Monday, May 02, 2005
Happy birthday...Dad.
Today is the birthday of Richard B. Barrett, also known as my step-father Dick. Happy birthday, Dick, and thanks for being my "dad" over the past 30 years.
I've never actually called him dad, but that's really what he was. I don't really ever remember my biological Father being in the house with us, and by the time I was 7, we moved across the country and I only saw the Father a few times a year. Who knows how the relationship as it is now -- friendly, superficial, generally benign...neither outright negative nor particularly beneficial -- would be if we'd stayed in closer geographic proximity. But the hand that was dealt me was, nevertheless, a good one, as I was fortunate that Dick came along in my formative years (anyone have a clue when those end? I'm still forming all over the place) at age 5 or 6 and stayed with us up to this day.
There's definitely some residual Nature in me (some good and some bad things from Father), but there's a whole lot of Nurture, and beyond the acute sensitivity to the cycles of the furnace and the noises in a house, I'm incredibly grateful for the things Dick contributed to me and taught me by way of Nurture. Some I follow, some I pledge and strive to follow...but nevertheless: an unerring sense of honesty and fairness; directness to a fault; ambition; good humor and quick wit; a surprising playfulness (particularly with little kids); determination; intellectual curiousity; near complete intolerance for bullshit and pretense; fondness for a daily newspaper; and an introduction to Red Smith, one of the giants of sportswriting whose work helped lead me to a life of journalism.
Now, there's a lot of my mom mixed in there too...so she deserves some billing as well. Mom, I couldn't have done it without you...what "it" exactly is still a work in progress, but I'm happy to see that there is more progress than regress these days, and I hope you both feel the same way.
Dick -- Happy 68th Birthday. I'm not of your genes, but I'm proud to be your son.
Today's Lindsay note: I swear to god, she grew up between when I left for work and when I came home. She just looked...older or something, and it's interesting to note that Nicola said several people complimented her on how cute Lindsay was (aww, proud dad!). I'm sure these things are unrelated, but our little Bean seems to have turned a corner in terms of going from newborn to baby or something. More coos and random noises came forth tonight. It just moves so fast...10 weeks this Thursday!
The good sleep continues...but a confession: it's primarily in the swing. Goddamn she loves that swing, as do we. We are managing our guilt with the "whatever works" mantra familiar to all new parents...but how long will this bromide continue to be a legitimate rationale? Well, it passes now, even though we do recognize that Lindsay's happiness should not rely on the power of four D batteries. Baby steps...like moving the swing from the living room to our bedroom and now into her nursery. Hey, it's mere steps from her crib (the next stop)!
I've never actually called him dad, but that's really what he was. I don't really ever remember my biological Father being in the house with us, and by the time I was 7, we moved across the country and I only saw the Father a few times a year. Who knows how the relationship as it is now -- friendly, superficial, generally benign...neither outright negative nor particularly beneficial -- would be if we'd stayed in closer geographic proximity. But the hand that was dealt me was, nevertheless, a good one, as I was fortunate that Dick came along in my formative years (anyone have a clue when those end? I'm still forming all over the place) at age 5 or 6 and stayed with us up to this day.
There's definitely some residual Nature in me (some good and some bad things from Father), but there's a whole lot of Nurture, and beyond the acute sensitivity to the cycles of the furnace and the noises in a house, I'm incredibly grateful for the things Dick contributed to me and taught me by way of Nurture. Some I follow, some I pledge and strive to follow...but nevertheless: an unerring sense of honesty and fairness; directness to a fault; ambition; good humor and quick wit; a surprising playfulness (particularly with little kids); determination; intellectual curiousity; near complete intolerance for bullshit and pretense; fondness for a daily newspaper; and an introduction to Red Smith, one of the giants of sportswriting whose work helped lead me to a life of journalism.
Now, there's a lot of my mom mixed in there too...so she deserves some billing as well. Mom, I couldn't have done it without you...what "it" exactly is still a work in progress, but I'm happy to see that there is more progress than regress these days, and I hope you both feel the same way.
Dick -- Happy 68th Birthday. I'm not of your genes, but I'm proud to be your son.
Today's Lindsay note: I swear to god, she grew up between when I left for work and when I came home. She just looked...older or something, and it's interesting to note that Nicola said several people complimented her on how cute Lindsay was (aww, proud dad!). I'm sure these things are unrelated, but our little Bean seems to have turned a corner in terms of going from newborn to baby or something. More coos and random noises came forth tonight. It just moves so fast...10 weeks this Thursday!
The good sleep continues...but a confession: it's primarily in the swing. Goddamn she loves that swing, as do we. We are managing our guilt with the "whatever works" mantra familiar to all new parents...but how long will this bromide continue to be a legitimate rationale? Well, it passes now, even though we do recognize that Lindsay's happiness should not rely on the power of four D batteries. Baby steps...like moving the swing from the living room to our bedroom and now into her nursery. Hey, it's mere steps from her crib (the next stop)!
// posted by Bill @ 11:26 AM 
