The mother of an almost 1-year-old

We have begun to discuss how to celebrate Kinnie's first birthday. It is tempting to go all out (think Super Sweet 16), only because it feels as though somehow, on some level, all that material stuff may give Kinnie one inkling of just how much we love her. Alas, we are middle class folks. So there will not be petting zoos, or bouncy castles, or merry-go-rounds at the party. It will be simply our family and friends, and a cake to dive into.

In Kinnie's first 10 months and 21 days, I have managed to only fall into the "She's growing up so fast" mentality on a few occasions. Her growth and development are a joy to watch, and as much fun as each stage is, I feel proud of her, and happy for her, when she discovers some new element of being. The sentimentality did hit me hard a few nights ago, and I sobbed. It hit me, too, several weeks ago, when Bri and I were watching Toy Story 3, in which the boy goes to college. I looked at Brian and said, "Kinnie will never go away to college, right?" Of course, I don't lament the fact that she may go away. If she is anything like us, she'll go far away. If she values the things we value, she'll venture into other cultures and challenge herself. But, in the very deepest part of my heart, I never want to spend a second away from her.

Kinnie is on the move. She is discovering new parts of the house every day. This week, the dogs' toy basket was particularly intriguing to her. I am learning to choose my battles. I figure we have recently washed all the toys in there, so if she pulls those out, it's not so bad. And then she got into the brushes, and I thought that they must be neat to feel. Then, I looked over, and she was chewing on an old beef bone. Eww...

We laugh together, and we cuddle more than ever. Though she was not one to be held a lot when she was younger, now she curls up on me daily. This morning, she fell asleep on me. It warms my heart. And, it makes all the hassle of all these teeth that are growing in totally worth it. She has been almost refusing to eat baby food. Despite the fact that she currently has approximately 2.5 teeth, she much prefers "real" food. When I have a snack, I now have three beggars, instead of only the two usual four-legged suspects. I continue to feel lucky, and blessed, and grateful.

Dawn

Dearest Granddad,

When the phone rang at 6:00 this morning, I knew what the news would be. We had been waiting, as patiently as possible. With it came a slew of emotions, and incredible gratitude.

You died this morning. Your kids were with you, and all of us were, too- at least in spirit. You and your beautiful bride of 62 years created an incredible family, an incredible life, one which I am grateful to be a part.

I can imagine you scoffing a bit at the thought of all of us being sad. I realized this morning that you wouldn't want us to be mourning the loss of you. But, it is impossible not to. You were kind, funny, ornery, caring, stubborn, loyal, strong. You were admired, respected and very much loved.

I remember when I first met you. You and Grandy had driven to Evergreen to visit Kevin and family. You were a young 69. Brian and I had been dating for just under one year, and somehow, even though I was but a teenager, we connected. Your warmth was there from the beginning, and I have carried it with me since.

Some of my favorite memories with you include all the times I tried to match your wit. You were full of it, but I think I got you a few times. And, of course, I will never forget visiting you in January. You had changed a bit. I know it was hard for you to talk, but your smile and laugh were still vibrant. The fact that you met my daughter, your Great-Granddaughter, means the world to me. As we said goodbye, you held our hands and said, "thank you for coming."

Thank you for coming, Granddad. Thank you for your presence. Thank you for being so giving. Thank you for all the laughs, and the smiles which shine on now through these tears. Thank you for being a man we can all look up to. Thank you for those blue eyes, which I see every time I look at Kinnie.

We will carry on. We will watch after Grandy, and do all we can to make all her days cheerful. We will live the rest of our lives with you in our hearts, and we will make you proud. We will miss you.

I love you very much,

Kelsey

An historic day

My mom called me late last night with the news: "Osama Bin Laden is dead." Ten years after he masterminded the attack that killed thousands of innocent Americans, our hunt for him has ended. I remembered exactly where I was on 9/11/01, and I'm sure all of us who were alive then can. I hope for closure and for peace and for a sense of justice for those who lost loved ones.

I do not feel joy. I do not feel happiness. I do not feel like celebrating.

In the war started with the goal of finding Bin Laden, to date, 2441 Coalition forces have died in Operation Enduring Freedom. And though an exact number has not been recorded, it is estimated that up to 10,000 Afghani civilians have died as a result of this war.

It is not a joyous occassion.

A senator interviewed on the news this morning said that, while an important day, he is not sure that Bin Laden was still the threat he once was. The senator said that Bin Laden had remain so deeply hidden that he was unlikely to mastermind another attack.

I am reminded of a saying attributed to Ghandi, "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." I look into my daughter's eyes, and imagine, if she were older, the questions she would ask if she saw on TV people celebrating the death of an enemy. And I'm not sure I would have the answers. In an oversimplified way, it seems that the message is this: hunt down, regardless of cost, those who wrong you. I just don't think that's right. Nor, something to celebrate.