Letter to Ev
Did I tell you that I just LOVE my new phone? All of the concern I had about the 6 plus being too big was just hogwash. It is actually smaller than I thought it would be. And the iPhone 6, which Nancy has, is a little bigger than I thought it would be. There is just a world of difference between her old iPhone 5 and her new phone so she couldn't be happier. When Nancy tells you that she loves something as inanimate as an iPhone that says something. I think she loves the look and feel of the new devise and the difference between the icons and the clarity of the screen display on the two models is incredible. The icons are bigger, easier to navigate to both visually and by touch, and as Steve Jobs liked to say about the iCloud service, "it just works." Debbie, if you are reading this you need to upgrade to an iPhone 6. And I am going to be very particular about the cover I get for my phone. I can never understand why people pay premium dollar for the iPhone and then cover the screen with something that is designed to protect it from scratches, etc. I'm sure the very thought of consumers covering the screen with a layer of anything has Steve rolling over in his grave. The good folks at Apple have worked too long and too hard to get it right only to see the end users compromise the quality of the device and all it offers with a stupid cover of sorts. Protection that keeps the screen from shattering in a fall might be a good idea but don't cover the screen thinking that it is the only way to maintain a pristine screen. Just be careful and use common sense.
I'll be watching the austerity vote in Greece tomorrow. I'm hoping that the Markets tank as a result of their vote to bow out of the eurozone. Or, maybe the vote will be to adopt even tougher austerity measures. Not exactly sure. A buying opportunity would be nice. And I've been dragging my feet for the last few days and haven't mowed the lawn yet. Gotta get that done and soon. I've been a bit of a putz when it comes to taking care of my snowblower too. What is the matter with me? Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow is the day I will get it all done. Done and out of the way. Now that we have Mrs G sorted out with her new iPad and all we can get down to business around the house. We passed on going out for a late afternoon dinner with Mrs G and she picked up something at Hannaford's when we stopped there to do a little shopping. We stopped at Bob's Clam Hut in Kittery, ME yesterday so that was enough dining out for one week. Hannafords' was quiet and the streets in and around Portsmouth were equally as quiet with folks largely away on holiday. One would think with Portsmouth being a holiday hotspot in and of itself that there would fewer people leaving town. As it is, this is probably the best time of all to get into town to do a little shopping, etc so that is what we did. No need to feed the parking meters outside Starbucks so we swilled our hot beverages at our leisure inside the store for the better part of a half hour before leaving the shop. I made a nice pizza here at home for the family and threw just about everything but the kitchen sink on it. I also used our new pizza stone. What a difference that makes. Everything was just crispier. The broccoli, the feta cheese, the onions, the mushrooms, the green olives, the sliced cherry tomatoes, you get the picture. Speaking of pictures, I should have taken one.
Before I forget, I came across a letter I wrote to Evan when he was five years old. The idea was that he might read it one day and maybe have an opportunity to reflect on what his mom and dad were thinking back in the "olden days." He's 20 now and probably not interested in reading it and not sure he ever will be interested so I might as well post it here for the hell of it. Here goes…
January 1, 2000
Dear Ev,
Or is it Evan? Yes, you've insisted that we not call you Ev but that is a tall order indeed. We do so love the name Evan, but the temptation to call you Ev is just too much. Since your momma spends near every waking hour with you, except for the time you are at your Nana's or Montessori, we'll allow her that small misgiving. Hopefully, in time, and as your friends assign you a nickname of their own, the name "Ev" will be a distant memory for you but your momma and I will always hold it dear to our hearts.
So, what is this letter, you ask? It was momma's idea. I think she read about it somewhere and decided that she wanted to do it. The thought of handing you a number of yellowed envelopes at the age of 18 seemed preposterous at first, but it quickly grew on me. I can see it now. As you step down off the stage after receiving your high school diploma, your momma and I draw close to you and with tears of pride swelling in our eyes we deliver into your hands those letters long written and saved for this precious moment. It will be a special moment for us, and even now the sense of anticipation grows even as I sit here writing the first of many letters to come. And that is how this business all began.
If there were one really special moment this past Xmas, I would have to say it was when we put the Pajama Sam computer game on the roof and we told you that Santa had dropped it there during the Xmas delivery. You should have seen the look on your face! Sheer delight! And given your 105.8 degree temperature at the Sagamore on Xmas eve, we had little to celebrate as we hunkered down at the hotel trying to figure out when we might take you to the emergency room. That never happened and you finally recovered but not fully until we arrived home in Rye. We were all sick during the holidays at one time or another, and we all got through it. And do you remember being at Jeremy's and Lexa's house on New Years eve? We all saw the year 2000 ushered in, and it was probably the first time you were ever up that late. But, we made it as a family and that was a special night indeed.
You've come a long way this past year. Turning 5 was a momentous occasion for us. You are showing an increased awareness of the world around you, and we see you looking at yourself in new and different ways than we used to. Momma saw you examining yourself in the mirror last week and with a flick of your wrist you put your hair just right. Satisfied that your face was clean and everything was in order, you stepped down off the stool and away from the sink. "Bedtime routine," your momma called out. Settling in next to her on the couch, the two of you made for quite a scene. I can't remember whether we had a wood stove going that evening or not. You do so love when we have a fire in the stove.
A little finger prick maybe? Another visit to see Bachrach? Another vial of blood drawn. We wonder what you think about all this "hospital" business. We remind ourselves that we've not told you much, but we know that we probably need to put it into terms you'll understand. That is, when we figure out what is going on. We're not sure, nor are the doctors, what to make of your ketones or blood glucose readings which are not right. We can tell you that we were extremely relieved to know that it was not Diabetes. That diagnosis would have killed us. We can live with what we think they think it is that being a deficiency of sorts, but we have scheduled a second opinion in Boston for next week so that's what we have planned for now. We did tell Bachrach that we were not interested in having you go into the hospital for a couple of days so he could confirm his suspicions. It is reportable or so he says. We'll see.
Your best friends Trevor, Sam, and Nick, and Jordan, are there for you at Montessori. They are there to kick around the soccer ball while you play outside, and they are there to listen and watch as you do circle time with them. And Ann and Terry tell your momma and me that you are doing a great job with the number board. I'll bet your class was really surprised when you brought in a snake skin for show and tell. And I've seen for myself when they've offered to help you hand out napkins or cookies that your momma has made for those special occasions. We're happy too that the peanut allergy you have has not prevented you from enjoying such times and if I had to guess I would say that momma's cookies were always a fine substitute. And then, there were times when you said that you would rather have nothing to eat than the cake that was being served if there were no ingredients listed. I think you didn't want to be seen as being different. You have worked so hard to fit in, and you have such fine and loyal friends. You are a fine boy!
It's funny to think that in the midst of all you are going through that there are times when the simple act of tying our shoes gives you more pleasure than we would think. We wish you would find he same pleasure in doing "toots" or putting your dishes in the sink after eating. We wish you would find more pleasure in eating vegetables, or keeping your room clean. We watched as you lined your Pokemon characters up neatly in a row against the wall in your bedroom. You may have the Debbie of Da gene but we're just not sure yet. And just yesterday, momma was gleeful in her praise of you as you helped shovel Nan's driveway. There is surely much give and take in our lives today and it's hard to sort through. With you at the center of our lives, we always end up smiling .
If there is one thing now that we wish would change for the better it would be your hitting your momma. "Stay away from my bum," is her most common refrain. And then, I remember telling you on the phone that you will have to deal with me if you hit your momma. Having this kind of discussion with a five-year old feels a little like an out-of-body experience, and it makes me wonder where it's all going.
Your aggression seems limited to our home. Thankfully. You are not otherwise a bully. Rather, you prefer to stand on the sidelines and take it all in before jumping in with both feet when involved in social situations. When your momma and I watch you play soccer on Saturdays in Hampton we are amazed by your reluctance to jump into the fray and your favorite position is defense. It is a far cry from your soccer playing in our own yard where you make every attempt to wrestle the ball away from us as we run round and round the house. You are in the mix. Involved. Serious. Intent on winning. So I was pleased to hear from your momma that you recently scored a goal and that must have been a real confidence booster for you. Getting to know the game, the people, and the rules may be your way of warming up to your environment. You do so enjoy sports and we hope you will find your confidence there. Slowly, to be sure. It will be good for you.
I do have a regret or two that I want to mention. I arrived home one day earlier this year to discover that you had shed the training wheels on your bike, and you were wheeling around the neighborhood as though you had been doing so for months. Your momma told me that Roger, our next door neighbor, had taken the training wheels off your bike. She didn't seem to realize that allowing Roger to do so was taking away from me one of the many pleasures that a dad can enjoy in raising a son. Or a daughter. Nonetheless, it hurt to know that I missed that one opportunity. It was something I'd hoped we might share. There will be many other opportunities, and I can only hope that I will be there for you. That is my wish as I sit here writing this letter on a cold winter morning in the month of January in Rye, NH.