• Plans change

    Seventeen years ago today, on another Saturday afternoon, Cheryl and I got married. Unfortunately, I got sick the night after our wedding and we spent our honeymoon in the ER. I spent it doing unmentionable things with the contents of my stomach.

    Today, all these years later, we spent the day in a familiar spot – a hospital – this time with Adam as he had his ailing appendix out.

    I’d say the day is cursed, but I’d be exaggerating.

    Me? Exaggerate? I know!

    We’ve had many wonderful years in between, and we have no reason to believe we won’t have many more wonderful years to come.

    Adam is in great spirits after his surgery, pointing out all the cool stuff he has in his room, and plugged into his body explaining to me what they all do. Cheryl and I are happy.

    Who needs a grand celebration when we have a great life to live?

  • My boy

    Adam still likes stuffed animals. We thought he might outgrow this “faze” by the time he started kindergarten. He hasn’t.

    Don’t get me wrong, this is not something that disturbs me in any way. In fact, it’s just the opposite. It reflects his personality – a sweet, sensitive kid. Often he’ll notice I’m not feeling too well, and without a word he’ll leave a surprise for me by my pillow. Tonight it’s a soft little white bunny to keep me company – to make me feel a little better.

    He won’t mention it afterwards. It’ll disappear one night, only to be replaced by another when necessary. I wonder if he does it to let me know he was there, he cares, and just wants to help in his own special way – no glory or special credit – just a little piece of timely love.

    Maybe I’m reading too much into the actions of a six year old boy. Maybe it doesn’t matter what the precise reason is, just intent and results.

    Adam, my dear sweet child – we love you.

  • Words make the soul feel good

    I spend a lot of time writing about depression, cancer, sleep disorders, and generally unpleasant stuff.

    Today I’m writing about a letter my boss received a little while ago. I was the subject.

    In my line of work, or just about any line of work I suppose, a letter to your boss is usually not good. Letter writers tend to be motivated by anger, or some negative emotion, probably because it’s more likely to be well fed and grow strong. Folks rarely feel compelled to put their praise on paper, let alone get up the gumption to fold it, stuff it, stamp it, and mail it.

    Now that I think about it, I could do a whole post about anger versus joy, but I don’t want to. So I’m not going to. Now I’m going to move on.

    I didn’t take the news well. My boss led with the comment a copy sat in my personnel file already. Isn’t that great? I’ve managed to avoid a single official complaint for over 15 years of public service. I take pride in it, if you’ll allow me this small bit of vanity.

    Well, it turns out the letter wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was pretty good.

    It was from a recently retired Judge I used see regularly. It talked about my reliability, knowledge, character… most of the stuff you’d see in a glowing letter of recommendation. I won’t bore you with a recitation of the whole thing, but I’d like to share the last few sentences.

    Serving for 30 years as a Marine Corps officer, I evaluated the performance of literally thousands of young men and women. John would rank in the top five percent of all of those evaluated.

    (My employer) is fortunate to have John, a truly loyal and dedicated employee.

    It’s not poetry. It wouldn’t make a great speech.

    But it choked me up. I’m such a softy.

    My job has its own rewards. I don’t stand around waiting for someone to heap praise on the agency hero. I know I’ve helped people, from the tone of their voice when we speak, to the numbers in a report.

    I know I’ve disappointed people too. No one is perfect.

    However, reports don’t do too much for me and the recent political climate increasingly paints me and my ilk as greedy, lazy, over-paid, and under-achieving. There’s apparently nothing we can do the private sector can’t do better – with a roster of trained quadrupeds.

    Rumor has it we hate apple pie too.

    OK, I’m done ranting and raving. I’ve wiped all the foam and spittle off my chin and keyboard. Raise your hand if you could have done without that visual. If you think that was whiney, you should have seen this post before I cut a few hundred words.

    Anyway, all of this is a long way of saying it’s nice to know someone noticed I’m not as bad as the GOP would have you think, even if it was just words put to paper.