Birthday Catch Up

To the grandchildren of my father,

I am hijacking today’s letter from you guys to write out one to your granddad. It will be a long letter, so as you guys find this when you are older, I would understand if you skipped it. Just some mushy emotional recaps written to a person who has no way of reading these words. Not even sure why I feel compelled. But I do hope you guys understand.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

To dad,

Happy heavenly birthday. You would have been 74 today. Hard to believe it has been five years and a couple months since you left this earthly existence. I miss you most every day, or at least when I can find time to quiet my mind and ponder the important things in life.

Mom is doing surprisingly well. She is lucid and mentally stable as of recently. We made some adjustments on her med list and one day she just came around again, ending a ten year plus battle of what we figured was the end slide down dementia lane or Alzheimer’s hill. I know that you spent a good amount of your final years worrying about her and trying to get the doctors to take the decline seriously. I spent a good amount of my years after you passed doing the same. The doctors have noted the drastic improvement, but can’t really explain the change that made the difference. Cassie and I have our theories, but it is really was pure happenstance that we took her off a few meds that were screwing her up and found one that works wonders for her. Did you have any influence up there?

I mean mom still has her difficulties. She has a bunch of medical issues still. We have tons of doctors visits and such to keep in our busy schedule, but at least the trips contain an awake and aware companion now. And mom is still mom. The meds didn’t change any of her personality difficulties, but I try my hardest (some days harder than others) to live up to my promise to you to be nice to your wife. 

The hardest part for Ro is very few people visit her. She is lonely without you. But now with her increased mental acuity, your granddaughters spend a good amount of time enjoying her company. She is doing puzzles with them and teaching them card games.

Cassie misses you plenty as well. She often ponders what life would be like for us and our kids if you hadn’t gotten brain cancer. When I think of you and her, what comes to mind is the image of you with a tear of joy in your eye telling me how you always wanted a daughter as well as a son and how you were so happy she was in our lives and you worried if you would know how to be a father to a daughter. Well if her love for you is any indication, you did a fine job.

Cassie’s bone cancer is still in remission, at least according to all the scans and doctors following it. Still, she is in pain most days of her life. The doctors say it is enthesitis due to her Crohn’s disease and say it has lesions on the spine and hip areas. She often soldiers on through the pain and pretends we can’t see. She is such a strong woman and a loving wife and mother and daughter-in-law. Even through the pain, she is the glue that keeps the family together and sane. Definitely one of my better decisions in life to marry her. A blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.

Your oldest grandchild has been having a hard time of it late. He got this coughing thing that kept him out of school for almost the entire month of April. The latest from the doctors is that it started as something, probably viral, may have went on to become bacterial, and then cleared and now his spasmodic cough is a learned behavior. So now we are treating with just throat lozenges when the coughing fit occurs. He still has coughing fits, just had one two nights ago. Not the three hour ones like before but even watching your child struggle like that, with breathing, for 15 minutes is difficult. I worry that he might have this his whole life. Not sure I buy the doctors’ assessments. Think they are selling us some BS and just don’t want to admit that they should look deeper. I guess all their years of medical education and training has tired them out and they just want to deal with the easy things they already have answers for. I am not saying I don’t trust doctors or medical science because then I’d be joining a sadly large part of today’s society who follow conspiracy theories and hateful misinformation. All I am is saying is that I better understand those people especially when you meet those egotistical doctors who have to be right and who forget that science is the search for answers and must be questioned and challenged at all time. Though I am jaded, you raised me with enough common sense to not fall for charlatans selling bleach cures and horse dewormers and off label use for other meds like malaria cures.

Other than that Tommy is doing pretty well. He loves all things musical. He still plays the sax and is learning piano and hopes to sing his self into a high school magnet school in a year and a half when he goes for 9th grade. He is just finishing up seventh grade now. He is also such a kind hearted young man. I worry that he is a little too kind and a little too naive to carry on the Downey name. We have had enough people in our Downey line who realized that some people deserve a good pop in the nose and would use that technique and so few people in life that have tried pure kindness with no backup plan for violence. Maybe it is time to try that manner for the Downey men.

As for the girls, well you would have had some fun with them. And they would have enjoyed the heck out of you. They have such fun personalities, or at least that is what I realize when I take a step back from the times they are frustrating me as a parent. You know that instinct I mentioned Tom is missing? That instinct to resort to mild violence to settle things? Well they sure have that Downey thing. I try to do what a parent should do by stopping it, it is just hard when my own instinct is to laugh because the other twin deserves what she got! But lord help anyone else who messes with one twin, because the other is right there at her defense. Even when I try to discipline one for hitting the other, I get it both barrels back from the twins.

They go to pre-K 4 next year. They are attending with Tommy at St Agnes School because T wanted one year they attend the same school. Not sure what we will do when it comes to kindergarten. Sort of depends on how that school rebounds when it gets its next principal. But for now, I get to dread that the two of them walking into a Catholic school and deciding on vigilante justice for a stolen toy or an accidental push. Lord help us. Hehe.

As for your only son, well I am doing. Trying to quit smoking again. I picked it up again a couple a years ago with some bullshit lie to myself about stress and growing up with you and mom smoking as my example. Just rationalizations that don’t stand muster. Taking a med called Chantix right now. A side effect is it takes any and all fleeting thoughts and emotions, mixes them in a large salad bowl, and serves them up for your dreams. Flashbacks and fragments come to me when I wake. Somehow, last night during my dreams, you were driving a jeep (maybe on a a safari?) and I was in the back and you said something that pissed me off and told you I wasn’t above punching you straight in the head even while you were driving. You (being a dream) said “Good luck with that. See how that works out for you.” The dream continued in multiple directions and at the end we were not at odds, but like I said only fragments come back.

Other than that, I really miss you. I am so proud to be your son and try to live up to the caliber of man that you were while still be true to me. It is difficult. Life is difficult. When ever I complained about things being hard, you’d say, “Don’t worry it will get worse.” Not sure if you were trying to be funny, or pointing out that complaining didn’t help, or foreshadowing the eventuality of death. Probably some of all three. But you always said life is hard. 

You made it seem easy, at least from my vantage point growing up From this point in my life, I realize all the things I did to make it difficult. Don’t know if I ever said sorry for those. I miss you dad. Feel free anytime to stop in to my crazy dreams or just to come down and be present in our lives and in our hearts and look out for us from the great beyond. I love you. Happy birthday.

Sincerely with love from your son and father to your grandkids,

Leo

Barking Cough

To my son Tommy,

I often wonder why medical issues seem to group together in a family. If I looked at the actual data, I might realize this is just an incorrect perception. Still with your sister busting her head open a couple days ago and you falling sick the past two days, it is a well earned perception even if it is coincidental. Most people will say bad things come in threes. I am thinking of kicking the side of a building and breaking my toe just to make sure the third thing is me and not anyone else in the family.

You stayed home from school yesterday. You were dressed and ready, but as you walked up the stairs your mom heard your hacking echo of a cough. It was a deep loud hollow sound, not the type that suggested you had lungs filled with mucus. It more sounded like a croup bark. She sent you back down to bed.

When you finally woke up, your mom did a rapid covid test on you. Negative, thank God. So she filled you with cough medicine and you lazed around the house. You were sad because that meant you missed your basketball awards ceremony, but you understood your health was more important. The cough remained throughout the day, but seemed to lessen.

Later that evening, right before bed, the cough came back with vengeance. Your mom tried all the tricks she knew before calling your doctors’ on call line. With your on going asthma condition, things were getting worrisome. Finally, you had a barking/coughing fit where you were starting to panic and having trouble catching your breath. Off to the emergency room you went. Your mom took you. I stayed with the girls.

You guys got home real late. You were wiped out and crashed pretty hard. The doctors at the ED couldn’t really give us an answer but the fit was gone and the symptoms were somewhat managed. You and your mom are at your doctors’ office right now doing a follow up. I hope they can figure out what or why and how to avoid it.

The worst thing actually happened today. I gave you my condolences because in your current condition, it is doubtful you will be able to participate in your school’s talent show. “I worked so hard, I don’t want to throw it away,” you told me through quivering voice and tearful eyes. 

My son, I feel ya. I know how difficult it is when you are forced out of something you diligently prepared for and eagerly anticipated. Unfortunately, this choice is a no brainer. We can’t send you to school to spread whatever you have. You need your rest. Your health is more important than any show. Plus between your sore throat and chest, I am not sure you are up for the task anyhow. Once you get through the initial disappointment, I think you will realize that focusing on your health now will lead to a promising future where you are going to have plenty of opportunities to show your great love for singing!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Who Is You

To my daughter Rosie,

 

For all intents and purposes, genetically you are the exact same as your sister. I must admit that throughout your young life I have times where I get you guys mixed up. There are a couple minor physical diffirences we have used to verify we are talking to the right girl. 

 

When people ask how I tell you apart, I say it is easy and then ask you or your sister the purposefully gramatically incorrect, "Who is you?" A couple times, your sister and you have tried claiming to be the other. Luckily you guys have not inherited the Irish ability to say BS believably. Your mischief attempts are thwarted by your giggle or even the other culprit in mischief chiming in and blowing the gag.

 

You also live an entwined life with your sister. You are constantly together. You enjoy the same things. You both laugh when daddy carries you upside down to bed. You also both think it is hysterically when you fart on daddy's neck while he is carrying you to bed. Some people swear they can tell you guys apart from attitude or personality. You both have a distinct personality but honestly the similarities make it so you can easily lose track of who is who.

 

Of course, after last night, we have another physical distinguishing feature, a four stitch scar on the forehead. You and your sister were spinning in the hallway last night. Your mother warned you to stop. I warned you to stop. Like most kids, you assumed you knew more than your parents and didn't allow caution and common sense to stop your twirling fun. Dizziness and gravity won out and decided to make a love connection between your forehead and a jutting corner of two walls. The blood gushed as head cuts tend to. A couple hours in the urgent care, you were stitched up and now are on the mend.

 

Eileen was beside herself. "My sister! my sister! Oh no." She tried her best to stay up till you got home, even willing to kick daddy every time he picked up her sleeping body to move her to bed. "I can't sleep yet, I have to wait for Rosie to come home to make sure she is okay!"

 

The similarities between two twins is a fact of life. There is no point in fighting it. There will be times when you look to establish yourself as your own person, establish your own uniqueness. The connection and love between you two might have been a foregone conclusion too. I count it as a blessing. But you are unique and each of you are on your own unique path with your own unique likes and dislikes and quirks and adventures and successes and failures and memories and scars. This was just one of the major events at which you two have diverged. There will be more.

 

On a side note, you were a trooper through the whole ordeal. After you finished at the clinic, you told your mother, "That was fun!" or something to that effect and meant it sincerely. You relayed the same sentiment to me except you added, "...besides the yucky stuff," and you apologized for the whole event to me saying, "this is all my fault." Oh sweet girl, I love you so.

 

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Above is a sticker on your mask at the urgent care clinic.

Your sticker gift was a prized possession from the visit.

Above is a picture of the gash before stitches.

You were pretty zonked the next morning. Here is Ilee giving you a stuffy and covering you with blankets to make sure you were comfortable as you healed.

Unpacking

To my daughters Rosie and Ilee,

I have moved more than the average person. Being an army brat, I would move every two or three years as dad would get a new station. I got used to it. It had its advantages and drawbacks but more on that another time.

This is the first time I have “moved” into the same place. You see, due to the house flooding, we had to pack up about seven rooms worth of stuff. The water mitigation crew got a storage pod for our driveway and moved a bunch of stuff out there. The water damage is fixed and the rooms are restored. Now we have all these boxes to go through and empty.

The cool thing about unpacking from a child’s view (or even a father with a fairly big immature streak) is of course the cardboard! They are great for forts! You guys have been hanging around as I work on unpacking the basement. Your “helping” was not so helpful, so I unpacked some old toys that I hadn’t gotten around to giving you guys and also made a fort.

Unfortunately, my distraction technique has a drawback. Every time I unpack a box and look over at you guys playing, I get jealous. I might need to take more fort breaks!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Happy Meals Make My Girls Happy

To my daughters Ilee and Rosie,

I am convinced that one of the best marketing ploys of these times is the “Happy Meal” from McDonalds. It has been said that the kid’s meal is also the menu item with the least profit margin. They hook the kids and make the money on their parents ordering from the “adult” menu. And of course the biggest draw of the “happy meal” is the toy.

Tommy and I picked up McDonalds for you guys on the way home from his morning basketball game. We got him a regular meal but we skipped meals for the rest of the family because, quite frankly, I don’t need fast food and any time I can pass it up is a few more moments added to the end of my life. You girls were so excited, diving immediately in to find the prize!

Ilee: Daddy, we got a wee jee?

Me (with my back to you guys because I was splitting the nuggets and cutting the burger in half to share): A what?

Ilee: A weeeeee jeeeee (as if the elongation of the vowel sounds would make me understand)

Me: A ouija? (Thinking myself that McDonalds is quite daring to include an occult board game during Lent)

Rosie: Right, a weee jeee!

You guys got a Luigi from Mario or specifically a Luigi driving his car from Mario Kart. I chuckled at the cute mispronunciation and I was relieved the mega corporation didn’t go with ghostly communication tools for its kids prize.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Flying Birds

 

To my son Tommy and my daughters Rosie and Ilee,

When I lived in Italy, it took our family awhile to get down to Rome. Our first trip was a tour sponsored by the post church. I remember getting off the bus, following our tour guide and coming to the first street to cross. I was an eager and fast kid and I actually had gotten ahead of him and the rest of the group. I stopped at the corner to wait for a good time to cross. The traffic was crazy, the worst I have ever seen to this day. Our tour guide finally caught up and without hesitating one bit stepped out in to the traffic. The car stopped, barely, with a whole six inches of room between the bumper and our guide’s knees. He ushered us across, stopping each lane in much the same manner. When we got to the other side, I must have had a ‘wtf’ look on my face and he stopped and said to me, “When in Rome…” He giggled a bit and continued to explain that if we wait for what an American sees as an acceptable space to cross that our entire tour of Rome would be that corner intersection.

Never underestimate the pride of local people who have learned to deal with the challenges of their regions. Sure they will curse and complain about things, but they will just deal with it and receive such great joy when outsiders come and can’t cope! The people above the Arctic Circle bitch about the cold, but laugh when visitors say it is freezing. Those desert dwellers must complain about the heat and dryness but then laugh when visitors don’t heed the warnings to stay hydrated. Each locale has its source of conflict to overcome and perverse sense of pride in dealing with it every day. 

In the immediate areas, DC and Baltimore, we have the beltway! Not as bad as traffic in Rome, but definitely less pleasurable than sliding down razor blades into a vat of lemon juice! They say DC is worse than Baltimore, but good ole B’more can hold its own on the circle of hell scale.

Still as much as we complain, the beltway recently brought me great joy. You see a bunch of truckers came to the area and decided to convoy around the DC beltway to protest federal mask mandates. A couple of problems. 

One, there is no federal mask mandate and never has been. The rest of their protest cries seem unclear, disjointed, and without specific example. A reporter tried to clarify what their “demands” were. The last explanation I heard comes from one of the political pundits, who happens to be a Texas senator, trying to score clout from this cult of whackos, and he explains they just want the federal government to leave them alone. When the reporter asked a follow up and tried seeking details, Senator Cruz just said the reporter wasn’t bright. Honestly, I have heard clearer demands from toddlers having tantrums and better reasoning from school yard bullies using the “I know you are but what am I” rebuttals. By the way, the truckers were trying to pick a CB handle for Sen Cruz for today or tomorrow’s lap. I heard “the rubber duck” was in the lead.

Anyways, the second problem, and the bane of our local commuters, is the beltway, specifically the DC beltway and the drivers who have learned various crazy techniques and coping mechanisms to drive this road everyday. These “freedom convoy” wanted to drive around and block at least two lanes of traffic for their “protest”. 

Now, it is completely laughable to anyone who has ever spent time on the DC beltway, that someone would voluntarily drive on the beltway to protest! I mean it is like saying, “If I don’t get attention, I am going to go slam my head between the car door for an hour.” or like a toddler trying to hold their breath till they get a cookie.

Other than the pure ridiculousness of it, the beltway did its job. It made sure they got separated and couldn’t even effectively caravan in one lane. The weather took them out one day, but the beltway was the real “protest” killer. And as for the regular commuters? Well I think one of the temper tantrum truckers put it best when he said, “We go around the beltway, birds are flying. Birds are flying everywhere. That’s the kind of people that live up there.” He wasn’t talking about flying creatures. But he was talking about the hand expressions of every day commuters. I hate beltways and beltway drivers with a passion, but they are an engrained part of being a person from this area, and these people letting the birds fly, these people are my people! 

The picture (one of my favorites and the one which will get reposted year after year) of the twins from their early days (August 2018 I think) gives me hope that at least one of them will be able to drive the DC beltway. At the very least, they will know how to communicate their dissatisfaction with a Karen caravan.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Reading Minds

 

To the twins,

Here is an example of the conversation last night.

Rosie: Daddy, you know what I am thinking?

Me (figuring okay I will take a shot): You are thinking that you want to dip your chicken tender in that ranch dressing and take a big bite?

Rosie (laughing incredulously): No. When I grow up Mommy will be the baby and I will be the Mommy and Elsa from Frozen will drive the car and then we will all poop. (Quoted thought may not be verbatim and could have included a bunch of other non sequiter thoughts, but you get the point)

Me: Huh?

Eileen: Daddy, you know what I am thinking?

Me (thinking I will try again but aim a little more outside the box): You Ilee? You are thinking about finishing that puzzle with Roro.

Eileen (also laughing at me): No! When Rosie is the mommy, the color purple will taste like an M&M and I’ll eat it all up while doing the bird dance?

Me: You mean the chicken dance?

Eileen (laughing at her self): Oh yeah. Silly Ilee.

Rosie: Daddy, you know what I am thinking?

Me: How can anyone know? Daddy is not playing this game anymore!

Evidently you guys have adopted a new phrase. I was caught off guard and tried to play that silly little reindeer game in a more serious manner. But the thoughts going through your minds remind me of the spread pattern from a twenty eight gauge shotgun using birdshot at thirty yards. So from here on out, my answers to that question will be more and more absurd.

When I was younger, I watched a cartoon show called the Animaniacs which had a segment called Pinky and the Brain about two mice. Brain would always ask the question, “Pinky, are you thinking what I am thinking?” and Pinky would respond with some outrageous like, “I think so Brain, but where are we going to find a monkey wearing leiderhosen?” I have entered that moment where life imitates art.

Sincerely with love from your confused and always guessing dad,

Leo