Giving Thanks

 
Picture description, from top left to lower right: Braden asleep in the "big boy" chair "like Brurs" (brother's) which replaced the rocking chair when we updated his room (see "Moon & Stars" below); Austin dressed as Arnold Schwarzenegger as part of a "Wax Museum" book report alternative his Jr. High School does each fall; Braden with a classmate at his Wee Wuns Thanksgiving lunch; Braden and his dad at his birthday party in August - trying to make dad smile bigger, I think; Austin in his Class A uniform in front of the WWII-era tents of Camp Constantin, his first (and last) Boy Scout summer camp; Austin & Braden watching the July 4th parade in Edmond, OK; Braden in his t-ball uniform (after it got too hot to wear the white baseball pants); Sheila & Austin at his 5th Grade Day celebration last May, the last hurrah of the 'too cool for elementary school' 5th-graders; and Austin, mid-delivery, in his first ever starting pitching assignment last spring.

Taking inventory of all for which I am thankful, the pictures above neatly summarize those blessings at the top of my list. Shelley, the loving, woman of God who literally holds us all together, the long-suffering lone "groll" (rhymes with roll & is Braden-speak for "girl") in a houseful of rambunctious boys, my smart, tender, tough and sexy best friend. How one person could be equal parts Mother Teresa, swimsuit model and drill sergeant is a great and delightful mystery to me, a mystery I intend to study long into my old age.

And the boys, those occupiers of thoughts and stealers of hearts, the very embodiment of the joie de vivre, my hope and my pride.

I wish each of you a very Happy Thanksgiving, enjoying food and family and the opportunity to be still and consider all that life has given us. If your Thanksgiving finds you travelling like us, may your journey be swift and safe.

And if you find yourself surrounded by the noisy racket of chefs cooking, children screaming, TV's blaring or any combination of those things (i.e. Chefs screaming, children blaring, etc...) then count it all joy. Once during the day, kiss everyone you can catch standing still, right on the top of their head, for me and my family. And we will hug and kiss each other for you, and count the days until we can be together.

Halloween

I get requests for pictures...

Here's Austin in July, serving as co-pilot on a flight in Jim's airplane. They travelled to a small airport somewhere in North Texas, had lunch, toured the local flight museum and flew home.

Then there's Braden, shown here in September with his cousin Georgia. This was the day that Sheila had a very hard time convincing him to take off his swim goggles. All day...

And on a personal note, I have decided the best way to break out of my funk is to start listening to books on tape in the car as I commute 90 minutes or so each way to my interim work assignment. "Night" by Elie Wiesel was one of my first choices, the Nobel laureate's first of three books in which he details his personal experience with the Holocaust. Hoo-boy do I know how to pick 'em! Next up: "Leadership" by Rudy Giuliani. I'll keep you posted...

"Breath of Eternity on Your Lips" Part 2

"...(T)hey're (President Bush and Donald Rumsfeld) getting out there and they're beating this drum, to drown out, as they did in 2002, to drown out other -- in that case it was Enron. Now we have another situation, so it's this war on terror, boom, boom, boom. Drown out the reality of what's really happening." -- Sean Penn, on Larry King Live September 14, 2006

"Radical Christianity is just as threatening as radical Islam in a country like America." -- Rosie O'Donnell, on The View September 12, 2006

"The NBC television network is still making up its mind about whether it will allow pop star Madonna to stage a mock crucifixion on its airwaves as part of her upcoming prime-time concert special." -- Reuters News Service September 19, 2006

The Bruce Springsteen song to which this blog's title and my last posted referred continues to be the soundtrack of my life to and from work, in spite of Blair's heartfelt recommendation I upgrade to Classic Soul Ballads by Time Life. I have decided the lyrics about the bomb preparation and suicide/homicide bombing in a "crowded marketplace" are dishonest by omission. Granted, it would have been difficult to include "nails and ball bearings" in the line about what gets put into the backpack, in part because that would be too many words and in part because it makes the scene less sympathetic. Nevertheless, nails and ball bearings are symbols of terror's devotion to maximizing suffering and pain and death, so leaving them out omits a critical element of the event.

Hezbollah’s “spiritual” head, Hassan Nasrallah gave voice to the terrorists' rationale for such actions when he said: “The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win because they love life and we love death.” In Iraq, Afghanistan and Lebanon, those who "love death" hide among civilians because they know those who "love life" get more outraged over innocent civilian deaths than the fact that terrorists are fighting from behind civilians in the first place. They are right, which worries me, because they might be right about winning this war, too.

Yet I can't get too upset about musicians', actors' and authors' disdain for the War on Terror. They are, after all, artists, and their "calling" is to point to that which is beautiful and transcendant through their words, their music and their acting. War is a horror which only a madman would seek or desire, so it is an easy target for those devoted to beauty. [How mocking the crucifixion is either beautiful or transcendant I cannot fathom, but imagine the bloodshed and violence that will erupt throughout the United States once Rosie's imagined "radical Christians" take to the streets.]

And yet we cannot hide from the fact that we live in a time of war that was, as our President has said, "begun on the timing and terms of others". By "others" he meant madmen who hate life, I say, uneasily...

"Breath of Eternity on Your Lips"

Though it was released in 1992, I have just recently been listening to Bruce Springsteen's "The Rising" cd. I can't stop playing the song "Paradise", which has a haunting, acoustic sound behind words which I can't shake. Most troubling in this first person account of a terrorist's suicide/homocide bombing is the first verse:

Where the river runs to black,
I take the school books from your pack.
Plastics, wire and your kiss -
Breath of eternity on your lips.
In the crowded marketplace.
I drift from face to face.
I hold my breath and close my eyes.
I hold my breath and close my eyes.
And I wait for paradise.
And I wait for paradise.

I have been feeling blue lately as it is and now this song has really struck some sort of melancholy chord in me. There is an uneasiness in my life right now, which doesn't just involve the usual elements - work, kids, money - but which is literally global. Peggy Noonan wrote a column last year about her growing sense that "tough history is coming," and I have that sense right now, too. And it distresses me though I don't think there is anything I can do about it.

I support the War on Terror, and have from the beginning, but I am deeply troubled by it. I've called pacifism a "cheap virtue" because it's so easy to say you oppose warfare from behind a line of rough men and women prepared to do violence on your behalf. But my support for our war in Iraq and Afghanistan is no less cheap, because those actions have required great sacrifices - but none by me personally. I've never known the terror of a night patrol in a hostile area. I don't have to reconcile my humanity with the necessity to use deadly force for the sake of my mission. I've lost no sleep worried about the safety of a loved one in harm's way. But I worry that a time of such sacrificing may be in store for me, my family, my city.

I remember drills in grade school to prepare us for a nuclear attack by the Soviet Union, but don't remember actually being afraid. I've got an uneasy feeling now I never had then, probably because I don't have just myself to worry about.

So there you go! Wait two months for me to post an update to this blog, and you get this dose of bad tasting medicine as your reward. So sorry!

The Moon and Stars

It would be impossible to describe the turmoil our family has experienced since we moved to Houston. Three jobs in the first two years, failing at the first two and stepping down into the third. The fear that we were going to be bankrupt, or unemployed, (or both!) has just become a part of the reality of being here, and has been from shortly after we arrived.

So in the midst of that kind of anxiety, it's strange what things have become milestones in our lives. Take Braden's nursery.

We were thrilled when we found out Sheila was pregnant with Braden - while I was working at Witt/Kieffer - but things were so bad at work we knew I would be gone from there soon. Where I would wind up we did not know. So we put together his nursery with the overwhelming sense in the back of our minds that soon we would have to paint that room a neutral color to put the house on the market.

When I lost my job at the Tenet hospital, we thought that day had finally come. Still, we had been able to enjoy it for six months or so, which was longer than we had expected. To be hired on at Triumph, and remain able to stay in the house, was reassuring but it never felt totally secure. Still doesn't.

So it was strangely comforting to paint his nursery this last weekend. Not because we had to get the house ready to sell in a hurry, but because he's not a baby anymore, and he was ready for a big-boy room. So the stars and the moon have been replaced with a very grown up khaki, and he has a dark blue bunk bed, dark blue furniture -just like "brurs" (brothers) - a train table and a cool new blue chair for lounging around and being grown up.

We would have never imagined being here for five years back during the weeks we painted the nursery, but here we are nonetheless. And we are truly grateful to have been able to enjoy his nursery for the entirety of his being a "baby".

Still, it's a good thing to have it painted a neutral color, in case things don't work out at the hospital and we have to move in a hurry...

Father's Day - Salty Sea Dog Style

Here are the boys aboard the Texsun II, a fine boat available for charter into the Galveston Bay. The CFO at the hospital (Chuck - the guy in the hat and sunglasses right behind the boys) invited us to go on a charter fishing trip this Saturday with his church. The morning trip booked before we could get our reservations made, so we decided to book an afternoon trip. In this picture, we are leaving Pier 19 on the way to our first stop in the bay for a little fishing. With Cap'n John at the wheel, and Ken the Deckhand assisting the fellars in the back of the boat, greatness awaited one of us.


Turns out that the mighty fisherman among us was Austin, who was fishing beside me off the back of the boat. After catching a couple of 1 - 2 pound hardhead catfish, Austin hooked this beast which you see above. It hit his bait hard, and bent his rod so much I thought it might break. He try to control it for a little while, then said "Dad, I'm going to need some help with this one." I handed my rod to Chuck, asked him to keep Braden from falling off the boat, then started cranking on this stingray with Austin. Kenny had everyone on the back of the boat pull up their line, so we were free to roam across the full back end of the ship to try and keep this winged water-beast below us. We'd crank and reel, it would run and pull out line, we'd crank and reel some more. Eventually, we stripped the reel because we were trying to reel it in while it was running out. That meant I had the pole, Austin worked the reel, and the K-man held the line against the pole to keep La Pescado Diablo from pulling out any more line.

Once we wore it out, Austin and I managed to pull the fish up to the surface of the water, where Ken gaffed it and pulled it up onto the boat. By this point, all 10 or so of the fisher-persons on the back end of the boat were just watching the action, with Austin right in the middle of it all. The Horst family fishing record books will reflect that on Saturday, June 17, Austin caught a 50 pound Stingray in Galveston Bay. Not bad, considering his Class 2 Medical Form we just completed for scout camp lists him @ 84 pounds himself!


From spot to spot in the Bay, we would go inside the cabin and have something to drink and horse around. Here Braden is recreating the look on the face of one of the catfish he caught as he pulled it out of the water. Braden and I worked one of the fishing poles together, and everytime I would feel a fish on the line I'd have him reel it in - very exciting! "Hey Brur, you wanna see my fish?" A fellar four spots over from us caught a 4-foot long hammerhead shark, which (needless to say) Braden thought was very cool. After we watched them remove the hook and put the shark on ice, Braden turned back to me and said "OK Da-ee, now we catch a shark".


After how well they did on our trip (4 hours total), I took the boys over to the beach for a couple of hours while we still had some daylight. The beach was nasty, the wind was blowing, but Braden is a beach boy in his soul. He ran and played non-stop until we finally had to take showers, get back in the car and go home. After dinner at Chick Fil A, he was asleep in his car seat before I was able to get out of the parking lot. It was a quiet, happy trip home to hot showers and cool beds.

Now we just need to figure out the best way to prepare stingray filets, because I have about 15 pounds worth in my freezer...

11 Going on 25

Austin's birthday was a low-key affair this year. He wanted to go to dinner at the new PF Changs near our house, but when we arrived, the wait for a table was two hours. We took the beeper anyway, and went up the street to Academy Sports store, where - thanks to the generosity of Grandma and Grandpa - Austin had a gift card to spend. He bought a putter, and nearly got golf shoes, too, but they did not have his size in stock. By the time we got back to PF Changs, our wait had dwindled down to only an hour, so we turned in our beeper and said "thanks, but no thanks".

Chinese food? No go. How about Japanese, instead? We wound up at Hido's, a Japanese, hibachi-style restaurant. Once an older couple and two (very polite) teenagers on a date were seated around our grill, orders were taken and the show began! Sheila and Austin started with California rolls, which is like sushi for beginners. Next came the main event, which had Braden quite anxious because of the occasional bursts of flames coming from the other tables. Feeling safer sitting in my lap, we watched as our cook sliced and diced his way through our dinner. At one point, after the cook had flipped an empty bowl up into the air and caught it on top of his chef's hat, Braden exclaimed "you are duh greatest magician ub my life"! The older lady seated next to Austin offered to take our picture, and we gratefully accepted as she snapped the shot above.

Once home, we sang "Happy Birthday" and each had a slice of Sheila's Mississippi Mud Pie, which is Austin's favorite new recipe she's discovered by watching the Food Network. Then it was off to his room, to hook the the old eMachine's PC we had repaired, since his computer (2 generations ago) stopped working amidst a small cloud of smoke last week. He'll be happy loading iTunes and "Roller Coaster Tycoon" onto that computer until his summer bedtime of 11:00pm.

11 years ago tonight was an awful, long night in the waiting rooms of Northwest Texas Medical Center, worrying about my wife's recovery from a difficult deliver and my day-old son's response to the antibiotics our pediatrician said he needed to fight off a potentially fatal infection. Shelley's roommate was really hateful about me being in the room after visiting hours, but had the nurses bring her baby into the room, crying and waking Shelley all night. I remember trying to sleep on the chairs in the waiting room and on the floor of the waiting room, but sleep just would not come to me that night. I remember going to the nursery @ 5:00am hoping to see Austin, and being thrilled to see the pediatrician already there, holding him, remarking to the nurses and me how strong Austin was and how much better he looked than the night before. I remember crying different tears than I had ever cried before as I rocked him for the first time later that day, having been introduced to the countless anxious hours that would arrive at his expense.

He's so grown up now, so handsome, so funny, so damn difficult. I worry constantly that I am doing right by him, giving him the right environment for all his God-given abilities to mature and make him a good man. After all, I owe him. He made me a dad, and there's not anything else in my life which means so much.

The Boys

Quick post to show off a couple of recent pics. First is Austin featuring the shiner he got when he took a throw at first base right over the top of his glove and straight into his right cheekbone.



Second pic is of Braden wearing a thin veil of patience with both the costume he was forced to wear at his Wee Wun's Easter party and the need for his mother to take his picture.



Never a dull moment, as they say...

Top Ten List

"Things You Do NOT Want to Hear Your Doctor Say During a Vasectomy"

10. Are you cold?
9. I wish I could get this hand to stop shaking.
8. What's the worst pain you can imagine?
7. I'll feel a small prick - er, I mean YOU, you'll feel a small prick.
6. Your gender-reorientation surgery shouldn't take more than a few hours.
5. Your HMO only pays for the "banding" method.
4. That reminds me - I'm supposed to pick up some Vienna Sausages on the way home tonight.
3. Are you as furious as I am that "Brokeback Mountain" didn't win the Oscar?
2. Nurse, bring me my web-cam.
1. After sticking this needle in your scrotum, I will punch a hole in your scrotal wall, hook your vas deferens, cut them, put titanium caps on the ends, and push them back in. We'll be done in 10 minutes.

"Be Still - This Won't Hurt a Bit"

Sheila went to Waxahachie, Texas on Tuesday to be present for the first hours of the life of London Grace, Wendy and Paul's second daughter. London and her mother are both healthy and happy, and Sheila got to spend three nearly uninterrupted hours with them both in the hospital before returning to Cypress. Such close proximity to a tiny (six pounds) baby girl, along with 'pretty in pink' photos of her newest niece Lydia and hopeful predictions that Jamie is carrying a girl (we won't know until August), have her literally surrounded by girls. That her life consists of wall-to-wall boys is as often a torment as a blessing, as Julie surely knows. No bows for the hair, no frilly clothes, no tea parties, no dance classes.

Well, no dance classes isn't entirely true. You might count Austin's annual 'square-dancing' demonstration at school during the Houston Rodeo days, an event which inspires unparalleled mortification in Austin for two reasons: he's having to dance and he's forced to have physical contact with girls not of his own choosing. I say "not of his own choosing" because he might gladly hold hands with one girl in particular at his school, though the opportunity has not yet presented itself to express his affection for her. I'm sorry not to offer more details, but I'm not quite ready to accept this new, pre-adolescent development and therefore cannot yet write about it... After all, he's still just a baby!

Braden is 3 1/2 and yet has already developed a keen sense of the importance of the day's first pot of coffee. We have established a habit of having him "help" me make the coffee every morning - "I help you Da-ee?" - which is so important to him that he burst into tears one morning when he came into the kitchen and the coffee had already started brewing. He has two responsibilities - putting the filter into the basket and pushing the on-button. I have been going in to work pretty early the last two weeks to help night-shift employees with their annual benefits enrollment paperwork, so Monday morning I was making the coffee a little after 6:00am. He must have heard me, because he walked sleepily into the kitchen from his room holding his blanket in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. Stopping in front of the coffee pot, standing there half asleep, he put his right index finger on the on-button and waited for me to put the carafe in its place. After pushing the button, I carried him in to "Ma-ee's bed" so he could "nuggle", and he was back asleep within five minutes.

As for Sheila, she will love on any girl who crosses her path for the rest of her life, but as an Aunt or surrogate Aunt only. I have an appointment with a urologist in just a few weeks that will put an end to our procreation, so it's two boys for us, thank you very much. Two loud, wild, silly, big, messy, rough, smart, funny, beautiful, healthy boys.

"A blessing since the day they were born," as someone once said...

A New Year

Well it sure seems like Christmas and New Year came and went in a hurry. So much hustle (and bustle) and then a New Year is off and running.

Christmas was fun in Fort Worth, staying with Jeff and Jamie at their new house and spending Christmas Eve at Jim and Sheryl's. The boy's got a ton of new toys, books clothes and one iPod which is the apple of Austin's eye (pun intended). Santa brought Braden the excavator for which he was hoping, and so many toys that some found their way to the attic when we got home to be "discovered" in a few months when the excitement of his other toys wears off.

Jeff & Jamie came here for New Year's. Austin, Jeff and I went to the EV1.net Houston Bowl to watch TCU beat Iowa State, and enjoyed that with one of Austin's best friends (Trevor) and his father, who secured the luxury box tickets. The presence of two teenage girls gave Jeff and me opportunity to torture Austin ("go talk to her", etc.) when the game was slow.

New Year's Eve was quiet, with steaks and a movie. Austin set off fireworks with Trevor's family and enjoyed that. Since Jamie is pregnant (due this summer) it was a peaceful and calm evening for all.

Our anniversary weekend we went downtown to the Hilton Americas and enjoyed a vacation in town while Sandie came down from Tyler to stay with the boys overnight. The pictures are of the boys at the pond that weekend, which you can tell was absolutely beautiful - more like spring than winter.


My birthday weekend was very nice, with a special breakfast, grilled meat for dinner, presents and a family viewing of "Waking Ned Devine". Sheila suggested that watching that movie on my birthday should become an annual tradition, and admitted (I believe for the first time) that WND is one of her favorite movies, too. Now that's a good woman!