Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Expect to Hear About Nipples (And Other Advice for Uncles)

 

I recently posted some helpful hints for my sisters in regards to taking care of their new babies.

I thought about it, and I realized that everyone gave them advice.  They were overloaded with advice from everyone they talked to, and certainly didn’t need any tips from me.

And then I thought about the fact that nobody gave me advice four years ago, before my first nephew was born. 

To be fair, being an uncle certainly isn’t as hard as being a mother or father, but there are definitely some shocking truths that new uncles will need to face, and a little heads-up would have been nice.

So as a service to any guys out there with a sister who is expecting a baby, here are some things that you can expect when your sisters are expecting:

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

"Oversky" Words + Music Companion

If you haven't watched it yet, check out the video below from my Youtube Channel:



First of all, sorry it is so depressing.  That's my bad.

But just listen to “Oversky” with headphones. Hear the pedals of Luke Howard’s piano. Hear Nadje Noordhuis take a breath before she breathes life into her trumpet. It is a sound that, to me, is both relaxing and tragic – like a rainy night.


Lady, unhappy it is my birthday
The first time I heard this song, the scene that I saw in my head was that of a man driving his dog to the doctor to be put down. The image I saw in was him adjusting the rear-view mirror to get a better look at his dog, lying in the back seat. He’d think of all the memories they had together, and maybe stop at the beach on the way.

It was a fine scene to tell, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought about my own dogs, past and present. And then I remembered, so clearly, those two car rides from my childhood.

*   *   *

Lady ran into my dad’s high school classroom one afternoon. Security was much more lax back then, and I suppose that any creature was welcome to run right in through the open doors. Her first meeting with my dad was brief – she ran in and out, leaving everyone puzzled.

Our previous dog, Happy (of whom I have virtually no memories), had died a month before. So a homeless, housebroken dog somehow finding its way into my dad’s classroom seemed like one of those destiny things. At the end of the day, my dad inquired about the dog, and found out that nobody had claimed her. One of the other teachers had taken it home for the night. So that night we drove and picked her up, which is where the W+M begins. I was just three years old, yet the adrenaline of getting a dog etched that moment into my brain.