Death and Riots

From Missouri to New York, from Georgia to Baltimore; this has been a tough year for interactions between police men and young black men.  I can't remember a time in recent history when there has been so much "over policing" resulting in the deaths of young black men.  Perhaps in not all the cases, but in most, the police have over stepped their bounds and taken lethal action when it wasn't necessary.  There should not be this many deaths at the hands of police men.  Two of the most recent that I have heard of that stick out as outrageous are the deaths of the man in Atlanta and Baltimore.  In Atlanta, as a man ran away from a police officer who was trying to subdue him over a traffic stop, he was shot 8 times in the back.  That was a completely unnecessary action that resulted in his death.  What's worse is that the police officer initially tried to cover it up.  It was only the fact that a video was taken that revealed what actually happened.  The other incident, from which there is not as much information, is the case in Baltimore when a man was taken into custody and somewhere between the point of his arrest and his transport to the police station, his spine was severed resulting in his death a week later.  That, to me, should never have happened, arrested or not.  There seems to have been a confluence of events this past year which has resulted in police brutality finally being recognized.  (Don't get me wrong, I understand that there are times when the police must use force to either subdue an unruly subject or to quell protesters that have gone berserk.  However, there have too many times this past year of police officers using excessive force that in most circumstances was probably unwarranted.)  This confluence of events it seems is the ability for anyone with a smart phone to shoot a video of events that are transpiring in front of them and brazen police tactics that have taken on a life of their own and gone past what is acceptable and reasonable in terms of enforcing the laws.  Each side has their own version of events and yet when there is a video available, the stories that both sides tell are irrelevant.  

Yet, despite the fact that the police have become more brutal and lethal in the way they operate, especially in regards to young black men, there is a flip side.  It is a Catch-22 that has perpetuated itself up until this point and it seems only now must there actually be conversation has to how things can change for the better.  Being a white male, I will never understand what it is like to live a life in which I am targeted by police simply due to the color of my skin.  I can understand the sentiments that drive people to riot, and yet, when you take a step back and look at what effect rioting will actually have, perhaps its not the best option.  If a community wants to stop being harassed, rioting will only serve to help the police throw up larger internal barriers and be quicker to go on the offensive when something happens.  The only way to truly affect change is to tackle it in a peaceful manner, to show the police that despite their brutality, a communities actions will not be incited to violence based upon that brutality.  That is easier said than done.  There have been peaceful efforts for years to try and affect change that have gone no where and have had little to no effect.  With repeated efforts to change the way police officers treat young black men and their perceptions of them, situations in many areas have only gotten worse.  So what happens, riots, which only circle back upon those rioting later as police have less trust.  I wish it were a simple, cut and dry, answer that could be brought forth to rectify these situations that are occurring across the country.  But if it were a simple answer, we probably wouldn't be where we are right now, dealing with riots in Baltimore, and talking about these issues on a national scale.  Every life matters, black and white, and yet, there are many who have been prejudiced in both directions based upon their upbringing, previous cultural norms that have been wrongly passed down through generations, and a deep seated mistrust that has permeated communities for so long that it will take enormous effort to eradicate.  

So how do we proceed?  I wish I knew.  My hope is that questions of race will be addressed not just on a level between police and communities, but on a family level.  That is ultimately where it must start if meaningful change is to happen.  There must be conversations held between larger groups, but unless we change perceptions in families starting with little children, those large conversations will go no where.  I for one, have never had those prejudices, at least I don't think I have.  There are larger forces at work beyond the family that also need to change, such as how the media reports events, that ultimately create unwitting bias in people.  In this day and age, you would think we would have overcome race issues, and yet, it persists.  Unfortunately, maybe it needs to take this long for the pain of past generations to be healed.  In the United States, there has been racial bias either in the form of slavery or in simply the way minorities were treated, for well over a hundred years.  The process of healing and progression to a state of complete acceptance will take a long time.  It started decades ago, and yet still persists.  I hope it doesn't take as long to recover from these issues as it took for us to realize that slavery is horrible, but only time will tell.  In order for anything meaningful to happen, however, the rioting needs to stop and we need to sit down at the table and figure out how to change this.  I for one, am at a loss, but I know there are those who have very good ideas out there who aren't being heard for one reason or another.  Its time for everyone to bring the love and get rid of the hate.  We shall see how long this takes, I just hope no more lives are lost due to police violence.  

Grass Fed Meats

A couple of months ago, my wife and I had a discussion about meats and where we wanted to get them from.  We are talking mainly pork and beef as those seem to be the main meat staples of our diet.  Since we moved into our old house about 8 years ago, we had been ordering our meats through American Frozen Foods.  Its a good company, based locally, yet nationwide in its scope, that would deliver all of our meat, vacuum sealed and frozen, for about 6 months.  It was always really good meat, top quality and tasty, and we didn't have any complaints about the company except that they couldn't guarantee the sources of their meat.  They would claim that they tried to source them for the best quality, but couldn't positively guarantee anything.  So, with my wife and I being on a no-additive, non-GMO, "as natural as possible" kick in regards to eating and pretty much anything else, we decided to start seeking out alternatives.   Our first order of business was to find a local farm "meaning somewhere in Connecticut" that sold pigs and cows for eating.  While there are some areas of Connecticut that are built up, there are still vast areas solely devoted to farming, and we found a plethora of farms to choose from.  Next was figuring out which farms devoted their methods to "grass fed" meat only.  Being grass fed was an important consideration for us as if a cow or pig is fed grains, it is not as beneficial for the animal as their natural diet would be grass, and in addition, most grains grown now, especially corn, are genetically modified.  Even when factoring in that next criteria, we still found we had plenty of farms to choose from.  Then we looked at distance and ease of using their website and ended up with a farm about 30-40 minutes away from us in the town of Litchfield.  While all of that work might seem like it was the hard part, it was actually the easier part of the whole process.  

Then the emails commenced between the farmer and us.  Having never ordered a pig or a cow from a farm before, we were diving into uncharted territory.  How much was the pig, who did the butchering, how do we get it, etc. etc. etc?  Having found what seemed like a really good farm, it was relatively easy to get all our answers and figure out the whole process.  We decided to start by ordering a pig.  And on top of that, I called up a friend to see if he wanted to split a pig with us with each of us getting half of the meat.   He jumped right in and we went for it.  We called the farm and told them we wanted a pig, sent them a check for a deposit, and waited.  The farm had told us the pigs were just about ready to head to slaughter and that we should have our pig within 2 weeks.  Awesome.  The farmer just told us we would have to call the butcher and tell them how we wanted our pig cut up.  So my wife called the butcher.  That turned out to be the hardest part of it all, figuring out how we wanted the pig butchered.  Did we want all the bacon sliced, or smoked, or slab?  And that was only one of the questions.  Luckily for us, they were very helpful at the butcher and walked my wife through every step, gave her the options, and told her the cuts that they normally make.  In the end, it was relatively easy and the cool part is, the butcher saves our cut list for the future so that when we order another pig, we can just tell them to reference our prior pig and cut it the same way.  And that was that.  Sure enough, within 2 weeks, we got a call from the butcher that our pig was ready.  So I called up friend, grabbed some large coolers, and headed up to Litchfield in my van to get our grass fed pig.   When we got to the butcher, even that was a simple process.  We walked in, told them we were there to pick up our pig, and within 20 minutes we had paid, loaded up the meat, and were headed back home.  The meat was all vacuum sealed and frozen, and all we literally had to do was transfer it to the coolers.  Everything was labeled and surprisingly very simple.  

So was it worth it going through the extra work to get a whole pig, or rather half a pig for us and half for our friend?  Absolutely.  The work we put in would be equivalent to heading to the grocery store every week to buy meat.  We just happened to do it all at once.  We figure the half a pig we got will last us 6-8 months.  When we did the math, all the meat we got turned out to cost us about $6.50 per pound for everything.  Sure, some things would cost a little more, but in the end it all worked itself out.  The total hanging weight of the pig was 195 pounds, which means we probably got 160 lbs of meat.  Not too shabby if you ask me.  And in terms of the taste, it still tastes like pork, but more savory and delicious than the pork from the store.  The only reason we were able to actually go this route is that we had a large stand up freezer that held all our meat from American Frozen Foods.  If we didn't have that large freezer, it would have been much more difficult to do.  The next step on our journey of grass fed meats will be to order a cow.  We haven't yet decided if we want to get a half cow or a whole cow, but regardless, that will probably happen within a month or two and should get us through the year.  Even if the pork didn't taste better (which I already mentioned it does), it brings more peace of mind to know that we are not putting anything in our bodies that had consumed GMO's of any kind, and the meat is local which means we are supporting local families and keeping our carbon footprint as low as possible.  I know a lot of city dwellers would find it hard to fathom doing this sort of thing, but for us, it was a no brainer once we started doing the research.  

Why I Would Never Join The Military

Over this past winter, my brother enlisted in the Navy Reserves.  While not active duty, they are training you the same way as they would train an active duty recruit, just not as intense.  Reservists are the backup, should they be needed, and with the way the world is today, they could be needed at any time.  But that's neither here nor there.  While I personally don't understand the decision, I support my brother.   When he made the decision to into the Reserves, it afforded me a brief moment of introspection as to my feelings on joining any branch of the military.  Never in my life have I felt drawn to serving in the military.  There might have been a faint glimmer of desire periodically through my teenage years, but it never lasted more than a brief moment.   In looking back at why I never joined or felt the need to join and progressing to my current state and why I still would never join, I find my reasoning has changed drastically from my teenage years to my current age of 32.  Way back when, I used to hate the idea of being "owned" by some large entity.  I despised authority to begin with and could never see myself falling into line with what the military wants.  They demand a surrender of self, the allowance to be broken down in order to be built back up the way the want, and having to follow orders blindly regardless of their intent or intended result.  That is not me.  It never was and never will be.  I was never one to conform to what other's wanted.  I hated the idea and always forged my own path.  If someone said turn right, I would find a reason to make turning left more appealing to me.  So I held steadfast against joining the military.  Even when the would call me at my house when I was about to turn 18, I would tell them to stop wasting their time and not to call me.  

That initial reason of being non-conformist, not following orders, and despising authority was the driving reason for me not joining the military for a long time and to this day, still resides as within me as a driving force behind never wanting anything to do with the military.  (Before people start despising me for viewpoint, let me be clear that I not look down on anyone who joins the military, I am just voicing my opinion as to why I would never be a part of it.)  A reason that slowly worked its way into my psyche was the fact that being in the military, one of your jobs could be to go kill other people who our government views as a threat in some way, shape, or form.  I could never get myself to the point where killing someone else would ever be OK.   As someone who is even opposed to the death penalty, I never wanted to be put in a position where my job was to pull the trigger of a gun and take someone else's life.  Some people may be able to distance themselves from the killing of someone else.  I, however, don't think I could ever do that.  I suppose if there was a distinct threat on American soil and my family was being attacked I would feel differently, but being shipped to another country and told to kill others is not enticing at all.  So within my, and still to this day, my desire to never kill someone else and my distinct inability to surrender myself to authority have dissuaded me from any type of military service.  I understand that people enlist to get an education and to help others, but there is a lot that goes on before that even takes place that I don't agree with.  And when looking at the overall scope of what is entailed or what could be entailed, I is definitely not for me.  

As I have grown older and left adolescence in the dust of my twenties, perhaps my best reason has come forth for not joining the military.  I feel that it always there, it just became more tangible the older and more aware I grew.  That ultimate reason stands on ethical grounds, meaning I don't agree with the reasons behind most of what our military does and the "campaigns" they are involved in.  I don't want to be a pawn that gets sent to do the bidding of a few people in power.  For much of the past 10 years, any actions our military has taken I have disagreed with.  So on ethical grounds, I find myself keeping a healthy distance between myself and the military.  Around Thanksgiving time, our family was seated around the table eating when I made my feelings known about not joining and even if they were to bring back the draft, I would not go.  It was brought to my attention that I would be thrown in jail if I didn't respond to a call to the draft.  My feeling was and still is, I would rather be in jail than fighting in a foreign country.  "You would sit in jail with your kids here, how would that affect them?"  was a question I got.  Jail or military, in both cases I would not be seeing my children and at least in jail they could come visit and my chances of being killed are less than if I went to Iraq to fight.  So, yes, I am the complete opposite of my brother, but I'm OK with that.  He knows my feelings on the military, and I am OK with that as well.  Just because I don't agree with or understand his decision doesn't mean I don't support him as my brother.  If that's what he wants to do, then all the power to him.  And the same goes for anyone who does join the military.  I just have my firmly held reasons and beliefs for not joining and I am pretty sure by my ripe old age of 32, they probably wouldn't want me anyway.  So in the end, there are multiple reasons why I would never join the military.  The strongest reason right now, for me, is ethically based in my disagreement with the way they military does business.  

She Has My Temper

An unfortunate event occurred a little while ago.  Our whole family was sitting in the living room playing, it was probably late afternoon, when my son and daughter started "arguing" over who was going to get a box that they both wanted.  I say "arguing" because our daughter isn't talking yet so her way of "arguing" is pulling on the box while our son tries to tell her that he needs it in the nicest way possible.   So as they are "arguing" over the box, our daughter yelling, our son talking, she goes into a little fit of rage.  Her face turns red, every ounce of her tiny little body shakes in anger, and she does everything in her power to pull that box from her brother's hands.  On top of that, her rage is shown in the fiery look she puts on her face.  The rage only lasts a few seconds before she switches gears and tries crying in order to get the box.  The box in the end went to our son, the more powerful of the two.  He doesn't always get it, especially if we see that he is just trying to take what she is playing with because he thinks it is "his".  This time though, neither of them had been playing with it and we just let it play out to see what would happen.  It was an enlightening moment, to be sure, and solidified in my mind that my daughter and I will have some interesting times when she is a teenager.  That was just the first instance where we saw her temper displayed.  Such is life with siblings, they both want what the other is playing with and get upset when it either gets taken away by the other or they are forced to share (depending on the situation).  There was another time where she put her temper on display for us that really sticks out in my mind.   Once again, we were playing in the living room.  Our son was on a chair with the cushion lying on the ground (he likes to pretend its a school bus) and was just driving his "bus" to different places.  Our daughter was fully engrossed with some toys on the opposite side of the room.  That is, she was engrossed until she looked up and saw her brother on the chair.  As soon as she saw him sitting there, she dropped what she was doing, crawled as fast as she could over the chair, climbed in, and began trying to push him off the chair while screaming at the top of her lungs.  We laughed for a minute before getting our daughter off the chair resulting in a stream of tears because she didn't get what she wanted.   In all honesty, our children get along really well for the most part, I am just highlighting a few instances where they are not.  

We are beginning to notice that there is a big difference between the way our son and daughter handle their emotions.  Our son, soft spoken and quiet, tends to hide his emotions and not like to let them show.  He doesn't always like talking about what is bothering him and while he does get upset over little stupid things (as any three and a half year old does), he does not get as vocal as our daughter it seems.  He will cry and try to get his way, but the anger is not behind it like it is for our daughter.  Our daughter, on the other hand, wears her emotions on her sleeve.  You can tell how she is feeling just by looking at her.  And she is not afraid to let you know when she is upset.  Just the other morning, she wanted to be held by my wife.  She didn't want to sit in her high chair, she didn't want to play on the floor, and she didn't want to be held by me.  It was the time of morning when I had to get breakfast started and my wife had to get dressed and ready for work.  So, she stood on the floor, screaming her head off, for about 10 minutes.  Eventually she started screaming and walking towards the stairs to try and find my wife.  Just as she was getting to the bottom of the stairs, our son was beginning to make his way down for the morning.  She saw him, looked at me, stopped crying and put out her arms to be picked up.  Oh, my little girl.  She is smarter than she lets on and definitely knows how to try and get her way.  While she wears her emotions on her sleeve, there is a flip side to her that is interesting to see.  As opposed to her brother who always just jumped right in and wanted to try things, she is an observer.  She figures things out by watching people do them and not until she feels confident in her abilities will she attempt them herself.  She doesn't even like to let people help her.  If she is trying to do something and you reach for her hand to guide it and help her out, she will quickly pull her hand back, like a turtle pulling its head into its shell, and will wait till you take your hand back before trying again.  Its on her terms or no terms at all.  Our two children will definitely need different mind sets from us as parents to deal with them as they get older.  It shall be interesting if nothing else.  And yet, I still and will always love them both, despite any temper tantrums that get thrown our way.  

Gaining Perspective

The last few days have been devoted to talking about my dogs.  While I have many stories about them that could fill up page after page of blog posts, I figure I'll jump around like I always do and switch topics completely.  Perspective.  I doubt that dogs have or gain a sense of perspective in regards to time the way humans do.   I have discovered that, at least for myself, that I have started looking at time and significance in a different way than I had in all my years leading up to now.  For the record (and I know my blog details may be slightly off here) I am 32 years old and will be 33 in a few months.  I was born in 1982 and for the longest time, it seemed like the 80's and early 90's happened just yesterday.  It wasn't a big deal to look back and say, "that wasn't so long ago", because it was mostly true, at least for myself.  Yet, a funny thing happens when you see news stories with a "retro report" and retro now means the 1980's.   You start to realize that that decade was more than a quarter century in the past and that time has progressed quite a bit since then.  It's not that its a sudden revelation that the 1980's were that far in the past, but more of a gradual understanding that overtakes you as you grow older and start to look at things differently.  I guess for everyone, perspective on time will vary.  Different people will realize different aspects of time at different points in their life.   Its not even that its depressing to look back and realize that the period which I grew up in was thirty years ago, its more of an awareness moment.  Its more about realizing the way in which events fit together in the overall scheme of things than anything else.  Looking at this objectively, I can see where it can be construed as depressing by some.  To look back and realize just how long ago one's childhood occurred can weigh on some people.  I can see some people wondering how they missed the progression of time and where all those years went.  For me, its just another day, just with a little different perspective on things.  In a way, it makes me savor every day a little bit more.  With two young children running around the house and seemingly taking up every spare moment of my time, it is hard sometimes to sit in the moment and enjoy it to its fullest.  Every moment is not just my own anymore, but shared with those around me.  The down time afforded to me is minimal at best and perhaps that is part of what brought that sense of perspective in regards to time to fruition.  The sense that time is seemingly flying so rapidly right now that its almost a blur.  Some days it almost seems like I was in the scene of a movie where I am standing still on a city street buzzing with activity and the scene was shot in such a way that everyone moving around me is blurred and nothing is in focus.  Sometimes, that's what life feels like with two little kids.  And yet, there are those moments that occur where everything slows down and if I'm attuned to it, can be in that moment and enjoy it, whether with my children or just by myself.  I seek those moments, those little dips in activity where being present in the moment is all that matters.  Those are the ones with the greatest sense of connection, the greatest sense of peace, that I seek not to push off, but to hold on to and perpetuate.  

There is another piece to all of this, relative, yet separate that I don't know if everyone comes to term with these days.  When the pieces of the "time" puzzle start to fit into place, realizing how long ago something happened or placing yourself on the scale of life, time, and significance, you start to understand your place in the overall scheme of things.  When we look at the larger picture, it is a daunting one.  When we simply realize the minute spec of time that we and 7 billion other people operate in, we start to realize that our lives don't really matter that much.  Its not to say by an means that we aren't important to those around us or those we interact with every day, but on a larger scale, and for the majority of us, our lives will come and go and the vast majority of people on the planet will have no clue that we ever existed.  There are many people who strive to inject significance into their lives, to do things that "matter" and "make a difference".  If everyone tried to do this, almost everyone would "fail".  There is nothing wrong with not making an impact on those beyond our sphere of influence or those that we interact with in our lives.  What does matter is the impact we have on those people.  Why should we bother if nothing we do will have lasting meaning?  Because it can improve the quality of life for all those around us if we seek to live our lives the best we can.  It may not have an effect on someone living in India, but it can affect our neighbor living just down the street.  Even then, there are people who will get depressed thinking of the larger picture.  We can affect the larger picture, for must of us however, it just be done on a smaller scale.  While most of us may be able only able to affect 250-500 people, if we affect those people in positive way, then they will be more likely to affect those in their lives in a positive way and perpetuate it to a larger good.  While our lives may be largely insignificant in the larger picture, maybe it isn't the larger picture we should be looking at.  Maybe we should only focus on the smaller picture around us.   Social media would have us believe that our significance is based on the amount of "likes" a post of ours gets or how many comments we can garner, or how many times something we post is "shared".  In the end, though, none of that matters.  Even one year down the road, our collective memory will forget those "likes" and "shares" and be on to the next "big thing".  So, as such, we should focus on the small things that will actually make a difference in the lives of those around us.  That is where we can have a lasting impact and where we can be "significant".   In the end, even what I am writing now will most likely be forgotten.  And yet, I still write.  Why?  There are many reasons, but two resonate the most; I write to have that "small" impact on those around me, but mostly to simply express myself and work through my thoughts in a more public fashion.  That is all.

Chipmunk Vs. Coyote

As I was writing yesterday about my personal training experience with the invisible fence for dogs, I recalled an incident that occurred just this past weekend with one of my dogs, Princess.  Princess has a completely different personality from our younger dog Aspen.  She has never and will never play fetch, she likes to wander around our yard inspecting the perimeter, and will, if given the opportunity, take herself on walks through the neighborhood always returning when she is done.  Its almost as if she has part wild dog in her.  Aspen, just to offer up a comparison, has never taken it upon himself to inspect the perimeter of the property, desperately wants to play fetch continuously with any object that can be thrown, and is not as likely to take himself on a walk if given the opportunity.   Even when it comes to sitting around a fire outside at night, Aspen will whine to go inside and Princess will either wander through the darkness or lay down at your feet, perfectly content.  I love both of my dogs, they are just completely different.  So that brings me to Princess and her experiences over the weekend.  

Saturday was a beautiful, warm, spring day and with the evening being just a touch on the cool side, we decided to invite a friend over and have our first spring fire in our back yard.  On a side note, I personally love the new fire pit area as it is surrounded by massive oak trees that thrust their branches out over the fire pit so that when the fire is glowing nice and brightly, the gnarly branches are illuminated against a starry sky.  But back to Saturday night.  Aspen was whining up a storm as soon as our friend came over and since he wouldn't stop until something was thrown to him, I simply put him inside where he was perfectly content.  So Princess stayed outside with us, wandering through the woods sniffing for rodents.  For a long time, she had her nose buried in some leaves near a massive rock, determine to find whatever was hiding underneath.  She stayed and stayed, sniffed and sniffed.  At one point, she either looked away or moved and a chipmunk made a run for it, dashing for either its home or a better hiding place.  Either the chipmunk outsmarted Princess or it just got lucky because it went right for the invisible fence 20' from where it was hiding.  Princess pursued and in the heat of the pursuit, forgot about the fence, and let out a few loud yelps as she got too close to it. Sitting in the dark near a fire and hearing her pursuit was mildly amusing.  The only reason I am fairly certain it was a chipmunk is because our old rock wall running along our property is filled with little chipmunk nests.  They are everywhere.  I have noticed a few times when a hawk has swooped down through the thicket of trees that the chipmunks let out a maelstrom of warning chirps, almost sounding like a little flock of birds.  Its amazing to watch.  But I digress, I was talking about Princess chasing chipmunks.  I think she is personally waiting for one to slip up so she can catch it.  With her being around 9 years old now, I think her days of actually being able to catch one are past her.  So that was Saturday night.

Sunday night.  Once we had put our children to bed, our son actually going down early because he had played outside all day and gotten massive amounts of fresh air, we cooked some pork on the grill for our dinner.  As we were sitting out there waiting for it to cook, (Aspen being inside once again) Princess was sitting by the fire pit staring into the woods, monitoring the woodland activities.  Out of nowhere, she barks once and bolts down the line of the invisible fence.  After that first bark, she goes into a barking frenzy near the far back corner of our property that is completely wooded.  I can't see what she is barking at, but I can ascertain her bark over something that is close versus something ethereal that she thinks is there.  So I call her back with no response from her at all, she just keeps on barking.  I try a few more times to no avail.  Finally, holding my mostly empty glass of beer, I head over to where Princess is barking.  I was thinking it may be a person walking in their wooded back yard or perhaps a rodent or another neighborhood dog.  Maybe it could have been a hawk that had swooped down and scooped up a little chipmunk for dinner.  I couldn't tell because Princess was just over the crest of a little hill in our yard.  I made my way up the hill and as soon as I came up over the top and saw Princess, I saw what she was barking at; a coyote, standing about 30' away staring at us.  It was mostly gray with a little white, pointy ears, a little taller than Princess our dog, and a big bushy tail.  There was no mistaking it for anything other than a coyote.  As soon as it saw me, it bounded off, silent as a deer making its way through the carpet of leaves.  

There had been reports of a coyote in our area, but I never actually thought that I would get a chance to see one standing 30 feet away from me in our backyard.  It was only for a brief moment, but still, it was a pretty cool sight to see.  Some people are worried about their dogs being attacked.  Myself on the other hand, am not worried as both of my dogs are only slightly smaller than a coyote.  If my dogs were more the size of rats or large cats, that would be a different story as they would probably make a nice dinner for that lone coyote.  In fact, part of me is surprised that Princess didn't try going through our invisible fence after that coyote.  After all, she got shocked chasing a chipmunk so one would think she would go after that coyote.  And yet, the chipmunk was an animal she knew she could take where as the coyote was probably more of an even match.  The only other difference between the two nights was that the chipmunk chase occurred in pitch black night whereas the coyote chase occurred at dusk, just after the sun had sunk beyond the horizon and there was still a little bit of ambient light to see with.  I wonder now what would have happened if both Aspen and Princess were outside when that coyote came around.  Would they have both tried to go through the invisible fence after that coyote feeling empowered with two of them?  The world may never know....

A Tale Of Escaping Dogs

When we moved into our new house last year, there was a big adjustment we needed to make in regards to our dogs.  We needed some sort of fence to keep them in our yard.  Our old house, sitting on a little more than a tenth of an acre, was easy for me to build a fence around to keep our dogs confined to our yard.  Our new house, sitting on 1.6 acres, with true new England soil (meaning every square foot of dirt contains about 88.5 rocks in myriad sizes) was going to be near impossible to build a physical fence around.  It would take me months of pain and anguish, and in the end would not be pretty or nearly as functional as I would like.  We were left with two options, creating a run for the dogs that we would have to walk them out to every day and hook them up so they could have a little exercise, or install an "e-fence" around the perimeter that would keep them inside our yard via an electric shock if they got too close.  The concept of the e-fence or invisible fence is simple; you lay a wire around the entire area that you want to confine the dogs too, put collars on the dogs, and train them to know that if they get too close or cross the line, they will get a mild shock.  Well of the two options, we actually went with both.  We started with the run just so that we could put them outside and utilized that so that we could install the e-fence ourselves.  There are companies out there who will install it for you and train your dogs, but we honestly didn't feel like paying someone else to do what we felt we could do ourselves.  So we ordered the fence and collars, installed it, and I trained the dogs.  The installation was simple enough.  The training, however, was a weeks long process, 3 times a day, that was time consuming and sometimes frustrating.  But in the end, and with only a few mishaps, our dogs were trained to stay in our yard without getting shocked.  Both Princess and Aspen (our two dogs) tried crossing the boundary a few times during the training.  Each one had a different reaction.  Princess, a female and the older of the two, would walk right across, yelping the whole way at which point I'd have to go, take her collar off, lead her back into our yard, and put the collar back on.  Aspen, a male and younger, would freeze right over the wire, his neck twitching and would not respond to any verbal commands, he had to be dragged back into the yard.  Both were funny to watch and luckily neither happened again.  (For those concerned, there is a safety feature built in to kill the shock after 30 seconds so that if, like Aspen, a dog freezes over the line, they don't get shocked indefinitely).

 

So how would dogs escape you ask if they are trained to stay inside the yard?  Well, not only is there training for the dogs, there is training for the humans who install it as well.  That training is called remembering to put the collars on the dogs every time you let them out the door.  You see, the collars are not supposed to be left on the dogs perpetually.  They are only meant to be worn while the dogs are outside.  So every time they go out, you have to put the collars on and take them off when they come in.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Well, after having two dogs at our other house for 4 years and being in the habit of just opening the door to let them out, it was not so simple.  All this is leading me to my little story of how they "escaped" our yard. 

 

New Years Day, a few months ago.  We had both gone to bed early on New Years' Eve because being the parents of two little kids, we have no life.  (There, I said it) January 1st, we had planned on heading to my parents house around lunch time to spend some time with them, eat some food, and just hang out.  I went outside in the morning, let the dogs out, and then came back inside.  After a few minutes, I went back outside, couldn't see the dogs, and came back in asking if my wife had let them out.  As soon as she said "no", I knew that I had let them out without their collars on.  I immediately ran back outside and started shouting for the dogs at the top of my lungs.  Being New Years Day morning, it was very quiet to begin with.  After every yell, I stopped and listened.  Nothing.  Not even faint jingle of their tags in the distance.  No movement either.  Damn it, I thought to myself.  So I told my wife what had happened and she started calling the local animal shelters to notify them what had happened.  My biggest concern was the busy 4 lane road we live on.  I trusted my dogs to fend for themselves in the woods, but not when it comes to major roads.  Unfortunately, our backyard butts up against the backyards of a dozen other houses.  In our town, every house has to be on at least an acre of land, so that is a lot of room for them to roam with very little chance of my stumbling upon them should I go venture into the woods for them.  So I hopped in my Jeep and drove around the block a few times.  Nothing.  After about an hour of searching, there was still no sign of them.  At about the second hour, Princess returned like nothing had happened, she just showed up at our back door, ready to come in.  My being a typical dog owner, I asked her where her brother was, but got no response.  I took one more drive around the block and realizing that there was really nothing I could do to find Aspen, we decided to head to my parents house.  When we left, I propped open our garage door enough for Aspen to sneak underneath and inside the garage I put his dog bed.  We also left our back door slightly ajar so he could nudge his way into our mudroom if need be.  At our parents house, I agonized the whole time about him and where he could be.  He could have gone anywhere and even technically made it too my parents house without crossing any major roads.   So heading home, we still kept our eyes open for Aspen, but didn't see him along the way.  We pulled into our driveway expecting the worse.  As soon as we parked, however, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw Aspen running towards us from the garage with a look on his face saying, "what took you so long and its about time you came home people".  It turns out that New Years Day was my training moment.  Since then, I always remember to put their collars on.  I think Princess might still wander off if I didn't put her collar on, but Aspen, I think, wouldn't go anywhere. 

Stomach Bugs and a Day Off

I had heard in the news that there was this drug resistant stomach bug being brought over from foreign countries that lasted a long time, was horrible, and should be avoided at all cost.  If there is one thing I hate more than anything else, it is the stomach bug.  More than just feeling sick, it is the idea of food I already ate coming up the way it went down.   The acidic taste that seems almost impossible to eradicate from my mouth is just not something I relish going through.  Our whole family went through it a few years ago when our son was a little over one year old.  I figured it would happen again at some point, but I was also hoping even harder that any type of stomach bug would never cross the threshold into our house ever again.  But alas, having little children, no matter how hard I hope for something to not happen, it inevitably will.  And that stomach bug did indeed cross that threshold into our house.  This time, I believe it was our daughter who started the whole illness.  She got sick to her stomach over night around the weekend and woke up with it everywhere.   The weird thing was, and this is the best part about this particular bug, was that her spewing was a one time occurrence.  The rest of us avoided catching her bug immediately and it wasn't until the afternoon on Monday while at daycare that our son succumbed to the bug and went about spewing everywhere for about 45 minutes.  Yet, after that 45 minutes, he was acting normally, playing outside, and generally in good spirits.  Now, from the last stomach bug that went through our house, this was a welcome sign.  The last time a stomach bug ransacked our livelihood, it lasted at least a day and then after that it took a good 1-2 days to recover all our energy and get back to normal.  It was a little odd, but I did not complain.  So 2 of our family got the bug, and I was hoping that was it.  Yet Monday night I woke up to the sound of heaving coming from our bathroom and I just knew that the bug had spread, this time to my wife.  My first thought was, "Damn, I'm next".  I just figured there would be no way I could escape the bug when I was sleeping in the same bed as my wife.   So I resigned myself to the fact that by morning, it would be my turn perched over the toilet staring into the bowl and waiting for it all to come up.  Well, I came close, but my turn never came.  I got the unsettled feeling in my stomach, but nothing that made me run to the bathroom.  I did have one day yesterday with a noticeable lack of energy, but no spewing for me.  I made it through unscathed!  And even better, since our son was throwing up at daycare, I got to spend the whole day with him on Tuesday.  With the stomach bug being mild and our son being in good spirits, it was a day off where we could actually have some fun. 

 

Turns out we didn't get the horrible stomach bug but some mild version, thank God.  Part of me would like to think that it is just our strong immune systems that allowed us to get over this latest stomach bug so quickly.  But then again, we could just have gotten lucky enough to catch a super mild strain and have it pass through our house super quickly.  Regardless, I was thankful for more than just the fact that it was mild strain.  I got to have a day off with our son as he stayed home from daycare.  If it was a few years ago, we would have spent the day inside, laying on the couch with him feeling miserable as I pumped him full of fluids to replenish all those he had lost.  Instead, it was a day of fun, just the boys left to do whatever we wanted.  It started off with us ushering the women out of the house and off to daycare and work respectively.  Once they were out of the house, we got down to the first most important activity of the day, reading.  We grabbed some books and headed up to our son's room where we sat in a rocking chair and read books for about an hour.  After that amount of time, our three and a half year old son was getting a little restless.  We checked to see if the brief rain storm had passed and seeing that it had, I asked him if he wanted to go on a hike.  As soon as the word "hike" registered, his eyes lighted up like a Christmas tree in a dark room and it took everything I had to keep him from running out the door before we had everything ready.  Not that we brought much as it wasn't going to be a long hike, but still, we needed shoes, coats, and to put his car seat in my Jeep.  With that done, we were off.  We went to one of my favorite hiking spots, a waterfall in Naugatuck State Forest, and proceeded to meander our way up the waterfall, stopping periodically to throw rocks into the stream.  All told, we were hiking for about an hour, our son walking most of the way on his own, when like flipping a light switch, he turns to me and says, "I want to go back home now."  I knew it was just a matter of time before he said that, and that is partly why I made sure we took our time.  I also knew that I would have to carry him back.  So up on my shoulders he went and down the trail to the Jeep we both walked. 

 

And that was only the beginning of the day.  The rest of the day was spent playing outside.  He helped me build a few more boxes for the raised beds in our garden.  In between all of that, we BBQ'd some hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, of which he ate about two bites, and we went on excursions into the woods and around the house.  Three and a half is wonderful age.  I am able to get some work done outside, but its not the focus of the day.  Things only get done when our son isn't pulling me in one direction or the other to answer questions or take part in one of his adventures.  I love that his imagination is taking hold and he can entertain himself with the simplest of objects.  A stick becomes a magic wand or a fishing pole, his wagon becomes his car to go to New York City.  (Really not joking here, he actually entertained himself for about an hour on his wagon going to NYC to work).   And the stories he weaves around these are fantastic.  While I am working, he will carry on a conversation with me about how he has to go to NYC for work.  Every minute or so, he either forgets his money, or his lunch, and then gets back on his wagon to carry on his trip.  He even waves goodbye and tells me he will see me at the end of the day.  I completely play along (how could I not) and ask if he wants dinner ready when he gets home, remind him to call and tell me when he will be home or when he is on his way, and to be safe while he is there.  I chuckle inside the whole time, not because I think it is ridiculous, but because I think it is awesome and am blown away by his imagination.  I remember talking a few years ago on this blog about how I wanted him to develop a sense of curiosity and I always hoped he would be creative and be his own person.  Well, it has begun and I just hope that sense of curiosity stays and doesn't get suppressed by anyone or anything.  That right now is his most valuable asset (along with his being cute).  In any case, it is amazing to watch the transition from lump of flesh when he was born to this growing, unique little boy we have now.  Time does fly and I am just glad I take the time to enjoy as much as I can with him.  Most days, if I have to take the day off, I don't even think twice about it, I just do it. 

Daddy's Little Girl

It seems that once our daughter was born, the writing of my blog decreased dramatically.  That wasn't the only factor, especially recently, but as a result of the infrequent writing, I have not had as much of a chance to write about our daughter as I did about our son.  Its not that I lack the amazement at her development, it is more timing that anything else.  I have come to see what many people have said about having more than one child, each child is different in unique ways and the fact that we have a son and daughter makes the difference that much more striking.  It is tempting to chalk up different reactions and tendencies to one being a boy and one being a girl, but now that our daughter is older, I have come to see that its just their unique personalities that are expressing themselves in how they develop.  It is definitely interesting to watch and I now know that our daughter will be the one with the terrible temper, the renegade, the troublemaker, and daddy's little girl.  (I know that our son can never be daddy's little girl, but he is a momma's boy if you catch my drift).  I have seen on at least two occasions now, situations where our son and daughter were playing together with a single toy, and when my son tries to take it away, our daughter gets over come with utter rage to the point of shaking and vehemently tries to get the toy back from him.  I know I am in trouble with her, so now is when I have to start building up my patience.  And yet, while she may have more inner rage (or gusto I guess could work), there is a flip side to her that is unimaginably paired with that rage.  She loves to color more than our son ever did.  She will scribble away with whatever type of writing implement she is given whereas my son at her age would more simply play with them and hand them to us to draw.  Another big difference that I have noticed is the development of their motor skills.  Our daughter's fine motor skills, or her ability to pick up and manipulate small items, is far ahead of where my sons was at the same age.  He was always better with, for lack of better terms, "manhandling" things than our daughter is.  And while they were both keen observers, he was more opt to jump right in and try things where our daughter will watch until she thinks she knows how to do something, and then try, without any help of course.  If you ever try to help her with something, she pulls her hand away.  While cute most of the time, it can get just a tad bit frustrating. 

 

The difference that touches me the most, however, is her desire to be in my arms over her mommy's about 75% of the time.  Unless she is getting her milk, is overly tired, or just doesn't know what she wants, she wants to be held by me most of the time.  Our son always tended to seek out my wife when he wanted to be held.  With our daughter, its me, and I couldn't be happier.  I never thought it bothered me that much when our son, if presented with the option of me or my wife, would choose my wife 9 times out of 10.  But I guess it always did, just a little.  I never actually resented him for it, I don't think I ever could go that far in my feelings, but there were times where I would wish that he would climb into my arms instead of my wife's.  But that is life.  He comes to me to play with tools and toys and goes to my wife for comfort.  I can deal with that.  Now, it seems our daughter is leaning the opposite way.  While she will still go to my wife for comfort, she will choose me the majority of the time as the one she wants to hold her.  There is definitely a distinct difference between our son and daughter, and while there was a point when I wanted two sons, I now love the fact that we have one of each.  To be perfectly honest, I don't know if we would have been able to handle two sons.  With my wife's and my personality, two little boys running around would have been insanity.  But I have my little girl now and everything is right with the world.  Its funny to see how when children reach that 1 year old mark, their personality blossoms, and that is just what is happening now with our daughter.  She is 15 months old and there are aspects of her personality that fit in perfectly with her being daddy's little girl.  She has her little coy look that she pulls out when she is trying to be cute.  She loves to scream and cry when things don't go her way.  But perhaps the one that melts my heart every time is when I'm holding her and she just buries her head in my for a few minutes or looks up at me and touches my nose with her nose.  Any worries I have melt away when she does that.  She just is and always will be, daddy's little girl. 

 

Yet, while she may have her little cute moments and act the part of being a little girl, she has her tomboy side which also warms the deep recesses of my heart.  She loves to play with our son's cars, trucks, and buses.  She loves being outside and sorting through rocks and sticks.  And while this is not a tomboy aspect at all, she loves to read (just like our son).  She absolutely loves books, and in fact loves ones that are way above her age range, but it doesn't matter to me.  Whichever book she grabs and carries over for me to read, I will read to her.  The same holds true with our son and any book he brings me.  My son or daughter could bring my a 300 page book from our bookshelf and I will start reading it.  I know they won't make it long, but I will at least get one paragraph in before they realize there are no pictures and the book won't be much fun.  One step at a time I guess.  My biggest joy is that they love reading.  But back to our daughter.  One other big difference that I noticed between her and our son is their development of walking.  Our son started trying to walk early, about 9 months, and took about 3 months to really get the hang of it and start moving everywhere.  Our daughter started walking consistently on her own about 2 weeks ago and is almost on the verge of running now.  She started later, but picked it up 10 times quicker than our son did.  There is her observant nature coming into full effect and I love it.   I love both of them, and while I may get frustrated, at the end of the day, I let it all go and start back at square one.  It is easy when you can sit with them, be attuned to their needs, and let them guide you.  Everything builds from there. 

The Outdoor Life

At our old house, we had a vegetable garden.  It wasn't that big, but it was able to supply a good portion of our vegetables over the summer months and into the winter.  Depending on what we harvested over the course of the summer, my wife would preserve much of it in the old mason jars you would see pulled out at your grandmother's house and we would have tomato sauce and in fact most of the other "sauces" you would want for the whole year.  My wife did much of the planning, planting, and tending to while I would help with the weeding and take care of the rest of the yard.  The beds would get rotated every year so that the soil wouldn't get depleted of any one nutrient too much and in fact would get revitalized by the next crop to come in.  There is a science behind having a vegetable garden, and I am not the one to figure it all out.  I merely help build it, and the vegetables my wife plants, come.  And then we moved to our new house about six months ago, at the tail end of the growing season, and our new house had a single garden bed.  We knew immediately that the one bed the old homeowners left us just wasn't going to cut it and we consequently started planning for the new garden.  With more land to work with, we could make it as big as we want in whatever configuration piqued our interest.  So the planning over the winter began; how many beds, how will they be set up, how big will the garden be?  All these questions had to be answered, planned and drawn out, and come this past weekend, begun to be executed.  The final plan came down to 9 main raised beds, each measuring 3 x 10 feet.  In addition to that, there would be at least six smaller beds to hold perennials such as strawberries, blueberries, asparagus, horseradish, our herbs, and flowers.  Over this past weekend, all the main beds were built, put in place, leveled, and filled with dirt... a lot of dirt.  It was a long weekend, but it was well worth it.  What made it more worth it was that our children wanted to be outside with us most of the time.  Our son, three and a half now, would spend every last second outside if he could, and in fact, on Saturday, we had to coerce him to come inside despite the exhausted look on his face.  Having pretty much free reign of our backyard, he helped me do a little building, moving of dirt, and leveling.   The rest of the time, his imagination took over and he just played.

 

I absolutely loved it.  In fact, it helped me keep working and kept a smile on my face.  While I continuously kept my eye on him to make sure he didn't wander too far or get into too much trouble, there would be times when I would just stop whatever I was doing, and just watch him play.  There is something about watching a child so immersed in his play that he is completely oblivious to the world around him, or one of his parents watching him.   At one point, I stopped to watch out son playing on top of the stone BBQ grill by our patio.  He was stacking stones, dropping stuff down the chimney, and probably imagining he was cooking something or building something.  Then something made him stop, climb down, and wander into the woods.  He walked a little ways, staring at the ground, kicking some leaves, then climbed up onto a fallen tree and jumped off the other side.  Finding a good stick on the ground, he picked it up and proceeded to wave it over his head like a wand as he proceeded walking.  He whacked a couple small trees as he passed them and made his way over to our fire pit.  Crouching outside the rim of the fire pit, he studied the charred contents inside and after a minute or so, picked up a good piece of charred wood and started drawing on the stones around the pit.  After a minute or so, he discarded the charred piece of wood, grabbed his wand that he found laying the dead leaves of fall, and made his way back over the stone BBQ grill.  Just that short five minutes of watching him put a big smile on my face and brought me back to my younger years when I would go on similar journeys, oblivious to the world around me.  I would love to know what he was thinking as he played, but that is for him to tell me.  Normally, if I ask what he is doing, he has no problem telling me, but this time, I figured I would let him just keep it too himself.  Just the fact that he loves playing outside is enough for me. 

 

And then there is our daughter.  She is 15 months old at this point and as of a few weeks ago, now walking everywhere.  Although she was around last summer, she was too young to tell if she would love the outdoors the way the rest of our family does.  Well, while the verdict is not finalized yet, all signs point to the fact that she will love the outdoors the way we do.  So far she has taken to playing with the sticks and rocks around the driveway and exploring as much as she can.  I know things can change, but I am hoping that her love for the outdoors merely grows and grows the way our son's did and she has no problem spending every beautiful weekend day outside with us.  We have friends who would rather spend every moment inside, or if they do venture outside, do so for short periods of time only, and that is fine.  We are an outdoor family, and that is how we shall remain.  Over the past few weeks, there has been an item in the news which as brought some people much concern, a tick borne disease that is not curable.  Previously, the main one which a good amount of people actually get, was Lyme disease.  Now there is this new one, which has mostly been found in animals, but when found in humans could cause major health problems.  The onset is quicker than Lyme disease and the effects more devastating.  Hip hip hooray.  However, I really am not that worried, and here is why.  In 2012, the latest year for which statistics are available, only 12 people across the whole United States contracted this disease.  Put that number against the 350 million that live here, and I think I have a right not to be too worried.  Its really quite simple, check for ticks, remove them if you see them, and move on your way.  But enough about that.  The fact of the matter is, and I guess why I brought that up to begin with, is that there really isn't too much that will keep us indoors on a warm sunny day.  Everything that needs to be done indoors (mostly cleaning) is done in short spurts or at night.  When the sun is shining, we must be outdoors, that is all. 

Everything Ends

Well, its been a very long time since I have sat down to write a blog post or for that matter really, sit down and write anything.  After moving to our new house last September, the rhythm that I had; wake up, walk the dogs, sit down and write; has been completely thrown out the window.  Trust me, its not out of lack of desire that I haven't written anything, for I have thought about it often, it just seems the energy hasn't been there.  Between raising two little children, taking care of our rental house, and dealing with the busiest winter of work I have ever had, I have not had much energy to do much of anything else.  While I have been healthier overall, it seems that as you get older, you really need to set your mind to doing something in order to actually get it done.  You can not just persistently cram extra activities into a day and expect to maintain the same amount of energy and divest of it evenly across the board, it just doesn't happen.  While I may be preaching to the choir of older readers, for those who are younger and don't have children, having a 3.5 and a 1 year old running around the house craving your attention is not the easiest of tasks.  Every minute I am home that they are awake requires me to bring my A-game, whether or not I have it in me to bring it.  I love every second of it, but its not always a walk in the park.  But while my experiences over that past year has inclined me to think about writing, it hasn't provided the impetus necessary to actually make me sit down and write.  And while I am sitting down now and writing (yes, partly about them), it is a different situation that is occurring that has driven me back to the computer.  My grandfather, Dziadziu, is not doing so well right now.  He is 90 years old now and has lived a full life.  At this point, there is no hiding that he is old and tired, and he has even said that he can't do this anymore.  Yet, there is still a small piece of him holding on, maintaining a grip on life because of my grandmother, his wife for over 50 years, that he has been through thick and thin with and has devoted his life to helping.  Well, he can't help her much anymore and its coming to the point where he can't really help himself either.  Two weeks ago, just from trying to get himself out of bed, he fell on three separate occasions, the last of which sent him to the hospital for a bump on his head.  About two months before that, he fell trying to the do the same thing and broke a number of ribs.  And yet, something within him is still holding on, but none of us know for how much longer. 

 

Over the past few days, his decline has become more apparent in the sense that he can not even feed himself because he is in so much pain.  I don't see him every day, but we all went over there on Easter as a family to spend a little time with him.  With what little eyesight he has left, he was able to see our daughter walking around (about a week after she finally mustered the trust within herself to do so) and our son who, after a few years, finally got over his fear of them as "old people" and gave both him and my grandmother, Babci, a kiss before leaving.  I was happy that it turned out that way, happy that we made the time to get over there and spend at least a little time with them.   Being there and seeing Dziadziu, you can tell just from looking at him that he has had enough and is ready to move on.  The decline he has gone through just over the past year is distinct and noticeable.  From at least attempting to walk with help a year ago to his hunched over, pained state that he is in now, you can tell that life is dwindling for him.  During the hour or so that we visited with them on Easter, he dozed off in his chair perhaps a half a dozen times.  Its in and out of sleeping at this point for him.  He did tell one joke to my dad while we were there which made me smile, but it wasn't with the same gusto or laughing that he used to imbue it with.  Yet, that is the circle of life, that is where we all are headed.  Knowing it doesn't make it any easier to watch, but I feel that part of why we all have so much trouble with dying and death is because we want to preserve the notions in our mind of how our loved ones used to be.  We have memories that bring smiles to our face and images of activities we used to do together and there is a fear that once our loved ones are gone, that those memories will fade.  I think one of our biggest failings as humans is to persistently see people where they are and take them in their present moment, not holding them to visions from our past or what we think they should be like in the future.  For me, it is only when I think about the memories of my Dziadziu that tears come to my eyes.  When I see him in his current state and deal with him in my mind only on that level, I am OK.  I am sad, to be sure, but my love for him is solely in the present and doesn't hinge upon anything else.  At this point, I know he just needs to rest.  He has had a long life, a good life, but even he knows he needs to rest now. 

 

None of us knows when he will throw in the proverbial towel or when God will call him, but we all know it can't be too long now.  From my experiences with Dziadziu over the course of my life, I have come to learn that while remembering times together at this stage of life can bring some tears, what brings more sadness and tears is the thought that we could have been closer, were it within me to be closer to him.  But that was not the way I lived my life.  If I can share one thing with my children (at least the one thing right now that I want to share with them) is to take advantage of every moment they have with my parents.  Grandparents can have such an influence on their grandchildren, and yet most times it goes unnoticed.  Young children take for granted the time they have with them because for them, time is endless.  As little kids, "time" isn't really a thought.  There is no thought paid to the fact that their grandparents only have a finite amount of time where they can run with them, play in the grass with them, and be their best buddies till time starts wearing heavily on them.  I hope that through my actions, I can teach my children to live each moment fully and be fully "present" in every encounter they have.  Will they?  Time will tell, but as of right now, I think the will.  I think if they keep on their inquisitive track, their full embrace of everything in the present, that they will learn the importance of the hear and now, not the past and not the future.  Nothing is guaranteed to us, not a second past the one we have just lived, and I hope they learn that as early as possible so they can take advantage of every moment given to them.  As for Dziadziu, my only hope is that they pain doesn't get too much for him to handle.  I know we are all given what we can handle in life, but I hope he can learn to let go when he needs to, whether its next week, or next month, or whenever.  May he find his peace.