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Unlike this morning, which is cool and rainy, the day we welcomed Jake into our home was hotter than a blast furnace in the 'Burg in August.
Like a dork, the car seat I picked up was designed for a ten year old porker raised on McDonalds fries. Keep in mind that Californicate is way out front on the Nanny Curve. Fifteen years ago hospitals had already been pressed into service by the social welfare polezei. Their job? Walk the baby out through the self-opening double glass doors and carefully strap The Boy into a child safety seat. After that starchy little Candy Striper saw the size of the car seat and finished with her apoplexy (stern lecture followed) there was a group conference to determine if we would be allowed to depart with our child. The soft-sided insert didn't cut no ice with these people.
Shut up you idiots (on the inside). I50 million bebes rode home from hospitals in the front seat with our mother's arms wrapped around us tightly. Before that babies were born at home under less than ideal conditions (boil some water and bring clean towels, Aunt Mabel).
It's taken about two weeks since we were getting him into the car at the hospital and we're already discussing getting him a car.
.....who introduced the concept of school vouchers, documented the role of government monopolies on money in creating inflation, provided the intellectual arguments that ended the military draft in America, co-founded the Mont Pelerin Society...... In popular books such as Capitalism and Freedom and Free to Choose, written with his wife and longtime collaborator Rose, he masterfully drew a through-line between economic freedom and political and cultural freedom.
It was a pretty nice neighborhood in those days, not far from where Wyatt Earp's family once called home. These days , most of the neighborhood has been razed and you'd probably want to steer clear after dark.
Speaking of black cats, this is Kramer walking the deck railing 30 feet above some of the big rocks from which Casa de las Rocas Grandes takes its name.
Dad's exciting news today was that a 175 year old oak tree came down in four pieces recently. It narrowly missed driving him into the ground like a tent stake, smashed his woodshed flat, hit the house, the car, and the garage, generally making quite a mess.
As I write this, the ball is dropping in Times Square and it's twelve minutes plus an unspecified number of years since this boy joined our world on a chilly Monday night at the Advent hospital in Loma Linda.
Life Magazine published a special New Year's Eve issue the year that TWC was born. The TWC archives contain an original copy of the magazine.
Japanese girls long ago traded their parasols and kimonos for Levis and laptops and our cover girl, if she is still living, is likely a great grandmother.
I'll leave you with a thought from T S Eliot.....
For last year's words belong to last year's language, And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.
In celebration of her birthday, Mrs TWC joined moi for a lovely lunch which concluded with a traditionally prepared and ever-so-marvelous creme brulee, courtesy of Citrus City Grill in Dos Lagos. Course, moi cannot remember the chick's name that gave us such good service so as to give her a shout out. I curse and blame the wine.
Later The House Blond dished up a hot fudge sundae with all the fixin's except a maraschino cherry on top. Her brother ate them all on Friday.
We've traveled a lot of highways together. Happy Birthday, Darlin'.
TWC isn't big on celebrity worship, but it is worth noting that John Lennon would have celebrated his seventieth birthday today. That, in fact, may be the most striking (shocking?) thing about the hoopla and candle light vigils planned to commemorate his birth.
John Lennon once said.....
Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans
.....which I believe is precisely how, when we weren't paying attention, that we arrived, today, at this tick on the calendar. It takes a moment, but it sinks in. The sudden realization that, had he lived, John Lennon would be five years past the customary time when New Yorkers move to Fla permanently. That certainly doesn't bode well for the rest of us, though it does explain why it just plain hurts to throw the football around with The Boy.
Hard to pick a favorite Lennon tune, but I like this one pretty well. First time I heard it on the radio I thought: that sounds so much like early Beatles, wonder who it is.
Earlier this week Mrs TWC was on the road again and unbeknown to Moi, Katie casually borrowed my phone and sent the following message to her mother.....
What are we getting Katie for her birthday?
A few minutes later she has a comprehensive list. She then deletes both messages, but the guilt sets in. Her brother, figures out the grift in a heartbeat. Her father is livid.....
Dammit! Every birthday gift is going back to the store!
Mrs TWC is highly amused and The Boy is impressed with her brilliant con.
That was yesterday and today it's her birthday, which also happens to be election day at junior high. In her final day of campaigning, she's stumping for ASB vice-president wearing her a shirt emblazoned across the front.....
Not just that, but on this very day in 1620 the
Pilgrims set sail from England bound for the New World. The timing
always puzzled me even as a school kid. Were they betting it wouldn’t
get cold and stormy?
Katie plopped into this world in a hurry, whereupon Dr Byrne immediately handed me the scalpel. Umbilical cords are tough, sinewy, and thick. You have no idea, Gentle Reader, it is far easier to cut a radiator hose or a fan belt with a dull utility knife, than an umbilical with a razor sharp, surgical steel implement that was designed for just such work. Once the doctor began to question my masculinity, the job smoothed out.
Later that day That Boy would ask.....if it's Katie's birthday.....where's
her birthday hat at?
Daddy loves you, Happy Birthday.
Katie's Ice Cream Cone, Paige Blouin, 4th of July 2001
Katie at Maui's Red Sand Beach, TWC, dusk, 07-02-03
Uncle Rick pushed another year behind him on Saturday. He's got a tricked out three car garage and is up to a three-Harley-a-week habit.
Uncle Rick and The Boy
At our wedding reception, we hired Uncle Rick to serve the champagne punch so as
to keep things classy and to keep the Demon Rum away from the
youngsters. His method was simple. A glass for you. A glass for him. You can see how the geometric progression would work. Fifty guests. One Uncle Rick. He was diligent, too, absolutely refused to serve champagne punch to anyone shorter than four
feet tall. I'm pretty sure that Aunt Linda lied about her age.
He married my sister, Mo, back when Studio 54 was the rage, so me and him go back a fair piece. It's a little unsettling when you realize how long you've known some people.
Rick's a man of few words, preferring to shut up and just get-R-done. He's a stand up guy and no man could ask for a better brother-in-Law.
Just trying to find some balance in world gone totally insane.....