Back With A Vengeance

To my son Tommy,

Your mom had a colonoscopy yesterday.  They wanted a different view to see why your mom is having all the complications.  So, in essence, the doctors took their head out of their own butts, and gave a look see up your mom's.  What they found surprised all of us.

They got to the anastomosis (that is a medical term for where they cut out and restitched together the tubes in her bowel)  and everything looked okay.  But a quarter of an inch farther was blocked.  The inflamation had swollen the small intestine so much that the camera couldn't go any farther.  The doctor was forced to do some blind cuts and pull them out for biopsy, results pending.  The surgeon took out more than we expected during the surgery so we definitely figured he had gotten it all.  So the only explanation is that is came back that quickly and with that much force.

This bowel resection surgery is supposed to give relief from crohn's disease for 5 to 7 to 10 years.  You cut it out and the slow the regrowth with pharmaceuticals and diet.  But this, this is like shaving your beard at 6am and having a ZZ Top type beard again by noon.  I will include a picture of ZZ Top to this letter in case I didn't raise you right and when you finally read this you don't understand the old pop culture reference.  The point being is the fast return is just not supposed to happen that way.

To complicate things further, your mother with her open wound from the surgery is in a pickle.  She is unable to take the normal medicines that you would use to fight crohn's because they would stop her wound from healing.  Even the prednisone that she is going back on will slow the wound healing.  So no Humira (even though that had stopped working and we weren't going back to it) and no Remicade and no real solutions exist until her wound gets sorted out.  So there your mom sits, in that purgatory that exists when no one is sure of how to proceed and it seems there are no answers.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

New Manners

To my son Tommy,

As we move forward in technology, there has to be an evolution of new manners.  In this case I am ranting about emails.

When the phone call was the primary form of communication, people had rules for when and when not to call.  Sure these rules varied from person to person and relationship to relationship and situation to situation but there were protocols and courtesies.

I would never call someone at 1 AM unless it was an emergency, or unless the guy I was calling was most likely out and about as most of my friends were in their 20s.  But for the most part any call after 8 pm was questionable.  Likewise the early morning call usually waited for at least 8 AM on a workday (again unless you are talking about your dad in his drinking days and then that number was pushed to 1 PM at all times) or 10 AM on a weekend.

Now we have emails, texts, and so many other little digital dings.  People work around the clock.  Can't sleep?  Get up and finish that project and beat the rush and send off a good twenty emails because you need answers and people aren't up.  When people still were disconnected from their email, when someone would have to go sit down at his computer and connect on purpose to get his emails, this was still okay.  The email would be there when they got to it and just by them getting to it meant they were available.  Email in essence worked more like an answering machine for a missed phone call in those days.

But in today's age, we are ever connected.  We have our smart phones and tablets by our bedside and we have the constant ding of that incoming notification to tempt us from whatever activity.  All those geeky tech guys like your father schedule the menial task of mass email during low load times on the server which means 12 AM or 2 AM or whenever.  There is no second thought about sending off an email at the wee hours of the morning because we think it will not interrupt anyone and maintain that misconception that they will get to it when they are ready.

Many will point to the receiver of the email rather than the sender and say they should adjust.  They will claim that it isn't their fault the guy brings his ipad to his bed stand.  They will claim they are not demanding instantaneous answers, just getting things off their plate.  They will frame like it is a GTD (Get Things Done) initiative rather than some shortcoming of common decency.  They will say they have no control over their automated systems that send the email out then.  Some will even show you tools and work-arounds like the "Do Not Disturb" settings and such so you can fix it and they don't have to adjust.  I guess at first glance these are all logical arguments and in my younger tech days I have probably said all these things and more.  But the truth is it is just another example of how selfish our world has become.

When you move something off your plate, you move it onto another.  When you send twenty emails at night, the other guy went to bed with a clean plate and woke up to a full to do list.  When you send out mailers or automated systems and don't consider the base working hours, you scream that you are more important than the effort to change an automated task.  When you claim it is the "victims" responsibility to shield themselves from the barrage of emails at unacceptable hours, well you sound like the person saying "They obviously wanted it" because they didn't set up a filter or whatever.

As you go forward in life, realize that information is information and just because it is delivered in a new form doesn't mean all courtesies and respects and considerations fly out the door.  It is an evolving process as we get more and more connected in this world.  Think to yourself, as you hesitate over that send button for your text or email, would I call this person right now and bother them with this?  Or can it wait?  If you answer that it could wait, throw that response in a draft folder and send it later.  Don't make the other guy have to jump through hoops to protect his private time.  If I hear from parents of your friends or girlfriends that you somehow have lost respect for acceptable hours... well in our family lessons that are meant to reverse a bad behavior can be quite the production.

Of course my son this advice comes with a caveat.  You (and your mother and such) can always, no matter the time of day, call me, text me, email me, video conference me, mind meld with me, or whatever new form of communication jumps out. But as for the other avenues in my life, be it the promotional sign up for some store or casino, or be it that guy from work who just likes working at midnight, be forewarned that I will find and do business with those who take my time and timezone and acceptable communication hours seriously.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Cure For Social Media

To my son Tommy,

I think I found the perfect solution if I ever decided to give up on social media and TV media at the same time.  Simply have the State Of The Union aired every night.

As the #SOTU (as they called on Twitter) started, the Internet erupted on every platform I belong to.  Most of the tweets and status updates weren't worth spittle.  They remind me of a digital form of the lyrics from Buffalo Springfield when they say a thousand people are "Singing songs and carrying signs, mostly saying 'Hooray for our side'" except on a much grander scale than one thousand people.  It was a bunch of people talking all at once and people only hearing what they wanted to hear no matter what words were spoken.

I am not taking sides on any political debate here.  I am definitely not suggesting people shouldn't speak their minds.  I am just saying that people should think more before they engage and last night I didn't see that happening from all sides of all aisles.  Millions of people silently screaming through status updates all at the same time creates a noise level that for me just wasn't worth the effort to engage at that high of a level.  Social media can be a powerful tool but often it ends up like the blood thirsty crowds of the Colosseum.  Turning off and tuning out was actually empowering though probably not the best course of action to maintain my self as an engaged and informed citizen.  Don't do it often my son, but from time to time for reasons of mental health you have to sit back, disengage, and say "Enough is enough. Stop the noise!"  The State Of The Union address cured any addiction I have to social media, or at least for the time being.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Prayer List

To my son Tommy,

I won't be able to give you exact quotes even though I will be close enough to use quotation marks, and there is no way I can list all the people you added, but your prayers tonight were precious.  

After crossing ourselves, you started, "Dear God, thank you for the wonderful day and thank you for letting me eat dinner and thank you for stopping me from crying..."  You looked up, unsure of yourself, and asked me to continue instead.

"No.  You are doing great!  Please continue!" as I listened intently to what you have learned from our nightly prayers.

You repeated the first part this time adding, "and we pray for Nansy and pray for Mommy and pray for me and pray for Daddy and pray for Aunt LuAnn and pray for Bwama and pray for Pop-Pop and pray for Na and pray for Ryan and pray for Aunt Karen and pray for Uncles Chris and pray for Aunt Debbie and pray for Gabe and pray for Nana Jeanne and pray for Uncle Rob and pray for Emma and pray for...."  the list went on and on.  It included just about any name that came to your mind including what I assume is a good majority of your classmates and probably all of your family, even great aunts and uncles.  You always surprise me who is on your mind as you pull out some more obscure names that we haven't seen lately.  Some times it would seem as you were forgetting someone, but you always returned to family groups that were interrupted.  I suppose your mind was going faster than your lips and sometimes you would just have to throw in someone that came to mind right there and then.  I lost count at about fifty people but I sat there listening intently as you were on quite the roll.  Realizing you were starting to repeat a few, you looked at me and said, "I think that is enough for tonight."

I added "We ask this in the name of Christ our Lord.  Amen." and continued on with the Our Father.  We cut short the other three prayers we normally add as I figured your heartfelt inclusion of so many was more than enough.

I wonder if prayers are weighted?  I guess a prayer from any source, as long as it comes from the heart, holds equal importance, but hearing a prayer from a young innocent mouth sure makes me question that logic.  You make me so proud.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Lost Gauze

To my son Tommy,

I don't want you to get the impression from these letters that the recent health issues with your mother are all solved.  It is funny that I sometimes ignore the most obvious and pressing issues in our life as I write to you.  I guess it is a form of escapism.

Your mom is home and has been since Thursday, though the night she came home we had a trip to an urgent care facility and almost ended up back in the hospital.  It seems, despite your mom's objections, that one of the nurses at the hospital used a two by two gauze while packing her wound.  When she went to unpack it at home, she had trouble finding the silver alginate they used and that opened her wound further, thus totally losing the gauze.  My first thought was to take her back to St Josephs so they could fix their mistake.  Your mother, not wanting to be admitted yet again, decided to try alternate methods.

We ended up going to Patient First and asked them to x-ray the wound to make sure the gauze was indeed in there and give us a direction to try and get it out.  At the time your mom was running a low grade fever as well and we were aware of this and just dealing with it.  Because of the fever, they wanted to do blood work and all types of extra things that I assume are very chargeable to the insurance company.  There was nothing that their labs would tell us that the blood work taken at the hospital earlier that day didn't already tell us.  It was kind of like coming in for a hang nail and them wanting to remove a kidney.  After some lengthy discussion they finally agreed to just x-ray your mom's belly.  After three hours of this whole ordeal, the doctor says they couldn't see anything and then informs us that regular gauze wouldn't even show up on an x-ray.

We went home and tried a couple things.  We used her wound vac to try to suck it out.  We even considered me grabbing her by the ankles and shaking her upside down.  In the end, it was your mother's determination and willingness to deal with pain that finally found and removed the gauze through plain old trial and error and digging with tweezers.

The next day, Patient First calls and says a radiologist reviewed the x-ray and we have to come in immediately for a cat-scan.  They saw a mass or something unexplainable and proceeded to describe the exact location of the gauze.  Your mom said, "Don't worry, I dug it out."  The nurse was astonished thinking that your mom had somehow dug out a tumor or something.  She explained it was the gauze that we were looking for and that they are more than a day late and we were now more than a dollar short.  They suggested she come back immediately for another x-ray to make sure she got everything.  She politely declined and said they got all the money they would get from us on this (and most likely any other) occasion.

Your mother, later telling the story on the phone to another, stopped and asked me if there was a patron Saint of lost gauzes.  I responded St Jude.  "I said gauzes not causes!" she added and I matter of factly responded, "Oh, well then St Anthony for lost items."  I credit my mom and her mom with my extensive Saintly knowledge, but I was definitely winging it this time with the lost gauze.  It was good to hear your mom laughing and she was again armed with the Patron Saint of Lost Gauze story for her next phone calls.

No matter if it is from St Jude or St Anthony or any of the Saints, your mom can still use their prayers.  She isn't feeling up to snuff yet.  She is still having a rough go of just about everything, from fevers to lack of appetite to pain and just general miserableness, but she is home and determined to stay out of the hospital.  She is still looking for explanations for and relief from various symptoms.  It is easy to feel abandoned in tough times, but we must persevere.  So fill the heavens with prayers for your mom and we will all try our hardest in the face of what seems like a never ending ordeal to have faith that things will get better.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Tough Day

To my son Tommy,

You were passing notes with the girl two pews behind you, even enlisting the poor gentleman between you two to help and interrupting his churching.  You kept bowing to anyone who came up and down the main aisle.  You kept performing at the end of the pew for anyone who would pay attention.  You decided it was your job to raise your hand like the cantor to let the entire church know it was their turn to sing.  At communion you once again decided it is your job to sit in the confessional alcove and greet people as they come by, despite your father's request not to. You went up and down the pew three or four times throughout the Mass.  You refused to listen to just about anything your old man told you.  You cried and whined when he tried to correct you, sending your father's eyes to the heavens asking for patience and assistance and just a break.  It was a tough day at church but I am still glad I brought you.  No matter how trying it becomes, it is still very important and very worthwhile.  Sooner or later, as we keep going, you will figure it out.  Until then, I hope the people around us have a sense of humor and I am granted and gifted more patience from above.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Duck Soup

To my son Tommy,

Last night you were being watched by your Grandpa Leo.  Everyone else was at the St Agnes Mens' Club Basket and Bag Bingo.  Your dad was working the charity event and all the women in your life were attending, so Grandpa Leo was the only option to watch you.  Trust me, he appreciated this opportunity because otherwise he would have to have been playing bingo next to your Grandma Roro.  Bingo isn't his thing.

It is always a crap shoot as to what you learn when I leave you alone with any of the Downey men.  Let's just say that the lessons you may receive are unique and possibly eccentric.  Last night was no different.

Evidently you taught Grandpa Leo about the talking duck.  The talking duck is another recurring character in your nightmares.  This completes the trifecta for talking about nightmares this week.  The talking duck often escapes your sleep time dreams and invades your waking imagination.  He will keep you from going up to your room to get toys.  Sometimes you say he is a friend, other times an enemy.

When we got home from our event, your grandfather gave us a run down of the night and mentioned that you and he discussed making duck soup.  I laughed because I knew the talking duck must have come up in conversation.  Your Grandpa Leo told you to tell me what you have in store for this duck menace.  Out of the blanket that you were wearing like a cape, you pull this plastic pirate dagger.  You explain that if the duck gets too close that we are having duck soup for dinner.  I am sure your granddad spent a good thirty minutes looking for a gun like toy before settling on the blade.

Even though he was having a bit of fun with you, because I know it wasn't coincidence that he kept referring to Duck Soup, your grandfather loves you immensely.  In the process, he empowered you to defeat this fear.  He used the tools of imagination, with the help of some cheap plastic props, to defeat one of your arch enemies of your imagination.  It is a good thing this talking duck most likely has AFLAC.  As for your grandfather, if you view him in comparison to Groucho Marx, you will understand more and more of his wisdom.

"Clear? Huh! Why a four-year-old child could understand this report! Run out and find me a four-year-old child, I can't make head or tail of it." Rufus T. Firefly (aka Groucho Marx in Duck Soup)

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Another Nightmare

To my son Tommy,

You had another nightmare last night.  This time it was personal.  When I came in to check on you, you asked me if I had my right head on.  Later in the morning I got you to elaborate.  Evidently in your nightmare I had an evil face or head on and I grabbed your neck and your mom's neck in the dream.  I got you to elaborate and now wish I hadn't.  I am not sure how to take that and find myself upset by my presence as the bad guy in your dream.  Am I the evil sheep from your dream the other night?  Am I a wolf in sheep's clothing?  I guess for most it would be easy to shake this off as a crazy dream of a toddler, but for you to ever see me in that light is upsetting.  Even though it was just your dream, I feel almost obligated to say that something like this would never happen and nothing surpasses my love for you and your mom.  I need you to know that, and know that deep in your heart.  Still the whole thing is upsetting and I wonder why you see me as some Jekyll and Hyde.  Just like that book was an examination of the duality of humanity, this whole nightmare thing has really started my examining my own dichotomy.  My only answer comes from a story that I have been told comes from the fine people of the Cherokee nation.

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.
“One is Evil – It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
“The other is Good – It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

I am fed by the love I feel from my family and my God, so the good wolf is certainly winning the battle.  Here is hoping you have some better dreams.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Evil Sheep

To my son Tommy,

At four in the morning, you screamed from your bed.  I jumped out of bed and came rushing in.  You told me the evil sheep was going to get you.  I never thought hearing someone was just having a nightmare would be a relief.  We brought you into my bed and you proceeded to confirm every bad stereotype about sleeping with a kid in the bed.  I had feet in my face and my back and your arms flailed often.  Perhaps that evil sheep was after you again.

You often tell us that you dream of your stuffed animals.  Your mom thinks the evil sheep is among these toys and that is what is in your dreams as a recurring figure.  I personally think it is a flash back to a school trip where we fed the goats.  I am sorry but goats are freaky looking and it is no wonder they are often associated with evil rituals.  That could easily be described as an "evil sheep" by a five year old but questions about your nightmare rarely lead any clues or additional information.

We all have our "evil sheep" in the world. We all have that thing that haunts our dreams and really doesn't make much sense.  It can jolt us from a deep sleep and as you get older it may even rear its ugly head during the waking hours as well.  We look for explanations, often fruitlessly.  Fear, absent of real danger, rarely has a logical explanation.  Sometimes a nightmare is just a dream and there are no deeper meanings.  Just know, you can always call out for me during the night and I will be there to protect and comfort you from any evil sheep, or goats, or stuffed animals, or whatever ails you.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Water By Henson

To my son Tommy,

You have questions.  Like any curious five year old, the questions seem endless.  The latest barrage seems to be about your newest water bottle.  You will not be satisfied until you know the names of each of those Muppets.  As far as annoying questions go, it could be worse.  Except for not knowing Janice from the Electric Mayhem and not knowing the names of the old men in the balcony (Statler and Waldorf...I looked it up...but still not sure which is which) I have had no problem naming these off to answer your questions.  It is much easier to be pleasant and patient to sooo many questions (often repeated) when I know at least some of the answers.  Now, I just have to correct you because you think Floyd Pepper is called Dr. Pepper when if he had any formal title Sgt. would be much more likely. Good thing school is two hours late tomorrow because you seem to be in an argumentative mood and don't want to go to bed until this matter is settled.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Cat Stand

To my son Tommy,

Your mom has been transferred from St Agnes hospital to St Joe.  Her specialist doctors work out of St Joe and this is where she got her surgery.  So instead of re-working a history and re-testing all the tests so new doctors can get up to speed, they decided to switch hospitals.  I guess the original doctors wanted a chance to make good on the warranty.  Isn't there a lemon law in Maryland?

We ran over some supplies to your mom this morning.  We had to get over before the snow came as they are calling for six to ten inches today.  You haven't seen your mom in five days and she needed her snuggle medicine.  You both needed it actually.

During our visit, you had one pressing question, "Mommy, where is your cat stand?"  Evidently you misheard catscan and keep looking for some furry feline.  You even asked your mom if she was turning into a cat.  I don't think anyone has the energy to explain the correction to you, nor do they want to ruin the cuteness factor.  The other pressing question seems to be when will we hit the gift shop.  You are determined to buy your mom another chipmunk stuffed animal. Since I was delaying the gift shop trek, you are now asking for water from the cafeteria.  Of course, I know you know the cafeteria is right past the gift shop and if we were happen to stop in there on our way...well that would be okay with you.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Fairness

To my son Tommy,

My wish for you on this Martin Luther King Jr day is that you will continue to judge fairness through the innocent eyes of a child.  Too many times in life adults add all sorts of complicated theories and addendums to basic problems usually to justify or explain away why they are not doing anything about the problem.  Yet the young have an innate sense of fairness that hasn't bought into all the jaded arguments and prejudices of the old.  Dr. King seemed to know this and attempted to bring about this simple fairness in so many avenues of our world that just weren't fair.  So when you are much older and someone tells you that this person shouldn't be able to do this or that for any of a number of reasons, draw from your youth and look at the problem through your younger eyes and ask yourself, complicated issues be damned, "would five year old Tommy think this is fair?"

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Ordinary Miracles

To my son Tommy,

Today's homily from church delved into the definition of ordinary and how there is nothing oridinary about the Gospels as we head into Ordinary Time in our liturgical calendar.  During his sermon, the pastor mentioned, and I paraphrase, that during the liturgy of the Eucharist, an ordinary man says prayers over ordinary gifts and through the power of the Holy Spirit, a miracle occurs.

This got me thinking.  Often in our minds, we look for magical and mystical things to claim a miracle.  Proven results that are unexplainable are the only acceptable version of a miracle in most people's minds.  So many are looking for more of a David Copperfield type event and thus are sorely disappointed and lose faith.  

But perhaps in this world miracles happen every moment, through ordinary measures done by ordinary people during ordinary times.  Many with results not seen or proven, and many with very explainable means.  If a person shows care for the ill, and they get better, what makes this any less miraculous?  An ordinary person, using an ordinary wash cloth and ordinary cold water can lower a persons fever.  Doesn't seem very miraculous, nothing grandiose happened and it is very explainable, but the miracle lies in the love and care shown.

And that, my son, is where the secret lives.  Look for the miracles in the ordinary.  Just waking up every morning can be considered miraculous, though many would disagree, especially before their first cup of coffee.  Find the love and you will find the miracles even in the smallest things. Then in your own life, be a witness to the power of Christ through your ordinary day to day actions.  Share that love and you become a tool, a conduit for those every day miracles.  A kind word or small helping hand at the right moment can change someone's entire day or even their entire life.  What could be more miraculous than that?  If only everyone would recognize those ordinary things as the gifts, the miracles, that they truly are.  Behold the miracles in your every day life and count yourself among the ordinary and the blessed.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Broken Promise

To my son Tommy,

Friday morning, the Downey family was slow to wake up and slow to move.  Being the head of household (when Mommy lets me be) I made an executive decision and declared that Saturday morning is a sleep in day.  I decreed that upon your waking you would come into Mommy and Daddy's bed and snuggle up.  We would put on a movie or some cartoons and Daddy would go out and get some donuts or such and we would do breakfast in bed.  You decided that donuts were not going to be to your liking so we let you choose what you would like.  Your choice was pasta.  For breakfast?  Being that this was a special treat day, if you wanted pasta for breakfast, you were going to get pasta for breakfast.  We were going to see just how long we could last without really getting up.  You were pretty excited about this promise.

I take my promises seriously, so it comes as no surprise that I take breaking my promises very seriously.  It was one of the first things on my mind when we decided to take your mother to the emergency room.  Even through the worry and the chaos and all the stuff going on, one of my first thoughts was that I had promised you this breakfast in bed snuggle-fest.  I knew it wasn't going to happen and that hurt my heart.  I told you honestly and tried to explain.  You seemed to understand and let me off the hook.

There are times in your life that you will end up having to break a promise.  Some things are just more important and your mother's health trumps all previous engagements.  That is why it is so important that you keep as many promises as you can.  Only then will people realize that you are a man of your word and that if you have to break a promise there must be a darn good reason.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Admitted

To my son Tommy,

Your mother spiked a 103 temperature today and after some of the usual ER shenanigans, and some not so usual that would make you question the sign in the picture, she is being admitted.  They think she has an infection around her bowel resection spot.  A couple days of IV antibiotics should clear it up.  Here's hoping they are right.  Normally I'd expound into some great "have faith" lesson or some lesson on how adversity is the spice of life, but frankly I am just too tired.  Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to expound on and get deep about there, but occasionally you just want to say, "son of a biscuit" or some similar but no so polite phrase.  Many prayers for your mom who has been through the ringer and back but keeps on keeping on.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Chores

To my son Tommy,

As you and I were headed out the door this morning, I turned and asked your mother, "Is it trash day or recycle?" For some reason the concept of Tuesdays and Thursdays for pickup I understand but which day is which always escapes me.  It frustrates me.

I heard that same frustration in your mom's voice as she said, "Trash" for probably the 250th time in our five plus years of marriage.  In fact the only one who was excited about taking the trash out before I took you to school was you.

"I can do it daddy!" you demanded as you nearly barreled me over bolting out the door.  This whole having a kid thing was starting to have tangible returns, besides of course the love and pride and all that mushy stuff I talk about normally.  But this! Well this is special, like the first time you could hand me the remote.  Your lazy old man won't be this proud again till you learn to pop the top off a beer bottle and bring it to me.  I kid, I kid.

"Awfully heavy...You sure you can handle this?" I asked seeing three bags stuffed into one can.

You almost seemed offended as you said "I got it".  Then you started wheeling this trash can to the curb. You were doing alright till you got to the steps on the sidewalk.  That is when the plot line turned to a story of struggle and triumph.  Slyly I picked up the back end and got you through your obstacle.  I had just let go with only one step left, in what turned out to be perfect timing, when you looked back because you had an inclination that you were assisted.  I looked away as if to check the street for oncoming cars and watched you through my peripheral vision. Not seeing any signs to the contrary, you determined that you successfully accomplished your task on your own and started beaming with pride.

"Good job with the trash can.  It makes daddy proud when you help out the family." I said as I buckled your seat.  Alluding to your struggle at the steps, I added, "You know, if something is difficult, it is okay to ask for help."

You looked at me with that Irish grin of yours and said, "I know daddy. It's okay if you ask anytime."

I chuckled and thought to myself..."Smartass."

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Wound Vac

To my son Tommy,

Well your mom, finally, has her wound vacuum hooked up.  If you could imagine sucking a porterhouse through the tube of a dyson vacuum cleaner hoping the meat will grow more steak and fill the space in the tube, you pretty much understand the concept.  Her sentiment, when insurance finally approved the treatment after first denying it and before being hooked up today, was (and I quote) "Let the healing begin!"  Today, after having the wound vac hooked up and turned on, her sentiment is (and this time I paraphrase) "Holy schnikies! I forgot how painful this #%&@er is!"  Here is hoping that her first sentiment is spot on and that she somehow adjusts and learns to cope with the second sentiment.  I think we are all ready, your mom more than any of us, to get back to some type of normal.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

What We Make Of It

To my son Tommy,

Your Grandpa Leo used to tell me stories and lessons from his army career.  I remember him telling me once that in some training, I believe it was his Officer Candidate School (OCS), they purposely give you too many things to accomplish.  The idea is they want to see how you handle things.  Do you give each task some time?  Do you focus on perfection of one task and sacrifice all the others?  How do you prioritize?  Are you a good judge of which task is important and which should only be given cursory consideration?  Your Grandpa Leo said the key was to address everything in some fashion.  It seemed counter intuitive to me but then again so did many things in the army.  He said even a job done poorly is a job done, and from there you start to prioritize and give more resources to the more critical tasks.

I often see this parallel in life.  It often feels like there are so many things I want to do, so many things I should be doing, yet too little time.  Someone up there wants to see how we prioritize and see how we handle things.  I am not sure if it is in my nature to juggle so many things, but I am easily inspired to do more and more.  I want to be a  good Catholic, a good father, a good husband, a good citizen, a good person, a good friend, a good employee, and a good parent.  Sounds simple, doesn't it?

Take for example the HSA (Home School Association) meeting for St Agnes School tonight.  How well small Catholic schools do, and how well their students prosper, is directly related to how much effort the parents give.  It becomes what we, the parents, make of it.  We don't have some big public school system that we expect to take care of everything.  If something needs to be done, well we got to step up and find a way.

I guess every school, both public and non, has a little bit of that and can use as much parent involvement as possible.  It just seems to be more true of a small school like yours.  It seems counter intuitive that you have to do more for a school that you have to pay out of pocket for than a school that is free (or rather paid for by tax dollars) but it is true.  So when they ask for volunteers to do this and do that, when they basically ask the question, "Do you want to make your kids school better for your kid?", I somehow want to raise my hand and help out everywhere.

Maintenance committee meets one Saturday a month?  Sure sign me up.  Got something to sell?  I have dreams of selling a million bucks of product from the Gianni's fundraising.  Spring gala?  I'll be there.

Now throw in work, and church, and being a husband, and being a dad, and being a caretaker, and being a homeowner, and Discovering Christ, and the St Agnes Men's Club, and the Tech Committee, and did I mention work?  Throw in some personal ambitions like wanting to be more engaged and knowledgeable about politics and current events, or like wanting to volunteer at other venues such as the Book Thing, etc.  It can be overwhelming.
 
Truth be told, however, this is just life.  There will always be too much to do.  Life throws so many things at you, things you have to do, things you want to do, things you wish you could do, and you just have to deal with it.  Perhaps you think it would be easy just to say no to all those volunteer like activities.  Maybe you are right, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the void created would be filled with less altruistic diversions.  Plus it is in my nature, and most likely your genetic make up, to want to help and to serve others.  It is a noble pursuit, so learn to juggle early in your life, so you can do all that you can do.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Kids Shows

To my son Tommy,

I might be losing my mind.  I am not sure if it is work, or life, or spending too much brain power on trying to figure out politicians and news, but there are signs.  I got home late tonight from work and you were eating dinner and watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  When the mouse said, "Now you guys say it with us" or something to that ends,  I found myself joining in.  Then I started fantasizing about what would happen if the mystery mouse-ka-tool wasn't useful.  I could imagine the look on their faces if they needed a tool like a ladder and were given instead a bar of soap.  The words and reaction I pictured from Donald were quite humorous, though I had to stifle the laughs in fear your mom would think I totally lost it and have me committed.  But alas, I came to my senses with the sobering thought that this is definitely a first world fatherly problem and diversion,.  Most fathers don't have time to lose their mind and neither do I.  Oh well, I guess when you watch those kids shows that ask the TV audience a question, I can just ignore the urge to answer and Mickey and I can stare at each other in awkward silence.  Beats the funny farm.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Worked Up

Tommy son Tommy,

Your old man tends to get himself all worked up about politics and still need to rant a bit.  I reported yesterday of fourteen homicides in Baltimore so far for 2014.  So far not a single one solved unless (assuming as I read this right) you include that one of the dead is a suspect from one of the other homicides.  I guess I am too used to watching the "First 48" and have bought into how important the initial investigation is to accept not a single one of these cases is solved. Last night was a homicide free night in Baltimore, but from the reports that is simply because those shot at were missed or at least not dealt fatal wounds.  About 15 minutes ago, reports of a guy shot in the back came in and that will probably be number fifteen and put a quick end to the hoe for a "no homicide streak".

Our mayor recently was on TV, a show called Meet The Press.  With a horrible homicide rate last year and a bad start to the current year, you would think she would take the opportunity, you would think she would use this powerful pulpit to address these problems among the many in our city.  Nope.  She used her time to rail against some scandal in New Jersey that people are calling BridgeGate.  With her eye on national politics, no doubt spurred by her position as secretary in the DNC, she seemingly could care less for her current job.

What is it I always tell you?  First things first!  You have to focus on the most important problems at hand before you can start worrying about the rest.  It is kind of like you when you start worrying about what toys you can take to church before worrying about getting dressed.  You, however are five years old and learning.  I wish our mayor would realize you don't run off to Panama, or spend your days on TV railing against possible partisan opponents, when you have such an epidemic of crime and murder in your own city.  Luckily (and I say this with complete irony and sarcasm) our current mayor is the recipient of a one time five year term limit that pushed the election cycle to November of 2016.  We got another two plus years of being ignored.  Yet her and her friends are screaming for impeachment of the Jersey governor.  I don't offer an opinion on BridgeGate, Governor Christie probably did close some roads out of spite, but I do wish there was a way to keep all the Baltimore pundits on task and worrying about Baltimore again.  This is your city my son, and for that, in this present state, I feel, I have to apologize.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Unpunished

To my son Tommy,

By the eleventh day of the year of 2014, our city has started with fourteen homicides.  Fourteen!  I didn't believe my own tally and had to ask to confirm.  I didn't trust any official sources (which is a sad state of affairs that could fill another twenty blogs) so I went to an underground watchdog news source (calling himself the Baltimore Spectator) and sure enough he had fourteen too.  I only report this number to report to you my disgust and disbelief.  This city needs to reach deep into the souls of each and every resident and somehow find their dignity and a respect for life.  People have to stop killing people.  And our homicide department needs to look at the side of their challenge coins (if they still carry them) and re-read Daniel Webster's words, "Every unpunished murder takes away something from the security of every man's life" because they really have their work cut out for themselves.  Of course, solving the crime is not as good as preventing it, but that doesn't mean it is not important.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Don't Ask

To my son Tommy,

A sure way to piss someone off is to ask them a question about something they are doing that they are either unsure of or anxious about especially if they are in the process of doing it and feeling their way through.  A five year old (still getting used to saying that) with little to no filter has the uncanny ability to do just that.  Unfortunately, even the best of us can snap back when that happens.

I picked you up from your grandparent's house today.  Normally I don't pull all the way up the steep drive.  Mainly it is because I don't do well backing down the drive and always worry about scraping up against the brick wall on the one side or going over the ledge on the other.  It is tough to admit when you can't do something well especially if it has to do with driving and you are a man.  For some odd reason today, I pulled all the way up the drive.

Perhaps it was my hope for staying dry in between the car and the house, or perhaps I just wasn't thinking after a 60 hour work week, but I pulled all the way up.  I didn't realize how much the rain and lack of visibility would add to my difficulty backing down.  As I inched down the drive backwards, somehow feeling as if I was going to hit the brick wall and go over the other side at the same time, you decided to chime in.  "Why are we going so slow daddy?"  "Why did you put down the window and pull in the side mirror?" "Why did you pull up the driveway again just to start back down?"  I had no desire to explain the ins and outs of my ineptitude, so I snapped back, "Tommy! Just let daddy drive!"  You looked at me with hurt feelings and a strange sense of superiority as if to say, "You call this driving? Whatever you say there chief."

This is yet another Downey trait that has passed on to you.  You have learned (or accidentally stumbled upon) the first steps in your judo of the mind training; Ask questions to expose those who know not what they do.  It is an almost too effective method and you know your winning when you illicit anger or shortness in their response without any substance in their answers.   Use this sparingly or you will piss off tons of people and end up looking like a know it all.  Trust me on that, I know from experience.  But hey, I am still learning too.  It was just odd to have the tables turned on me.  Good on you boy!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

It's Herry Not Harry

To my son Tommy,

"That's Herry, Herry Monster.  I like him," or so you said in a very matter of fact way to me this morning as you watched Play With Me Sesame.  My pride swelled.  I am not sure how it happened, but another Downey trait had been passed down another generation.  You appreciate the underdog, the unsung, the obscure, the supporting character.  When it comes to blue fluffy Sesame monsters, anyone and everyone likes Grover.  Cookie Monster is closest competition.  But you pointed out one of the least known.  People recognize Herry and after five minutes of trying to put their finger on it they can even usually tell you his name, but you got it (though phonetically and I projected the correct ironic spelling into your mind) right out of the gate.  It is not like you watch Sesame every day and we actually had a large break that made me worried that we were done with the show.  Being a fan of the unpopular and the underrated is a difficult path, but it is in your genes and bodes well since you live in Baltimore and probably will become an Orioles fan.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Warmth

To my son Tommy,

The vortex has begun releasing its icy grip on our area.  My mind and heart and prayers have turned to those outdoors the past few days.  To the lineman who worked tirelessly often up in the air to make sure power was restored to all, to the fireman who found no warmth from the house fire he was putting out, to the policeman who had to see the warmth sucked in record time from a murder victim found outside, to that homeless person who has no where to go to escape the wintery blast.  Some choose to brave the weather and others are forced to face it due to circumstance.  Either way, I pray that all those who are cold will find shelter and warmth.  As you snuggle in your warm bed, I am reminded to count ourselves among the blessed, and to appreciate the simple but true gifts in our lives.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Waiting Out a the Delay

To my son Tommy,

Baltimore county schools, and thus your school, were delayed two hours due to extreme cold.  I am not here to comment on if cold is a viable reason for a school delay or school closing.  Not sure if it is coddling or prudence, but it is what it is, and it is really cold.  Right now the temp says three degrees and with wind chill feels around negative twelve or so.  But I would like to point out that my idea of what to do during a delay and your idea are diametrically opposed.

Since your mom is in no position medically to take you to school yet, a two hour delay means two hours later on my start as well.  To me that means two extra hours sleeping.  To you it means two hours to get up and play.  Life would be great if we both got what we wanted, but for some reason, when you come downstairs to play, you have the incessant need to call up every three minutes till someone comes down with you.  I finally, reluctantly, got up and showered and came down.  I got you started on cereal and you played with your Legos for a bit. I logged into work to check on what I was missing with the delayed start.  Not much going on with work so the only thing I was missing is some zzzzzs.  Anyways, we will have to work on finding a compromise and a happy medium on "found time" in the morning.  Maybe we can split it right down the middle.

So on this cold Tuesday, I leave you with a question that has perplexed me for ages.  How can the current temperature be lower than the expected low temperature according to the weather people?  Currently, as you can see by the screenshot from the iPad, it is a balmy 3 degrees.  That is without wind chill.  But the expected low for the day is 12 degrees.  It is this type of "logic" that puts weatherman down with lawyers and politicians on my popularity scale.  Oh well, another one of life's mysteries.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Birthday Vortex

To my son Tommy,

You have done it!  A major accomplishment of completing five years of life on this crazy blue marble we call Earth.  I attribute most of your success to your mother and a little to dumb luck befitting of your Irish ancestry.  Of course if you don't start eating your dinner like a five year old should, your mother may decide you won't see six!

Legos are the gift of the year for you.  We are inundated with these little locking blocks.  We have another dozen or so sets to put together.  You are blessed with a generous extended family who made sure your birthday loot was quite abundant.  Receiving some nice indoor activity gifts is quite timely with the extreme cold weather we are starting to get tonight.  Seems mother nature wanted to give the most memorable gift and decided to send down the polar vortex.  I didn't even realize that we had this big arctic cyclone and how cold it could make things.  The cold irony is much of Alaska is warmer than the temperatures achieved recently in the midwest of our country and coming to our Baltimore area tonight.  When a thirty two degree Anchorage seems balmy, you know it is cold.

So vortex is the buzzword on your birthday this year.  A vortex of cold air abounds outside and a vortex of Legos abound inside.  Luckily we have a vortex of love to keep us warm.  Now we just need a vortex of patience to get us through dinner tonight and through putting together all these little building blocks.  Happy birthday my son.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Glimpse The Future Without Tubes

To my son Tommy,

I will save the birthday post for tomorrow even though we did an impromptu celebration last night at the Downey's and are doing another little impromptu tonight with the Fraziers.  We hope to do a bowling party later in the month for you, but again I will save all that for tomorrow's letter when you will have officially completed five crazy years in this crazy world.

Today your mom attended Mass with us.  I was thrilled on multiple levels, especially for the fact that she was feeling medically good enough to attend.  Of course I had to laugh as she had to learn today to accept your loud singing.  It really is startling to someone who hasn't heard it and got lucky enough to sit next to you.  Your first gut reaction usually is a bit of embarrassment and an attempt to get you to tone it down.  I guess that is natural.  But all anyone has to do is look at that proud dad standing next to you with a grin on his face.  Your mother realized quickly that I have allowed and perhaps even encouraged this in you, so being of the same mindset that becomes being a Downey, she soon learned to just go with it.  That is love.

Anyways, mom has one more day without any tubes and then gets a wound vacuum tomorrow to help her heal.  We really tried to take advantage of being disconnected both yesterday (we went to lunch and shopping for your bday) and today (Mass and some fellowship and some cleaning and such.  Your mom is starting to crash a bit so we may have overdone it.  Hopefully we got a glimpse of what is possible after your mom is all healed up, well with a little added stamina and staying power.  

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Inclement Weather And Dark Moments

To my son Tommy,

For some reason I woke up at 3 am last night (or technically this morning).  Even though you were one room over and your mother was laying next to me, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness.  I didn't dare reach to your mother for comfort I because I did not want to risk a stray touch on her wound that would cause her pain.  Plus, she had just had staples and drains removed and for the first time in a long time seemed to really be enjoying sleep.  

The whole situation was a weird sense that defied logic.  I felt like I should go to church.  The thought came to me to do just that, as it was the first Friday of the month and Eucharistic adoration usually goes all night.  As fast as that thought came into my mind, I remembered the post I saw on the church's social media page stating, "First Friday Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is cancelled tonight and Saturday morning in accord with our Parish's inclement weather policy."  This was the first time in my life that ice and snow had kept me from church when I wanted to go.  I felt even more alone.  I turned to prayer and said prayer after prayer.  As I laid in bed, I silently prayed the traditional prayers, I prayed freeform prayers, I probably even incoherently babbled through a few prayers in my mind.  I am not sure how long this went on but it felt like hours.  In one of my last prayers, before I could finally get back to sleep, I asked God to let me know I am not alone in this great big world.  At that very moment your mom woke slightly, reached out and rubbed and scratched my back and asked me if I was alright.

There are times in your life when you will feel alone.  It can overwhelm you and strike when you are awake or asleep, no matter how many people are around you, nor how illogical it may seem.  Remember you are never really alone, and you must find your way through these darker moments.   Ask for help and that comforting touch will come, not only in the form of a rub on the back from a loved one, but also a much deeper touch to your heart and soul.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Five Things

To my son Tommy,

Tonight you precociously announced that you wanted to do the following five things.  For some reason tonight I epitomize the word sloth.  Your lazy dad would be happy skipping to number five.  But here is your closing routine for this Friday night.

1.  You want to do homework.  You haven't had school in two weeks and thus have no homework.  So I have to find some type of tracing activity to print out for you.  Since it will occupy while I write this blog, I caved.  Of course you already started bugging your mother to help you so that might end up backfiring on me and you as well.

2.  Brush your teeth.  I know good dental hygiene is very important but again it takes effort.  I will celebrate the day when you can successfully brush your teeth totally on your own without any parental help or guidance.  They are only baby teeth anyhow.

3.  Go potty.  You do this pretty well on your own, unless of course you do poops.  And you always do poops.  And that means daddy has to wipe, which you could imagine is not one of my most favorite duties in life.

4.  Bathy.  Bath time is a pretty elaborate production.  It is filled with power struggles and tears and water in the eyes and toys and time wasting and negotiations and whining.  The tears and whining are mostly from me.  Add to the fact that Mommy wants me to clean the bathtub before it is used.  I cleaned the tub last night but not to her standards.  You see, yesterday I had to thaw an outside hose so I could empty our leaking hot water heater so we could replace it.  I made one heck of a mess.  I did my best to clean it up, but without hot water to help, and considering my general state of mind and the amount of cursing I had done throughout the hot water heater debacle (that I purposely avoided writing to you about and I just now can talk about) the cleaning was probably a little bit lackluster.  Oh well, mommies get mad at daddies from time to time.  It is just the way it is.  But since a bath time will reopen this wound, I am going to fight to skip this step for now.

5.  Bedtime.  There is nothing like the illusion of sweet release from parental obligation that we call bedtime.  Even though the feeling is fleeting and temporal and really just a lie you tell yourself, that few minutes that a parent has to him or herself after they put the kid down is an amazing feeling.  Of course to get there we have to fight through the above steps and all the other steps you didn't mention.  It is not as easy as tossing you into bed and shutting off the light.  We have to get you your mask treatment for your wheezing, and your medicine for your sinus infection, plus getting you into pajamas, and singing, and prayers, and making sure you have your water, and finding the right stuffed animal for snuggling, and turning on the pillow pet to the correct color stars, and then the final tuck in.  I never realized how high maintenance you are.

Anyways, we will most likely do everything listed and then some.  I might be reluctant and regressing to an immature attitude not befitting a father, but I will still do it.  Perhaps this a reaction to realizing how grown up I was that I didn't want a snow day.  So tonight you get to be the adult and thank goodness at least one of us is doing so.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

You Know Your Too Grown Up When...

To my son Tommy,

I may be getting too grown up. It is snowing right now in Maryland and I am actually hoping that work doesn't get silly and decide to close the office.  I just have too much work hanging out there that needs to get done.  Working remotely is good in a pinch but I accomplish much more in the office.  It is a far cry from my grade school days when I would pray for no school.  Just the possibility would be enough to excite my young self and enough to put off my homework till the last second when they would decide to do two hours late instead of a full closing. I may need to have my head examined because a day off is a day off and I should be chomping at the bit to stay home with you!  Don't grow up my son, you may start not appreciating a possible snow day.

Sincerely with love from your (too grown up) dad,

Leo

New Year

To my son Tommy,

Just as you rang out the old year with family, like the picture above with some of your cousins, so do we hope for more moments to spend with family in the new year.  May God bless you and keep you in the year to come.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo