Funny Does It

The older I become I more vividly realize how life seems to come faster than before. Maybe, I am just becoming more measured than before. Either way, life does not slow often enough these days. As a parent, this seems to be a constant yank-and-tug back and forth between the obligations you have committed to and the family who needs and expects your undivided loyalty. Don’t think I am complaining because I am not. I realize I am blessed with the life I share with my wife and daughter and with family and friends.

Still, the day-to-day sometimes weighs heavy on a body. Work and worry often spoil the good part of life while eating away at time and energy. Even though I feel I have been around long enough to know how life ebbs and flows, I am continually amazed how in a low moment something unexpected happens to make me refocus and better appreciate my life.

That said, recently one evening at home, we exercised our regular routine. Homework was completed while supper was cooked. Afterward, we sat at the dining room table to talk with each other while we ate a meal together. The kitchen then had to be cleaned and Hannah needed a bath before bedtime. This night though we were super-efficient. When I wiped off the last kitchen counter to walk into the living room, Hannah still had some time before getting ready for sleep. She then urged me to watch her perform some gymnastics.

I admit I was not sure what my role was to be in all this. Frankly, I was tired from a day at work and really wanted to just sit down for a few minutes. Hannah persisted. I soon found out I was nothing more than a semi-active spectator. She asked me what gymnastic moves I would like to see her attempt. I had to admit to her I wasn’t very informed about gymnastics lingo. She rattled off six or seven things she could do. I caught the name of maybe three things.

For the next few minutes, I called out the name of some maneuver so Hannah could attempt it. I found out I not only am unfamiliar with gymnastics terms but I also have no idea if she was performing those moves correctly. None of that seemed to really matter. She flipped this way, cartwheeled that way and balanced on her hands against the wall.

At one point though, she tried something and it went humorously wrong. She started laughing. This gave me permission to laugh as well, which at that moment was much easier to do than to hold the funny inside. We laughed for a few seconds. I soon realized that part of her laughter was watching and listening to me laugh.

She then looked at me and said, “I love to hear you laugh.” That hit close to home as making others laugh is one of my favorite things to do. She then proceeded to half-heartedly mock my laughter. We both laughed some more.

Time passed. It was soon time to get ready for sleep. After Hannah and Jennifer had turned in for the night, I sat alone with one solitary lamp lighting a corner of our living room. The busyness of just a few minutes earlier had faded into a peaceful quietness. Funny, how I was still tired but I felt somehow revived. I thought about that laughter we shared and that moment in time. I understood how laughter, as advertised, is good medicine. I was also very grateful our daughter embraced laughter enough, even at her own expense, to share it with me. I pray that no matter how old she gets she will understand how a good laugh will always be good for her soul.

Happiness is good medicine, but sorrow is a disease.
~Proverbs 17:22

Slice of Life

Clouds moved in. Rain seemed eminent. Thunder sounded as if had just tumbled across the ground.

An overhead light in the form of three separate bulbs lit up our living room. The television was on but had been paused for homework to be completed. The actors stood frozen in time on the screen with their facial expressions locked in odd contortions. Our front door stood open with our glass door keeping the outside world from us but ajar enough so we could still spy into our yard.

On the couch, Hannah did school work. Her task was to read a book for twenty minutes. As she read her book out loud, she occasionally broke into song. The words of the book, thirty pages about dogs, became lyrics. Once I thought I recognized one page about beagles being set to the tune of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. It was still August but I hummed along anyway.

Startled by the thunder, Kayla, our cat, hopped off the stairs onto the living room floor. She had only taken one or two steps before our dog, Sadie, tauntingly pranced around her. Kayla, unamused at her nemesis, stopped to hiss a protest and take a half-hearted swat at the dog. Sadie barked, hopped on two legs then tried to engage the cat in playtime once more.

Jennifer, busy in the kitchen, stepped into the room to survey all that was going on at the moment. Fresh from assisting Hannah with math homework, her eyes briefly met mine. Her eyes and my eyes both seemed to glaze as if we were both a bit overwhelmed at the chaos of the moment.

We know each other well enough to know that the look was not one of giving up or turning away. It was a look of two people who understand how God has blessed as a family. This is what we wanted, what we prayed for, and now what we have. These are the days we once dreamed to live.

There are days when life is crazy. There are days when things seem to pile on top of each other. There are days when there is little fun to find, and, frankly, those days can be difficult to navigate.

There are days though when we listen above the noise and look over the disorder and cut past the worry. We realize there is so much more going on than noise, disorder and worry. It’s the slice of life that makes any unpleasant parts of life not seem so bad after all. It is a dream come true, and a dream that is better than we ever imagined.

Scenes From A Summer

Although the calendar and the weather may say otherwise for a few more weeks, summer, for this year, is over. The times when the sun rose early and stayed until deep in the evening are gone for now. I look back on the summers of my youth with plenty of fond remembrances. Now, as an adult, I measure summer by how many times I need to mow the lawn and how my work schedule becomes insanely busy for a few weeks. As parents, Jennifer and I also measure summer by how well Hannah’s summer goes. For this reason, this summer we tried to pay closer attention to summer so Hannah can remember some of this summer in the years ahead.

For us, summer started with a half day of school. That day ended with Hannah’s skinned knee from a fall in her friend’s yard down the street. It rained on that first summer Saturday. On Sunday, Jennifer got sick. Hannah stayed with Aunt Missy while I took Jennifer to the emergency room.

Things got better though. We celebrated Jennifer’s birthday at Mammaw and Pappaw’s house. Hannah played soccer in their backyard with cousin Sara’s friend, Rage.

Soon enough, summer camp started with Hannah making lots of new friends. She constantly needled counselors Seth and Caleb. She even made her first “boyfriend”. When I inquired about him I was told by her to not ask about him. Anyway, for the record, he was a young man whose name started with a Z and ended with a y. Hannah passed her camp swim test and generally enjoyed camp much more this year than ever before.

There was a week away in the Smoky Mountains. We stayed at a place with a pool just outside our second story balcony. The pool had a cool curved slide where Hannah became a pro quickly. We visited Dollywood where our meal at Aunt Granny’s was free when their computer system crashed. There were rides on swings and roller coasters. Then there was that one night we walked to a restaurant in the heat of the late afternoon. The walk took longer than we wanted but the food we consumed was very good. Of course, we had to walk back. By the time we left, we walked the twenty minutes back in a thunderstorm. We arrived back in our room with clothes soaked in wetness down to our skin all the while knowing how this was one trip we would always remember.

Some of our neighbors left during the summer for a multi-week extended holiday. Other neighbors added a new fluffy white puppy. Hannah spent plenty time turning cartwheels in Mrs. Barbara’s yard. There were other moments like rubberband bracelets, gymnastics, cheer camp, fake fingernails, potato chip sandwiches, and watching Independence Day fireworks from our front porch and back deck. There was Vacation Bible School under tents in the heat of June. There was the church outing where Hannah tossed cornhole with her friend Olivia. And another church outing where Hannah stood beside her grandmother and served food.

There was Hannah catching a tiny frog with her hands in the front yard. There were back-to-back visits from Mike the UPS guy who helped return a heavy, damaged delivery. There was unreal humidity and occasional thunderstorms. There was counting foggy mornings in August because Pappaw Dills's dad once said the number of foggy mornings in August will equal the number of snows in the upcoming winter. There was Kayla the cat napping on Hannah’s bed and Sadie the dog barking at deer in our backyard.

There was a visit to see grandparents and uncle Donny in Georgia. There was the annual July 4 trip to the lake with family with lots of food and swimming. Hannah even had the chance to see and hold one of her youngest cousins-one also with the name Hannah.

There was a countdown until Hannah’s birthday as she left nine behind for ten. Hannah’s birthday party was held at a rock-climbing place. She and her friends spent a few hours connected to ropes trying to pull themselves up the side of walls. Afterward, cake and presents were served.

Soon enough, it was school registration day where we found out details about the upcoming school year. While summer had been fun for her, Hannah indicated she was ready to get back to the classroom. I knew this when I took her to a cheerleading practice one afternoon late in the summer. She had not seen some of her school friends in months. When I walked her into the gym where they would all spend the next few hours together, I heard a gaggle of girls scream “Hannah!” They then all rushed together embracing her with hug after hug.

As I pulled this post together, I realized what a great summer we have had. For some, we may sound boring. For some, it may sound as if we are easily amused. No matter, this is a picture of us, and this one summer in time. Now, it will be tucked away safe in our memories for a cold, winter afternoon years from now when we will need to be warmed from the cold winds of time.

Scenes From A Summer soundtrack
Ella Fitzgerald "Summertime"
Keala Settle from "The Greatest Showman" "This Is Me" 
Francesca Battistelli featuring Staffany Gretzinger "Defender"
Bridgit Mendler "Hang In There, Baby"
Katrina & The Waves "Walking On Sunshine"
The Petersens "Take Me Home, Country Roads"
Mercy Me "Even If"
Louis Armstrong and Dave Brubeck "Summer Song"
David & The Giants "Just Started Living"
Rowan Blanchard and Sabrina Carpenter "Take On The World"

Your Age/My Age

Our Hannah turns double digits this year. Ten years old. Yes, it seems like only yesterday when she was born. Yes, the time has flown by. Yes, it hasn’t always been easy. Yes, it has been worth every minute, even the tears, hurts, bumps and bruises.

A major part of why I continue this blog is to document life for her. It is a written accompaniment to the photos we take and memories we stick in our minds for later. With this blog, I want to remember moments Jennifer and I share with her. I want to tell her about both sides of her family. I want her to understand how loved she is. I do this so this record is there in case she ever doubts the depth and width of love we have for her.

Despite trying in so many ways to find the right words in the right order to say something memorable sometimes I still fall short. Sometimes I come across something that someone else says that hits closer to the heart than I can do.

I ran across the song below some time back. I stored it away looking for the right moment. Now as we celebrate Hannah’s latest birthday, I think the sentiments shared in this song ring true for me and her mom. We watch our lives speed before our eyes without being able to slow down time for any rhyme or reason. As Hannah grows physically and also grows more mature and smarter, it becomes more difficult to imagine us holding her in our arms wrapped in a blanket. It becomes easier to understand how we will always hold her in our hearts wrapped in our love for each other. One day maybe she will look back, listen to this song and understand how it makes us feel today and always.

Happy birthday, Hannah, Mom & I love you!

"When You're My Age"

When you're my age
I hope the world is kinder
Than it seems to be right now
And I hope the front page isn't just a reminder
Of how we keep lettin' each other down

When I was your age, things didn't seem to be this hard
Riding bikes out on the street, playing tag in the back yard

You'll outgrow your shoes
You'll outgrow your bed
You'll outgrow this house
Just don't forget
When you're all grown up
But you don't feel that way
You're still gonna be my baby
Even when you're my age

When you're my age
You'll still be full of questions
That I wish I had the answers to right now
And those dark times might make you second guess it
But I bet love will still be making the world go 'round

When I was your age, I didn't worry like I think you do
Back then innocence was something you could hold onto

You'll outgrow your shoes
You'll outgrow your bed
You'll outgrow this house
Just don't forget
When you're all grown up
But you don't feel that way
You're still gonna be my baby
Even when you're my age

When you have kids someday, I hope you teach them the Lord's Prayer
Before they go to bed at night
Like my daddy did for me and his mother before him
Well something about it just keeps you right
And I hope you don't work too much overtime
So you can be right there beside them when they close their little eyes

'Cause they'll outgrow their shoes
They'll outgrow their beds
They'll outgrow that house
And you can't stop it
Life will lie in your face
Time will turn the page
But they're still gonna be your babies
Just like you're still gonna be my baby
Even when you're my age
Even when you're my age

“When You’re My Age” written and performed by Lori McKenna, Liz Rose & Hillary Lindsey 

Dog Days

This time of year is known as the “dog days”. I have heard that phrase all my life. Recently as we were talking, my Dad even mentioned the "dog days". I don’t recall it ever being officially defined by those who used the phrase in my presence. I did come to understand how it more specifically meant the long hot days of summer such as a body can experience in July and August in the deep South. I imagine this particular use of the phrase came about when some folks who lived a harder life than I ever have looked up from working in such heat only to see a dog stretched out on the dirt as if it had given up, maybe even died from the scorching, unrelenting heat. That experience was enough to declare how the summer’s dog days had arrived.

Now, if you go to the National Geographic web site you will read how the Greeks and Romans watched the stars. This was probably more reliable than a phone app or the five o’clock forecast from the local TV station. Specifically, they watched the dog star, Sirius and how it was positioned in the sky. When Sirius rose before the sun, the Greeks and Romans referred to the time as the “dog days”. It coincided with the hottest days of the year, which just happened to begin in late July.

We don’t often look at the stars at our house. It’s not because it is not an interesting activity. It is just more an issue of time and opportunity. For the last nine months though, we have lived through some dog days.

Despite having Kayla the cat as a pet, Hannah wanted a puppy. After talking it over, Jennifer and I felt like we were ready to add another pet to our household. Of course, Hannah wanted a golden retriever or a black lab or German shepherd. We felt any of those were just too big for all of us, especially considering whatever dog we welcomed would have to spend a good deal of time indoors. It’s already hard enough to get a good seat on the couch with the three of us and the cat.

So, Jennifer began searching. One day in November, she sent me an email with a picture of a dog. She said she thought this was the one. The dog though was about 75 miles north of us in Tullahoma. She made inquiry about adopting the pup. The stars aligned and soon, she was on her way to locate this dog.

I picked Hannah up from school and we headed home. Once home, a snack and homework awaited. More was waiting for Hannah, she just did not know yet. As time slipped by and Jennifer was still not home, I had to keep Hannah occupied enough so that she would not ask too many questions about the change in routine. Since it was November, darkness came quickly that evening. Soon enough though, my phone lit up with a message. Jennifer and the dog were close.

The garage door opened. I told Hannah we needed to see if Jennifer needed any help carrying anything in from her car. As we walked down our basement stairs, Hannah began repeating “Please let it be a puppy, please let it be a puppy!” I am not sure what led her to say that but understanding what she was about to discover I captured on video the moment she laid eyes on the puppy. She began crying standing frozen in the moment unsure what to do. Jennifer told her to hold the puppy so Hannah did. She stopped a time or two though to hand her off so she could hug Jennifer or me.

As the excitement waned a bit, Hannah and I learned that the dog had been adopted briefly then returned when the adopter realized they could not care adequately for the puppy. Before they returned her though, they named her Josie and painted her toenails red. Undaunted, Hannah declared the dog had a new name, Sadie, and, then, Sadie, red toenails and all, had a new home.

Since that November evening, Sadie has become part of who we are. She desperately wants Kayla the cat to play with her but Kayla just growls at her, takes an occasional swat at her and I am sure if cats have any type of memory longs for the good ol’ days before the dog came to live at our house.

Sadie was a few months old when we adopted her. We are still in the puppy phase at this moment. We have already endured chewed up shoes, pens, tennis balls and stuffed animals. Somehow, she also has chewed through a couple of leashes and at least one harness. While we try to keep her away from Kayla’s food bowl, she is a sneaky one that will seemingly eat anything if given the opportunity.

Jennifer and I both sometimes call the dog Kayla and we sometimes call the cat Sadie. Sadie though has adapted because we also call her “dog”, “Josie” and my favorite, “Tullahoma Tina”. I called her this right after we got her then told her she should always remember where she came from. I not sure she understands but we do.

I hope I never forget that night Sadie came to our home. I hope I always remember the happy tears Hannah cried standing beside her Mom’s car on a November evening. Thinking about it all now, I remember then how I took a moment to drift into the future imagining Hannah coming home ten years from then to be greeted by this dog that she wanted so much.

Hopefully, there will be a lot of good moments for us all between those two memories. For now, we try to put things we don’t want destroyed by Sadie’s teeth out of reach. We have learned Sadie likes her tummy rubbed. We laugh when her ears flop backward. We smile when she lays on the couch and snores. We chuckle when she barks at a passing car. We are amazed at how happy she is when we come home after being gone even for a very short time.

So, in these dog days of summer, we walk Sadie through our yard. She stretches the limits of the leash we use to keep her away from the street. She sniffs every inch of the yard like a detective looking for clues to a crime. She stops now and then to furiously dig away at the ground with her two front paws. Almost every time she walks the yard though she plops down on the ground stretching her body out as far as she can from one end to the other. She lays there, flips over to her back, rolls from side to side a bit before stopping to lay still while soaking in as much sunshine as she can. Are these the dog days? You know it...just don't tell Kayla the cat.

Some Shadows Linger

He came from a poor farming family in the rocky north Georgia mountains. His family, my people, never had much except one another but that was enough to survive and thrive. From those beginnings, hard work and determination-enemies of so-called privilege, my Dad had a family of his own. While the world may look down at whatever he accomplishes in his time I understand the world spends much of its time judging intentions and not actions or results.

As a family we never lacked for anything we needed. We were not wealthy but we were rich in love. Dad was the one who provided so much of what we needed and wanted. He worked hard for years, rarely missing a day of work in a job most today would consider beneath their dignity.

As his son, I look back to see times when I wish I had paid better attention to what he said. Sometimes, I just wish I had paid attention. I wish I had made better use of the time we had together when we were both younger. I wish I had said some things. I wish I had not said other things. I wish I had understood how my tone of voice and facial expressions carry more weight sometimes than the words I say. Sometimes I wish he understood how his tone of voice and facial expressions carry their own weight, good and bad.

As a father now, I hope I can be as patient and understanding as I remember he was with me. I am sure he would say he never had to worry too much about me but I know he did worry some. That is just part of his love and concern, even if it was unspoken. I know there were times he let go knowing it was best to let go even when letting go was not his instinct at the time. I hope I have that courage and faith to do as he did when I am faced with the same.

A few short sentences will never detail what my Dad means to me. I do know as I have grown older I realize what a strong, quiet force for good he has been in my life from day one.

Some shadows fall long lingering into the fading light. My Dad casts such a shadow. I am content to remain in it as long as I can.

Art For The Heart

It was a special day. The entirety of the third grade at Hannah’s school had an art show. Each student named a local landmark to paint for the show. In the weeks prior to the show, the students tapped their creative sides to put paint to canvas providing their interpretation of a famous local location. They also spent time researching their chosen landmark to write a blurb that appeared alongside their painting. On the big day, we dressed up, entered the school library to see each student in Hannah’s class standing by their painting while also willing to sign autographs.

About a year earlier, Hannah’s grandparents and uncle took her to the Lookout Mountain Incline Railway. Lookout Mountain rests on the southern side of the city of Chattanooga. At the top of the mountain is a breathtaking view of the city. There, a rail car can lower you to the foot of the mountain into the St. Elmo neighborhood. Then, the rail car makes the climb to the top of the mountain. The trip is about one mile long, so the ride, both ways, is rather steep. Something about thinking about this excursion had Hannah hesitant to ride the incline initially. Once there though she embraced the opportunity. Months later, that venture had made such an impression on her that she decided to capture it on a painter’s canvas.

Her painting was bright and colorful and worthy of all the other wonderful words a parent could imagine. All the paintings were good. I was amazed at the detail some had. Others had a great mixture of colors. Each though was unique and special like the artist in each child.

After the art show exhibit, Hannah’s school day was over. Jennifer and I determined we would spend the time right after the event in some special way. We felt the way to celebrate was for the three of us to have brunch. Fortunately, the two adults outvoted the nine-year-old or we would have munched on something from McDonald’s. Instead, we went to downtown Chattanooga to a restaurant specializing mostly in breakfast items.

Then over omelets, bacon, biscuits, fruit, French toast and various types of coffee and water, we talked about the art show. We talked about Hannah’s classmates. We noted how much they have all changed in the past year, a quarantine casualty of not being able to get to know your child’s friends and their parents while waiting in car line or aftercare. After eating all we could hold, we shelled out enough money for a decent dinner all the while knowing the next meal would likely be much later in the afternoon. We walked out the door to locate our car and go home. Jennifer and Hannah had the rest of the day off while I worked from home.

There are a lot of things I recall about that day. Some of them I have already mentioned here. The biggest takeaway is how we were able to spend time together as a family while not being overwhelmed with work or school or worry over family and friends. Obviously, Hannah’s painting is one of those things to remember about the day. It will be a cherished memento from third grade for years to come. It will always be something memorable about this day. I am sure after the school year ends, it will hang on a wall.

For me though the other picture in this blog post is the one I will try to remember for the rest of my days.

As we left the restaurant, Jennifer and Hannah turned down the sidewalk toward the parking lot where our car was located. As is often the case, I was a few steps behind the two of them. Around us was the skyline of the city Jennifer grew up in, the city Hannah is growing up in, the city I have grown to love, and the city we will all grow old in. Hand in hand they walked into the landscape of concrete and steel with the backdrop of a clear blue sky with Lookout Mountain off in the distance. It just seemed like a moment that should be captured for remembering at some later time.

Now, removed from that moment, I understand I may not recall all the details of this special day. The names of Hannah’s classmates may fade from me with time. I probably won’t recall what I wore that day. Remembering the specific brunch items we shared may be a chore years from now, Hopefully though, I will recall this place we call home and many of the moments we shared together here. I especially hope my mind will always carry the image of Jennifer and Hannah, hand in hand, in this place at this time. I hope it will be painted onto the canvas of my memory for now and all time.

How We Do Friday Night

 A recent Friday night, 7:00 P.M.

We're in for the night here. Yep, we are calling it a day this early even if the weekend has just started. Now while I have never been much of weekend warrior, previous Friday nights played out differently than tonight.

In high school years, a Friday night might have meant a football game or driving through our hometown for hours on end. In college, it might have meant hanging out with the gang or an occasional date. At other times in my life, a Friday night meant work.

Friday nights now are about our family. Usually it means a collective sigh of relief that we have made it through another week of school and work. It might mean leftovers from the refrigerator or pizza delivered to our door. Sometimes it might mean a movie or family game night.

This particular Friday, Jennifer had to work late. This meant Hannah and I were on our own most of the evening. I picked up Hannah from school with plans already thought out. Since the little girl likes pizza and is usually famished at the end of a school day, I planned an early supper at a local pizza joint. Hannah was all for it.

We pulled into the pizza parlor parking lot while the sun was still a brilliant yellow in the sky. I had already envisioned several things about this venture. I knew how we had to order. I knew how we had to get our drinks. I knew we then had to locate a table or booth. Soon enough, all that went as planned.

I ordered a salad. I knew before ordering how my guest would most likely help me pick through it. I knew the good stuff, the cheese and the cucumbers were very likely to find their way into her grasp. Tonight, she also absconded with the mushrooms. Then, disaster struck.

She picked up her soft drink, which was in a paper cup with a plastic lid. The lid separated from the cup. Coca-Cola and ice splashed onto the table and into my lap. Some of the dark liquid made it's way into a small cup of ranch dressing. I imagine it took three dozen napkins to clear the mess. I had not planned for this yet I determined I would not allow such a mishap to ruin the time ahead.

Soon enough, our pizza arrived. I ordered Hannah two slices of cheese pizza. I ordered a large pizza for me, knowing much of it would be carried home so Jennifer could have a late Friday night dinner or we could all have a big lunch of leftovers Saturday. It was all delicious.

During our time eating, Hannah looked at me once and told me to ask her if she was having a good time. I asked her at that moment and received a thumbs up. After eating some on one of her slices, I asked Hannah if she wanted a slice of the big pizza. She did and she ate about half a slice. About that time, she reminded me to ask her again about whether she was having a good time or not. Another thumbs up.

It wasn't long before we were boxing up the leftover pizza and on our way home. We got here as the sun began sliding behind the mountains to the west. The rest of the evening was pretty basic, a Disney movie and a Hannah FaceTime call with one of her friends from school.

Meantime, I sat soaking in another Friday night. I flipped through past years thinking how this night of each week was magical in some way that at that moment meant so much. Now though looking back over this day I think about hearing Hannah tell me about her day. I think about the time at dinner when we laughed and ate. I think about how these days are so special, more special than I deserve and much more special than I ever imagined they could be. Thumbs up in every way.

That Song Is Driving Me Crazy

As parents of a young child, Jennifer and I have experienced our fair share of songs from television shows and movies. We have "Set It All Free". We put that sunshine in our pockets so that we "Can't Stop the Feeling." Of course, we also "Let It Go." Times and moments, pardon the pin, frozen in time. Sometimes, we have seen these movies and shows so many times that the songs seem to play in an endless loop in our brains.

And, that is the true downside to all this. These songs are so catchy. These tunes are such delicious ear candy that one cannot simply hear them once then forget them. Risk devoting time coupled with the least bit of energy and soon you will find the song playing over and over in your head.

Now and then though, you win one.

I drove Hannah to school recently. During the ride, she and I mostly talked. This was great as I love hearing her carry a conversation. As we drew nearer to school, the conversation grew quieter. Maybe Hannah sensed we were near the school. Maybe we had exhausted what we had to say.

In the background, I had on the car radio. At any given time, that radio could be set to any type of station. Mostly though, the radio is set to some type of music from back in my day. It could the "hits of the 70s, 80s and 90s". It could be classic rock. Some days it is classic country.

This particular morning, the station was a classic country music station. Softly, in the background, the early 1980s hit, "You're The Reason God Made Oklahoma." was playing. As the silence continued, I slowly increased the volume of the radio.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see Hannah eyeing me

realizing the music was becoming louder. Then, at just the right moment I began singing along with the song. Glancing back in the mirror, I could see Hannah laughing.

As the song continued to play, Hannah began singing along with the radio. We laughed as we finished the song. As the song ended, I turned down the radio. From the backseat, Hannah spoke up, "Great, now that song will be in my head the rest of the day."

Her spoken realization made me laugh. For all the Disney songs that have infiltrated my brain during the last decade I felt like I had won one for all the mom and dads who find themselves during some quiet moment mindlessly humming something from "Beauty and the Beast", "Toy Story" or "The Lion King". For all of you who have endured such moments, "You're Welcome." Sorry, I know, that's from "Moana".

Four Words of Annoyance

There are so many voices out there now. Yes, that is a good thing, in some respects. Of course, if everyone talks at the same time it can mean that no one is listening. Maybe one day we can get it all to work better than we do now.

Even with all that, our nine-year-old can do some talking. When she finds focus, she can tell a good yarn. We love to hear her retell something she finds funny as we sit together at our table each night for supper. Sometimes she surprises us by using words we think are a bit bigger than we thought her vocabulary to be. Maybe, at times, she uses some words without really knowing the meaning of the word. I can live with that. I know plenty of adults who do the same.

We have noticed this talky aspect of her personality comes with one annoyance. No, the voice she uses to tell us things is fine. It is the voice of an angel to us. It isn’t when she gets excited telling the story and leaves out a part by accident. We find that endearing.

The annoyance is the phrase “I beg to differ”. This comes about daily. It comes about often. It could be something as simple, ahem, as third grade math. One of us could be explaining the concept of ‘less than, greater than or equal to’ to her in order to complete homework. The idea that if the numbers being looked at aren’t the same then the symbol to use to answer the question means the larger number points to the smaller number can be met with “I beg to differ”. Sometimes this manifests itself without the “I beg to differ” phrase but shows up in other ways just the same. She can ask a question. One of us can provide an answer. That answer is met with the declaration of another answer from her leaving us puzzled as to why she even asked if she already knew the answer.

It can be maddening to know every answer we supply to her has a high probability to be parried back at us with her favorite four word phrase, ‘I beg to differ’. It is tough in so many ways to raise a child in today’s world. It can be even tougher when the child you are trying to raise has a wide stubborn streak by default.

Some will say it will work itself out in time. They may even toss out the old ‘it takes a village’ mantra. Yes, I believe there are others in her life outside of me and her mom who matter now and will matter immeasurably in the future, but have you taken a long hard look at the village, y’all? Ain’t none of them going to love and care for her the way we do and will. So, we just add this to the list of things we work through as a family unit.

We try to locate the bright side in matters that can be difficult. We believe there is a silver lining in it all. As frustrating as this can be we thank God for her tenacity, as obstinate as we sometimes feel it is. After all, I know as she grows, she will be right in the middle of things tossing her voice into the fray along with everyone else who has been told whatever they say needs to be heard. I see a time when others will have her ear when it comes to so many other things. I like to think then when some suggestion with not the best motives comes up that mulishness rears it’s then pretty little head to say ‘I beg to differ’.

Best Part

This morning I brushed my daughter’s hair. It’s blonde and falls below her shoulders. Today, it was a little tangled. The entire time I brushed her hair, she talked or she sang. My wife walked into the room, our eyes met then we talked about the hours and days ahead as the world around us started to wake.

On the way to work, between the chaos of bumper-to-bumper traffic, I looked to the eastern sky. There, the sun struggled to break free from the clouds leaving behind an interesting mix of pink, blue and gray. It was a masterpiece of the tallest order, even if it were through an automobile windshield.

Each day the world expects and demands a lot. It devours time, energy, strength. It always comes back for more. Always. It is never satisfied.

I can spend my time fretting over politics. I can stand up and fight the power of whatever evil a politician says needs fighting. I can divide and conquer and cancel then pat myself on the back with no mercy unaware I might need forgiveness one day. I can absorb myself in this season’s must see television show or movie. I can wrap myself in my work or pursuing more knowledge. I can lose myself in art or travel or status. I can read and surmise and cipher and ponder and hem and haw a way into making myself feel comfortable with who I know, what I know and how much I know.

At the end of the day though...

The three of us sat in our living room. We talked about the sunrise we all three had seen earlier in the day. Then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed something thin and long resting on my shirt sleeve. I zeroed in on it then grabbed at it with my fingers. I caught it, a golden hair. I raised it into the air, looked at my wife and daughter then without words, we laughed together.

That’s life. And, it’s the best part.

The Long Haul

It has been a long haul in one sense. The time covers parts of six different months, March, April, May, June, July, and now August. If I counted every one of the days between the two points the number would be over 150. Now, at least for the immediate days ahead, I can stop numbering them.

I was scheduled to return to work this week after being away from my physical office for over five months. An unexpected minor health issue kept me away where I continued to work from home. I am thankful I remained employed at this time. I am equally grateful I could work from home during this time. These extended days were different than all the ones which came before though.

Almost every one of these days from March into August, Hannah was home with me. Jennifer continued to report to her work, so most days it was me, her and our cat, Kayla. At first, Hannah had homework to do daily which divided my time and attention. Hannah’s niece was able to bear part of that load for a time, so we are eternally grateful for her help.

Later, after Hannah’s school year ended, her scheduled summer camp canceled. Suddenly, her summer vacation was here in our house. While I planned some fun things to do, we were limited by parks and businesses being closed. That mingled in with my daily workload. We had our moments though. We used sidewalk chalk to decorate a backyard stump. We made a homemade lamp with water, a waterproof light, and a jar of beads. We even cooked smores in the heat of July’s sun. Some days, her neighborhood friend came by to stay for a few hours. We had some fun and laughs. Hopefully, some of these times will be long remembered by Hannah. Still, I cannot help but think how difficult the loss of our routine was at times for all of us.

Now, though, Hannah has returned to school. She can see her friends once again. She can bond with her teachers. She can learn new things.

On the last day, we were together before these days at home ended, I was swamped with work. It seemed as if I could not keep from falling behind. Hannah took it easy watching some movies. I felt the same feeling I have felt for over 150 days. I was torn between family and work knowing there was no easy resolution to the guilt I felt since it is so hard to find just the correct balance in such a situation. On this day, the choice was the same as it was so many days behind us, I could not spend a lot of time with Hannah or else the work piled higher.

After a phone meeting, I knew our mail had probably been delivered. I thought, at least we could go to the mailbox together, as we had done most of the days we had shared through the summer. I walked into the living room, glanced out the window only to notice the rain was coming down outside.

So much for that, I thought. Or, maybe not.

I then asked Hannah if she wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. We walked to the porch where she finally noticed the rain. I asked if she still wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. She even suggested we run to the mailbox in our bare feet. We looked at each other, smiled then ambled down the front steps breaking into a trot down the walkway into the driveway before stopping at the mailbox. I heard Hannah laugh and squeal as we ran. Fortunately, we did not slide or fall or knock each other over.

I opened the mailbox. Junk mail. The rain continued to fall.

We then turned, making our way back up the driveway, walkway, and steps in our half running-half jog. We stopped on the porch, with drenched shirts and wet hair. We laughed at ourselves and at each other.

We then noticed our wet footprints. Of course, the initial footprints were made just by reaching the safety of the porch. We chuckled at the funny shapes the footprints made. Hannah placed her feet on top of my footprints amazed at the size difference. After we examined these first footprints, they began to dry and fade away. We then walked down the steps to wet our feet again. We made our way back onto the porch so we could make more footprints.

This was a nice break for ten minutes. For Hannah, the moment was over. There is only so much you can say about a wet footprint. For me, I sensed work piling up behind my back. The push-pull of the past five months was once again providing just enough tension to weigh heavily on me.

It is too early to tell how these few months will be remembered for our family unit. Surely, we will pick out some of the fun or odd times we all experienced so we can look back and laugh. Maybe, the strain and stress that was present will slip away over time.

Hannah is too young now to understand the daily struggle I felt to balance my workday with her life. I tried not to let that pressure show. Still, it was there. I also know that battle is a heavy memory I cannot turn loose yet. I will live with it until I can reconcile it in my heart and my head. Maybe, at some point, it will stop leaning on me as much as it does now.

I can only hope that maybe sometime in the future, Hannah will see her wet footprints again then remember these days just now passed. Maybe, for a moment, it will take her back to a muggy August afternoon when she raced her dad to the mailbox in a late summer rain. And, maybe, it will make her smile and think how those days were good ones. And, maybe, she will marvel how memories are often made with little notice. Maybe she will appreciate how the same memories can fade into time like wet footprints drying before your very eyes. And, maybe she will come to understand how these memories mysteriously remain for life's long haul lingering close by to be recalled when they are needed the most.