War is meaningless to children. I take great comfort in that. The atrocities and pain, the confusion and loss, all of the colored paint of conflict that gets thrown around in the world, and it is perfectly shielded from their delicate white canvas. War to a child is nothing more than another combination of sounds that adults make in quiet conversation. Just a noise. Nothing more. So, it makes perfect sense to Lydia that she can sit in the backseat of the car and squeeze her favorite new Care Bear tight and rub her fingers around the outline of the star printed on his bright teal chest and pick the perfect name for her sweet new friend: Star Wars. “I’m sorry. What did you…
A father's struggle to capture his children's brief moment of youth in words and pictures
Archive for
I was in a rush to get out the door a few mornings ago. I’m always in a rush to get out the door in the morning. My mornings are a lit stick of dynamite. My eyes burst open to the sound of a sizzling fuse and then I bolt out of bed and dash around the house like a frightened squirrel tearing furniture and scratching paint off the walls in an effort to escape my sealed cage. After several running attempts I am finally able to I explode out of the front door just moments before it is engulfed in flames. BAM! I am shot clear of the house, hurtle through the air, and fall near death in the front seat of my…
I often wonder what my children will grow to achieve. We always read stories about brilliant scientists and artists and I always think, “But who were their parents? Did their mother know this great accomplishment was in them? Did their father see it first? Before anyone else in the world, did they witness this tremor of green life and nurture it into fruition in unheralded ways?” I was entertaining these delusions of grandeur the other day, while laying on the couch. I was considering all of the education options we have in front of us for Clara to pursue this coming fall. Piano? Dance? Biological science? Mathematics? Where do we start? What brilliance lays hidden in this tiny patch of shiny clay needing only…
Clara was making weird gagging noises in the bathroom this morning, so I called for her and asked her what was wrong. She appeared in the doorway looking quite fine, still wearing her red nightgown. “My body doesn’t feel very good.” She said plainly. “Well,” I told her. “You should go down to the kitchen and eat the yogurt cup that Mom set out for you. It will make your belly feel better.” She shook her head in protest. “But I want to eat my yogurt later, when we go to the zoo. It’s okay, I really feel fine, it’s just that my body thinks I don’t feel good.” We looked at each other for a few seconds. Then she turned and walked back…
Where Are We Here? 