Hidden in an envelope in my briefcase

I'm a Wryter, she's an Ather

Dad,

I want to be an Illustrator and Ather when I grow up. 
So I will be rwiting stories and puttin them in my binder.

LOVE,

Katherine

Found this morning on my side of the bed after my shower and shave.

And may it always be so...

"I know all about that stuff, Daddy.  I've played 'The Game of LIFE'."

From my 9-year old son last night, when I attempted to explain what the word "salary" meant.

Name your children well

Today's assignment, boys and girls... especially those of you with soon-to-arrive bundles of joy... forget about the color of the nursery, whether Classic Pooh is still "in," or even how to keep falling prey to The Wiggles.  (Those of you with kids in the 2-9 range, you know what I mean.) 

Ditch the "Baby Names" book, get out a newspaper or an encyclopedia, and pick yourself a middle name.

Middle names, for most of us, have become to our identity what the appendix long ago became to our digestive tract -- They're there, but we just don't know what they do anymore.  But when they flare up, it's usually the sign of something bad... very, very bad.  And painful.  

To wit:  

• John Booth:  (Could be your neighbor, your local Northwestern Mutual Life sales representative.)
• John Wilkes Booth:  (Goodbye Quiet Company, hello presidential assassin.)
• John Gacy:  (The church organist.  Quiet guy.  Nice.  Has two cats.)
• John Wayne Gacy:  (Woah, Nellie!  Serial killer from the 1970s.)

And the list goes on...  Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Rey, Mark David Chapman, John Mark Karr... 

And so, parents to be, some broad-brush rules:

Steer clear of Wayne.  News of the Weird says that there's a disproportionante number of baddies with that middle name.

Brevity.  The Trumans didn't mince words... or use them... when their son Harry was born.  "Harry S. Truman."  The "S" doesn't stand for anything, which is cool.  And does anybody doubt that this quiet man from Independence, Missouri kicked alot of A. S. S. in his day??

Brevity Part 2:  Unless you're George Herbert Walker Bush, J.R.R. Tolkein*, or Charles Philip Arthur George, you probably don't need more than one middle name.  Remember Princess Di getting the middle names backwards??  (Come on, who doesn't remember the Royal wedding??) 
* Extra points for coolness if they're all used as initials.  It washes the dorkiness away.

X Marks the Spot.  If the first name is Francis, "No more calls, please.  We have a winner."  It has to be Xavier.

Safe Harbor: 'J' Names.  In general, you shouldn't try to force a kid's nickname.  They more or less evolve from IMBs (Incidents of Moronic Behaviour).  But if you want a build-it-yourself nickname kit, there are more than enough TJs and PJs to demonstrate that James or John are safe territory for the ready-made initial nicknames.  (Painful Autobiographical Caveat:  If your kid's name begins with "B" then expect the "J" to trigger towel-snapping play when kids realize what "BJ" means in certain circles.  And it just may happen that the other kids will learn what it stands for before your son does, leading to the double humiliation of his not being able to fend off the verbal towel-snapping with an equally appropriate comeback to Vincent David Divergilio, Brian Brendan Wilson, or smooth Kevin Young Gellison.  Not that that happened or anything...) 

Be careful of last names as middle names.  No wait... wrong rule.  You're supposed to watch out for people with last names as first names.  They're just about always a--holes.  A warning for another day.  As is the Corky Sherwood-Forrest theorem of picking a mate suitable for hyphenated married names.)

The QED:  If you're lucky, the middle name will be nothing more than a joy to the relative it honors, the child who bears it, and the parents who will hear it called out during Commencement exercises.  Yes, God willing, it will remain as generally useful as the appendix.  But if inflamed by Junior High School smart-alecs, or perhaps a rap sheet and a mug shot, there's no denying it. 

Update on Thursday, August 31, 2006 at 05:07PM by Wryter

Updated with correct spelling and historical era, with thanks to Jim McKee.

Grapes of Wrath (Or: We got wacky in Coxsackie)

Well, the family's fresh back from vacation.  Coxsackie was beautiful this time of year...

Note to Chevy Chase:  If you ever come out of exile to do another "Vacation" movie, call me.  I've got some true to life stories that'll breathe some life--or more aptly, a highly contagious virus named after a town on the upper Hudson River in the lovely Empire State--into your aging movie formula.

No, I don't think you heard me, Chevy.

Call.  Me.

It was a dark and steamy scene that greeted us at 3 am... Roakdill happens at 3 am.  Raccoons, skunks, deer...  It's an hour that was only meant to be seen by newsmen dropping off the bulldog editions and the lucky few who are rushing through their walks of shame before the dawn so they can tell themselves they still made it home at night.  [Okay, not TOO autobiographical there... but I digress.]

This is usThe only other form of life that awakens for 3 am, usually in summertime in the Northeast, are the vagabond band of family vacationers loading their sleeping children into their vehicles loaded down with bikes, fishing poles and all our earthly posessions that would make the Jodes look like daytrippers. 

You can tell Hester Prynne by her scarlet "A" on her white blouse.  You can tell this certain brand of vacationer by their black "MV" in the white oval sticker.   And today is switchover day, and these happy wanderers have to be in line for a ferry at 6:30. 

103

• That's the time you finished packing the family battlewagon. 
• It also happens to be the temperature of your six year-old son when you pick him out of his bed.
• And, it also turns out to be the number of yards you got after turning out of your street when he says,
  "Daddy, I think I'm gonna frow up."

And that was just 'Hour one'...

School's out!

Today's posts are from my two older children, who just came home from a phenomenon known only as, ahem:   thelastdayofschool!!!

Thought for the day

No man ever wore a scarf as warm as his daughter's arm around his neck.

-An old Irish proverb

Not so fast, kids. Please.

Twice a year, maybe three, we go down to the trail
That leads to the sky and the sea.
They charge straight ahead, and they grow a bit further
Away from their childhood and me.

They forget that I'm there, as they should, as they will;
As they conquer each day's new frontiers. 
I capture their dash when they're lost in the moment
So I won't have to cover the tears...

That flow with the march of the years.
That flow with the march of the years.