It's a Wonderful Tattoo

For Christmas, my wife, Jenn, told me I could get another tattoo, my second. I have wanted another one for years. My first one was a "reset button," designed to look the the "fire" button on the old Atari 2600 joysticks. I got that one in 2003 or 2004 after my divorce to remind me that I am in charge of my life and my future, not my practice wife/mother of my first child.

I have wanted a second tattoo for years, and have kicked around the idea of a Wonderful Life-themed tattoo for a while. I thought about the drawing of George lassoing the moon, but among other reasons, I decided not to do that, because that seemed to be the go-to design. I wanted something unique. And I wanted to incorporate my children in some way. So I went back to the drawing board. 

The book where I found my inspiration

And THEN I looked through the book It's a Wonderful Life: The Illustrated Holiday Classic by Paul Ruditis and illustrated by Sarah Conradsen, which I received as a Christmas gift from my parents. In it, I found two gorgeous illustrations of George Bailey praying on the bridge. I started playing with those ideas .... not suicide, but of praying and my children, and how would I incorporate them. And then I thought of the role bells play in the film.

I also wanted to incorporate my wife in the design, but I didn't want to include her name, because tattooing your wife's name on your body guarantees a divorce. That's just bad juju. Not gonna' do it. Some people suggested using her initials and putting "XXX Bridgeworks"  (where XXX are her initials) on the bridge as a way to include her. But then I realized her birth flower was holly. So that was easy.

But since I wear glasses and George Bailey doesn't, I had my tattoo artist bury the face in his hands instead of showing the face. That way, it is unclear if it is me or George Bailey praying. I also added a square and compasses lapel pin to represent my involvement in the Masonic fraternity.

So, you can look at this tattoo as simply a scene from the film inspired by a book made for children, or you can look at it as symbolic of me, praying over my children, represented by the bells, bridging my past to their future.

Below is the process of the tattoo. It was completed in two sessions. Session 1 was Feb. 5, 2021, which was the anniversary of my parents' wedding, and my grandfather's death (neither of which happened this year). Session 2 happened June 1. I might need to get the white touched up at some point, but that will be after swim season is over.

Last moment for bare arm

End of Day 1 progress Feb 5, 2021

Final tattoo, completed June 1, 2021

Photo Friday - Bells Part 16

It's been a couple of crazy Photo Fridays. Last week, I dropped the bell theme in order to pay tribute to my Grandpa Van Vorhis, who died July 21.

This week, I return to the bells on Photo Friday, this time paying tribute to my other grandfather and his father. But it can't be that easy, or I wouldn't be me. My unintended motto seems to be "take something simple and make it insanely difficult." So in true form, I am posting this Photo Friday on Thursday. Because it naturally makes sense, of course.

The real reason is that I have special posts to run on both Friday and Saturday. So in the name of the Greater Good, here is Photo Friday, on Thursday....

This week's topic is my Great-Grandpa Lance's school bell. My Great-Grandfather, who was bit by a raccoon and died of rabies (that's the simple version of the story), was a teacher. Somewhere in a box, I have stored away some of his old teaching books, including a really cool, old copy of Evangeline. My Grandpa Lance received and displayed his teaching bell, and when he died, Grandma kept it on display. On Sunday, it was passed down to me, and I am pleased to receive it. Check it out, then read more below!

Here is my bell in black and white, which sits on top of an
really cool antique dresser that I will pick up this weekend.

So while I was at Grandpa Van Vorhis's visitation on Thursday, I finally learned which house my Grandpa Lance was born in. I always knew what street he was born on, but I never knew which house. It was a short street, and there were only like 12 houses to choose from. My mom always told me it was a brick house, so that cut the options down to two.

It turns out my mom was wrong....it wasn't a brick house. The Commodores would be disappointed. But it turns out that one of the brick houses that I originally thought he was born in was actually once the home of a Civil War drummer. I learned all sorts of things at my Grandpa Van Vorhis's visitation and funeral.

My Grandpa Lance was actually born in another (not brick) house on the opposite side and opposite end of the street. He was born in THIS house:

The house my Grandpa Lance was born in. Photo taken July 28, 2015.

Mother's Day 2015

My mom and my boys. Christmas, 2013.

I'm a mama's boy, and I'm proud of it. So was George Bailey.

Ma Bailey had the best in mind for George, and deep down George knew it, even if he didn't listen to her sometimes.

The scene I have in mind is when Ma Bailey tells George to go visit Mary, who has just returned from college. She gives George his hat and pushes him away, sending him in the direction of Mary's house. Stubborn, George turns around and walks in the exact opposite direction his mother just sent him.

We all do that sometimes. Mom tells us something and we do the exact opposite. Sometimes it's out of spite. Sometimes it's because we think we know better. Sometimes we are confused. Sometimes mom just doesn't know the whole story. So we do the exact opposite of what mom recommends.

And if we are honest with ourselves, sometimes we find out we were wrong and secretly do what mom told us to do in the first place. And by we, I mean you. Because of course, I would never do that...let alone admit to it. :)

A few of the nuggets that mom has relentlessly thrown at me over the years, and which I will consequently never, ever forget include:

• "Do you have a jacket." (even though it's 80 out).
• "No cold babies."

And the ever-popular...

• "Watch out for wet leaves."

As much fun as it is to heckle her about these from time to time, Mom has been constant. It started back before I was born, but I think it solidified when I almost died as a baby. I was born with hypothyroidism. But instead of my body not producing enough of the hormone to control muscle control, heart function, metabolic rate and brain development, I didn't have a thyroid gland at all. I went through the Baby Factory and Inspector #8 missed that little oversight.

Mama and me when I was just days...maybe even just hours old.
August 1974.

But my doctor didn't. But before he could control it, I was taken to the hospital, where I almost died. My parents were sent home to shower and rest, but they no more that got back home when the received a phone call from the hospital that they needed to come back right away because they were losing me. Being raised a Catholic, I have received a right that most people my age have never received. A priest gave me my last rights when I was six months old, in the hospital.

But I'm a fighter (ask my wife. Ask my mom). And I made it. And I think it made mom and I closer.

Thank you.

Happy Mother's Day mom! I love you.

Mom and I on May 6, 2015.

Blogging From A to Z - Z is for Zuzu

Welcome to the It's A Wonderful Blog's Blogging From A to Z April (2015) Challenge. For this challenge, I will post every day in April (except for Sundays) about topics related to the Frank Capra/Jimmy Stewart film, It's a Wonderful Life.

Sadly, this is the end of the challenge. I am so grateful for what it has done for me during the month of April. It forced me to look at the film in ways I had never thought of before. I had creative ideas and I wrote about topics I never thought I would discuss...like suicide.

So thank you for the challenge, and thank you for reading. Stick around. Photo Friday returns tomorrow and it's back to the regular Monday-Wednesday-Friday rotation.

Zuzu:

Zuzu Bailey is a special child. One might argue a preferred child. I will make that argument here.

Zuzu and George Bailey
Source: http://bit.ly/1NQZ8Xo

George and Mary have four children. While Zuzu, their youngest daughter, is sick in bed, the rest of the family is getting ready for a family Christmas party that will be held later that night.

Mary, Pete, and Tommy are decorating the Christmas tree. Both boys are wearing Santa Claus masks. Janie is practicing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” on the piano. She plans to play it during the party.

In telling him about their day, his children innocently remind George of their financial situation. When he learns that Zuzu is sick on top of that, he begins to lash out at his family, complaining about their “drafty old house.”

Mary, George and Zuzu.
Source: http://bit.ly/1EEH8N5

George goes upstairs to check on Zuzu, and when he gets to her room, we again see the calm, caring George that we have come to love throughout the film. Zuzu has a calming effect on George. She is able to silently remind him that he is there to take care of others. While the other children are annoying him on this night, Zuzu is his special child, who is ill. It is his responsibility to take care of her. We see George’s tenderness when Zuzu wants him to paste the petals back on her flower. Instead of snapping at her like he did at Pete about asking how to spell words, George humors her and pretends to “paste it.” The theme of Zuzu’s petals are even carried to her headboard, which has cartoonish drawings of flowers on it.

Zuzu is treated as a special child from the moment we meet her through the end of the film. She is introduced separately from the other children, and she will greet George separately from the other children upon his return from Pottersville. She is the only child to have a separate, one-on-one scene with George. Additionally, she utters the most famous line of the film when she tells her dad, “every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.” When George loses control of his emotions, trashes his home office and yells at his family, Zuzu is the only one spared from his anger. George holds her during the final scene, even though she is not the youngest of the Bailey children.

Her name is the only “odd,” non-traditional name in the family. George and Mary’s other children, Tommy, Pete, and Janie, have names that sound like they came straight out of a book written for first graders. Zuzu also is the only Bailey child with a nickname. George calls her “my little ginger snap.”

Scrooge and Tiny Tim.
Source: http://bit.ly/1Bb3xu5

Of the one-on-one scene with Stewart, Karolyn Grimes’ biographer Clay Eals says, “The scene hints that Zuzu is her dad’s favorite child — or that she is at least the most endearing example of how George deeply values his family” (57).

When George returns to his home after the Pottersville scene, he is joined by his wife and all four of their children. It is the first time we see the Bailey family together in its entirety. Allowing all six members of the Bailey family to be together for the first time just before the final scene solidifies the film's message of the important role that family plays in civic-minded capitalism and the American Dream.

There also are several connections between Zuzu and Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Both Zuzu and Tiny Tim are ill, and both of them seem to be their father’s favorite child. There is a symbolic parallel that can be drawn between Zuzu’s petals and Tiny Tim’s crutch. Furthermore, both of them have a brother named Pete.

Finally, both of them utter their respective story’s most famous lines. In the case of It’s a Wonderful Life, Zuzu observes that “every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.” Tiny Tim’s famous line is “God bless us, every one!”

The parallels between these two children appears to be intentional on Capra’s part.

Source:

Eals, Clay. Every Time a Bell Rings: The Wonderful Life of Karolyn Grimes. Seattle: Pastime Press, 1996.
Purchase Every time a bell rings: The wonderful life of Karolyn Grimes on Amazon.com

Blogging From A to Z - M is for Many things

Welcome to the It's A Wonderful Blog's Blogging From A to Z April (2015) Challenge. For this challenge, I will post every day in April (except for Sundays) about topics related to the Frank Capra/Jimmy Stewart film, It's a Wonderful Life.

Mother:

George, Ma Bailey and Uncle Billy.
Source: http://internationalpsychoanalysis.net/2007/12/19/
its-a-wonderful-life-a-cure-for-the-holiday-blues/

There's something about the connection an oldest son has to his mother.

Call it love. Call it dedication. call it whatever you want. You can even call it being a Mama's Boy. I'm a Mama's Boy, and I'm okay with that.

So was George Bailey. Sure, he gave her a hard time on occasion. But when it counted, he listened. Although he would never admit it, he visited Mary after Harry got married on the advice of his mother. He knows the wisdom she holds. She has gained that wisdom by being a caring individual, dedicated to Peter and the entire family.


Mary:
Mary is the total package. She is beautiful, dedicated, smart, willing to sacrifice for the greater good, not judgmental except for that one brief moment before she caught herself. She is a dedicated and loving mother, gracious host, artist, and hopeless romantic.

Mary Bailey
Source: http://bit.ly/1OcEWwv

She values the sentimental things in life, such as a meaningful song, or a turning point in a couple's relationship.

She is an American, helping soldiers and supporting her husband in his role fighting "The Battle of Bedford Falls."

Mary is in tune with her family, sensing when things aren't quite right. She is forgiving, not confronting Zuzu's teacher, and not dwelling on the frightening questions when she finds George has returned home.

She may be a Hatch by birth, but she is a Bailey at heart.


Martini:

Mr. Martini
Source: http://bit.ly/1GJ5rKP

Martini is the embodiment of the American Dream in this film. An Italian immigrant, he came to America to follow his dream to live in a decent home and support his family with a comfortable living. He managed to find that American Dream thanks to the building and loan and the end of prohibition.

Martini reminds us that with hard work, we too can accomplish our dreams. It is one of the many messages found in this film.



Money:
It's always about the money, isn't it? This is an unfortunate reality that we all must deal with.

The movie's characters such as 'Uncle Billy' walked the streets of downtown
Seneca Falls greeting the many visitors. The village of Seneca Falls turned into
the real Bedford Falls as it celebrated with the annual 'It's a Wonderful Life'
weekend Dec. 12-14, 2014. Stephen D. Cannerelli | scannerelli@syracuse.com
Photo and caption source: http://bit.ly/1Ewri7e

It can buy us what we want, but it can't give us what we need.

More often than not, money leads to any number of issues. Look at the top 3 reasons for divorce. Money is always one of them.

Like it or not, the Bible is correct when it says, "For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. And some people, craving money, have wandered from the true faith and pierced themselves with many sorrows." (1 Timothy 6:10)

Money, by itself, can do nothing. It is an inanimate object.  The LOVE of money is what causes the evil. The LOVE of money is the embodiment of Potter. And at the end of It's a Wonderful Life, Potter sat alone...with the exception of his goon.

George was tempted....many times. That temptation almost cost him his life. Instead, he rose above it and discovered that a wonderful life is about faith, family, friends and community, not how many dollar bills you have in your pocket.

And if you don't believe that, don't forget about the toast and parade they held for Mama Dollar and Papa Dollar. It was little, but it was enough to celebrate.

At What Cost?

After nine months of fighting, we finally got our day in court.

Without getting into the details, here are the basics: I have spent the last 10 years wishing to spend more time with my oldest son with less interference from his mom. I was always afraid to fight her for that time in court until two back-to-back incidents last spring convinced me it was time to stand up for my rights as a father, and for our rights as a family.

And yet, I was still scared to do anything about it. With my wife's loving nudge and encouragement, I finally sued my e-wife for more time with my son.

The process took nine months, five attorneys, one judge and stupid amounts of money to settle. And as of today, it IS settled. But am I? Is my wife? Is my son? Is his mom? Is my youngest son? At this point, I don't know. The case has only been settled for 9 hours as of this writing, so it's still too fresh. I have a general feel for what the papers say, but I need a couple of days of distance to be able to look at it with clear eyes and a clear mind and really comprehend it.

So when friends on social media or in face-to-face conversation ask me how it went, I find myself simply saying "it went well," and leaving it at that. And I'm not lying. It did go well. It also went horribly. It went in a way that is depressing. It also went in a way that is depleting. I'm tired and worn out emotionally. It has been a worm that has consumed my every waking moment for almost a year. This experience has been soul-sucking, not only for me, but also for my wife. 

The stress and pressure continue because there are parts of the agreement that made my wife disappointed with me. And that hurts, because I truly did my best to stand up for our family as best I could, while at the same time knowing that we wouldn't get everything we wanted. That's part of the negotiation process. No matter how right you are, you still don't get everything you want.

So did we win? Yes. We got more time with less interference, which was our goal...even if it wasn't as much time as we wanted to get.

Did we lose? Yes. Right now I am a physical wreck. I want to sleep, but my mind won't shut up long enough to allow that. I have slept for a total of 10 hours in the past two nights. And then there's the question of the money. We spent nine months paying five attorneys to do what we should have been able to sit down and work out together in a matter of days, maybe with just one attorney. But my son's mother and I were both prideful. We were stubborn. We were immature in some ways. And above all, we both HAD to be RIGHT.

Yes, we won. But at what cost? There are no true winners in these situations. 

There are so many ways that It's a Wonderful Life ties into this.

• Yes, it cost money. And yes, the bills will be painful for a while. But like George Bailey, we fought for our family. And for that, the price can never be too high.
• There was a moment in the negotiations where I had to firmly put my foot down and strongly and clearly say that I would not accept one of her requests. But I followed it up with an encouraging word that there were still alternatives to consider. It was very much like George during the bank run when he told the mob "We can get through this, but ... we've got to have faith in each other." The truth is that I have no faith in the ex. But I had to trust that she would be rational enough to help create a solution instead of continuing to be part of the problem.
• At the beginning of It's a Wonderful Life, we hear prayers from Gower, Mary, Ma Bailey, Nick, Janey, and a host of others as they pray for George. These are called prayers of intersession. Having kept this issue mostly private, I took to Facebook on the morning of the trial/negotiations, requesting support from everyone who was willing to give it:

         

Our friends and family came through in huge ways. I even had someone offer to take me up on the Footloose video. THANK YOU ALL for that support. I can honestly tell you that it did have a calming effect on me as I sat in the negotiations.

We all have choices to make. George could have let his brother drown. He could have chosen to go to college and let the Building and Loan close instead of taking his father’s position. He didn't do either of those things, and it cost him. Over and over and over again, it cost him. But he made those decisions - those sacrifices and hard choices - to protect his family. I did the same and I would do it again in a minute. I might do a couple of things a little differently, but I in general, I like the outcome.

Now we have a choice to make. We can be grateful and celebrate what we DID get, knowing that God has this and it's part of His plan, or we can let the sacrifices that we made eat us alive. 

In short, we can be right, or we can be happy. I choose to be happy. After all, it's finally over and we got extra time with my oldest son on a regular basis. We have plans for that time, and we're taking the little brother along with us. Maybe we’ll climb Mt. Bedford.

What have you done lately where counting the cost hurts, but it's still worth the effort? Feel free to comment below. While you are at it, show your support for fathers everywhere by tweeting #fathershaverightstoo and tag me at @iawlfan and @iawb.

Family Traditions: Times They Are a-changin'

Growing up, Christmas was a predictable event:

• Christmas Eve at my Grandma and Grandpa Van Vorhis'. Eat first, then dishes, and only after dishes were done and put away would we be allowed to open gifts.
• Go home and go to bed
• Stay up as late as possible trying to catch Santa in the act
• Wake up at 3 a.m. and go downstairs to go to the bathroom, sorting through and shaking all presents as I pass the tree.
• Return to my bedroom and try really hard to go back to sleep, usually failing and reading until mom and dad's set time that we were allowed to even think about waking them up, which was either 6:30 or 7 a.m.
• Go crazy opening presents, then basking in the afterglow and playing
• At noon, we started to get around to go to my my grandparents' house.
• Get to Grandma and Grandpa Lance's house at around 1 p.m. We would open presents, then eat, then stay around there until around 8 p.m., adults talking and playing card games in the kitchen while the kids played with their new toys and generally tortured each other.
• Home and to bed.
• Put everything away and take the tree down on Dec. 26.

Van Vorhis extended family Christmas Eve celebration...strangely on a
day and at a time when it wasn't dark outside. Most of these were done
at dinner time and into the evening.

When I started dating a girl from the same town I lived in, it stayed pretty simple: Christmas Eve with her either before or after Grandma and Grandpa Van Vorhis', and splitting the day together between Grandma and Grandpa Lance's and her grandparents.

Then I got married to a woman from a divorced set of parents who lived half a state away. That's when it got tricky. Here's how it played out:

• Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grandpa Van Vorhis', trade gifts with Grandma and Grandpa quickly and early. 
• Leave there by 6:30 p.m., and drive 2 1/2 hours to her parents house, arriving just in time for church.
• Go to church at 8:30 or 9.
• Return home around 10, eat dinner, and open the first round of presents with the brother-in-law and his family.
• Brother and sister-in-law leave and we have a second Christmas where the big gifts came out. For some reason, two Christmases were appropriate in that family. Whatever. Their rules. I was along for the ride.
• After opening all of the gifts, head to bed around 1 or 2 a.m.
• Wake up at 6:30 a.m., shower and drive another hour to Cleveland for the full-on family Christmas. Breakfast, gifts, lunch.
• Leave around 1 p.m., drive 3 hours to get to my grandmother's house for a few hours.
• Home.
• Usually back to work on Dec. 26.

We did that for 7 years or so, and by the end, we got really, really good at it. There was no discussion or negotiation or "we went to your parents last year, so it's my turn this year." We just did it. It was so smooth.

And then we weren't married anymore.

Then I got married again. Since then, my parents got tired of trying to outguess my sister-in-law's family AND my wife's family plans, and my ex-wife and the yearly-changing visitation schedule that never followed the court-ordered on-paper agreement. We always made our own agreement. So my parents claimed the weekend before Christmas as the time to celebrate Christmas with them. Sometimes, like this year, it's a full week before Christmas. So we go to my mom and dad's for brunch, open gifts, snack a bit, and are pretty much done by 1 or 2. We go home, contented with our time with family, and wait for the rest of Christmas to come.

Bruns Family Christmas 2008...The grandkids,
spouses and great-grands.

On Christmas Eve, we go to Christmas church service with my wife's parents, sometimes followed by dinner at a chicken wing joint, get the kids to bed, pass out on the couch, wake up in the wee hours of the morning, rush to get the presents under the tree, and head to bed. This year, they went to church with us, and we didn't do the chicken wing thing, but the rest remained pretty much the same.

One year when I was single, I woke up at 6 a.m. in my favorite chair, realized what time it was, and got the gifts under the tree and went to bed about 20 minutes before my only son at the time woke up. I'm so glad I woke up when I did.

Dec. 28, 2010 at Epcot

Christmas with my wife's family is...well, it's different every year. Last year it was several days after Christmas in Orlando, Fla. The year before that it was at their house on Christmas (I think). It's a moving target, but in a family with four married girls, it has to be.

Tradition is very important to both Jenn and I. My family always put out milk and cookies for Santa, sometimes even after we didn't have to. I always listen to the same records from my childhood that I have since converted to CD, and now MP3. Jenn has brought to this family the traditions of Christmas pajamas, which is a pair of pajamas that the boys get to open and wear to bed on Christmas Eve. 

She also brought Christmas wrapping paper. This gets a little convoluted and involved, but here it is in a nutshell: Each kid has two kinds of wrapping paper. One type is from us (different for each child), and one from Santa (also different for each kid). And the paper from Santa MUST have Santa on it. So, at a glance, you can tell 1) who it is for, and 2) If it is from us or from Santa. And joint presents (like movies and video games and other such similar shared items) are wrapped in a combination of the appropriate paper, a little for each kid.

Christmas pajamas 2011

We also have the tradition of reading "The Night Before Christmas" each night, and sometimes retelling The Christmas Story, about the birth of Jesus.

This year, both my parents and Jenn's parents, along with Jenn's grandmother, and our best friend (and the youngest son's godfather) came over after presents for breakfast. Some years, we have done Christmas alone with just me, Jenn, and the boys. Some years, my parents have joined us. After presents, there always is monkey bread. And always lots and lots and LOTS of coffee, required to be made and poured and ready to go before we can even touch the presents.

This year, with Jenn and I getting serious about our faith, we felt the call in our hearts to add a few traditions. First, we "adopted" two children through Operation Christmas Child. In that program, you take a box, about the size of a shoe box, and fill it with stuff (you get a list of suggestions). You return it to the church, and they give it to a needy child who fits the demographic. The two children we adopted, without surprise, were the same gender and age as our 8-year-old and 3-year-old boys. We got the boxes and paid the bill, and the boys picked out the items to put in the box with more or less input from me and Jenn.

The other tradition we started was saying a prayer on Christmas morning to remind the children that Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, and that Santa is just a cool guy who gives them gifts in celebration of Jesus's birthday, much the way the magi gave gifts to Jesus himself.

Grandpa Lance's last Christmas. He died less than 2 months later.

In February 1995, my grandfather Cloyce Lance died. Christmas hasn't been the same since. That's not being disrespectful; it's just factual. There is just that feeling of "the empty chair" and the memories that we can no longer make together. I remember hounding everyone almost every Christmas until we would all gather around the piano. Grandpa and sometimes one of my aunts would sit down and play and everyone would sing Christmas songs.

I miss Christmas with my grandfather. It isn't any less special now. It is just different. Grandma sold the farm and moved to town. My cousin and her husband have decided that Christmas is for them and their kids. They don't leave the house on Christmas day. If we want to visit her, that's okay, but they don't come to any large-family Christmas gathering.

In the last couple of years, we have experienced several changes that will affect the way we celebrate Christmas forever:

• On May 16, 2010, Jenn's grandfather, Robert Refsell, died in Iowa at age 85.
• My grandmother, Ellen Van Vorhis, died Feb. 10, 2011. The last time I saw her, not including at the hospital when we said our goodbyes, was just before Christmas, 2010, when we dropped gifts off at their house before we left for Florida.
• Jenn's grandfather, Ralph Bruns, died Oct. 9, 2011, on our youngest son's third birthday.

This was our first Christmas missing Grandma Van Vorhis and Grandpa Bruns. Due to schedule, we didn't go to the Van Vorhis family Christmas this year, opting instead to go a few days after Christmas. It wasn't at grandma and grandpa's house anyway. I don't know what happened with the mood or attitude at that celebration. With Jenn's family, that celebration was moved to Jenn's parent's house, so that changed this year, I think to make it easier for all involved.

Evan's big 2011 present, a nook ebook reader.

A couple of years ago, my father said "Pretty soon, we're going to have to make some decisions and change the family tradition. It's just about time to make our own." That's not exactly right, but it was something like that. The sentiment was the same.

At first, I reacted like people do when they hear that their school district wants to close an old building where they attended second grade who say, "you can't close that building. It's historical. I has value as a historical building. It's tradition." I said the same about Christmas at our grandparents.

As this year has progressed, I have found myself wondering more and more if NOW is the time to change the family Christmas tradition for good. There is no organized gathering at Grandma Lance's. People just show up as they can, if they can, to eat some cold cuts and snacks and share gifts. It's a loving, but unscheduled, loose gathering.

The Van Vorhis family Christmas has been difficult to understand and process for many years.

Kaleb's bit 2011 gift,
GeoTrax Grand Central Station.

Until a couple of years ago, my brother and I, and Jenn as well, have never known any different. Sure, things changed as my brother and I got married, I got divorced, and Jenn and I got married, and we created a combined family with two boys. But any changes have been because of our relationships and the traditions of our wives' families.

Regardless of those changes, the Van Vorhis Christmas was always on Christmas Eve night for dinner, and the Lance Family Christmas was always on Christmas afternoon. If we could go, we were there. The events - the traditions - continued with or without us. 

Now, the change is occurring because of death in the immediate families, and it will only continue as we grow older. So what, as a family, do we do with that change?

At church just before Christmas, the topic was based on a traditional Christmas song, "I'll be Home for Christmas." During the message, we explored the phrase "Home is where the heart is," and how that phrase means that home is where you long to be.

I'm a pretty solitary guy. I like to come home from work and decompress. I love my quiet time, which is why I am writing this at 12:27 a.m. and have mostly been staying up until 2 a.m. for the last several months now: I am most productive when I am left to my own devices and given quiet time to think.

Yet I realize the importance of family and I don't discount it by any stretch of the imagination. Lately, it seems like the only time the entire family has been gathering has been for funerals. Of course, I want to be with family on Christmas. But how do Jenn and I, and the boys operationalize that as a family with our parents?

Perhaps it is time to follow my cousin's lead of staying home for Christmas and letting anyone who wants to visit do so.

The boys at Gma and Gpa V's 2011.

Maybe it's time to disband the extended family Christmases and only do our family of four and Christmas at our parents house. After all, that's all I have done or known for all 37 of my years. Never once did we go to Christmas at my great-grandparents' home. Yet we continue to take our children to their great-grandparents' for Christmas. It's not wrong, and I'm not condemning it. This is just an observation. Jenn and I both grew up with 3 Christmas celebrations: mom and dad's on Christmas morning, and both sets of grandparents at some point or another. Now we do that, along with one set of great-grandparents on Jenn's side, and two sets on my side. Then my 8-year-old celebrates with his mom, then again with her parents, and yet again with her extended family. How did it get to be so big.

And this year was the year to bury some grudges. I haven't seen eye-to-eye with one of Jenn's sisters for...well...pretty much never. There have been a couple of shouting matches and some milk thrown in my face at one point or another. But something changed this year. I don't expect miracles, or to ever completely agree with everything. But at the same time, I can tell that something is different.

Bruns family Christmas 2011.

Christmas, I think, also was an opportunity for Jenn and I to mend some fences with my family. There was a big no-good thing that happened on Easter that kept contact between us and my parents minimal until mom came to visit me right before my appendectomy. There were offenses and hurt hearts, but those have been slowly mending. We'll get there.

This has been the year of changed hearts. Perhaps it also is the year of changed traditions. That's a discussion we all will have to have as a family. It's not a decision for me to make on my own. We'll see what this next year brings.

2011: A Year in Review

Oh 2011, how I will miss you.

This year has been very good to us, and very cruel to us, sometimes at the same time.

We started the year off in a very rough way, with our van breaking down in downtown Orlando in the afternoon on New Year's Eve. I had multiple migraine headaches over that. You can read all about that fiasco in one of my blog entries from earlier this year.

That same van later broke down during a rain storm, and with the warranty running out, and so many issues with it, Jenn and I decided to trade it in for a new Nissan Sentra and somehow make the difference in size work for us.The gas savings alone has been a blessing.

My grandmother, Ellen Jane Van Vorhis, died Feb. 20, 2011, at age 87.

My great-aunt, Eileen Becker, died March 30, 2011, at age 92.

On October 9, 2011, Jenn's grandfather, Ralph Bruns passed away at age 89. His death inspired us to "raid" Jenn's grandparents' house and scan as many pictures as we could find and share them with the family. The grand total of photos was 6,308. And I hear Grandma and Aunt Judy just found some more.

As a family, we did a LOT of camping this summer. A couple of the nights were so hot that we bought fans for the tent, but still suffered. We learned that to get Kaleb to sleep while camping, we would drive around and look at wildlife at twilight. All of the deer come out at twilight when we camp, and it was fun to watch.

The biggest thing that happened in our family was that we began attending Cedar Creek Church in Perrysburg. It has been a life-changer for us. We volunteer there in the book store. We are in a Bible study. We have taken several classes and have made many friends, and we willingly give to the church. We have participated in Operation Christmas Child, providing Christmas gifts for children in need. We provided backpacks full of school supplies at the beginning of the year, and in 2012, we plan to "adopt" a child from a foreign country. Think Sally Struthers infomercial at 3 a.m. That's what we plan to do. We just need to pick a program, choose a child, and commit.

Me and my amazing and beautiful wife Jenn.

Jenn took a brave step and got a new job as a scheduler for a company in Toledo that assists the elderly. She misses her personal visits with clients, but overall, this is a much better situation and she truly likes her co-workers.

She is such an amazing cook. I have put on several pounds just because of her cooking. I joked with her throughout the year that she should "forget helping old people. Open a restaurant and serve THIS!" I have said that for her homemade mac and cheese (really) and her unbelievable Philly cheese steak open-face sammich. As I write this blog entry, one of her cookbooks is sitting in front of me awaiting a new binding. One of her co-workers broke the comb binding in her exuberance to copy all of Jenn's delicious recipes. One weekend during the Christmas months, I literally ate 3 bags of her Chex mix it was so good. We're almost out. I'll have to ask her to make some more. I could eat that all year.

Evan and Papa Van Vorhis. While he didn't win the race, Evan did win
best design for his Pinewood Derby car.

Evan is doing extremely well. He is a smart, caring second grader who is reading near third-grade levels. He is doing so well that for Christmas, we gave him a Nook e-book reader from Barnes and Noble. He is into Beyblades, Bakugan, Zhu Zhu Pets, Pokemon, and pretty much anything else that has a Japanese name and/or animation.

He plays soccer, basketball, and baseball. He is a blue belt in karate, and a wolf in Cub Scouts. He has made it very clear that he intends to play football this year, as well. This kid is good at every sport he attempts. He can even switch-hit in baseball, and will bunt and slide into bases without the coach's approval. It has gotten him in trouble a couple of times, but after the coach yells at him for doing it, he will tell the assistant coach "wow, I can't believe how well he did that." That has happened several times. One time when he bunted, a coach from the other team said to Evan's coach, "Wow. Did you teach him that?" It blows my mind how good he is, and how easy it comes to him.

Currently, he is in CCD, preparing for his First Communion this spring. Evan is always concerned about other people, and while that causes him some unneeded anxiety, I adore that about him. I can totally see him becoming a doctor or a psychologist, based on his concern for others.

Kaleb is our outgoing and precocious 3-year-old. I think we are out of the Terrible Twos, which lasted for-freaking-ever. Maybe we're not out of it. Every time I think we are, something happens that tells me that we aren't quite through the woods yet.

Kaleb is our musical child, and I am SO looking forward to watching that develop. Currently, he runs around in public singing (at the top of his lungs) C and C Music Factory's "Everybody Dance Now." It has turned many, many heads and gotten a lot of smiles. I can't wait to watch him learn an instrument (if he chooses to), to introduce him to my favorite music at the appropriate ages, and take him to concerts.

We moved Kaleb from a private babysitter to a Christian-based daycare. While Kaleb learned and grew so much during more than two years with his private babysitter, his language development took off at the daycare. People can't believe that he is speaking in complete sentences. Personally, I can tell you how very, very grateful I am for these sentences. I understand what he wants so much better with words than I did with grunts and whines.

The coolest thing that has happened with Kaleb this year is that he has started to put himself to bed. When we started 2011, bedtime was a horrid, awful, ugly, nasty fight with him. Now, we send him to bed at around 8:30 with his Fisher-Price iXL (which he calls his DS). He plays it for about 10 minutes, then brings it to the living room, puts it on the book shelf, and announces that it is time for prayers. We pray, and each of us says something we are thankful for that day. He then chooses either mommy or daddy to sing him a song (I pretty much only sing a highly obnoxious version of "Little Red Caboose," while mom sings stuff like "Twinkle Twinkle" and "This Little Light of Mine" and "Bushel and a Peck.") And that's the end of it. No kicking, screaming, fighting, "yes you are/no I'm not." He goes to bed and sleeps through the night.

Kaleb shown sleeping, feet not touching the floor.

Just to prove it wasn't a fluke...Kaleb shown sleeping, feet not touching the floor.

Somehow, he found this to be comfortable. Whatever.

He's almost completely potty-trained, too (yeah!!!)

As for me, I continue to teach a class called "The Parent Project." I trained for it during summer of 2010, and have taught the adult component twice and the teen component once. I love it. I am looking into getting my license to be an Ohio Certified Prevention Specialist.

I got my first filling due to a cracked or crushed tooth the day before I wrote this blog entry. And they didn't use anesthetic. That's how I roll. My new glasses come the first week of January.

I began reading the Bible purposefully from cover-to-cover, and I am almost 2/3 through. What an amazing story.

I had an emergency appendectomy in June. The outpouring of concern from family, friends and co-workers was mind-blowing. It really made me re-evaluate how I look at my relationships with others.

Teaching Evan what little I knew in November, 2010.

The coolest thing to happen to me actually occurred on Christmas, when Jenn and the boys gave me the gift of guitar lessons. At face value, the idea is pretty crazy. I mean it was a check written to my teacher out of our joint checking account, for 1 lesson. You don't learn anything from 1 half-hour lesson. But Jenn and the boys didn't give me one lesson. They gave me permission to leave the house and pursue something I am passionate about on a regular basis for an undetermined amount of time, and permission to take as many lessons per month as I want. The amount of love and understanding and freedom that gives me is indescribable. I am so grateful.

I'm pretty sure the idea came from this fall when an "open mic" was announced for all musicians at church for the Cedar Creek Church band. This isn't just one band, but four, with extras in the wings to take over in case someone can't perform due to illness or other reason. Cedar Creek has an amazing wellspring of musical talent. I thought about trying out and floated the idea past Jenn. Ultimately, I put the kibosh on the idea myself, with the determination that "I suck." I'm pretty sure Jenn saw that twinkle in my eye when I was thinking about trying out and wanted to push me to not suck anymore. These lessons are something I have wanted to do for a long, long time, but it was never something I was willing to allow myself to do.

I hadn't had a guitar lesson in more than 20 years. It was so weird to take that first lesson the day after Christmas. I am learning new ways to form chords, and I'm actually learning arpeggios and scales other than the pentatonic scale. I have entered these lessons with focus and purpose. My goal is to learn theory and technique, not to learn just enough so that I can sit with a CD player and figure out the latest songs because they all sound the same. Heck, that's how I learned how to play AC/DC songs. I want more than that.

Some other highlights and events for 2011 include:

• The Pinewood Derby featuring a car Papa Van Vorhis helped Evan build.
• Many, many Easter egg hunts.
• A one-on-one quality-time day with Evan, during which we went bowling and played some card and board games.
• Kaleb's many funny sleeping positions (partially illustrated above).
• Awesome water gun fights.
• Getting serious about this blog.
• Water balloon fights.
• Kaleb's funny words like "pahcoin" for "popcorn," and "booferries" for "blueberries."
• My pride in Evan as he helped to tell the story of Christmas during their school performance this year.
• Finding the snake at Maumee Bay State Park with Evan.
• Kaleb's fascination with firefighters.
• Evan mastering riding the bicycle without training wheels.
• Backyard picnics, fireworks and concerts with dear friends.
• My Father's Day hammock.
• Being asked if I am a Jesus Freak, and deciding that in fact, I may well be.
• Seeing Poison in concert for the 15th time or so.
• Evan losing his first two teeth...which took forever.
• The Amazing Failure called Kaleb playing organized soccer.
• Evan's first model rocket launch.
• Family pictures
• Greeting Honor Flight on their return home from the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C.
• Evan and "Seniorville."

There have been other good things that have happened this year that I am not willing to mention in this blog. Suffice it to say that they are game-changers for our family, and for that, we are grateful.

While I can't speak for Jenn or the boys, my personal goals for myself and my family in 2012 include:

• Adopting a child Sally Struthers-Style.
• Remove clutter and reduce the need for "stuff" in our home.
• Finish reading the Bible.
• Join a men's Bible Study/accountability group.
• Replace our computers.
• Pay off more debt.
• Possibly start our own Life Group (which is another name for a Bible study).
• Get a used pickup truck to better facilitate camping.
• Tithe.
• Find more ways to help people in need.
• Continue my guitar lessons with dedication and a focus on theory and technique.
• Get serious about publishing my book about It's a Wonderful Life.

I usually end the year glad to see it go away. Thanks to this exercise (inspired by something Jenn read and told me about), I find myself thankful for all this year has given me. 2011 has been very good to our family.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

I'm a Lucky Guy

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my Golden List.

Last week, I wrote about my appendectomy.

Since my surgery, some amazing things have happened, making me realize how blessed and lucky I really am.

First and foremost was my sister- and brother-in-law coming through for us at midnight on Friday night to take the two-year-old while we went to the emergency room. Jenn didn't pick him up and bring him home until almost bedtime Sunday night to let me recover. Heidi and Ryan kept him for almost 48 hours, and both Jenn and I needed that!

Laura surprised me with a visit at the hospital.

Some fences were mended...and other fence repairs are in the works.

Mom and dad each made a special effort to make me meals.

Mom helped me get to a doctor's appointment and drop off paperwork, and brought all sorts of fun stuff over to the house.

My mother-in-law called me special from Illinois to check on me.

My friend Kyle went out and got me coffee from Grounds for Thought one night, mowed my lawn, called me, and stopped in to visit.

My grandma sent a coupon and money for me to get lunch one day, which I will save for a day when my doctor tells me I can drive.

My co-workers sent me a total of three (3!) cards and a HUGE bag full of snacks, and a gift card. I'm pretty sure I know who did the shopping, too, because of the kinds of snacks, and how we pick on each other about Starburst.

One co-worker (who I have only recently started talking to outside of the work setting) and her husband bought me a book AND a CD to keep me entertained while I am at home recovering.

Jenn, although she has been on my butt telling me everything I can't or shouldn't be doing, has only been looking out for my best interests. She has done more work around the house that I am comfortable admitting, and her unwavering willingness to help me and take care of me is the best gift ever.

I feel pretty worthless this week, in terms of contributing, and I'm humbled by all of your care, concern and giving. But I have to admit, I have completely enjoyed the pampering, and just lying around reading books and watching movies. So far, I have finished two books, started and finished a third, started a fourth, made some good progress in two more, and am about to start another.

I have also had a chance to write two blogs, edit two upcoming blog entries, and start contemplating yet another one. And I have watched two movies. I'm debating starting a third right now.

Thanks to ALL of you!!

Welcome to Camp Crazy

Why do I do this to myself?

In my entire life, up until about 3 years ago, I had been camping exactly three times.

Pokagon (I think) in 1980-something. That's me on the left in
the all-blue. My brother is on the far right, next to my dad,
who is wearing the green shorts and red cap.

The first time was at Pokagon for a weekend in Indiana in the early 1980s with the entire family: Grandma and grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins. All I really remember is playing Sorry inside bug netting by the light of a Coleman lantern that hissed at us, fishing at the top of a dam or multi-tiered waterfall or something, getting a bunch of Garbage Pail Kids at a nearby carry-out, and having to turn around when we were about 20 minutes into the trip because we forgot something....like sleeping bags, or charcoal. I was 10 years old at the time, tops.

The second time was in Brown's Woods off of U.S. 6 between Weston and Bowling Green. It was a one-night scouting event with my dad. I remember canoeing on the tiny pond and hearing "Purple People Eater" for the first time on the radio.

That's me in the very middle, in front of the tree, looking like I have a spotlight
shining on my face. This was taken at Spiegel Grove in 1997.
I camped there a year or two later.

The third time was at Spiegel Grove (President Rutherford B. Hayes' house) in Fremont in October, 1998 or 1999 as part of a Civil War reenactment. I remember that I was alone in the tent, and it was COLD.

What I decided during those times was that camping was not for me, and here is why: You spend two days packing a bunch of crap, shove it into your often grossly-undersized vehicle, drive for two hours, then spend the next four hours busting hump to unpack, keep the kids entertained/out of trouble, set up the tent, light a fire, make dinner, get everyone fed, get everyone around for bed, then fight the 2-year-old to actually fall asleep, which he eventually does at 1 a.m.

Then you post yourself in front of the tent fly so that when said 2-year-old wakes up at 5 a.m. full of pistons and vinegar and ready to strike fear into the area wildlife population, he can't get out of the tent without waking you up. Then you spend the day chasing the kids around, talk about seeing/doing a lot of things, then spend the next 3 hours trying to wake up because you got overheated while reading in the shade and passed out. Then you repeat the nighttime ritual, beginning at lighting a fire.

The next morning, you wake up, go to the campground church service if there is one and if that's your thing, return to camp, and spend the next 2 to 3 hours trying to keep your kids entertained and out of trouble while you strike camp. Then you have to light the fire one last time, feed the family, and put out the fire before you can leave. By that time, you are exhausted, you smell horrible (even if you took a shower every day, face it...you still stink), and all you want to do is go home.

Eventually, you actually DO get home, and it's time to relax. No, scratch that. Rewind. Start this paragraph over...

Eventually, you actually DO get home and you have to unpack all of the crap you packed up in the first place (half of which you didn't use), put it away, do laundry, put THAT away, feed the kids, get them baths and get them to bed, take a shower yourself ('cuz you still stink there, Slick), and you get done just in time to.....

Go to bed and get up at 6 a.m. to head off to work Monday morning. But your mind isn't at work on Monday. It's at home thinking of all of the stuff you could have/should have done over the weekend instead of "screwing off" camping.

Sounds like fun, doesn't it? Maybe for a masochist on par with ... well, your famous local masochist (interestingly, I Googled the phrase "famous masochists" and only came up with one name...the Marquis de Sade, who was a sadist, not a masochist...and apparently a dentist. Who knew?!).

Enter my wife Jenn, whose family has horor stories involving standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, multiple blown tires, and topics too embarrassing to blog about.

My family and our tent at Maumee Bay State Park.

Long story short, we now own a tent and camp regularly. Amazingly, I found myself in March wishing it would warm up enough and stop raining so we could go camping.

And all that stuff that I said about the two-year-old happened to us just recently. So did the going to work and not wanting to be there part. Ugh.

So why do I do it? There are several reasons:

1) To keep Jenn happy. When Mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy. ;) (Love you dear!!!!)

2) To teach my kids that there is more to life than a Nintendo DS and sports.

3) To untether. Which is really hypocritical of me since I take my Nook and my smart phone, and was kicking myself a little for not taking at least one laptop this last weekend. But when I use that stuff while camping, it is for entertainment purposes, not for work.

4) To get away from my life. It's not a bad life. I just get tired of it sometimes. It's nice to get away from it.

5) Because when all of the work is done, it's fun to throw the ball around with the kids, have a water balloon fight, or just sit around and read.

6) To force myself to learn patience. I suffer no fools and put up with no bull. Tell that to my 2-year-old. Please. Once he gets older and goes to sleep at a rational time, I can stop telling myself that I go camping to teach myself patience, and just enjoy it. Right now, I get a headache just thinking about it.

The most recent weekend was spent (as most are at this point) at Maumee Bay State Park in Oregon, Ohio. We had a lot of fun. There was some stress, like the toddler who refused to go to bed...ever; the toddler who decided it was okay to run out into the "street" several times, or hide in the tall grass (fortunately we only saw one tick this weekend, and it wasn't on anyone). But the water balloon fight was fun. The 7-year-old perfected riding his bike and started taking treks on his bike alone this weekend. I also helped him earn a Cub Scouts badge.

A great shot of the oldest that Jenn took.

This one has a throwing arm like his older brother.

Kaleb with Papa, showing off their work gloves.

Jenn's parents are state park volunteers and camp there all the time. They serve as campt hosts and help keep it clean and run programming. The oldest signed up to volunteer last year to earn credit toward a Cub Scout badge. This last weekend, Jenn and I signed up to be volunteers. We will be covering for her parents as camp hosts in August while they are at a wedding or something.

While camping this most recent outing, we also found a fox snake that was trying to get into the restrooms. We captured it and contacted a ranger. He came out and used a tool to scan it. He found a tracking tag under its skin, and measured and weighed it before releasing it in a safe location. Had he not found a tag, he would have sent it to a university so it could get one, so they could track its size and movement throughout the park.

Camping is a lot of hard work. Sometimes, it's more work and headache than the two days are worth. But between all of the hard work, there are some good memories and a lot of life lessons...and stress.

And we are already planning our next trip. I think Jenn reserved our camping spot tonight. I'm looking forward to it. I think.

 

(All photos except the first three (the third was taken by Papa), were again taken by my wonderful wife Jenn. Click here to learn more about Maumee Bay State Park)