TRIBUTE TO CORMAC.

“You have my whole heart. You always did.” 

- Cormac McCarthy

I love these people; it is not difficult.

A Little Boy and His Knives (If I Am Ever Mad at My Son in the Future, I Will Think of This Evening and My Heart Will Grow Soft)

Some children go to bed with their soft teddy bears.
Some children go to bed with their snuggly blankets.
This is my son. He is headed off to bed with his knives.

Yes. These are his knives. Pronounced "knife-EZ." And they go to bed with him. Every single one of them. To snuggle.

Good night, world. 

Johannes and his knives (2013.02.19)

Just to Keep Things in Perspective:


I tucked Johannes in once, and left, and then I missed him. So I went back and whispered to him in the dark:

I love you, buddy.

- I love you, Daddy.

Thanks for being such a wonderful boy.

- Thanks for being such a wonderful boy, he whispered back.

I'll come lay by you in a little bit, okay?

- Mommy's going to sleep with me. You can sleep with Sissy.

****

Message to my cousin Bobby on his 33rd birthday:

from Left: Joseph, Bobby, Josh, Leanna (February 19, 1984)

It was the winter of 1984.
The coast was cold and spirits were high.
Doves crying and Bono was a boy and Foreigner was cool,
and it was the rockingest birthday ever because...well, look at us. 
Iconic. 
Even though you got a bigger piece of cake than I did. Butthead.

Love you, Blood. Hope today has rocked hard, like Tom Waits covering the Carpenters. See you soon and get a big birthday-hug from the Jenny, from me. 

Thanks

More on the holiday later. It was splendid.

Mr. Scarry

To know that over the course of your life, you entertained, educated, and brought joy to millions of children through your stories...that has to feel good.

Mr. Richard Scarry certainly should have felt good, with the host of anthropomorphic characters he brought to life in dozens of different architecturally-accurate and detailed environments, most notably in Busytown.

Dick Scarry. 1919-1994
And, it is pronounced /'skæ ri/
As in "Scary."

Always loved Lowly Worm.

One of the great things about growing children is that you get to re-experience art, books, film, and music that have fallen into cliche, or at least become passe as an adult.

Moonlight Sonata or Bach for the first time. Indiana Jones, or The Goonies for the first time. Shel Silverstein or the Hardy Boys, or Matthew Looney and the Space Pirates for the first time. Seeing a Matisse collage, or Ansel Adams landscape with fresh eyes for the first time...that is why childhood is such a great adventure: you get to have all kinds of first experiences. And they should not be jaded by the hipness of veteran eyes or ears.

And that's why it's great being a parent: you get to experience the joy of those first experiences. And rediscover, with fresh perspective, what made those things great in the first place.

In church, my cousin Bobby got to read Richard Scarry books during the sermon. I was envious. I just had a sketchbook, where I drew pictures of Russian firearms, dragons, and vaguely sinister old men in ties sitting on the front pew.

Now, I should probably squeeze in a fresh episode of Lie to Me before slumber.

Punchline of Unkie Metal Bobby

Her sense of humor continues to evolve. I suppose welcoming my daughter with a "Hi! Give Dad a big kiss!" and flying her over my head was not the brightest idea, particularly after a lengthy breakfast.* Being the butt of a joke is never the optimal position, but I have to admit I was rather proud that she displayed such a sophisticated sense of comedic timing. Buster and Charlie woulda been proud.

The quizzical look on her face might be the result of my having to shriek at her. Something I hate to do, but have to do with some regularity. Shrieking is quite underrated. Try it.

*milk
___


Uncle Bobby, or "Unkie Bobby," as she likes to call him. Though technically it's a child-of-a-cousin thing, which would make her his, uhh, ... oh forget it.

Uncle Bobby.

More on last weekend later.

Bobby is heavily recruiting her for his side project, an experimental death-klezmer sextet featuring kazoos, rattles and shop equipment.