Cover by Swish36, on Flickr

In response to Matthew Petro’s question of What’s real? I am compelled to write about a similar experience I had not too long ago. Shortly after my mother passed away, we were in our family’s kitchen when I opened a box containing a non-descript black and white flecked covered journal. I opened it to find an exhaustive ledger of Christmas gifts that my mother had purchased for us children, as well as for friends and extended family members compiled over the course of well over a dozen years; originating at some of my earliest years and extending well into my teens. As I looked at this record of memories, I was overcome with tears.

My dad suggested I take the book with me, but I did not want to deprive my siblings of the opportunity to discuss this important keepsake. In the weeks and months that followed, it turned out that the book wound up being thrown away without the discussion that I thought this book warranted.

As with any death, I think it’s natural to have regrets. The loss of this book represents my only regret, short of the larger loss of my mom’s place in our life as we raise her seventh grandchild and continue to make our mark in the world as the adults she raised us to be.

I’ve had a couple of years now to think about this book and about what this meant for me. I tried to write down the gifts that were given to Miles this past Christmas in a large, Moleskine journal, but it just did not take. I realize that what worked for my mom, God bless her and her unfathomably, selflessly giving heart, does not work for me.

What I realize is that it’s not so much the gifts that carried the emotional weight (granted they were great, and my parents were amazingly generous and indulgent of our desires), but it was the dreams and aspirations that these gifts signified, and it was my parents wishes to help us further in our goals and dreams that really touches me emotionally. With that in mind, I hope to put in place a ledger as well, a digital one, where I keep track of the birthdays of my nieces and nephews and the relatives that I love. And I hope to update this record with the dreams and aspirations of my family as they grow into adulthood and hopefully into the people they aspire to be. Along the way, I hope to enable them to reach their goals and I hope that this digital file would not be lost and could be handed to them, to each of them as a gift to remember their uncle’s place in their life and who they were along the way.

Posted via web from johntynan’s posterous

Posted via web from johntynan’s posterous

Miles rolled over five times today. All on his own.

Actually, he rolled over once over Christmas, with Aunt Cheryl and Randi and me watching; but this firms it up!

IMG_4743, originally uploaded by johntynan.

Yesterday, Rene and I took Miles on a walk the entire length of Mill Avenue; from Tempe Town Lake to the ASU Art Muesum, then back. The weather was great. A Fall day in Arizona. Sunny. Clear. A slight chill in the air. The very hint of a breeze. We walked together, talking. Dreaming up things that we would do with Miles: baby sign language, swimming courses, mother/child yoga, the cub scouts… And I was overcome with a great feeling of contentment, that, “Yes. I like our life!” I was imagining ourselves in some other city, like Washington DC for instance, the two of us out for a walk with Miles in his stroller, just like today, only bundled up in new, winter clothing and surveying the National Mall… the museums… the monuments… and us, and love.

There was, as you would expect, dozens of dachshunds and their owners packed into the stands.

To manage two dachshunds in such a crowded public space took teamwork. So, we enlisted my Dad…

…and family friends and canine handlers extraordinaire Zoe and Anna.

This will be the third year in a row that we have done this. Every year, Rigatoni gets a little better at racing, and we get a little better at training her. But mostly, it’s great goofy fun for dog and owner alike.

P.S. Rene also blogged about the wiener races and my Dad should be sending us some additional pictures shortly… so stay tuned.

I believe this photo was taken in 2005, right after Rene and I took my parents down to the Paper Heart gallery to show them where we were going to get married. Afterward, we all went out to Rula Bulla‘s on Mill Avenue where we enjoyed several pints of Smithwick’s (‘smith-icks’), my mom’s favorite beer.

Below is a voicemail I’ve saved in my phone for the past year (it was so precious). It’s of my mom singing Happy Anniversary for our second year together. She certainly celebrated all the important things in life. Thank you mom! We love you.

I’ve wanted to try absinthe for a long time. Last night, the opportunity presented itself. And, while I would have been perfectly justified in not going out, I followed Rene’s lead and met Marcos and Darlene at Digestif in Scottsdale. The maître d’ was great! He had a passion for serving and appreciating absinthe. He had the presentation down, the history, the legend, the lifting of the recent legal ban. Earlier in the evening, I had surreptitiously passed him a T-shirt denouncing Scottsdale mayor Mary Manross that a local activist had handed me in the street. He was thankful for the shirt and came by several times to chat.

While we did not have any psychedelic experiences from the drink, its affects did add to the relaxed atmosphere. A parade of classic cocktails put Darlene at ease about a meeting she’ll be having today (good luck!). The drink emboldened me to offer carreer advice to Marcos as his new “life coach”. Evidently, it did not prevent Rene from revealing my scandalous “porn name” which, if divulged widely, I may never live down.

It’s kind of tough to allow myself some levity these past few days. But Rene’s been great; leading me around our own neighborhood and uncovering new tastes and sights among the familiar.