Broken Record

To my son Tommy,

I often worry about being a broken record and how often I repeat myself. How many times can you say "love is the way" and in how many different ways? How many times do I need to remind you that life is often difficult and unfair, but it matters not how often you get crapped upon but more about your attitude and how you approach the many challenges of life? How many times can you say brain tumors and seizures suck and we are back in the hospital and trying to keep a positive attitude? 

I guess as many times as I have to. And as you can see by the picture, yet again there is another ER trip for your Granpa Leo. The hat and low lights are to reduce seizures. He is being admitted for observation.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Mosca Hunter

To my son Tommy,

Today, after work, I stopped by your grandparents' house. You and Mommy were there earlier to take Nana Jeanne to the hospital but had already left. I did a few chores (trash out, computer updates, go over mom's recent doc appointment helping hand here and there) and just visited for a bit of time.

During my visit, your Grandpa Leo excitedly says, "Oh! You have to see the mosca masks!"

I searched my mind's store of Spanish vocabulary and remembered that "mosca" is Spanish for fly. Evidently you and he were hunting flies. One of you, not sure which, suggested you make disguises to fool the flies so you could get closer with your swatter. He came out  in his mask, as seen in the picture I snapped (not sure why he was carrying a bag of lemons though). Even the eyes had a punch of pin prick holes to mimic fly eyes. Your mask looked good too. You never know what to expect when you get your Grandpa Leo and you together, but there is a high probability of it being off the wall but filled with love!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Bitter Pill

To my son Tommy,

Your father is a bitter pill. I am blunt, direct, forward, and often harsh or downright abrasive. I used to rationalize this as I have the necessary lack of tact for the occasion rather than I lack the necessary tact. I used to think this served me well and was a good thing born from experience.. Years of being too nice or too easy going often got me walked on, taken advantage of, or taken for granted. As I grew and extended my practical contact with people, I learned where to remain guarded, and untrusting, and firm, and harsh, and demanding, and unforgiving. I no longer consider it a positive.

I have come to realize you can be nice and firm at the same time. You can be pleasant and easy in your manners and ways while still being mostly direct. You get more flies with honey. Sweeter words are easier to swallow just in case you have to eat your words. "No thank you" is as just as effective as "NO! That is stupid! Not now! Not ever!" Now the key is putting this realization into action. That is much easier said than done in my age. When you have been burned so many times before over forty one years, you get set in your ways.

But this is not how I want you to grow up. I want you to be gentle and sweet and nice, like you are now. In order for you to stay that way, I know I have to change my ways, because example is the most powerful teacher. I want you to learn that nice isn't always saying yes, and no doesn't mean you have to be harsh. I am not saying abandon what you know to be correct (which I do occasionally, much to my later dismay) but just be nice about how you go about explaining why it needs to be done that way. I want you to have patience when you teach, and patience when you have to explain something over and over. I want you to learn to sway people to your thinking rather than ramming what you think is right down their throat. Basically, I want you to learn to be the quintessential Irishman and have the ability to tell someone to go to hell and look forward to the trip. Don't let life change you for the worse my son. Don't grow up to be a grumpy jaded old man like your dad who only wants to tell you once and has no time for people who can't see what is "right" right away. Be kind. Be gentle. Be loving. Inspire people to be better people. Inspire other people to be kind. Maybe then, this world will have a chance.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Aaahhhchooo

To my son Tommy,

There are times where I dig deep and attempt to find those profound pearls of wisdom. This is not one of those times. I guess you can file this on practical tip. Okay, enough build up.

If there is anyway at all you can avoid it, never sneeze while eating sushi.

I learned this little nugget just today, and, after picking up the 52nd grain of rice that scattered just about everywhere, I decided to share. Not sure how you avoid it, that you will have to figure out on your own.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Peak Of Misunderstanding

To my son Tommy,

I truly believe that our society has reached a new height in misinformation. At no point in human history have people so readily dismissed the truth but at the same time accepted the most absurd ideas as fact. We live in an age where people believe honey and cinnamon can cure everything (or so sayeth the digital article) and news of a person's death can go viral thrice over, years after the event. No longer do we understand the difference between causation and correlation and coincidence. We live on headlines and click bait and can somehow discern the entire story without reading another word. Oh Paul Harvey where are you now? We are in desperate need of the rest of the story.

Yet the same tool (I mean the Internet and not Al Gore) that seemingly created this mess may be the same apparatus to get us out. For a tool is not inherently good nor evil. Only in the reflection of how it is used does a device, method, or means take on such characteristics. The Internet easily reflects back our abundant human flaws because we allow it, but this does not have to be.

We have to change our hearts and minds and in extension how we use the tools in our lives. We must use our voices, be it through the Internet or print or in person, to spread truth. We must approach each story presented to us with a critical mind and a healthy dose of skepticism. We must delve in deep to the entire story and not allow a snippet of information, purposely written to trick us into a click, to have such a great influence on what we think. We must demand truth and accuracy from all sources of information, be it politician or press or the person down the street. We must avoid all media that continue to feed off half truths and fears and opinion masquerading as news, in hopes that their profit disappear and with it their unscrupulous ways.

We must challenge those of our friends and family that share the unfounded and absurd as if it was fact. We must be cautious in what we pass along and be careful in our own certainty. We must once again recognize the harm in each untruth spoken or shared and no longer forgive ourselves by dismissing the action as harmless or justifying it as well intended. Even your own father's words, it pains me to say, must not be blindly accepted. As Walt Whitman wrote in Song of Myself , "You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self." Seek truth my son and speak truth my son.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Thus Ends My Birthday Weekend

To my son Tommy,

Thus ends my birthday weekend. And a grand weekend it was. The majority of it was spent tiling and doing home improvement type stuff. Well, mostly I sat around just playing helper to your mom who is sort of a D.I.Y (Do It Yourself) queen. Occasionally I got to play some Minecraft with you and your mom let me out to the local casino for a little, but according to my muscles, most of my time was spent squatting on a floor laying mud and tile.

You might think that is not a great way to spend a birthday weekend, but you would be wrong. Just because it was a bit domestic and chore like, doesn't mean I didn't have a great time. We made great progress on the basement (looks good in the pic right? Only 1200 sq ft more to go!). Plus I got to use a tile saw which is something new to me. Also I learned a bunch of new home improvement techniques. Of course my education consisted of learning what not to do the next time, but that is okay too. Your mom and I were working well as a team and having so much fun (mostly) laughing at our mistakes that it almost made me forget why we need to redo the basement. Still, sobering thought aside, I was always surrounded by family this weekend.

Friday started with a big "Happy Birthday" surprise wake up call that made your mother nearly hit the ceiling from a dead sleep. You then gave me cuddles and hugs and even some back scratches. What a great start! And you were so excited to give me my gifts, which were two pairs of flip flops! I had put a nail through the left one of my last pair the night before while working on the basement, which wouldn't have been so bad if my foot wasn't in it at the time.

We had dinner with your grandparents and Nana Jeanne every night, when your mom and I could tear ourselves away from the basement. I always enjoy family dinner with the Downeys and hope that same dinner dynamic continues when we have to move in to take care of your grandpa and everyone. You still lead us in grace with the song you learned at St Agnes. We have to keep a weathered eye for food wrappers that occasionally make it into the dish when your Grandma Roro cooks, but if that is the only hazard then it is worth the risk.

As for today though, it was a sad anniversary. Your Nana Jeanne and your Great Grandpa Leo would have been married seventy years today, the platinum anniversary. I could tell he was on her mind and in her heart today. I think it was good for us to be up there for most of today, even though you and her had a little spat. You were being a bit rambunctious and your Nana Jeanne needed some calm and of course Mommy and I were down in the basement trying to figure out grouting techniques. Anyways, you took offense to your Nana Jeanne finally telling you to knock it off, but after some words were exchanged (by letter even) you apologized and told (again by letter) your great grandma that you loved her.

Funny thing about anniversaries, and birthdays, and other special dates...they never stop. Even if you wanted them to, they just keep coming, as time tends to do. Some times they can be causes for joyous celebration, while other times they can be a bit sad. If you surround yourself with your family and friends, you can get through and feel blessed no matter what type of anniversary it is. Their love make the happiest days better and the saddest days easier. That is the reason we are working on the basement for my birthday weekend. So when the time comes to move in to help, we can be there to give our love, to give of ourselves. And that is the best birthday gift I can give myself.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Just Another Day

To my son Tommy,

To everyone else, it is just another Fathers' Day. Unfortunately, I have been enlightened to know that any day, including Father's day, is not just another day. Every day is a gift to be treasured and experienced to its fullest. Sounds good right? Yet I say that I have been unfortunately enlightened. I say unfortunately because it can be quite worrisome and burdensome to think of each day in the sense of its potential lasts. This could be the last Fathers' Day I spend with my dad.

A week ago, I was calm and this was the farthest thought from my mind. I was living in the moment and not the future, and if you got to live that is the time period to live in. But now the "What do you want to do for Father's day?" question had all this false importance I was projecting on it. My sense of responsibility, coupled with a heaping amount of Catholic guilt and regret, says that I should make this day, and every day to come for that matter, the most memorable... for it may be the last.

Should I be throwing him a party every day? What do you give to a man who has given you everything? What do you give a man who is facing a timetable that's only certainty is its pessimistic outlook? Hallmark doesn't make a card sufficient for times like this, trust me I've looked.

So I went over to your Grandpa Leo's house yesterday. He was laying down in bed. I cleared off your Grandma Roro's spot and layed down next to him, a practice I have recently adopted. It is nice in that room when the t.v. is off and the fan is on and it is all dark. Something peaceful and calming and secure when I lay down next to my daddy. I told him not to get up, because he hasn't yet accustomed himself to me just wanting to lay down next to him and usually he tries to get up right away and ruins the moment and interrupts the rest he needs, thus making me feel worse about the world. As we laid there mostly in silence, I sighed a big sigh as relief and tranquility started to come on to me.

Me: "What do you want for Fathers' Day? The question has been weighing on me."
Your Grandpa Leo: "Sweats."
Me: "What do you mean sweats? Like sweatpants?"
Your Grandpa Leo: "Yeah. Something I can wear out of the house and not embarrass anyone I am with. These pajama pants aren't cutting it and the jeans are just too hard to deal with if bathroom urges strike. Don't move as fast as I used to."

I continued on telling him all the ideas I had go through my head about the gifts I should get him. He laughed a little at each. Even said some would be perfectly nice. But in the end, I am getting your grandpa sweatpants for this Fathers' Day and hopefully a couple more pairs for next Fathers' Day and the one after that. I was back to living in the moment, just me and my daddy, laying next to each other, staring at a ceiling. That lasted until your Grandma Roro decided we were being too lazy or having too much funny and all of a sudden needed some...I don't know what the hell she needed, but it was something that couldn't wait.

Your Grandpa Leo: "Welp, so much for that." then as he looked at me as if it was all my fault this moment was ending, he accusingly added,  "You sighed too loudly I think."

Here are the secrets of life that dawned on me. This Fathers' Day could be the last. Last Fathers' Day could have been the last. The Fathers' day before that could have been the last. Every Fathers' Day of my life could have been the last. You can't prepare yourself for the last...you can only live the current.  You can't live the current based upon the uncertainty of the next. And all those grandiose dreams, all those efforts to make something the most memorable... well often enough they are for naught. If my father were to pass tomorrow or six years from now, I am not going to tell the story of how right before he did I got him a 55 inch ultra led t.v. for his last Fathers' Day. But I will tell the story of how I used to go in and lay down next to him and have to tell him not to get up so we could both experience together the rare moment of calm that eludes most of fathers. I will tell you how all my father wanted was sweatpants (and a beer but a thimble of near beer will evidently put him under the table and in mortal danger so all he gets are sweatpants) Special moments like this can exist every day, and they are far from grandiose gestures, but they exist in the little short almost insignificant moments of life that mean much more than you ever realize until they actually do become the last. Until then, he will no longer be able to embarrass us with his pants. But embarrassing us with his hats...well that just won't ever stop.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo