Category Archives: Family

The Ilagan Twins celebrated their 8th birthday recently, and I’m just now getting around to posting the pictures from a gathering at my parents’ home. They were born at the tail-end of March, but we hadn’t been able to get together until a few weeks afterward, when the weather was only slightly better. That didn’t dampen the spirits, or the possibility of heading outside for some rambunctious fun before and after the dinner festivities.

I still remember the rainy day on which they were born. Andy and I got the call that afternoon and after work we drove to the hospital to meet our new niece and nephew. We were instantly smitten, and since that time we’ve watched and played a small part in their childhood evolution.

If we haven’t seen them in a few weeks, as was the case this time, I marvel at how much, and how quickly, they’ve changed.

They are eight now, and the days are flying by.

This is the time to catch them and make memories – just as they are starting to make ones that they will remember into adulthood. There’s something exciting in that. Dangerous too, if you’re not careful. Children will listen.

The sun stayed outside while we went in for dinner…

Family, fun and non-phones dominated this year’s Easter festivities, starting off with an Easter egg hunt through the Ilagan home, which found Emi and Noah bounding through rooms and snatching up eggs behind every pillow, book and vase. As with all things involving the twins, there was a bit of a competition, and even with the promise that they would even out their treasure at the end of it all the morning verged on upset – luckily it passed as quickly as it erupted. (Word of advice for next year: evenly dole out the eggs and put a name on each one. If they find one that doesn’t belong to them they leave it alone and move on. Why is a non-parent like me the one who has to think of these things?)

After that passed, we sat for a lovely early dinner, with ham and yams and all the typical fixings (green beans exotic of course). Emi sat between me and Uncle Andy, where she showed us her iPod (not a phone, seriously) which she had received for her birthday.

Andy and Emi have always had their own secret language. She noticed early on that he was the only person in the family with blue eyes.

She shares his mischievous sense of humor, and was happy to share in a few selfies.

A bit of sun crept into the day, with a glimpse of blue sky. We took the opportunity and stepped outside for a bit, a tradition usually reserved for nicer days, but this would have to do.

As the wind whipped around us, I got the twins to pause briefly and smile for the camera. We’ll do a more extensive posing session when it gets a bit warmer.

Three of my favorite people in the world populate this brief sneak peek of an Easter recap on the way for this weekend: my niece and nephew who just turned eight years old, and my husband who is a wee bit older. They all had fun on Easter Sunday, even if they’re growing up way too quickly. (All of them.) Come back here tomorrow for the rest of the pics…

As far from my August 24 birthdate as one could get on a calendar, my brother was born on this day 41 years ago. That means that, with the exception of my parents, I’m the person he has known longest in his life. As such, there is a bond between us that cannot be broken under any circumstances. We may fight or squabble, and it can get down and dirty sometimes, but brotherhood is more powerful than any of that nonsense, and the love between two brothers is something we have come to embrace after four decades of learning to be friends with each other.

We’ll head over to Amsterdam this afternoon for a family dinner in his honor – with the kids and all the trimmings. Hang onto your birthday hats.

Happy birthday, baby bro!

The promise of a dinner party fills some with dread, and others with exhilaration. I’m in the latter camp, so when I suggested (read: mandated) that my brother have one to christen his new house, I was very excited that he agreed. His girlfriend Landrie helped him pull off a lovely evening in the midst of an oncoming winter snowfall, and it was as cozy and comfy as one could have wished. 

The menu was all comfort food, and the cocktail was the Blushing Betty. The company was relaxed and fun. The music was Ella. It was a wonderful way to pass a winter night. 

This evening my brother is hosting a dinner party at his new home in Amsterdam. At my none-too-subtle urging, we started planning for this a while back. Getting a new home in order is no easy feat, and he’s been working around the clock to bring it together. I personally think it looks great considering how long he’s had it, and the front two rooms are magazine-worthy. (Maybe they wouldn’t be the cover, but an interior layout is nothing shabby.) 

There is a cocktail hour loosely slated for before dinner, at which we’ll be serving bourbon-based drinks. The signature cocktail for the night’s festivities will be the grapefruit-accented Blushing Betty, as seen here. Of course, there will also be Bada Bing cherries on hand and a fresh bottle of sweet vermouth for anyone who wants a Manhattan. 

I’ve requested some mellow jazz for the evening, but my bother’s tastes tend to stray into livelier territory. I can handle some Buddy Rich, the rest remains to be seen. A fancy record-player and a extensive collection of vinyl means that the possibilities are endless. We might get into the Lou Reed and Velvet Underground weeds, and I’m not going to argue. Hell, we may even get my brother to strum the guitar and start a sing-a-long. Anyone know the chords to ‘Like A Prayer‘? 

JoAnn is coming in from the Cape to join us, and Suzie and Pat are driving in from Delmar, so it will be a good group for breaking bread and passing a winter night. 

PS – If the time isn’t right, then Mo Vaughn. 

When there’s a lull or silence in the background noise after kids leave the dinner table, it’s usually time to check on them to see what they’re trying to hide. On a recent evening after dinner at my parents’ home, that silence prompted me to head into the kitchen and see what was up. I was immediately shooed back out and told not to look. That’s not the usual way with these kids (as I’d witnessed earlier when I passed Emi gleefully sitting on the toilet with the bathroom door wide open to the world. She had waved.) This time it was Noah, blocking whatever project he was working on, insisting on me not looking.

Whenever I see my niece or nephew working on something creative, I’m quick to encourage, and then let it happen. In this case, we were all called into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, when he revealed what he had spelled out in pipe-cleaners: EMI, NOAH, PAUL and SEALYS. (The sealys are their pet stuffed seals.) It was quite the effort and presentation, and I let him know that it was impressive. All such endeavors deserve a moment of recognition.

We first met him at our wedding party seven long years ago. On a day so filled with the love of our family and friends, it was a most auspicious moment to meet the gentleman that our Aunt Elaine had just started seeing. Introducing someone new isn’t always easy, especially to family, but Tony was instantly likable, and his willingness to try new things and go with the flow made it easy to see why Elaine was so enamored of him. The feeling was absolutely mutual, and he doted on her in surprisingly delightful ways. Many men are not entirely comfortable showing such fondness and adoration so openly and honestly. Tony wore his heart on his sleeve where Elaine was concerned, and we watched their relationship bloom and grow with a warmth that spilled over to the rest of us.

He had an ever-present smile with just the slightest hint of mischief to it, and twinkling eyes that conveyed kindness and a gameness for anything. He and Elaine would simply head out for a drive and let the roads take them where they were meant to go for the day. Without end or goal in sight, they’d already found their purpose in each other’s company. We could all learn something from that.

Along with his smile, he had a readiness to laugh at the slightest provocation, and one of the greatest things to witness was when he’d find something amusing, then throw his head back with a hearty laugh. He was always a fun guest to have at summer gatherings by the pool or at cozy winter dinners before the call of Florida arrived. He and Elaine joined our family in Ogunquit several times in Octobers past, when fall was at its height and winter loomed in the not-so-distant future. His active life was exemplified by his love of riding his bike. He would ride for hours, and refused to be stopped by the dip in weather. He went to Florida for the winters where, he could keep riding year-round.

When he was first diagnosed with cancer several years ago, he fought and beat it back with his typical gusto and verve. He wasn’t quite done with his journey, and we weren’t ready to let him go. When it came back in more vicious form, he fought again, but it was too much for him. Losing his ability to go on his beloved bike rides must have hurt. He faded a little more every time we saw him, but still there were glimpses of the sparkle that we first saw on that summer night so many years ago.

Though we lost him last weekend, we have a treasure trove of memories that keep him in our lives. Kindness is a lost art – and Tony had always been kind. The world needs more of that. For now, there is only the profound sadness of loss, and the ache that comes with the realization that his kindness, and the joy he brought to wherever he was, will always be missing.

Yet I have a feeling that Tony would not want anyone to wallow for long. Somewhere, he is back on that bike, pedaling to his next adventure, a beautiful breeze rushing by and that smile breaking across his face. The end of his road here is sorrowful for the rest of us, but I think Tony was someone who would not want to look back. That doesn’t mean we won’t miss him a lot.

Today we celebrate the day my Mom came into the world, and every day since then the world has been a better place because of it. Any remnants of kindness and goodness, patience and concern, grace and dignity, and style and élan that I may possess have been passed on to me from her. She’s the person who taught me how to put an outfit together, but that underneath it all such superficial trappings didn’t really matter. She showed me through example more than words that while we should be generous enough to want to impress people, what anyone else thinks of us is vastly unimportant to how we feel about ourselves. She’s also illustrated that sometimes it’s enough to give, without expecting anything in return, and the sort of grace that results is something precious and rare, and to be her son is a blessing I most often don’t deserve.

We’ll have her and the family over for dinner in honor of her birthday, and I’m already at work plotting out our Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway (‘Dear Evan Hansen’ tickets are already in the bag). Happy Birthday, Mom!!

About an hour before I was supposed to be at Afrim’s, I texted Sherri and Skip to find out the best way to park in that crazy parking lot. If you are blissfully unaware of what Afrim’s is, I would advise trying to remain that way; it’s that sports monstrosity for kids of all ages near the traffic circle of Albany-Shaker Road. Up until now, it was a site I avoided at all costs, for obvious reasons. But when your nephew is playing in his final soccer game of the season, an Uncle has to make a sacrifice and take one for the team. (Andy claimed to have last-minute shopping to do, so I was on my own.)

Sherri and Skip said to park in the back and walk, to avoid any crazy soccer parents looking for a fight. ‘What land was this?’ I wondered as I found a spot relatively close to the entrance. A messy mix was still falling, and as I stepped out in my L.L. Bean Rubber Boots (all the better to blend in with this slice of suburbia) I noticed that I was walking on a slushy stretch of astroturf. In the parking lot. Forget Kansas, I didn’t even think we were on this planet anymore. I looked back at the Ice Blue Show Queen and waited for further info from Sherri and Skip. (For instance, are flasks outright banned at this kids’ place, or merely frowned upon?) Alas, there was no flask for the driver, so I trudged through the snow and ice in sober fashion.

Inside, a nightmare beyond my wildest imaginings unfurled. Kids, kids, and more kids. Kids of all sizes and shapes, of all ages and stupidity levels, and in every decibel known to the human ear. I knew they would be there, I just wasn’t expecting so many. Roaming in packs or singly stalking the halls, they were everywhere, and I sent up a single prayer to the Sweet Baby Jesus right before his birthday: that I would escape without contracting pinkeye.

There were signs advertising beer – something to give certain parents a glimmer of hope I suppose – but no one was drinking so I wasn’t about to be the poster guy for Bad Gay Uncles (my boots were already bringing down my people). A slight stench permeated the place, not quite as bad as a gym, but not far from it either. An enormous wooden box of ‘Lost & Found’ items, including a whole section of used water bottles, lined one wall. Judging from the contents, they could have dropped the ‘& Found’ portion and called a nasty spade a nasty spade.

Just as I was about to give in to overexposure to kids and holiday exasperation, my nephew and niece bounded in and gave me a quick hug. I saw Noah’s eyes light up when he saw me, and suddenly realized that it mattered that I was there. When a little lesson like that comes at Christmas-time, it means a little more. Noah was gone in a flash, but Emi stayed in the lobby area with me for a bit.

Soon it was time for the game to start. I knew nothing about soccer other than it was what David Beckham did. My brother explained that here the clock didn’t stop like it did in football, and the 20 minutes up on the board would run down regardless of pauses in the game. Finally, something I could really cheer about! Amen to that! My relief might have betrayed more than I wanted, but I didn’t care. Emi complained about how bored she was, but I reminded her that certain people had sat through a six-hour dance recital for her not too long ago. She smiled and went back to watching before the first of a few trips to the bathroom.

The game was actually interesting, even if I was starting to get the sense that their team wasn’t very good. (My brother confirmed this in no uncertain terms.) I was a bit taken aback by how seriously some people were taking it – these are six and seven-year-olds, right? And it probably would have been better in a tiered stadium with beer and hot dogs, but by half-time, or the fifth inning stretch, or whatever the hell they call the damn thing in soccer, I was getting into the groove.

Noah scored two goals this time out, and though I’m biased I also have it on good authority that he is always one of the strongest players. He did his team proud, and afterward I took them out to lunch at Chili’s. Their choice.

On Wolf Road.

On the Saturday two days before Christmas.

Because that’s what a good Uncle does.