Tag: family

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personal

First bike ride

I’ll say joyful

Took the train to see the boy last week.

I was on a completely empty train car when some dude got on and decided to sit directly behind me.

Thought it was odd but didn’t say anything. After just a bit, I heard a deep voice say, “Hey, man. Hey, man – yo, back here.”

I turned around to see this huge fella wearing a baseball cap and a Black Lives Matters mask.

Him: Hey, man. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sitting behind you because this is the only seat with a plug near it and I gotta charge my phone.
Me: Oh! Hey, thanks for telling me. I was wondering…
Him: Yeah, for sure. I’d do the same thing. Empty car. I get it, man.
Me: Seriously, thanks so much for saying something.
Him: No problem, man. I get it.

When I got to my stop, I wished him well.

Me: I hope you get to where you’re going safely, homie. Have a good weekend.
Him: (big smile) Hey, thanks, you too, you too.

My mother-in-law picked me up.

The boy was in school (online) so he couldn’t come with her but when we got to her home, he was there on the porch, waiting for me. He started screaming, “Papa, papa!” at the top of his lungs.

If you’re not a parent that hasn’t seen his kid in weeks, I can’t fully express how it felt to see him.

But I’ll say joyful and hope it translates, knowing that it won’t.

MIL: I wanted you to be the one to teach him how to ride a bicycle.
Me: Thanks, mom. That means a lot to me.

I remember riding my first bike.

It was a yellow girl’s bike with flowers on the plastic banana seat and a white basket. I didn’t care. It was mine and I loved it.

I took off the training wheels from the boy’s bike and he began to cry.

Me: Are you scared?
Him: (nods)
Me: It’s ok to be scared. You can only be brave if you’re scared first. But you get points in life for being brave. Be brave for me, ok?
Him: OK, papa. I’ll try.

He was. He did a great job.

Although, to be fair, even if he didn’t, he’s mine and I love him.

Podcast Version
Location: yesterday night, home again
Mood: busy
Music: Everything means nothing if I can’t have you (Spotify)
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Goodnight, Uncle Jay

Thanks for the gifts

Me: My uncle passed away.
Her: (puts arms around me) I’m so sorry to hear that.
Me: You’re choking me…
Her: I’m giving you a hug!

The picture below’s of a Montblanc Meisterstuck 925 Sterling Silver and 18K Gold fountain pen. My uncle Jay gave it to me when I got into law school way back in 1995.

My dad got me something similar when I graduated college. I never thanked either of them for either gift.

I was upset and petty, you see. A pen? Who gets someone a pen? A computer, a TV, cash – that kinda stuff I understood as a fella in his 20s, but a pen?

I tossed both into a drawer and forgot about them. Found them earlier this year – a quarter of a century later.

I’d meant to say thanks to my dad for his pen, but I always forgot to. And when I found the pen from my uncle, I asked my mom if I should call.

Mom: He’s sick. He won’t understand.

Uncle Jay never had any sons. Only daughters. He was always kind to me. I was too young to know what to do with kindness from relatives.

There’s this saying that I’ve always liked that goes, Youth is wasted on the young.

I was so arrogant and immature for so long. I made so many mistakes. It always feels like it’s too late. But maybe, with the boy, he’ll be better. Nuthin would make me happier than if he was better than me.

Thanks for the pen, Uncle Jay. I didn’t deserve it and I wish I said thanks when I had the chance.

Sister: Are you ok? You were close to him.
Me: I am. He got to live a long life and watch his kids grow up. Meet his grandchildren. What was he, 86? I would take 86 right now. I wish Alison got half that. He lived a good long life where he was loved and respected. We should all be so lucky. He’s no longer suffering. He earned his rest.
Her: You’re right, he did. Thanks.
Me: No, thank you for calling. I’ll give mom a call now.

Podcast Version
Location: yesterday night, having drinks with a pretty lady
Mood: pensive
Music: I hope everything is gonna be alright (Spotify)
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Your computer is updating, Ms. Claire

Welcome to Kindergarten

I went to see my son the other day. My mother-in-law made me chili.

Me: This is the first chili I’ve had in years. After Alison died, I pretty much ate chili every day.
Her: Is chili going to be ok?
Me: Absolutely. I can’t wait.

It was delicious, of course. They’re as much family to me as my own. But, then I had to go. There’s never enough time.

Him: I wish you could stay forever.
Me: I know. Me too.

I’m glad that he’s young enough that he’ll probably not remember the virus and everything related to it. But, I wonder how it’s changed the trajectory of his life.

I wonder so many what if things, as you might imagine.

He started kindergarten virtually this week. I was pretty bummed that I wasn’t there with him. All the more so that Alison wasn’t.

Again, as you might might imagine.

I meant to tell you that, towards the end of prekindergarten, his teacher pulled me aside to talk to me. I was worried that it was something bad – of course. She spoke to me in her thick Irish brogue.

Her: Today, your son came up to me and said, “Your computer is updating, Ms. Claire. It will be ready in a moment.” He read that from the computer screen! 11 years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never met anyone like your son.
Me: Oh god, I was worried you were going to tell me that he did something wrong.
Her: You worry too much, Mr. Lo.
Me: I have good reason to.

On the first day of school this week, the teacher turned to the class and asked if anyone knew what she wrote on the board.

The boy raised his hand and read to the class, “Welcome to kindergarten!”

She woulda been so proud.

Alison and my dad woulda been so proud of this happy, brilliant little kid.

Podcast Version
Location: yesterday morning, getting squashed in LIC
Mood: sore
Music: I loved you right away (Spotify)
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That was unexpected

Frivolous conversation

This cartoonist named Mell Lazarus once said that The secret of dealing successfully with a child is not to be its parent.

Momma and a friend are painting. The friend explains her children used to tell her everything. 'Then they stopped telling me *anything*, and our relationship improved.'

Dunno about that but I do think treating a child like a child has it’s limitations.

When I went to see my son, I brought him a marble run game that the ABFF got him. He ended up just loving it.

It was actually really nice to just sit there and play with him, figuring out this this puzzle together.

He’s more and more verbal every time I see him.

Him: (when the toy got jammed for the first time) That was unexpected.
Me: (laughing to mother-in-law) Whoa, where did he pick that up from?
MIL: You, Logan!

People find it funny that I don’t talk to him like a child, but I remember hating being talked to like a child, even when I was a child. Found it patronizing.

Plus, everything I’ve read about child development indicates that children pick up things far better than one might imagine.

So, I talk to him the way I might talk to someone my age(ish).

Then again, I’m starting to remember being made fun of for how I talked when I was a kid. Still, all the things that made me weird then, I think kinda make me interesting as an adult. I think.

Besides, I’m not really one for frivolous conversation.

Me: For what it’s worth, I told you that I couldn’t be trusted in affairs of the heart. I told you that I wasn’t your person.
Contestant: I hoped.
Me: I’m sorry. That’s where you went wrong.

By the time you read this entry, I should have 100,000 views on that video.

I needed a better fitting shirt and to slouch less. Blargh.

Anywho, here’s a song for your Labour Day weekend. And subscribe to my playlist if you want more tunes.

Podcast Version
Location: earlier this morning, waving goodbye to my favourite little human
Mood: pained
Music: in the living room, turn it up until we feel it boom (Spotify)
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You alright, man?

For the purposes of this conversation

Me: Ow! You punched me in the face!
Mouse: Sorry, I was trying to smother you with the pillow.
Me: (rubbing face) Fair.

Since my last entry about going to CityMD, I went two more times. Once was for Mouse – and that’s her story so I’ll leave that there – the other was for a third infection on my finger.

Seriously, I need some frequent flier miles with them.

Bryson’s wife, a doc, is thinking it’s from the grappling but I’ve not really done it in a while. I’m actually wondering if it might be COVID related.

It’s nuts, but then again, my life’s been nuthin but nuts for years, so why change things now?

The boy and I were Skyping the other day and he randomly said, “Mommy,” and cried.

It was so unexpected and sad that I didn’t know what to say or do. But, when I was able to, I went off to see him. That’s him, doing some chores around the house for the grandparents.

It was great, as always, to spend time with him. Even just holding him.

Then again, the leaving was as awful as it’s always been. I keep thinking that I’m OK and I realize that I’m not at all OK. None of this is OK.

Nothing that’s happened to us is OK.

Him: I wish you could stay.
Me: Me too. We have to be patient.
Him: I don’t like being patient.
Me: Me neither.

After seeing Chuck off, Lviv dropped me a line to tell me that she went home for a spell too.

Me: Probably a good idea to get away for a bit and clear your head.
Her: (laughing) I seem to need to clear my head a lot these days. Just one of these heads that needs constant clearing.

As did another former contestant.

Funny right? Like I said, I keep thinking that I’m OK and I realize that I’m not at all OK.

Him: Logan, you alright, man?
Me: No. I’m not. But, for the purposes of this conversation, let’s just say I am and move on.

Podcast Version
Location: outside, helping a dancer move her bed
Mood: pensive
Music: I don’t think you have the patience (Spotify)
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Modern Loneliness

If I call home

Her: I took Monday off.
Me: Thank you – you’re the best.

Mouse came by over the weekend to keep me company, like always. My dad died three years ago, you see…

It’s hard to believe it’s been three years.

We had a really nice weekend, which I suppose I’ll tell you about later.

Every year it gets a bit easier, which makes me feel guilty that it gets easier. I was angry at my father in the years before he died. Angry about things I suppose sons get angry with their fathers for.

He loved me, though, so I’m sure he forgave me and my petty nonsense. I’m not sure if I forgive myself, though.

I wasn’t with my dad all that much in the years before he died – cause I spent so much time with Alison trying to save her – sometimes, I feel that if I call home, he’ll pick up.

Even though I know he won’t.

Home. It’s a odd word.

Chad and a buddy Chuck just walked out the door. They came by because Chuck’s heading home after a decade-and-a-half of NYC living. That’s his story, not mine, so I’ll end it there.

I envy him, though, in a way. He has a home to go back to.

The thing with me’s that I am home. I have no place to return to because I’m already here. The only home I’ve know for the past quarter of a century is this one.

My mom and sis still live in my childhood home but it’s not home to me. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.

Then again, in a lotta ways, this place doesn’t either, I guess. Alison isn’t here. My son isn’t here.

Harold’s still here but that’s besides the point.

In any case, this singer named Lauv has a song called, Modern Loneliness that opens with the lines:

I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout my father lately
The person that he made me
The person I’ve become

And it ends:

Modern loneliness, we’re never alone
But always depressed, yeah

For some reason I found it very apropos this past weekend the past three years.

Man, dad, I miss you. You woulda loved the kid. He’s so great. I’m sorry he didn’t get to know you and you didn’t get to know him.

He’s so great.

Podcast Version
Location: home
Mood: gutted
Music: all my demons, if I could cleanse my soul (Spotify)
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Three old friends

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Me: I’m running out the door to pick up some stuff from a friend. This scooter’s really paying for itself these days.
Paul: Wear a helmet! Seriously. People are animals. My wife’s convinced drivers will stop but…wear a helmet!

Got three random messages from old friends recently; people that used to be in this blog a lot more before Alison died.

I think I stopped seeing everyone from my old life because they all knew and loved her. But, I’m slowly getting back in touch with then.

Or, they with me.

The friend I was seeing was Steel. I can’t believe it was seven years ago when he called me to tell me that he caught some striped bass.

I remember Alison thought it was cool that a friend would randomly call me to give me fish.

Anywho, he did again earlier this week so off I went to the Upper East Side.

Like me, he’s a dad of a young child. You need to know this for context.

Steel: Wait, where’s your helmet?
Me: Holy cow, I can’t believe I forgot to wear one. I literally just told a buddy of mine that I always wear a helmet.
Him: (laughing) I was shocked to see you – out of all people – show up without one.

I was actually planning on picking up some fried chicken but, because I didn’t have a helmet, I decided to just go home.

The next day, Gio called me. He left his firm with his boss and the two of them, plus two others, decided to try their luck on their own. They opened up shop at Columbus Circle, not too far from my pad.

Gio: Yeah, we were planning ton his since before the pandemic but, it looks like 95% of our old clients are coming with us.
Me: Damn, nice. I tell everyone that any company can be good in good times, only great companies can be good in bad times.
Him: (laughs) Nice scooter, BTW. I think I have the exact same one. But, I haven’t ridden it yet. I’m in the office by 8AM and I don’t leave until midnight.
Me: I remember those days. I think they’re long past now.

The three year anniversary of my dad’s death is on Monday so I think I’ll be checking out for a bit.

Come back on Tuesday, won’t you?

Oh, in the meantime, my brother suggested that I make my Spotify Blog Playlist public so click here or above for it.

I’ll add the songs that I put into this blog as well as songs from past entries so it’ll continually grow.

I have a pretty broad taste in music so there’s bound to be something you’ll love. Or hate.

Bound to be…

Podcast Version
Location: this week, all over town
Mood: nostalgic
Music: All of the mazes and the madness in my mind (Spotify)
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Sweet Dreams

I’m sorry

Luciano’s mom reached out to me over the weekend and filled me in on some more information.

I didn’t know what to say. What does one say, but, “I’m sorry?”

The truth is, you want to say, “I’m sorry that the world is so fucked up and people like Luciano and Alison are gone but shit-heads like Trump and his progeny still exist. There’s no God and if there is one, he’s a giant asshole and he can go fuck himself.”

But in the end, all you can ever say is, “I’m sorry,” and hope it’s enough.

Speaking of which…

Me: I guess I should take these letters off.
Chad: Do you want me to help?
Me: No. I’ll do it myself. Just…distract me will you?
Him: Sure, I’ll do a dance. (thinking) You should take a picture.
Me: (starting the process) I already did, but thanks.
Him: I’m sorry, Logan.
Me: (nodding)

When Alison moved in, she wanted to paint the boy’s room but I convinced her not to. It was too much trouble, I said. We had already agreed on painting the master bedroom and living room so she relented on what was the guest room.

I kept the paint cans for those two rooms, 11 years after Alison and I got them.

It’s hard letting things go.

The boy’s room, though, was painted by a lovely girl name Abbie in September of 2004, almost exactly 16 years ago. That was the last time it was painted. Abbie painted it when patterns were all the rage but it now made the room look dated.

To the point that, when Mouse lived here, she also asked to paint it, and I said no again. This time for a slightly different reason.

You see, Alison and I put up these stickers that read, “Sweet Dreams.” It was just a random idea that Alison had and she surprised me with the lettering. I still remember her, pregnant and carefully measuring and adjusting the words so that they would be perfect. Which they were – perfectly balanced and exactly in the center of the crib.

That was her in a nutshell.

Now, she always had meant for them to be temporary but once she died, I couldn’t bear the thought of taking them down.

But the boy’s growing up. And he should have a room that he can have for the next 16 years if he wanted, not the room Abbie wanted 16 years ago.

So, this past Sunday, I took the lettering down with Chad. Then Mouse came by and the three of us painted the whole thing.

While we were waiting for it to dry, we went out for food.

Me: Are you two tired of Vietnamese yet?
Them: Nope, not yet.

We ran into an old friend of mine while we were out but I suppose that’s an entry for another time.

Then we came back and we marveled at the room.

Neither of them had ever painted before. It wasn’t perfect but we were happy with it afterward – we didn’t do any of the molding as I figured we’d do that some other time.

But it was good. I think Alison would have liked it.

Hopefully, the boy will.

Podcast Version
Location: earlier today, at 84th, asking for Ariel
Mood: much better
Music: Hold your head up, keep your head up, (Spotify)
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Heartgirl was Queen of my Heart

Except in reverse

Speaking of sad stories, I finally told Lviv mine before she went home for a bit.

Her: Can I ask what happened yet?
Me: I suppose you earned my sad stories. I’ll need some rum. (deep breath)
Her: (later) I’m sorry, Logan.
Me: Yeah, so am I.
Her: (wipes eyes) Man, I need a drink now.
Me: Yeah.
Her: I’m glad she had you.
Me: Yeah. (sighing) Lucky her. She was Queen of my Heart and I was her guard.

Lviv’s heart is in NYC but her home’s somewhere else.

I understand that all too well, except in reverse.

I took that pic of Alison/Heartgirl the second night I ever met her. Told her that, if she was my Ship in the Night Girl, I’d marry her someday. I never said that to anyone.

She laughed. But she was.

She had the most beautiful green eyes and happy laugh.

There’s no sin I wouldn’t commit to see and hear them again.

Podcast Version
Location: my hot, hot, home
Mood: drunk
Music: Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep (Spotify)
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No new contestant

A nice touch

Meant to meet up with a new contestant last week but I bailed and saw the most important woman in my life after Alison, instead.

Her: You don’t have to come, it’s too rushed.
Me: It’ll just be for a bit and I’ll keep my distance. I miss you, mom.

But I did get to see ML for a hot second.

Me: Sorry, I’ve been busy lately.
Her: It’s fine. Every time a guy is with me, their status goes up.
Me: Man, and people think I’m vain…
Her: (shrugging) But, it’s true. (later) Dating in NYC is awful.
Me: It is. But, I think you exchange your sad story too early. People should earn your sad stories and you should earn theirs.
Her: Why?
Me: I want people to like being around me because I’m cool as fuck. Not because they feel sorry for me.

Mouse stopped by along with Chad on Saturday for just a bit to train with us again but then bolted to take care of her family.

It’s a shame because we all just ordered some more Vietnamese food.

She came back on Sunday with sunflowers for me and to say hi to the boy over Skype, again.

They miss each other and it’s mad sweet.

The sunflowers were a nice touch so I picked us up some Indian food. We ended up watching The Gentleman, because of a massive food coma.

The film was really excellent.

Her: (settling down) Don’t get any ideas, Logan.
Me: Heavens, I would never.
Her: (laughs) Suuure…

Podcast Version
Location: my hot, hot, home
Mood: happy?
Music: Don’t tell me to go (Spotify)
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