Depth Perception

This post has been a long time coming.

I’ve had some serious challenges lately:




Mysterious cluster headaches
Financial burdens
A break-up

I’ve been affected emotionally by all three, headache, doughache and heartache. Battling my own demons and my own form of depression. I’m getting help from friends, family, counselors, practitioners, etc.

But far too often I feel like I am completely alone.



Then reality hits and you realize that as vital and important as your own issues are, that everyone struggles with things and that my issues are actually transitional. To give some perspective:

The recent suicides of bullied students. “It gets better” is true. It makes me so sad and very reflective to hear about things like this. I am powerless to stop others’ pain, but I will not be powerless to stop or prevent my own.

The death of Maurice Lucas. Just listening to people tell stories of their interactions with this great, great man illustrates how much we CAN affect people by always treating them with grace and respect and by giving of ourselves. Listen to the eulogies at www.955thegame.com for an illustration of what I mean.



A friend’s recent health issues. He was diagnosed with kidney cancer a year ago. Had surgery and treatment and has recovered. Then, recently, a tumor was found in his eye and his eye had to be removed. Different cancer entirely, which seems scary, but is actually a good thing. His resiliency in the face of this inspires me. He has a young daughter and he wraps every setback in terms of making sure he does what he must to be around for her. Unconditional love in the face of adversity.

I guess what I’m just trying to do is remind myself that I do have value. I have gifts to offer. I am worthy of love and affection. As much pain and confusion as exists for me I have tools to conquer it. And there are people who care and who help.

I am not alone.

It gets better.

Bruce!

Time For Thanks

The list, in no particular order:

Freedom: so much of our liberties have been under attack both as a consequence of our enemies and as a consequence of our own government. Enough. I like my freedom and I like yours too.

Portland: I love this city so much.

Family: I don't see or talk to them enough but I value each and every one of them.

The future: My hope and optimism is as high as it's been in decades.

Heather: What can I say about her. One of the greatest souls I've ever encountered. She lights me up.

Taste buds: I love good flavors so much.

Imagination: this one cognitive tool keeps me going sometimes.

Friends: keep me on my toes.

Timbers: one love.

Blazers: another love.

B!

Intermission

It seems like taking a break is contagious around here.

Some goings on in the world that is my world:

I’m heading to Bend this weekend for nephew’s birthday, friend’s birthday and some quality time with the family and with Heather. Heather’s met the folks and an aunt and uncle. Now she’ll meet Stu, Melissa, the boys and a zillion friends that I’ve known for a good long time. I know she’s up to the task as she’s such a sport, but it’s still a bit daunting.

I’m having surgery. Nothing major. In my weight gain of the last 8-10 years I developed an umbilical hernia. It’s been bothering me a lot lately so the Doctor’s and I have decided to get it fixed. The surgery takes only 30-45 minutes and I should be back on my functional feet in a few days and fully active within a 4-6 weeks. I’ve got to negotiate the scheduling of it, what with summer weddings, plans and all. Oh, and work. Can’t forget about work.

Tuesday, June 10 The Portland Timbers will play Hollywood United in the U.S. Open Cup. Hollywood United is a club team from Los Angeles that was founded by some actors and rock stars. They are a cut above your local pub team and word is that they are bringing some of their big names to PDX on the 10th. Anthona Lapaglia is the current owner of the squad. Pretty cool. What’s also pretty cool is that I will be in the broadcast booth for the match. I’ll be doing play-by-play on the USLLive broadcast. The match will only be available On Demand once it’s completed but it’s still a great opportunity for me to re-test my skills and continue to slowly re-engage myself in the broadcast biz.

Birthday Play By Play

Chronicling the birthday as it unfolds:

1. Birthday wishes from Aunt Debby

2. Birthday wishes from Aunt Judy

3. eCard from Shannon

4. Voice mail from Mom

5. Chocolate from boss

6. Brick of cheese from Shannon

7. Birthday wishes from Stephanie

8. Birthday text from Heather

9. Raisinets, Goobers and Sno-Caps from Mary

10. Comment from Sicily

11. Birthday wishes from Eric

12. More birthday wishes from Mom

13. Birthday wishes from Lucas (and an offer of a scotch. Yes!)

14. Birthday wishes from Rachel

15. Birthday wishes from Wookie and the rest of Timbers Army

16. Birthday wishes from Diane

17. Birthday wishes from Laurie, the Lady Cobra

18. eCard from Candy - and lunch too

19. More birthday wishes from various Timbers Army personalities

20. Voice Mail from David - with a song and some French slang

21. Comment from the CilleyGirl

22. Birthday wishes from Katharine

23. Birthday wishes from Stuart

Awesome day so far.

Happy Birthday Bro!

Today is my big brother Stuart’s 41st Birthday.

We don’t talk or see each other as much as either of us would like, but he’s still my best friend in the whole world. Those words seem unbelievable when I reflect on the special torture that a big brother inflicts on a younger over the years. But, somewhere, I got over it and he did too.

If you wish to post some birthday wishes for him feel free.

Happy Birthday Stu!

Register, Then Vote

I’ve taken another day off today so I’ve got some modest plans of things to accomplish during the daylight.

• Laundry
• Post Office
• Finish My Taxes
• Grocery Shopping
• Re-Register To Vote As A Democrat

The first four on the list are rather tame. Just the dumb things I gotta do. But the last is rather monumental for me.

I’ve always been a political animal. I grew up in a household with a very liberal father and a slightly less-liberal mother. I attended very left-leaning schools. While much of the liberal philosophy influenced me, I had an independent streak, even at an early age. But I still registered as a Democrat and followed most of the party line until the 2000 election. Hell, I even voted for Jesse Jackson in 1988.

But after the Florida debacle that handed the White House to George W. Bush I couldn’t take the new Democratic party. I found the party to be unfocused and lacking vision. Too willing to take up every cause and therefore creating too many splinter issues, rather than focusing on the things that could win elections, influence broader policy and move the country forward. National politics is for big picture stuff. They had lost me.

So I registered as an Independent.

Now, in Oregon, if you’re an Independent you are not allowed to vote in the primaries as they follow party affiliation. Normally this doesn’t matter on the national stage as Oregon’s primary is so late in the election cycle. But this year is different. The Democratic nomination is still up for grabs. Still in play. And I actually care about who wins.

So they’ve got me back. Whether they want me or not. My father will be pleased.

My personal politics are a strange, strange hybrid of libertarian, liberal and conservative. My strong personal beliefs are in the individual and their privacy, which sounds conservative, but actually opens up the liberal aspect of my nature.

But I digress. This election is the most interesting in my lifetime. Perhaps I’m just seeing it through the lens of 8 years of idiots, bullies and war. Maybe not. There are three distinct candidates left, all of who could still earn my vote. Although John McCain is a longshot as he’d need to become the maverick that he used to be. But then I’d be concerned that he was flip-flopping. So he’s probably not going to convince me to vote for him no matter what he does. But I have not ruled it out.

But Clinton and Obama have my interest. Politically they are basically identical in their over-arching policies. Hillary bores me to sleep. Obama inspires me with his words but does he have the guts to follow through on his vision? It’s a very interesting exploration of politics, race, gender, influence and all else.

So, I’ve downloaded my voter registration card, you can find it here for the State of Oregon. Register by April 29, 2008 to vote in the primary. Washington has online registration here (but you missed their primaries if you’re not yet registered). That’s pretty cool.

As they used to say on SCTV, register, then vote.

B!

A Salute To The Army

I’ve avoided two subjects on the blog for the most part: politics and sports. I’ve got plenty of political opinion, and a bit of it will surface soon, but today I want to touch on sports.

I’m a flag waving, scarf wearing, foul mouthed member of Timbers Army (there’s no initiation, nor membership roll. Show up, sing, sign up for stuff). Now most of you are in the know about Portland Timbers Football Club (that’s AKA soccer) here in town. It’s our local professional team. They play at PGE Park to ever increasing crowds. But some of my visitors may not have any knowledge about this squad.

There’s also this band of misfits called Timbers Army (The TA). They’re the thousands of nutters who stand in the north end of the stadium and sing and chant and carry on with noise in abundance for the entire match. While this phenomenon is not unique to the sport it’s pretty darn rare in the USA. They have a message board where they organize and discuss the team and get together even in the offseason.

But what really sets the TA apart is their abundance of civic pride. They tend to view Portland as their home. I don’t mean hometown when I write that. I mean HOME. Portland is what connects them. What creates the bonds. What creates the family.

Today one of the TA’s own told the story of his brother dying recently. He wrote passionately and achingly about their time together at PGE Park with the army. How it fostered a closeness that he valued. The army does this. It creates bonds where there previously were barriers. The TA really steps up when one of its own is hurting. Financially. Emotionally. Spiritually. It is an amazing group of people.

It’s hard to believe that it started with seven or eight guys and some buckets and loud mouths seven years ago. But what it’s grown into is something you have to see to believe. And you can become a part of it. Show up. Stand, Sing. Done.

B!

Day Off

(Disclaimer: a bit about sex in here. May make you blush. May or may not be safe for work.)

I'm not at work today. I took a day off.

There's something very good about being able to grab a day for yourself every now and then. Spend it taking care of the things that you may be neglecting, like laundry, cleaning, projects or even yourself.

When I was growing up my dad never took a day off. Sure, he had summer off but that was different. I remember not really knowing what the term even meant. In old episodes of "Courtship of Eddie's Father" Uncle Norm would often say he was going to do such and such on his "day off". I recall him saying this term a lot, but it's possible it was only in one episode. But the phrase has stayed with me and whenever I think of a day off I think of Uncle Norm from that show.

Of course he wasn't really Eddie's uncle. He was a good friend of Eddie's father. As I was strolling the Overlook neighborhood on a vigorous walk this morning these strings of thought were going through my head; Day Off. Uncle Norm. Men who we refer to as 'Uncle' who, in fact, are not an uncle at all.

I couldn't be the only one who had a few of my father's friends who were referred to as 'Uncle', could I? The most memorable of mine was Uncle Eddie. Ed Hartzell was something of a mentor to my father. He was a teacher at the Cate school in Ojai, California when my father started there back in the 1950's. They both migrated to the Northwest in the 60's. Ed to Portland and Catlin Gabel and my dad to Tacoma and Charles Wright Academy. In 1971 we moved to Portland and my father started his final career move at Catlin, right alongside Uncle Eddie.

Uncle Eddie was a fantastic, gentle bear of a man. An avid fly-fisherman and old soul. He and his bride, Kim, had a fantastic home up off of Skyline. Kim taught art in the middle school at Catlin and she was one of my favorite teachers of all time. She believed in what she did completely. The idea that art and creativity were a crucial part of a child's development and that each of us were capable of creating beauty with pen, pencil, paint, clay or what not.

But it wasn't just art that she taught us. In 7th grade Catlin used to devote a portion of the curriculum to sex ed. They still might. Not sure. While there were memorable moments like the bowl of colored condoms being passed around the room or Derrick Butler getting the terms menstruation and masturbation confused, the one that I recall was Kim sitting at a table and talking very plainly about sex. She talked about her fears (especially the idea that HE might pee inside her) and about her experiences with sex. It was one of the most frank, open discussions I recall having about the subject. She was willing to put herself out there, vulnerable, in an attempt to allow a bunch of 13 year olds to ask the questions that otherwise would've been too embarrassing to reveal. It was a brilliant teaching moment. Memorable.

Kim died a few years ago and Uncle Eddie died a few months later. I last saw him shortly after Kim died and he had a sadness to him that I still remember to this day. But I take some solace in the knowledge that the two of them lived grand lives. They touched countless souls and were a true force of humanity. Their daughter was at my father's birthday party a month ago and we shared some smiles and some tears as I told her stories of her mother and father.

So, it turns out I'm having a pretty good day off.

B!

Put The PA in Party! Sid's 75th!

This past Sunday was my dad's 75th birthday bash.

With a group of family and friends acting as stellar cooks, caterers, busboys and electricians we pulled off a fantastic celebration of my dad's life so far.

There were just short of 200 guests from all aspects of my dad's life. Colleagues from both Catlin Gabel and Charles Wright (my dad was a teacher for those not in the know), professional acquantances, Portland friends, a college friend or two and lots of family were there.


We held it at Catlin Gabel in the school's lunchroom, a converted barn from the old farm days of the property. For those familiar with The Barn you know how fitting a place it is for a CG alum or retiree to have a gathering.

Cousins Katherine and Stu, my mother and I planned the entire event. There was beer and wine, Stu smoked fifty pounds of beef onsite and acted as chef, aunts Alice and Debby made fantastic salads. Stu's girlfriend Hilary handled signage and nametags and balloons and making it pretty. Kat and Stu had custom shirts and hats for the organizers to wear. There was music and a microphone and words from Sid himself.

For me this was an opportunity to recognize the importance of my dad in my life. He's been there for me countless times and it was nice to be there for him this time. As was evident by the turnout and the overwhelming sense of fun, many others feel similarly.

There are more pics coming soon. But a few here show cousin Stu carving beast; my dad talking with Greg Wentworth; nephew Nathaniel enjoying cake.

For those of you that were there please post a comment about your favorite parts of the evening or whatever strikes your fancy.

B!

Mortality

My friend Pete’s father died in his sleep yesterday morning. This was not unexpected. But it is still painful for him and his family.

I don’t have a proper tribute to Ogden, as I barely knew him. What I did know of him was through his son who is one of the most exceptional, uncompromising and fascinating people I’ve ever known. If a son is a reflection of his father then I can say I did know him. I admired him. I respected him. I loved him.

So, as I’ve gone about my business the last two days it’s been with a sense of loss. Concern for my friend and his family. Helplessness knowing that there’s little I can do and selfishness for thinking about my own helplessness amidst their pain and loss.

So I offer this to you.

Sons and fathers. These are probably the more uncomfortable of family relationships. Male roles often dictate that we not speak of our love for one another. Stupid. I hate that convention, yet I adhere to it far too much. So, please, if you’ve still got a father around, or a father figure, value that relationship. Validate it. Often.

Death. It’s natural. It’s painful. It makes little sense at the same time as it makes perfect sense. But death can also equal peace. It should equal peace. The conclusion of a life well lived.

Life. It is a gift. Live it as such. Make more of today than you expected. Surprise yourself. Surprise those around you.

Love. Let go of hate. It is a burden that you need not bear. Surround yourself with people that you do love. Nurture the best of those relationships.

So. Those are the deep thoughts for the weekend. Thanks for reading and sharing your own thoughts from time to time.

B!

Reflections On The Year Past

2007. Hard to believe that it is over. I’ve written the following in haste so I may make some adjustments over the next day or so.

I give 2007 an 8 out of 10. There’s some room for improvement, but overall a very satisfying 365 days. Some highlights, not all inclusive and in no particular order:

1) A new nephew. Not quite sure who he really is yet, beyond being very sleepy, but he seems cool. Even if he is squishy.
2) Friends. I really can’t express how unreal some of my friends are. And I keep stumbling on more and more great people all the time.
3) Living in the city. This is probably the single biggest catalyst for change in my life that I’ve had in some time. All for the positive.
4) Losing weight. I’ve dropped a total of 25 pounds now which puts my initial goal weight well within sight. Not easy, but it hasn’t killed me and I not only look healthier, I feel healthier.
5) Portland Timbers. Feel the love.
6) Portland Trailblazers. Feel that love. Wow.
7) Red Sox. World Series champs twice in my lifetime. That will last me for a long while.
8) I got a trumpet.

Some things I wish were different:

1) War. Stupid.
2) Romance. I could use a bit of it.
3) Distance. I wish I lived closer to my brother (or vice versa) and a few other amazing people. But then again, I’d always be missing out on someone wouldn’t I? There’s no perfect solution to this one, is there?

I hope that your 2007 has had similar highlights and very few lowlights.

B!

Let's Put The Art in Party

Every Boxing Day my ancestral family hosts a party to celebrate and honor the heritage of our family and its many contributions to the City of Portland.

This party, for me, has never really struck the right chord. It always hit me as a bit stuffy and even pretentious. To please my mother I normally attend once every 6-8 years. This year was one of those years.

This edition of the party should’ve been the stuffiest of all; Hosted at the Portland Art Museum. However, to my surprise, I enjoyed this version tremendously. Bruce must be growing up. Mom will be proud.

I learned a great deal about the founding of the Art Museum and our ancestors’ roles in that. We were given a private tour by the current curator of many of the significant works that were sold or donated to the museum. Cousin Bill gave a great account of the family over the years and many of the specific donations, gifts and contributions.

The highlight, once again, was Aunt Lucy. She related several stories but one that was very touching. The family once had a Winslow Homer painting. It was sold to put Lucy through college. It turns out that several of her generation of the family attended college through similar sacrifices. It was evident to all how much this meant to Lucy and it really demonstrated to me the profound connections of family, city, museum, education and culture.

I’ve always felt a bit of disconnect to my extended family, much to my mother’s dismay, I fear. But, as I’ve been working to be better connected to both family and friends, I want this to change.

So, see you all next Boxing Day.

Merry Christmas!

I just want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and happy secular holiday.

No matter what your particular version of this holiday time entails, I wish all of you the best through this season and well into the New Year.

Peace and prosperity, harmony and fulfillment. May these all be yours now and in the future.

An Ode to Bud

I used to have a cat named Bud. His given name was Budweiser but Bud was his real identity. He was the coolest cat ever.

I got him when I was in sixth or seventh grade. Bud was a pound cat. He was a brown tabby with a white stomach and big, white paws. Bud had a singular talent of walking on his hind legs and asking not-very-politely for his food.

Bud had an attitude. Bud was independent. Bud was a bit ornery. Bud was like one of the cool kids in high school. The ones who impressed you just by knowing your name, even though you otherwise had little in common. Bud was a rock star of a cat. Remember those fat cat cartoons with the sunglasses? Bud could’ve been the inspiration for those.

Tragically, he was struck and killed by a car on the busy street where we lived. It was summer. I think I was 17 or so. My brother had to give me the bad news. I’ve always wondered if that was difficult for him. He did it rather businesslike. I was in the shower. He came in, told me through the steam and water, said that Bud was in the garage and then he left for work.

I didn’t cry. I think I always figured that Bud would go out that way. He had been hit in full stride. He had what you could only categorize as a smile on his face. Eyes open. The only sign of trauma was a small trickle of blood from his mouth. I can still see his image in my mind’s eye. I’d like to think that he died instantly and didn’t suffer. It certainly looked that way.

Bud was the last cat that I have called my own. Turns out I am allergic to the beasts.

I was reminded of Bud last night when I was at my friends, Lucas and Audrey’s for dinner. They have two cats of personality: Mudshark and Sputnik. Sputnik is a wonderful spaz of a cat. Mudshark may be the reincarnation of Bud himself. I had fun playing with them between a few too many swigs of port and episodes of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

And with that I realized that I am a cat person. Not an active cat person but a cat person nonetheless. Allergies aside, if there’s a cat that I meet in my strolls I always try to engage it. Jangle some keys. Call to it. See if it will do that sort of feline Salsa dance between my ankles.

Yep. Cat person.

Take care crossing the street.

B!

Could You Make This Sacrifice?

The case of Gabriel Allred has been a fascinating look at policy and law versus common sense and gut instinct.

A recap. Gabriel Allred is a 2-year old child. He’s been in foster care with Steve and Angela Brandt in Oregon most of his life. His biological parents both faced criminal charges and were deemed unfit, as was his maternal Grandmother here in the US. His paternal Grandmother, Cecilia Martinez, lives in Mexico.

The Department of Human Services has policy on the books that blood family is the preferred place for a child. The Brandts had started the process to adopt Gabriel. DHS thus sought out Martinez to determine if she was deemed fit and to inquire if she wished to petition for custody of Gabriel. By every account Gabriel’s life with the Brandts is one of love, affection, stability and familiarity. They behave and function like his family.

DHS decided that, by policy and law, Gabriel should live with Martinez. In Mexico. Gabriel, by law, can claim both US citizenship and Mexican citizenship. The issue of the child’s best interest thus became clouded in outcries of deportation, language and even race.

A proverbial no-win scenario.

Until Martinez did the most loving thing that she could have done. Upon visiting Oregon and entering into negotiations, she dropped her petition. It’s called a sacrifice and it could not have been easy for her. I wouldn’t blame her if she had continued to fight for custody. She had the law and policy on her side. I’m sure she would have provided the absolute best she could for Gabriel.

But even she could see that what was best for Gabriel wasn’t what was best for her.

Now, there are some unusual concessions in the agreement, so this isn’t entirely roses and puppies. But the end result is that the child’s interests trumped the law and the policy. But it took the sacrifice of a wise Grandmother to show DHS that Gabriel was the exception and not the rule.

I don’t fault DHS. Their policies are almost always proper. Even this application of policy was well intentioned. But their policy couldn’t interpret what so many of us know to be true:

Blood isn’t always the end of family. Family is often the place where you belong.

Gabriel, in the end, belonged with the Brandts.

B!

There Is No Parking In The White Elephant Zone

White Elephant.

The very name is fun to say. Hell, elephant alone is fun to say. Good word. But White Elephants and the parties they throw are quite fun themselves.

Sunday night was our annual department holiday party. Hosted at Ernesto’s Italian Restaurant. We were complete with our own version of Bad Santa (great job Ted!) and another curious excursion into the land of white elephant parties.

Now, for me, White Elephant parties date back to when I was a child. My parents would occasionally host the Catlin Gabel faculty party. I have very fond memories of the fun and laughter and specifically Pru Twohy, one of the most dynamic people I have ever known. I should dedicate an entire blog to her as she’s on the short list of the people who helped shape me into the dashing and charming gentleman I am today.

So, as White Elephant parties go, ours was a bit tame. That’s to be expected at a work party. There were no coats made out of human hair nor any flutes sculpted to resemble a penis (both are actual White Elephant gifts from other parties I’ve attended. True.). But we had good fun.

I was early in the arena, third or fourth to pick. My strategy was simple. Go big. There was a five foot long tube colored like a candy cane. Heavy. Solid. I went for it. Inside, rolled in brown butcher paper was a wallpaper mural of a window overlooking the sea. The cheese factor of this gift was phenomenal. I was satisfied that not only had I found a unique item that I could likely regift without shame but also that nobody in their right mind would steal it from me. I was done.

Or so I thought.

Within three gifts my mural was nicked. Can you believe it? So I had the indignity of having to make the trip to the gift table a second time. Now, I just wanted to nurse my IPA and chat with folks. My work there was supposed to be done. But, ever the good sport, I cracked some jokes, tried to steal Bad Santa’s Rum and changed my strategy. Small. I wanted the smallest package.

What I found was small, about 4 inches square. Covered in black crushed velvet it looked out of place. The clasp for the box lid was a band of elastic and I unwound it to reveal a small penguin ornament on skis. With a blue glitter coat. Tasteful. I felt less safe with this gift than the mural. As tacky as I thought it was, it did have the glitter factor as well as the penguin factor. Two major components of bizarre obsession of the knick-knack crowd.

Sure enough. My bird got nicked quickly.

With my third, shameful visit to the table, I decided I would go ugly. There was a clumsily wrapped blue package. The weight made it feel like a jug of laundry detergent. Cool, I thought. Practical. My kind of WE gift. I was hoping it would be HE compatible as our washer’s very new, and quite fancy. Alas, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I was going to post a picture but it is really too hideous and might actually harm your computer. What I discoverd inside the ugly, blue bag was a gilded porcelain sculpture of grapes and fruit, in a cone shaped tower. Did I mention it was gilded? The sucker is heavy. It also is engraved on its base with the great artist named MITCHELL and dated 10-69. It’s almost as old as me. If I was more creative I’d come up with it’s thirty-eight year biography. Wanna give it a shot?

Well. At least I have a gift for my next White Elephant party.

B!

In like Flynn

Here are the promised pics.

It's hard to describe what it means to me to have been present for Flynn's birth. When Miles was born five-plus years ago I was able to make it to Bend for Melissa's first day of labor but I had to leave before the actual birth. When Nathaniel showed up last year I was in the midst of an unimaginable fiasco at work that kept me in Portland.

I hadn't expected to be able to make it this year.

But, as everyone at my work can attest, I have a particularly strong devotion to my nephews. When Mom called at 9:30 to say that Mel had gone to the hospital and that it looked like he was on his way I made a split second decision and asked my boss if I could disappear. Within a few minutes I was finalizing my rental car for the Mt. Hood trek and wrapping up my nervousness in piece after piece of Extra Dark Blue gum.

So I had a great night. I spent some really good time with my brother, Stuart. Even Minnie the cat was friendly with me for a minute before she remembered that she hates people. I slept hard for three hours and got up pre dawn to make the drive back.

I love mornings. I also enjoy driving. So I had a splendid start to my day. It was 22 degrees in Bend when I left. Clear, beautiful skies. As I approached Mt. Hood the massive moon in the sky illuminated the snow drifts on the side of the road. A pale shade of blue. It was like being IN an Ansel Adams photograph. Drives such as these really help me clarify my thinking. I don't want to do them everyday, but from time to time they help straighten out the piles of random thoughts that have collected in the nooks of my brain. I also sing loudly all by myself.

So now, at the end of the day, I am exhausted. Probably not as much as Melissa is, but exhausted nonetheless.

I am so glad that I was there.

Introducing...

Flynn Stuart Eaton. Born 10:29 PM November 27, 2007. Seven pounds 13 ounces, 21 inches long.

Pics to come within a day. Mother and son (and everybody else) are doing fine.

Bend Update

Melissa is a trooper. As of this writing Flynn is on deck but not yet up to bat. We expect that we're within three hours of his arrival as Mel has been given her epidural and they are considering inducing just to get it moving. She's been up since forever this morning.

Uneventful drive over Mt. Hood thanks to my rented GMC Yukon. The budding enviro in me is sick to his stomach, but it handles the roads much better than my Santa Fe (why'd I buy 2-wheel drive? Remind me to change the blog title to "He's a moron.")

My folks are here. Miles is with his Bend grandparents and Nathaniel is with us. Now I just have to meet the new little guy, snap some photos, pick up David's shoes and try to make it back to town in time for work in the AM. Oh, and get some sleep.

I think my adrenaline rush is dropping off. I wonder how Melissa (and the rest of the mothers in the world) do it. Thanks for reading.

Off to Bend

My newest nephew is on his way so I'm on my way to Bend. If our timing is any good I'll get some pics of the little guy posted soon.