We celebrated Andy’s birthday with the family this past weekend, and it was a gathering that spanned the generations, and our twenty-two years together. All those years run giddily into one happy entity after a while, creating layers of love and warm memories that glow like birthday candles, the kind that keep relighting even when you think they’re out. Family is unwavering that way. Here’s a glimpse into ours.
“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.” ~
This little guy is quickly taking after his Godfather, knowing precisely how to work the camera from every angle, and quick to display a versatility in playing any role. Not content to show one face to the world, he is intent on showing all of them, in as rapid-fire a manner as possible. These were all taken in the span of about a one minute. Such is the dramatic gamut of my Godson’s myriad expressions. Mr. Jaxon already knows how to work it.
Oh little man – how much hope rests on your little head – and how quickly we have already fallen in love with you. Keep your smile, keep your wonder, keep your mischief, keep your quiet, keep your cunning, keep your smirk, and keep your spirit. Keep all the secrets that make you such a happy boy, and hold onto them. These magic days will pass too quickly, but we will note them here, and immortalize them in these images – reminders of how much you are loved.
The newest addition to the Ilagan family, Jaxon, has already mastered the art of the pose. Mostly though, he is content to sleep and it is in this peaceful state that we usually find him. (I am all for a sleeping baby.)
Dad has even taken an interest in him, which is a feat in and of itself. He’s made a connection, and the very ends of our family have come together, generations already bound in love. There’s something reassuring abut being sandwiched in-between them – a sense of history being carried on, life continuing its beautiful path forward.
As for Jaxon, he won’t remember any of this, and who knows what sort of remnants of our time with him now will remain. I’ve written him a few letters to have something physical on record of these days, and they say the internet lives forever, so maybe some search engine when he’s an adult will bring up this post in garbled form, and remind him of how precious he has always been to us.
While this site always goes dark on 9/11, yesterday also happened to be my Dad’s 92nd birthday, so he gets an extra day of celebration, as anyone who has made it to the age of 92 deserves. The last year has continued to bring about a slow and steady decline, but there are still rare moments of engagement and joy that can be elicited, sometimes by the littlest member of our family, his grandson Jaxon Layne.
Every now and then the Dad that we used to know resurfaces, sometimes at the unlikeliest of times, and we are reminded of happier days and childhood and the benign love of a father. For his birthday dinner, he had a few of those moments, when we got him to smile and interact for a brief moment.
I had a couple quiet times with him too, when he saw me and we connected in the midst of the cacophony of kids and talking, liked we used to do. It was a cross-generation of Ilagans at the dining room table, celebrating our patriarch.
Happy Birthday, Dad – we love you.
Our Boston weekend continued, as the twins and I woke for an early breakfast from Cafe Madeleine before the harbor cruise. We picked up some chocolate and almond croissants, then sat on a bench in a nearby park to enjoy the sweet treats. A growing group of little birds joined us, expanding into a frenzy of feathered friends as each flake of croissant fell to the floor. We watched them with entertainment and enjoyment – this little ritual was an unexpectedly bit of casual fun, unplanned and all the more miraculous because of it. They said we should do breakfast like this the next morning.
The sea, which played such an integral part of our adventures earlier this summer as in this weekend with Kira and our annual BroSox Adventure with Skip, was the new backdrop for this weekend with the twins. Boston Harbor carries its own magic, and the surprise I had planned for the twins had me eagerly awaiting our departure hour.
Being that the twins are 12 years old, I looked up Boston adventures for kids about to be teenagers, and the first one that popped up was this high-speed Codzilla boat trip. It looked fun, and more exciting than the slow Boston cruises that would hit on history, something I figured they’d had their fill of on the Freedom Trail the day before.
I told them we were just going on a regular boat ride, but as we approached the boarding area, they saw the signs of warning (for those with heart conditions or motion sickness or who didn’t want to get wet) and they suddenly got a little apprehensive. Had I miscalculated their capacity for excitement? It was too late to do anything about that now, as I scanned our tickets and we buckled into the vessel.
“Would your Uncle Al do anything that would scare or harm you?” I asked, foolishly realizing the answer before I even finished the question.
“Yes!!” they screamed in unison.
Ok, that’s fair.
The ride was just as it was billed, and we did get soaked, but I think underneath these poses they had fun. They’re just about to become snarky teens, and this was good practice to be annoyed by everything in the world. The day was warm and sunny, and we dried off as we ambled our way through Quincy Market for lunch and shopping. After that, it was time to head home for a change of clothes.
Returning to the condo, we simply hung out for the rest of the afternoon. We’ve reached the point where they can be mostly self-sufficient, perusing their iPads or phones, while their Uncle Al does an afternoon meditation. Noah had helped me design the backdrop of fall-hued curtains, perfect for a fun weekend-ending photo shoot, so we took a few shots to commemorate the last summer weekend in Boston, and to set the stage for the fall to come.
The next morning, as requested, we had breakfast with the birds again. Maybe it will be a new tradition, maybe it was a twice-in-a-lifetime experience. Whatever the case, we can add it to our story, as we add the entire weekend to our magnificent summer together.
Boston is a city steeped in history and tradition. It’s there in every cobblestone, every worn sculpture, every turn along the Freedom Trail. It’s also a great place to explore to get a feel for this country’s origin story, and the various events that brought us to such freedom. This was the background for a weekend with the twins in Boston, where we began on a sunny Friday afternoon with a walk along the Freedom Trail, and it would become a weekend that we added to our own family history.
It was the last unofficial weekend in summer – a long one thanks to Labor Day – and we arrived to celebrate the final sunny days of a summer that has treated us exceptionally well. This would be our farewell to a Boston summer, and I was joined by Noah and Emi, who were game enough to do the entire Freedom Trail. As we began the first leg, I eyed the golden-domed State house ahead of us and warned them that the hill was steeper than it looked. They balked at my warning, as though I was an old man barely able to get around, so I was confident they would tackle the trail without a problem.
We wound our way through downtown Boston, pausing at each historical stop along the way, making vague plans for dinner in Quincy Market or the North End, and the beauty of the day kept us inspired.
The twins and I have had a number of adventures over this past summer, so we looked back over a few of those on our journey. They’ve also been in Boston with me during the holidays, and we talked of maybe doing that again this holiday season. Adding to our family history while recalling it was a warm moment for us, and as we wound our way through the streets of Boston, I felt us writing a new chapter in the exact moment it was happening.
We decided to have our dinner in the North End, and we enjoyed some pasta on the second floor of Bacco, situated by a window and looking down into the streets just starting to swell with people.
The day’s light was winding down as we were nearing the end of the trail. The twins were already tired out, and complaining that their feet hurt. Their 47-year-old Uncle Al was ready to walk another five miles, and in my head I recalled their initial dismissal of my warning of the hill to the State House, but we slowed our pace and rested before heading back home.
We pushed through and made it back, and I told them we would all sleep well after such a workout. Back in the condo, we settled in, had some dessert, and were out almost as soon as we hit the pillows. The next day we were scheduled for a Boston Harbor cruise, and we needed the rest…
My newest nephew Jaxon Layne was in attendance at our last two family dinners, so we decided to do a little photo shoot to capture everyone before they grew up. Cajoling the twins into posing for any picture at the testy age of twelve is always a crap shoot, but they were game for these. (Uncle Al can be very persuasive.) I won’t burden this post with any more of my superfluous words – the pictures speak for themselves.
They may be on the verge of turning into teenagers, but my niece and nephew still have a bit of childhood left to experience, so whenever we have an opportunity to have them over, we take it, hoping to make the most of these dwindling days. So it was that we hosted them for an overnight a couple of weeks ago, which we began with a steak dinner by Andy, and an excursion to the movie theater to take in ‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ – a movie choice they agreed upon without the customary hours of debate and argument and compromise and concession, and one that I hesitantly agreed to when they said they were old enough to see it. I suppose they are, and that will take its own getting used to.
The next day we rose early to head West. Having taken the day off from work, I indulged in a rare, and welcome, breakfast at a local diner. This tradition with the twins is one of the simplest and most fun ways to pass a morning – we’ve been doing it for years, starting when they were just old enough to dine out. I still remember them choosing a waffle with ice cream, and their big smiles over the plates when they arrived. That was way back after their first sleepover with us. A lot of time has passed since then.
On this day we were headed to Sharon Springs for a drive through the country, a stop at the Beckman 1802 Mercantile, and whatever other adventures the remaining time together held.
I made the twins pose in front of the American Hotel, where Andy and I had so thoroughly enjoyed a meal and stay far too many years ago (we are overdue for another). We then walked down the short stretch of Main Street, stopping at a couple of soap stores, perusing a fascinating gift shop that stretched out room after room, and finally reaching our destination all too quickly. When we hopped back in the car, I saw that we were only a few minutes from Canajoharie, and the memory of a visit to Wintergreen Park as a kid came flooding back. I decided to put that into the GPS and see if I could bring us all back to a place in time that provided one of the most fun excursions of my childhood.
The winding roads brought us to the park, which was smaller and much more manageable than I remember it – childhood memory having a way of making things much more spectacular and magnificent than they might otherwise be. Even so, there was something majestic about this space, and the faces of the twins reassured me that it still held that magic.
We must have been right around the twins’ age when my Mom first took us here. I vividly recalled the stretch of stream where a very softly graded waterslide was carved naturally into the rock. This stretch of stone was made slippery by algae and water weeds, and my brother and I had taken dozens of trips down its length, hurrying back to the beginning over and over, each slide an adventure in itself. That day expanded in memory, and I did my best to tell the twins about it, vowing to bring them back when they could take off their shoes and try it. Today we were due back in Amsterdam in a few hours, so we took one last glance at this beautiful spot, then made the long trek home.
Not yet wanting to break the spell of such a good visit, we stopped for a sushi dinner, and I gave the twins their first Koto Experience. They stuck to their starter staples of California and spicy tuna rolls, but when my tray of specialty rolls arrived, their jaws dropped and they sampled new items that would expand their palette, bravely pushing into a world of eel and lobster and things they never even dreamed existed in such delicious form. We will go back to try something new, or perhaps be more daring on an upcoming trip to Boston.
As for this summer visit, it ended with me dropping off the twins at their home, and getting another glimpse of their new baby brother Jaxon.
The world keeps turning…
Dear Jaxon ~
Last Friday, July 22, 2022, in the wee small hours of the morning – 3:06 to be precise – you entered this world and instantly brought some much-needed happiness to everyone around you. Hello little guy! What a long, winding, and wonderful journey awaits you, and what a lucky baby you are to have so many family members who already love and adore you. From your parents to your older brother and sister, to all of your grandparents, and your Uncles, we will always be here, loving and supporting you at every step of the way.
Your brother and sister have taught me a few things about being an Uncle (and they will be more than happy to school me on any missteps I will still be likely to make) but this is my first run at being a Godfather, at least in the traditional sense of the role. Not to worry, we will figure it out together, and I promise to do my best to make your life as magical and enchanting as any proper Fairy Godfather should. (The twins can verify that.)
You came into this world during a heatwave – maybe that’s why you waited to come out when it was so deep into the night. The days have been hot and humid – a throwback to the sweltering summers we once seemed to have. Yet there you were when we made our first visit to see you, cool as a cucumber and peacefully slumbering as if the heat were no matter to you. I held you in my arms and you didn’t fuss or fidget, and time suddenly seemed to pause for a moment.
Maybe you are the cooling and calming balm that our world so desperately needs right now. Maybe you will be the bridge we have all been seeking to a more serene and tranquil place. That’s a lot of pressure to put on such a little baby, and a lot of added baggage that you need not carry now or ever. You will become whatever you want and were destined to become, and the rest of us will be glad to watch and wonder at all the magnificence that is yours to experience. As much as I complain about things, this is a remarkable world, with many remarkable people in it, and we are here to help you out along the way, or simply hold your hand when you take your first steps.
I wish I had the words to cast a spell that would make your life easy and good and painless. I would cast it for your happiness and peace, for your enrichment and comfort, for your health and your compassion. I would cast it for you to find fulfillment, to find kindness, to find love. But you don’t need such spells or magic – you will find your own way and discover your own path – and any words I might conjure will pale to all the marvelous treasures you will unearth on your own.
It will be a privilege to watch you grow up and become who you are meant to be, and I can’t wait.
Above all else, remember how much you are loved, and don’t be afraid to love in return.
Until I see you again soon, I proudly remain,
Your Godfather
(PS ~ Uncle Andy and I love you very much – welcome to the world!)
As he approaches 92 years of life, my Dad understandably has more bad days than good ones, but every once in a while he has a decent day that brings him back to us, and glimmers of the man who raised me appear. Such was the happy summer day when my Mom took Noah to see the Van Gogh exhibit, and I stayed with Dad for the morning and afternoon.
There are days when he doesn’t quite recognize anyone – not his family or friends, not his health aides or caretakers – and those are difficult. On this day he knew me, even if he couldn’t recall the health aide who was just finishing up his bath when I arrived.
He seems to do a little better in the summer, when he can amble about carefully outside, with some help. Before lunch, I decided to take him on a very short walk, just along the sidewalk in front of my parents’ home. At first he was hesitant, saying it was too hot, but I simply walked him outside and said it’s cool in the shade. There was also a nice breeze which pushed him forward. We stayed mostly in the shade of the two maple trees near the sidewalk. He pushed his walker, and I put my hand on his back for extra support.
We went back inside, but about half an hour later he moved to the front door, this time without his walker, so I took his arm and we went outside again. When he’s in the mood to walk, it’s best to take advantage and get some exercise and exertion in. We went around the front sidewalk again, and as we came back up to the side porch, he kept walking up the step onto the porch and into the shaded nook. Mom had set up a table and chairs there, so we sat down, and I put the mail from the mailbox onto the table. He went through it, more out of habit than any sort of real reading, but it occupied his hands, and gave us something to do as we sat there in the breeze.
We returned inside and I got lunch ready. We ate unhurriedly, and despite the large plate I put together for him, he finished most of it. He’s maintained a decent appetite in his later years, much to everyone’s relief. He got up from the table but I asked him to wait, as I rushed to get some ice cream in a bowl for our dessert. I wasn’t fast enough, and he was already up and heading back to the family room, but I re-routed him to the table again, and when he saw the ice cream I said it was for him to eat, so he sat and ate it. Sometimes re-routing works, sometimes it doesn’t.
We moved to the living room, from where we could look out into the little koi pond outside the window. He likes to watch the fish and feed them, and they were good enough to swim about and show off for him to see. A few months ago, on a winter’s day when I was staying with him, I stood with him looking out onto the snow-covered backyard. At that time I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I got shy and thought it might sound foolish, so I didn’t. Ever since then I wanted to make sure I said it to him because every day matters now.
As we talked about the fish, and counted how many there were, I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Love you, Dad.” I hoped I said it loud enough so he could hear me – I needed him to hear me this time. Without pause he said, “Love you too.”
It was a very good day.
After a certain age, every Father’s Day is special, and my Dad reached that age many years ago, so once again I’m offering gratitude and appreciation for the fact that he is still with us. My brother and I have been lucky to have had such a remarkable guy as our inspiration and role model for all these years. We love you Dad!
And to all the other Dads out there, Happy Father’s Day to each of you!
It’s somebody’s birthday – I wonder who?
It’s somebody’s birthday – oh could it be you?
No, it’s not you, it’s Suzie’s!
Yes, Suzie – who remains an elder sister figure in my life (she will always be two months older than me) as well as a bestie, because not being technically related makes it much easier to get along with each other. All the perks of sisterhood, minus the fighting. We are well within the range of not revealing our exact ages out of courtesy, so let’s just say we have crossed the midpoint of our forties, give or take a year, and the next milestone is 50, up in a few.
What can I say about Suzie at this point? It seems like so many stories that comprised our formative years involved her in some way, and sustaining such a friendship through the ensuing lifetime has only recently been appreciated as something rare and wonderful. Being so self-focused, I always just assumed everyone had a Suzie in their lives, and that was a comfort to me, but in fact not everyone is that lucky. A lot of people don’t have someone they have gone through life with since birth and remained close. Realizing that makes me appreciate our friendship a little more, and that makes the world so much better.
On this day, I wish a very Happy Birthday to my bestie, and if you see her today, please do the same, and call her Hambone. (She loves that!)
Andy’s Mom saved him a hybrid lilac bush before she died, and in the spring that we moved into our home it was one of the first things we planted in the backyard. Since then, it has slowly (and some years quickly) spread beyond its intended space, sending out suckers far into the lawn and resulting in new plants ready to be transplanted. I’ve established two more healthy clumps in other areas, adding to the pretty, perfumed merriment. Every time they come into bloom, I’m reminded of his Mom and her love of gardening – and of lilacs.
This variety has a heavy, double bloom – a fancier and frillier version of the common single variety, and just as pungent in the perfume department. A single stalk will fill an entire room with its intoxicating fragrance, signaling spring and hope and the giddy glide to summer.
Lilacs carry other memories for us – particularly of our Memorial Day vacations to Ogunquit, Maine, which we are returning to this year after being absent for too long. Their bushes were usually right behind ours, so just as ours were tapering off, we would head north and find them still in the midst of their sweet blooming season. Hopefully our timing will work out in a few weeks.
In the meantime, I pause each and every time I’m outside and anywhere near their vicinity. Stopping to smell the flowers is something that should be part of everyone’s life – and this week it’s a literal practice of love. A memory of Andy’s sweet Mum on this Mother’s Day.
Mothers make the world go around, and if there’s one person who has kept our family functioning and together over the years, it has been my Mom. While we honor her publicly on this day, we honor her every day because our family wouldn’t be here without her. As my Dad’s health has deteriorated, she has been the person taking care of him and providing the bit of stability that we need as the days grow more difficult. It’s a trying task – all of us are getting older and requiring more care it seems – yet she deals with it like the boss she is. We’ve been very lucky in that respect – her years of nursing and caregiving have enabled her to deal with things the rest of us wouldn’t be able to handle, and I am grateful for every day that my Dad has had her by his side.
On this year, I’m sending this Mother’s Day wish to my Mom in the hopes that she has a wonderful, relaxing day, and as a way of thanking her for all of the years she gave so much of herself to her family. God knows the Ilagan men are not always, or often, easy to deal with, but through her love and guidance I know she made us all a little bit better. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom – I love you.
My brother and his fiancée recently announced that they are having a baby boy this summer, and the only thing happier than hearing that news was being asked to be the godfather. After serving as Uncle to Noah and Emi for the past twelve years, it feels like I finally passed an audition process for what could very well be the role of a lifetime. Landrie and Paul have been very generous in bestowing such a charge upon me, and I intend to make the most of it.
And so we have this tease of an introduction to the forthcoming Ilagan boy – and my very first godchild – with photos from the gender-reveal we had several weeks ago. It came with all the joy and excitement that any impending birth holds, and we need all the joy we can find these days.
As Mario Puzo wrote in ‘The Godfather’, “Great men are not born great, they grow great…”
While it will be years to see who this baby grows up to become, they are already entering a world of love and protection, at least if I have anything to say about it. Fiercely loyal and unconditional of adoration, I’m going to show this baby the best and most beautiful aspects of life, even as the world grows ever darker around us. If you can give a child that kind of light and love from the start, and keep it going for a few years, they have a decent chance of becoming a good person. With a little bit of luck – the kind of luck that has charmed my brother’s journey over the years – the kid has a chance to become great.
To that end, I’ve got the top hat, the cloak, and all the fairy dust to properly embody a fairy godfather, and I’m going to strive to be the best one this world has ever known. We all know I can do it.
Congratulations Paul and Landrie!!
