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As you may or may not know, kid 1.0 (aka Emma-Grace) had her first communion yesterday. To celebrate, my wife Trish and I had planned afterward to have dinner for about 15 at Dontino’s, a small Italian restaurant near the church.

Trish called Dontino’s a couple of weeks ago – and was told it would be no problem for them to accommodate us – she was told to call an hour or two ahead to give them a heads-up.

When Trish called, she was told by a Dontino’s staff member that they couldn’t seat all of us together – that we’d be split into two groups. Nice to see they kept their word.

Luckily Trish had called a couple of other places – and we resorted to “Plan B” – which probably ended up better after all. Our party of 15 – and the money it would have brought Dontino’s – ended up at a nearby Bob Evans location.

I called the Bob Evans – the manager answered and was more than happy to host us. She said they’d keep a side room for us – and when we arrived after mass things were all ready. The servers and manager bent over backwards to make it an enjoyable meal and a wonderful family and friends experience. They even gave Emma-Grace her meal for free in honor of her special occasion.

I was more than happy to generously tip the two people at Bob Evans who took care of us.

In short, Bob Evans ruled and Dontino’s drooled.

I just drove by a restaurant, people dining outside.

me: (to Emma-Grace) “look, they’re dining al fresco”
wife: “who’s Al Fresco?”
me: “I think he was a running back for the Giants.”

The last few years, I’ve tried to stay away from the media coverage of the anniversary of 9/11. It was too painful to watch – seeing the events hashed and rehashed over and over and over – the same angles, the same video, the same stories. From 2002 until 2008, each year, I made it a point to stay away from TV and radio and online news coverage from 9/10 through 9/12 – I put myself on a self-imposed media blackout each year.

I don’t think anyone should ever forget 9/11 – I just don’t want to be constantly reminded of it – it feels like once a year, the healing scab on the world’s collective psyche gets pulled away and the bleeding starts anew.

Since a lot of people are sharing this today, I will share the “where were you?” story about 9/11.

Trish and I had been married a little more than a year. We lived out in Bremerton, Washington, about an hour’s ferry ride west of Seattle. A couple of weeks before, we had found out that Trish was pregnant with Emma-Grace. A couple of weeks later, we would make the major life decision to leave Washington State and move to Ohio.

It was three hours earlier in Washington – in the Pacific time zone. It was still dark outside – about a quarter to six. I was waiting at the bus stop near my house – I took a bus to the ferry terminal in Bremerton – then took the ferry to Seattle. It made for a long commute.

I was standing at the bus stop with another guy. He had his headphones on – and suddenly he pulled them off and told me, “a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center”. I just shook my head in disbelief. We got on the bus. On the ferry, the discussion of the attacks built to a crescendo. Passengers were huddled in two corners of the cabin watching portable TVs showing coverage of the attacks. I just sat speechless and was numb.

I got to work in downtown Seattle at The Domain Group – but I’m guessing no work got done that day. Most of the people were either at their workspaces speechless and in disbelief or ducking in and out of the main conference room, where TV coverage of the attacks was being shown. Dan Lewis and Kathy Goertzen of KOMO-TV 4 were on the screen anchoring the Seattle-based coverage – alternating with ABC’s network coverage of the attacks.

After I got back to my office, I tried calling Trish – but the cell and landline phone networks were jammed and it took a couple of hours to reach her. By 12 noon, the decision had been made to send everyone home for the day. I got on the ferry that afternoon – which seemed to take forever to board due to the new impromptu security checks being made by the Washington state troopers. And when I finally got back to Bremerton that day and saw Trish, we had one of the longest hugs we had ever shared.

Eight years later, the 9/11 attacks leave me with a cauldron of emotions: mostly sadness and anger. Sadness that thousands of people died that day. Anger that an opportunity to galvanize the nation, galvanize the world was pissed away by inept and self-serving politicians. Anger and sadness that these politicians have used the 9/11 attacks as an excuse to introduce wanton invasions of personal privacy in the name of security. Anger that 9/11 is still used as an excuse to frequently and unnecessarily extend the hand of “big brother”. Anger that I can’t even go to the airport anymore without being subjected to the “security theater” put on by the TSA and practically having to endure a full body cavity search to get past the gate at the airport and onto the plane. Anger that 9/11 was the de facto end of having a “loyal opposition” in US politics – and started a period of many politicians equating disagreement with disloyalty; it still lingers today even nine months after the departure of George W. Bush.

What happened on 9/11 was a tragic but necessary “wake-up call” in many ways for the United States – and for the rest of the world. I just wish its aftermath would have been more of a collective learning experience than an excuse for a political power grab and justification to erode personal privacy and civil liberties.

My parents had to make a very difficult choice today. A few hours ago, they took their beloved cat, Misty, to the vet to have her put down. Misty had been sick for a while. During the last few months, she became very thin and sickly. If you saw her lately, you’d probably have thought Misty had had a few extra lives beyond the usual nine.

Mom and Dad are doing as well as could be expected right now. While the news wasn’t surprising to me – it still hit me in the gut.

I didn’t get to know Misty much until Trish and I moved back to Ohio in late 2001. And then, Misty wasn’t a big fan of Trish or me because we were the people who brought those two strange creatures (our cats at the time, Bandit and KyKy) into her home (we lived with my parents for a couple of months after we moved to Ohio). Misty didn’t appreciate the two other cats’ presence – and frequently let Trish and me know it by trying to swat at us when either of us tried petting her.

Misty mellowed out a little after my parents’ dog, Velvet, passed away a couple of years ago. She began to cozy up to the kids and Trish and me.

What I’ll remember most about Misty was the demure, quiet meow she made. It was more of a mew than a meow. It was one of the sweetest cat sounds I’ve ever heard.

She was a sweet, albeit ornery feline. And even though we didn’t always get along, I’ll still miss her.

God’s speed, Misty. See you on The Rainbow Bridge…

It was a Wednesday afternoon in late April of 2002. Trish and I had moved to Ohio a few months before with no job lined up, no concrete plans. I had left a job I loved: working for a Seattle ad agency.

Trish and I had decided that we wanted to raise our children closer to family – so we took a “leap of faith”, quit our jobs in Washington state, packed up a yellow Ryder moving van, and schlepped ourselves and our two cats (God rest their souls), Bandit and KyKy, cross-country to Ohio.

Trish was eking out a part-time existence working at a Subway. I was working full-time but terribly unhappy working as a contract cable TV installer. Both Trish and I were questioning whether we had made the right move a month post-9/11 – when the economy was going into a minor correction – and the job market was bad. I had tried to get back in to working at an ad agency in Ohio – but for various reasons couldn’t find the same kind of work here.

Frankly I was kind of down on myself and asking why we turned our backs on a reasonably comfortable existence in Washington and moved to Ohio.

Some of the people I knew told me how life would change when becoming a parent – many of them warned me of what they thought were negative effects. I cheerfully ignored them. I went into this first foray into parenthood looking at it as a calling from God. Trish and I had tried at least six months before she told me in August of 2001 that our efforts to have a kid were finally beginning to pay off.

I looked forward to sacrificing of oneself for the sake of someone else – putting the needs and welfare of someone else ahead of my own.

The blessed event happened at 2:09 pm on Wednesday, April 24, 2002. Trish’s OB/GYN had essentially scared us into choosing an elective c-section saying that Emma-Grace COULD be 10 pounds at birth (she ended up 8 pounds, 5 ounces). I remember being in the operating room sitting next to Trish – keeping her calm while the doctor gave Emma-Grace her eviction notice from the womb – it took only a couple of minutes before we saw Emma-Grace held up by Dr. Biats.

A few minutes later, while the doctor closed, I waited in the nursery and spent those first moments with Emma-Grace. I remember two things about those first few moments with her: the wide-eyed look she gave me as I looked at her – and the way she grabbed my finger for dear life as I offered it to her for the first time.

Later early moments I remember include how she was a flirt from the beginning. Starting at a few months old, she would make a game of looking at someone, then smiling back at them when she got a glance back. This was a foreshadowing of her tendency to be very social even today. I remember her “shoe fetish” – how she loved grabbing her shoes and playing with them when they weren’t on her feet (and the fact her first word was “shoe”). I remember singing to her, “cute little baby…cute little baby….cute little baby…her name is Emma-Grace!” numerous times.

I remember during her first birthday sitting in a high chair smooshing her birthday cake in her own face – while all of us sat out on the front yard of the duplex in which we lived on Gaylan Drive. I remember her first day off to preschool – and how she handled those first moments without any hint of separation anxiety. I remember how she learned quickly to shimmy under the baby gate at our first house in North Hill in Akron.

I treasure the three daddy-daughter date nights we’ve had in ’07, ’08, and ’09 (and look forward to many more). I remember her excitedness going to her first day of kindergarten.

It hasn’t always been a bed of roses – being a recovering ADHD parent of an ADHD child has been more than little challenging. She’s testing the limits of being a big girl – and it regularly tests my patience – and Trish’s. There are times when Emma-Grace drives me up a wall – and I want to tear my hair out. But coming home from a long day of work and having her run to me and give me a hug makes the difficult moments worthwhile. Her curling up next to me and saying in a sweet voice, “I love you” takes all the stress away. Sharing morning trips in the car – taking her to school before I go to work – gives us bonding time.

What do I treasure most about my first born, my daughter Emma-Grace? I treasure her enthusiasm for life – the way she isn’t afraid to meet new people she inherited from my dad – the curiosity that she inherited from me – the passion with which she expresses herself which she inherited from her mother – and the caring spirit she shows towards others.

I scared Trish earlier this week when I noted to her that Emma-Grace has passed the “half-way” point to being a teenager. I joked that in a few years she’ll be wearing black and dating musicians. Trish wasn’t amused with either of my observations.

I thank God every day for you, Emma-Grace Marie Heath – for the way you’ve blessed Trish’s life, Jacob’s life, my life, the lives of everyone in our family, and everyone else you’ve touched. I look forward to finding out what God has in store for the upcoming chapters of your life. I love you even if you tell me sometimes that you think I’m “chopped liver” when compared to Mommy. Thanks for being you, Emma-Grace, and happy birthday. Even though I often play “bad cop” at home and get on your case a lot, remember that I love you more than you will ever know.

love and hugs and kisses,

Dad
April 24, 2009

(I look in the bathroom mirror and just realized I had put my shirt on inside-out)

me: It helps if I wear my shirt right-side out.
Emma-Grace: wear your shirt right.
me: OK, Heidi Klum.
Emma-Grace: what’s a Heidi Klum?

I end up explaining to Emma-Grace that Heidi Klum’s on “Project Runway”…

I’m driving. Trish is in the front seat. Kids in the back. I see a Cuyahoga Falls police car coming the other direction:

B: “Quick, honey, hide the dope!”
T: “I don’t know if you’ll fit under the seat, dear.”

Touché, my love! :)

Thought I’d share the flowers I got for Trish today. She was actually impressed that I put some thought into what specific flowers I got for her this year:

I got three red carnations to symbolize my love for Trish, three white carnations to symbolize Jacob’s love for his mom, and three purple carnations to symbolize Emma-Grace’s love for her mom. In the middle is a yellow rose, to symbolize Trish. “Yellow Rose” is one of the nicknames I occasionally use for Trish – it started when I used to use the tune of “Yellow Rose of Texas” as the ringtone that would play on my cell phone when Trish called me from her cell phone.

Yes, sicky sweet; but Trish loved it. :)

Here are a few photos taken at Saturday night’s Daddy-Daughter Date Night. Everyone had fun. Enjoy! :)

You can click on the slideshow above to access the entire album.

Trish’s aunt and her husband were in town – and we ended up running around Hudson, a somewhat upscale ‘burb that is closer to Akron but is also occasionally claimed as being part of the Cleveland area. The area is frequently the butt of jokes regarding snobbery and being rich.

I jokingly paraphrased to Trish a line from “Caddyshack”: “Honey, I hear this place is restricted; so don’t tell ‘em we’re white trash!!”. :)

We drove over to the flagship Jo-Ann store next door to their corporate offices – and bemoaned to myself how their HR people didn’t completely square with me about the nature of a position I applied for there. I patiently minded the kids while Trish and her aunt went ooh and aah over stuff in the store.

We went over to their “First and Main” upscale shopping district – for the most part it was nice, but overpriced clothing and other knick-knacks.

One thing I saw on a parked car raised a repeated question I regularly have:

I still wonder if people who sport FOP medallions on their license plates honestly think cops are going to give them a break from a traffic citation. Methinks it’s too good to be true.

Another pic was amusing…and cute. This was on the door of a “Build-A-Bear Workshop” knockoff store:

Cute way to ask not to bring in food and drink – say the animals are stuffed already.

All in all, a fun afternoon. We walked around, window-shopped, shivered in the relatively warm cold, and then got lunch. We just saw off Trish’s aunt and her husband. Kids and Trish are upstairs – and I’m headed off to church. More later! :)