Don't quote us statistics. We're people, not numbers. Don't try to persuade us into something we do not want to do, we will refuse. Humans have been doing this for millennia, we've done this before a couple of times. Just be there. Be encouraging. Watch for warning signs and explain them to us, so that we can make decisions. Give us control over this, one of life's most precious moments. This will be our child, and we will not go so far as to allow harm. If we need you're assistance, we will ask. Just be there. Don't push us, let it happen. Please.

Those are the words, the kind ones, that I would have for our doctor at this point. Our baby is still in the womb, getting bigger and bigger. But the baby is still not as big as it's older brother was at birth. We're confident we can go through with the natural birth, and not succumb to the strong desire of the doctor to schedule a c-section. "But the only difference is the recovery time!" Those words rang like warning bells in my head. This guy doesn't understand emotion or trauma, it would seem, though I'm only judging by the vibes he gives off. I'm sure he's a competent doctor, I just hope he's a competent human being. What he says, though, is true. Physical recovery time, if all emotional stress is removed, is the only difference. If one looks at it through the microscope of cold hard unfeeling science, then that is, indeed, the only difference. If one takes the human element out of this, one of life's most human moments, then we are automatons reproducing by way of scheduled dates and machinery.

We have high hopes that we will do this. We will refuse anything less than natural, unless circumstances change more than at the moment. But until then, we wait.

We wait.

photo credit: slight clutter

Labels: baby

I've been honored to be allowed to use a wonderful picture on the last Don of the Universe post. Click on the Don of the Universe link on the right and check it out!

The picture is called Keeping Watch and is by Inland Northwest photographer Doug Fredericks. I asked Doug if I could use this picture, and he has graciously allowed me to do so. Please visit his site at www.dougfredericks.com for more awesome pictures from around the Northwest.

Thanks again, Doug, for letting me use one of your beautiful images.

Let me introduce you to my oldest son.  He's seven.  He'll be eight in December of this year.  He is highly intelligent.  He does math problems in his head when he's bored.  He has a fifth grade reading level, and a fourth grade reading comprehension level.  Probably more.  He knows more about Lego Mindstorms than you probably do, and spends his free time creating mock programs for the Mindstorms robot in the Lego website.  He reads Mindstorms whitepapers and pdf files of tips and tricks.  Yesterday, he asked me if we could get Microsoft Visual Basic and install it on his machine so he could learn programming.  He's analytical.  Prone to emotional outbursts and tantrums.  He's a bit lacking in the empathy department.  Diciplining him is difficult, because he's smart, and see's through most bluffs, and is wise to bribes and reverse psychology.  Raw carrots and pizza are some of  his favorite foods.  He does not walk, he bounces.

I love him to bits.



Let me introduce you to my second son.  He's three.  He'll be four this May, on my birthday.  He's smart, for a three year old.  He's starting to recognize his letters and his numbers.  He loves Hot Wheels, and spends time playing on the Hot Wheels website.  He loves Sponge Bob.  He also helps mommy cook and bake, and loves to help around the house.  He is gentle and empathetic, and emotionally sensitive.  He sometimes thinks there's a monster in the closet.  He sometimes thinks HE is the monster in the closet.  He loves his brother, his mommy, and his daddy, but he often says that daddy "is always wrong."  Oh well.  He isn't quite done potty training, and has accidents in his underwear.  We have yet to find the level of bribe that will help curtail this pants pooping problem.  But we will persevere.  We shall overcome.  Even if it kills us.

I love him to bits.

I can't show you a picture yet of my third child.  That child is still hiding from outside eyes, though electronic eyes have taken many a picture.  Right now, the third child is estimated to be somewhere around 8 pounds.  The child will be born sometime in very early April, or even, in fact, tomorrow.  Who knows.  We are at the "any day" point in this pregnancy, and are awaiting the tell-tale signs of imminent doom...or rather, life.  Is it a girl?  Is it a boy?  We don't know.  We really don't.  We don't want to know until the baby arrives.  That's the way we are.

I already love this child to bits.

I never thought I could give away as much love as I have.  I didn't know I had that much love inside me.  I still wonder, some days, if I'll be able to balance it between so many children.  I'll do the best I can I suppose, and just continue as I have....

"Are you cold out here granddaddy?" came a soft voice.

"No dear, I'm fine. Thanks." I replied. I'd been spending a lot of time out here at my son's house, just sitting, watching the Palouse sunsets over their little flower farm. It was peaceful here, and not as lonely as it had been in my old house after my wife had passed away some years before. My son and his lovely wife had agreed to take me in and let me live in their spare "mother-in-law" apartment. That was nice.

"Kayleigh's waking up dad, you want to hold her?" Sure son. My fifth grandchild. A little girl. So beautiful and fresh. My son lay her in my weakening arms gently, as she cooed and smiled at me.

"I'll just be in side helping make dinner for us, ok dad?" said my son as he raised himself up, confident that his daughter was secure in my arms.

"Ok. We'll be fine. Thanks." I said. After a few minutes of silence, as the red summer sun set in the northwest, casting a candlelight glow on the face of my granddaughter, something in her face came into focus. "I was wondering when you'd show up." I said.

"Yes. I'm here." said Don. Don and I had been talking off and on, over the years. He'd been there at the birth of each of our children, and grandchildren. He stood aloof during the funeral of my wife two years before, and now, here he was again, in the face of my newest grandchild. We'd talked a lot, Don and I, over the years, but right now, it seemed like everything we needed to say or ask, had already been talked about. We sat in silence.

"There's peace here." he said.

"Yes. I like it here." I replied.

"I'm glad I had the time with you that I did." he said. "But I wish there was more time for us."

"You. You're funny. You have all the time in the universe." I chuckled.

"That's the problem," he said. "I never get to see what else there is, or even if there's anything else."

"Oh." I said, finally understanding his troubled expression. We sat in silence for a while longer.

"You're going to leave this place soon." he said. "It's time to pass me on to someone else."

I knew what he meant. I called to my son to come and get Kayleigh, who was peacefully gazing at the blue and purple sunset sky.

"You ok dad?" he said, taking his daughter in his arms.

"Yes son. Never better." I said with a slight smile.

He walked back in with her, and the sounds of their little family drifted out to the porch where I sat. I pulled the blanket that had been covering my legs up a little higher as the cool chill deepened in the darkening air. The smell of dinner wafted out on the air like an elixir of home. I felt peace. I felt happy. I felt full and finished. Slowly, I started to feel my left arm go numb. There was a slight tightening in my chest, then darkness and warmth and peace. From a distance I could hear someone yelling, then silence. I had left. I had gone where Don could never go, but so much desired to go. Though I left the universe that day, forever, my divided soul carried on in the ones I left behind.

Artist - Album - Song
Flower Kings - Stardust We Are - Don of the Universe

Photo credit: Keeping Watch, by Doug Fredericks.

Labels: don of the universe

It had been a particularly stressful Monday at work. Playing my music louder than is seemly for a thirty-six year old, and singing along, is my way of de-stressing on the drive home on days like this. As I've aged, my voice has changed, and I can't hit the high notes like I used to, so instead of singing the high harmony parts, I tend these days to hit the under harmony.

It was then that I heard him. Right there in the passenger seat next to me, Don was singing along with me, hitting the high notes that I once could. This time he was young, clean shaven, short haired, and bright faced. His eyes, however, still emanated the depth of distance, time, experience and mischeviousness that I'd noticed before. How he had gotten there, was much less disconcerting than the fact that he looked strikingly familiar.

When the song ended, he laughed. "I remember when the first proto-human sang. Actually sang. That was magic. Music and singing is older than language, you know?"

"I think I knew that." I replied.

We traveled in silence for a while, listening to the instrumental part of the song. Then I turned the music down just a bit, and asked him something I'd been wanting to ask for a ling time.

"Who are you?" I said. It sounded almost silly to ask this question, after encountering this person for so many years. But I had to know.

"I'm nobody important." Was all he said, as he looked out the window.

"But, you say you were there, at the beginning. Is that true?" I offered.

"Yes. It is." was his simple reply.

"Then...are you..." I couldn't bring myself to ask it. He sensed this and turned to look at me.

"The idea that God is inside of all of us is an arrogant notion, don't you think? I think it is. It dumbs down the very idea of God." he said with a smile on his face.

"What do you mean 'inside of all of us,' I was asking about you." I said.

"I know." he said.

As I exited on to Garden Springs off I-90, he was gone again.

Labels: don of the universe

Hello to all my wonderful, insightful, and intelligent readers that have more important things to do than to worry about why I haven't posted here in such a long time. How are you? I'm fine...now.

I had a sort of...work event, you see, over the last six days, to attend to quite fervently. You'd think that this wouldn't take me away from blogging in the evenings or the mornings, but it did. You see, this 'event' closed my mind for a while. My brain was locked into thinking about the problem in the evenings when I went to bed, disturbed me in my sleep, and I would wake in the mornings to more thoughts of this problem. Everything else was cast aside like so much detritus, unfortunately.

However, I'm here to tell you now, that I am back. The problem has been solved, and I will resume my less than regular schedule of posting soon. We might see Don again in the very near future. Would anyone like that?

"The universe is really big, you know?" He said this in such a matter of fact way it made me chuckle.

"Yes, I'd gathered that it was quite large." I replied.

"No, you don't understand. It's quite big. Think of the biggest thing you can think of, and then expand that as far as your mind can think, and you're not even coming close to the size of the universe." His gentle smile was there as he said this, a slight smirk in his eye. But he was different this time. Here in this smoky bar, between bands, I had found him again. I had seen him sitting in a high backed chair, facing the stage, drinking a large dark Guinness as the band played. His hair was dark this time, but still long. His beard was short, but turning gray.

I sat next to him in silence for a bit, then said "How much of it have you seen?"

"A bit. I was there when it started, you know." He replied as he raised his drink to his lips. For some reason, this didn't surprise me. That feeling of distance and age hit me again, as I sat in an even lengthier silence. I struggled with what to say next, but I knew there was something I wanted to know, so I took my chances, and asked.

"Who are you?" I finally said.

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody, really." was his simple reply.

"But, can't you tell me some of the things you've seen?" I implored, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Oh, not now...look, the next band is about to start. I really like these guys." He said with a slight wave of his hand, dismissing the subject. "Maybe later, ok?" He finally said, sensing my discomfort.

"Sure!" I had to yell in reply, as the music had started, and conversation beyond this point, was pointless.

Labels: don of the universe

I first met Don in 1994, on the campus of the University of North Texas in Denton, Texas. He was sitting back, long white hair and beard, gently smiling at the crowd of jeering students that had gathered to laugh at preacher Joe who was spewing his special brand of fire, brimstone, hatred and insults from the free speech green in front of the student Union building. Nothing guides students into questioning their faith better than angry preachers on college campuses. Good job Joe.

Don just sat on a bench, watching. I needed a rest, and thought I'd sit on the bench next to him for a bit and enjoy the spring sun and the interesting show before us. I swung my backpack down to the grass beside the bench, and took a seat. I sat in silence for a bit, then looked over at the man next to me and said "what do you think of this guy?" indicating preacher Joe. Don looked at me, and it was then that I knew there was something different about him. His countenance at once expressed to me both age and youth, wisdom and whimsy.

"Oh, he's like all the others, mostly." He said, in a lilting voice and a slight wave of his hand. I shrugged and went back to resting and watching preacher Joe's performance. As I sat, I felt the presence of Don next to me swell and almost overtake my senses. I shook my head and looked over at him. His smile was gone, and he looked like he was in deep thought. But his thought was interrupted by my movement, and he looked at me.

"I'm sorry, I was remembering something." He said. It was at that moment that I realized how deep and wide his memory was. He had known so much, had seen so much, had been so many places, that the very essence of these memories swelled around him like an invisible aura. "Did you feel it?" He said.

"Yes. Why did I feel you remembering?" I asked.

"People do sometimes. Hello, my name is Don." he thrust his hand toward me in an awkward fashion. I took it and shook it in the normal way, but a numbness shot through my right hand and up my arm before I released my grip. "Sorry again." he said, sensing my discomfort. "Some people are more sensitive, it seems."

"To what?" I asked.

"To me." He then turned and watched preacher Joe for a while longer. "He doesn't feel it, though he should." He finally said, indicating preacher Joe. Then he turned to me and said "Shouldn't you be getting to your Anthropology class?"

"Yes. How did you..."

"Just something I sensed." He interrupted. "You'd better get going now. We'll talk more later."

"Where will you be?" I said as I got up and gathered my bag.

"Around." he said with a wave of his hand.

Labels: don of the universe

I was a bit surprised by the end of this book. The passing of Dumbledore isn't something I expected Rowling to do right before the end of the series, but there it was, in black and white print. The death of Dumbledore, at the hands of Snape, in whom he declared his trust, over and over again.

Why? Admittedly, it didn't affect me as much as the death of Gandalf, who, in my opinion, is a much greater wizard by far...likely owing to the fact that he wasn't really human anyway. Still, Dumbledore dead? No, this doesn't seem right. Something just isn't right here. Maybe Rowling will explain things better in the final book.

Now, about the movies. I recently watched the film version of "Goblet of Fire," and was underwhelmed. I've become so used to the detailed nature of the later books, that the lack of detail and alterations to the story line caused me unease. Also, I'm still not used to Michael Gambon in the part of Dumbledore. I actually much preferred Richard Harris in the role. However, things being as they are (meaning, Harris died in 2002), I suppose the change was unavoidable. Still, Gambon seems to play the role with too much energy for my taste. His presence isn't as calming as Harris' was, as Dumbledore. Other than those minor flaws, however, I think the movies are fun, albeit only representations, of an otherwise detailed story line that Rowling has created. If you really want to know what's going on in the story, read the books. If you're into just flashy and fun special effects and magic, just watch the movies. If you're into both, then by all means, read the books, then see the movies.

Labels: book reviews

I enjoyed this street, but not because of the expensive restaurants, though the two I went into were good. I enjoyed this street, not because it's clean, full of shops, and full of places where I don't belong, or fit in. I enjoyed this street, because it afforded me a place to look at people.

People are interesting. People on this street are from everywhere. I heard Mandarin. I heard Korean. I heard Spanish, Japanese, Italian, German. I watched people sitting in dimly lit Mediterranean restaurants that I couldn't afford enjoying one another's company in the candle light. I saw the old ladies at the Quilting shop, talking and enjoying themselves as they sewed together. I watched an old oriental man in a tea and acupuncture shop dolling out strange ingredients from large jars of sticks and leaves into a paper bag for one of his customers. I saw carved dragons, bodhisattva, crosses, and books on Dianetics. I saw that they were selling 'the Secret.'

The first day I spent too much money on a Kingfisher and an appetizer at the first restaurant I tried on this street. The next time I visited I was going to eat Indian-Chinese Fusion, but was afraid it would blow up, and couldn't find the place anyway, so I ended up drinking a blue margarita at a place that was easier to find.

Tomorrow afternoon, I board another plane and put this week behind me. Gladly, I leave this place where I do not belong. This is not my scene. These are not my people. The Mountain View / San Jose area is the home of young beautiful professionals. I am not one of these. I don't want to be. I love food, I love interesting places, but I felt out of place here.

Still, I learned a lot. I saw a lot. I ate too much. I did not enjoy myself as much as I could have. I didn't like being away, even though I was in these surroundings. Walking up and down Castro street, I kept wanting to show my wife what I was seeing. Thinking she was there, beside me, I'd say 'look at that!' But she wasn't there. Tomorrow, I return to her side. Where I belong.