes I get so caught up in the result, that I fail to enjoy the ride getting there. Furthermore, I sometimes get so caught up in the plans I've made, I miss experiencing the contentment of wanted results by instead dwelling on "that 's not the way it was supposed to be happening". Shouldn't it truly just be as simple as enjoying where we're at? I'm hopefully going to remember that next time so that I don't get distracted.Until next time, blessings.

Fathers

I was thinking the other day about my father, and about the legacy that he left behind. Legacies are rarely talked about when someone's alive, so I don't know how the mark that he left on this earth compares to what he wanted to leave. It struck me, however, as something that a son should know about his father, and possibly something that a son could help fashion about his dad.

Now I'm not saying that a son should become a PR specialist for his old man's reputation, but by doing a little reflection, he can come to grips with the qualities and truths that are representative of his father's essence, and he can embody them within in his own persona, adapting them to fit his mold, shaping them to reflect his ideals. Furthermore, he can teach that process to his own children, as part of the next generation's shaping and molding, so that he can be a step ahead in shaping and molding his own legacy. Because after all is said and done, the influence on the next generation is the true legacy that a man leaves behind.

Which brings me back to my dad. He was a man of few words, but he had deep passion for the things he believed, right or wrong. He'd deny it of course, play it off as something you were imagining, but I think he was secretly proud to have it known. I bet he never imagined the lesson he was teaching by doing that, but even if he had realized the impact, I believe that he would have played it off, true to form. That doesn't change the fact that an impression was made. So now I get to choose what to do with that, and my choice, in part, is this blog. Like my father, I am a man of few words, with deep passions for the things I believe, right or wrong. I don't want, however, to perpetuate in my children the pondering that occured in me after
my dad's passing. This blog is my attempt to confirm, rather than deny, and I hope you enjoy the ride.