Instant Replay

If you like this blog, I'm pasting a link below to another blog I thing you'll also enjoy.

http://thestorkstopshereagain.blogspot.com/

Uncle Carley

Where to begin?

Today marked the end of the last 3-day week our nanny and friend, Carley Meade, will ever spend with J.P. Carley is out of town next week and the week after, J.P. starts school at Children's House. She's going to pick him at school at lunchtime two days a week, but in reality, we passed a significant milestone in J.P.'s life today. It's a milestone I've seen up ahead in the distance for a while, but one I secretly hoped we wouldn't reach so soon.

How do I thank someone who was already a friend, but over the past 3 + years has become a part of our family?

How do I thank someone who has loved my son more than I ever could have asked?

How do I thank someone who held my son's hand as he learned to walk, who helped teach him to speak, who fed him, who bathed him, who changed more diapers than I ever did?

How do I thank someone who made my son laugh, who read to him, who played music for him, who sang songs and danced with him?

How do I thank someone who allowed me - an overprotective, paranoid, terrified first-time parent - go to work every day without having to worry if my son would be okay until I got home?

How do I thank someone who protected, nurtured and cared for the most precious gift I've received to date in my life?

How do I thank someone who put my son down for a nap and was there when he woke up, day after day, almost from the day he was born?

How do I thank someone who, along with Jude and me, has been a constant in my son's life from the beginning?

How do I thank someone who drove to my house late on a Friday night and stayed with my son when Jude and had to make an unplanned trip to the emergency room?

How do I thank someone who taught my son to play hockey in the hall, who staged concerts with him and his stuffed animals in the den, who fingerpainted with him and who drew chalk pictures with him on the sidewalk?

How do I thank someone who reassured me when I worried that my son wasn't crawling soon enough, wasn't walking soon enough and wasn't talking soon enough?

How do I thank someone who is so creative she helped my son develop a vivid imagination?

Jude and I can never repay the debt we owe Carley for loving and caring for J.P. the past 3 + years. She's a part of him, just as Jude and I are, and maybe that's her legacy. Carley has helped him become who he is and who he will be and that will never change.

Carley, Jude and I love you for what you've meant to our son and for the positive impact you've had on his life.

Thank you.

Now, just one more time, for old time's sake -
"Hey, Uncle Carley! Hey Uncle Carley!
You're looking kind of gnarly!
Hey Uncle Carley!
What's that smell?!?"

That might be the first song J.P. and I "wrote" together. He's sung it - laughing - a thousand times. And Carley laughed right along with us.

The Not So Endless Summer

When does summer end?  I mean, officially, when does summer actually end?

I'm pondering this question as I sit in a chair in the second floor lobby of the student center at Belmont University, or "Belmont School," as J.P. calls it.  Relaxing with my feet up on a table and the always melancholy Scud Mountain Boys playing as background music in my earbuds (absolutely loving "Spotify," my new on-line music find), I can look out the window and watch the traffic on Belmont Boulevard wind around the curve in front of the Circle K.   

For me, summer ends tomorrow - August 20, 2011, to be precise.  Why?  Because that's when the students at Belmont return to campus en masse.  They've been trickling in for the past couple of weeks - the women's volleyball team, the students helping with orientation, etc.  A couple of girls just wandered in - freshman, no doubt - looking around, confused, then heading up the stairs to the third floor and the Curb Center. 

On our nightly sojourns after dinner, J.P. and I have noticed more and more young people walking around campus.  Bongo Java has been more crowded when we stop in to see who is working.  Parking on Belmont Boulevard is getting harder and harder to come by.  There's more pedestrian traffic on the sidewalks, more cyclists on the Boulevard and the trio of restaurants across from the school - Cha Chah, Chago's Cantina (formerly known as La Fiesta) and P.M. - are full almost every night.

For the entire summer, J.P. and I have had Belmont's campus to ourselves.  In that way, it's been an endless summer of sorts, one I wish we could stay in indefinitely, because 3 1/2 is such a a great age for him and we've had so much fun spending time together here.  The whole campus has been like a giant playground for him. 

Together, we've run "suicide drills" on the basketball court at the Curb Center, after sneaking to look around the gym.  We've watched basketball and volleyball camps in the gym.  J.P. pretended to "graduate," by walking across the stage in the Curb Center, after it was set up for one of several local high school graduations held there in early summer.  We watched parts of actual graduations - Father Ryan High School and Belmont (summer session).  He played "garbage man" in the concourse in the gym, pushing a garbage can on rollers back and forth, shaking it to pretend like he was emptying it each time he stopped. 

We've played "doctor's office" almost every night upstairs in the student center, outside the office of the dean of students.  I'd sit on a bench outside the stairwell and he would call my name, pretending to be Dr. Godfrey (his pediatrician).  I'd walk hesitantly into the stairwell, as he closed the door.  Then, he'd open the door, go outside the get my medicine, then come back in the stairwell to give it to me.  Finally, down the stairs we went, exiting through "the big door" into the main lobby of the student center.

We've played soccer together on the soccer field, such as it is (sadly, a full one-third of the field - a beautiful green space in the middle of campus is gone - torn up as part of the building project for the new law school).  Early in the summer, we ran into some guys playing soccer - Belmont students - one of whom showed J.P. how to kick a soccer ball.  We threw the frisbee with Jude on the soccer field.  J.P. ran - a lot - all around the soccer field.  We played on the tennis courts - soccer, with tennis balls and, again, ran - a lot.

We went inside the bell tower and walked up the stairs to the second floor.  We listend to the bell tower chime many times.  J.P. counted the chimes and, grinning proudly, announced what time it was ("It's eight o'clock, Daddy!").  We tossed change into the fountain facing Belmont Boulevard.  We peaked into the cafeteria and opened and closed lockers in the hallway just outside the cafeteria.

We met students, caterers for special events, janitors, visitors and bike patrol officers.  J.P. talked to them all.  "What's your name?  What are you doing?  Where are you going?  How old are you?"  To a person, he made them smile and, just for a moment, forget about what they were doing, where they were going, etc.  That was his summer gift to them.

Now, the students are back, or they will be, tomorrow.  The signs are up, directing the new students where to go as they move into this or that dormitory, their home for the next nine months.  There are traffic cones everywhere.  No parking signs, too.  After this weekend, J.P. and I will have to share "Belmont School" with few thousand students.  That makes me a little sad, I guess, and a little nostalgic already for the summer we've shared here together.  Next summer, he'll be 4 1/2 and maybe, just maybe, J.P. won't be so easily entertained by a simple walk across campus with his dad after dinner.

Summer is not endless, after all.       

The Men in Blue

Gary and Leroy, our longtime umpires for the Nashville Bar Association softball league.  They put up with far too much for far too little and we love them for it.

Derek Hughey, his 8-month old daughter (Harper), Chris Vlahos and me.

Chris Vlahos, Will Chapman and J.P. at East Park.  And yes, that's our first place trophy.

B.P. and me, after winning another Nashville Bar Association Tournament title.  Notice Will Chapman's head in the picture, between us.

Again with the funny face, this time at East Park.

Softball

I'm dowstairs in my chair, having one last beer before I go to bed, feeling a bit melancholy, yet satisfied, as I contemplate another Nashville Bar Association softball tournament championship for Riley, Warnock & Jacobson, the team on which my friends and I have played for several seasons.  We'd lost the last year or two to Boult, Cummins (a.k.a. Bradley, Arant), so it was nice to get another title.

This year, for once, we stayed in the winner's bracket, as a result of which we only had to play one game yesterday and two today to win the tournament.  Actually, today we defeated (twice) Manier, Herod (the law firm where I worked for 4 + years, fresh out of law school) - once in the winner's bracket finals and then, a second time in the finals.  I'm not in the mood for a detailed breakdown of our tournament games, though I will say it was nice to see the oldest team in the league get the bats cranked up. 

Our coach and my friend - Chris Vlahos - determined that the average age on our team is slightly over 40.  Not too surprising, when you figure Richard Smith is 50+, Benton Patton is 47 or 48, John Rolfe is 47 or 48, I'm 45.  These are the kinds of things you talk about, over beers, after the softball tournament.  Especially when you win.

There was a moment, a snapshot moment, after we won when J.P. and I were alone on the field.  I held the bat in his hands and we hit a softball together, then he took off to run the bases.  The sun was setting behind him as he rounded second base and I watched him from home plate.  Behind me, Jude was talking quietly to my friend and teammate, Derek Hughey.  Some of my other teammates stood on the sidewalk, drinking beer and laughing.  I paused for a second, then realized for me, it doesn't get much better than that.  Sharing softball and my friends with my wife and son, on a field where I've played softball for twenty years.

J.P. loves and I mean loves going to my softball games.  Watching him run the bases afterwards brings me an enormous amount of pride.  It's touching, too, because I realize in a few years (even if I'm still playing), he won't care that much about seeing his old man on the softball field.  To have these times to share with him now makes me feel loved and blessed, far more than I deserve.      

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

That's right.  We're not in Kansas anymore.  But we were - the weekend of July 21-24, 2011 - for David Walker's wedding.  We had a fantastic time in Wichita, Kansas.  I've been trying to find time to put down a few words about the weekend and to add some photos.  I think what I'll do, actually, is hit the highlights.

• Descending into the Wichita, Kansas airport in fairly heavy winds, as a result of which J.P. vomited. Like a good mother would, Jude sympathy vomited, as well.  Just so J.P. wouldn't be embarrassed.  Okay, that's maybe a lowlight, not a highlight.
• Swimming with J.P. at the hotel's indoor pool.  Interestingly, he was actually more cautious and timid about jumping off the side into the pool to Jude or me than he was when we were in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida, two months ago.  Oh, well, I guess that's what swimming lessons will get you.
• Dinner at Anne and David Walker's house in Wichita, Kansas.  I especially enjoyed playing with J.P. in the workout room downstairs.  He was fascinated by the elliptical trainer and the exercise bands.  
• An early morning run, where I discovered a "Rails to Trails" trail and ran along it while I listened to an amazing podcast of "This American Life" with Ira Glass.
• A trip to the Science Museum with Jude and J.P. (where the wedding reception was held, too).
• Breakfasts at the hotel with Jude's extended family.  I was reminded, as I always am at similar events, how special Jude's family really is.  It's always so much fun to spend time with her cousins, especially since we don't get to see them that often.  J.P. was excited to see Laura McCutcheon, who has been working in Spain for several months.  Laura nannied for J.P. for a while and he adores her.
• J.P. sinking a 25 or 30 foot putt on his first try on the putting green behind the hotel.  Amazing!
• Interesting conversations about books and writing with Mike White, Jude's cousin who is a novelist ("Weeping Under Water Sounds a Lot Like Laughter") and whose second book is due to the publisher in October 2011.
• A beautiful wedding, followed by J.P. throwing the worst temper tantrum of his life on the 40 minute drive back to the hotel in the rental minivan.  When we got to the hotel, I carried him kicking and screaming right past Jude's cousins in the lobby, who just stared.  He's normally such a happy kid.  I think they were stunned to see him so upset.
• J.P. locking the door in our suite separating the bedroom from the den, within five minutes or our arriving at our room.  Of course, I had told him not to mess with the lock.  He ignored me and we had to wait for a maintenance man to unlock it for us.  He also taped the locking mechanism, so J.P. wouldn't be able to lock the door again.  Okay, that's another lowlight.
• The reception the Science Museum.  J.P., Mike White and I were able to sneak off and look at some of the exhibits, even though the museum was closed.
• Watching J.P. with Tom White, Jude's uncle, at the Memphis airport during a layover.  J.P. loves "Uncle Tom."

I've said this before, but it bears repeating.  If J.P. grows up to be the kind of kid and now, man, that David Walker is, I will be one lucky father.  In many ways - to me, anyway - David Walker and the relationship he has with his father, (also) David Walker - is the gold standard, his allegiance to Duke University basketball notwithstanding.