Category Archives: Family

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!)

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!!

Seems like only last year when the twins were celebrating a birthday, and here we have arrived at another – their 12th, bringing them just shy of teenage wasteland by a year. Time has been progressing rather quickly, and these last few years have brought about major changes in Emi and Noah, so much so that if we go more than a few weeks without seeing them they seem like new people. Such is the transitory nature of youth.

On this date, I always think back to the rainy day they came into this world – two tiny bundles of tightly-wrapped life, defenseless and little and in need of all sorts of sustenance. It’s a far cry from the two almost-young-adults who inch ever-closer to independence with each passing day. There’s something slightly sad about how fast it goes by, and something celebratory as well.

Happy Birthday to Noah and Emi – here’s to another year of fun adventures with Uncle Al and Uncle Andy! 

The Ilagan twins came for a weekend visit, fulfilling a promise we made to them for a winter weekend retreat, just under the winter wire, as there are a scant few weeks of the season that remain. When last we had them over, it was for our annual Fall Treasure Hunt weekend, a tradition we’ve managed to keep going throughout a pandemic and a world in crisis, and it is a testament to the power of children in keeping the rest of adults sane and focused on what is truly important. 

With the sun shining so brilliantly on the snow, and the sky this gorgeous hue of blue, we made our way to the Five Rivers Environmental Education Center (shout-out to my own agency, the Department of Environmental Conservation, for keeping up such an excellent site!) where we met up with Suzie for an import walk along the Beaver Tree Trail. (Lord knows I love a beaver.) Suzie’s daughter Oona joined us and we entered the wintry wilderness. 

I will not be revealing the wretched outfit I had to wear to brave the elements, but a hat, a hood, furry pants, and chunky boots were involved. 

The blessedly-short and quick trail was just the right length, allowing us to feel removed from the world without an extreme exertion of effort or distance. The charms and enchantments of a forest in winter cast an immediate and effective spell. Here, we were all children again, feeling the wonder of the world all over again, and experiencing a trail for the first time with my niece and nephew will be a memory that I file away for future reminiscences. 

With whispers of beavers in the air and some tell-tale/tail signs of their previous presence, I was transported back to my own childhood for a thrilling little remembrance of how much I had read and researched the polarizing creatures as a kit, err, kid. It was a bit of a full-circle moment as we finished up our walk and returned to civilization. 

After a wintry expedition, there’s nothing finer than a cup of hot cocoa with extra whipped cream. (We couldn’t find any mini-marshmallows.) After a dinner of Moroccan chicken, we watched a movie (‘Into the Woods’) and headed into the attic for evening traditions.

We resumed our meditation practice, doing our best to clear our minds from school and work worries. I asked them what their intentions were – Emily said she wanted to worry less about things, and Noah said he wanted to have fun. I told them my intention for the weekend was to be more present and in the moment, then explained how all of those intentions tied in together – when you are mindful and in the moment, you get to enjoy and have fun with what’s happening, and when that occurs you also remove the empty space for worrying and stressing about things. 

Before bed, Emily read a chapter of ‘The Trumpet of the Swan’ out loud, and I tucked them in with a goodnight hug. We all slept in the next morning, which is how the last day of winter break should be. Our next gathering will likely be for their 12th birthday… when it will be spring again. 

When we were little kids, my brother was basically my best friend. Of course I had school friends, and Suzie, but no one spent as much time with me as my brother. I was the shy one between us, and in many ways he was the courageous and social one. Most of the time I ended up tagging along with him and his friends rather than the typical older sibling leading the way. It worked – he would talk to just about anyone, and I could see who was safe and decide who to invest in. He was my gateway to socialization. 

As we got older and went in entirely opposite ways (which was no accident as we were born at the most diametrically-opposite positions on the calendar: February 25 and August 24) we fell out of each other’s circles, and moved far away from being the friends I thought we were. It was then that our brotherhood held us together – the blood given to us by our parents and shared only by us – and it has been enough to see us through all these years. Eventually we got back to being friends again, the way we always did after every fight or argument. After 45 years of having him here, we may have finally figured out how to be friends and brothers.

Today is his birthday, so Happy Birthday baby bro! I love you. 

My childhood home in Amsterdam, NY has always felt like a safe haven when the rest of the world roiled with the ravages of winter. Its stalwart white brick foundation held strong against rushing wind and swirling snow, and when the days turned sunnier and kinder, the windows let in the light to make its daily journey through the rooms. On a recent day with Dad, giving my Mom a break in which to run errands and enjoy a meditative bath, I took in the spirit of hygge that presented itself – the very essence of the concept – built on the warmth and connection of love between family. 

“To be in a situation characterized by hygge is to be in a state of pleasant well-being and security, with a relaxed frame of mind and an open enjoyment of the immediate situation in all its small pleasures. It is a state one achieves most often with close members of one’s social network–with one’s family, extended family, and friends.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen

Though the day was frigid outside, inside the rooms felt warmed by memories old and new, by the mere approximation of my parents, by all that we’d shared in this space. Dad may not be as engaged as he once was, but there were still moments of connection, glimmers of recognition, and remembered photos of loved ones from the past. 

“Home is an emotional state, a place in the imagination where feelings of security, belonging, placement, family, protection, memory, and personal history abide.” ~ Thomas Moore

Dad looked through some photo books I’d made, and then we had some lunch and he took a nap. While he slept, I delved back into ‘The Book of Hygge’ by Louisa Thomsen Brits. 

“Hygge is a theme that can be lived in the middle of all the other elements of an engaged life. It’s not the absence of challenge or discomfort but a way of dealing with them. When we hygger we are not ignoring difficulty but putting it down for a while. Pain and shadow still exist on the periphery of an experience of hygge. We acknowledge their presence and prepare ourselves to address them by committing ourselves to the pleasures of the present moment, in order to regain momentum and cope with life with equanimity in the future.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits

It was pleasant being there with him. It reminded me that the greatest gift we can give each other is not found in expensive material possessions or grand, dramatic gestures – it is in our company. Simply being with a loved one, inhabiting the same place and time, is a gift. I did not take that for granted, and I leaned into the day forging a new memory to go with all the other happy ones we’d already made over the years. 

“It must be emphasized that hygge entails commitment to the present moment and a readiness to set distractions aside.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen

Outside, in the brutal cold, a small opening in the little koi pond outside the window remained unfrozen for the fish below. It was difficult to imagine summer at such a point, but we knew it was waiting there – waiting for the winter to relent, waiting for the spring to lead the way. And rather than worry or rush the day away in the hope of bringing warmer weather sooner, I slowed down enough to breathe and be present. Taking it all in, I felt the profound gratitude of being there with Dad. 

“Hygge is evoked in situations where there is nothing to accomplish but letting go to the present moment in a way that’s more aligned to simple pleasure than deep reflection. Experiencing a sense of presence and belonging is challenging when we’re stressed or distracted. Hygge isn’t the complete absence of the usual demands of a fully engaged human life, but it is facilitated by a willingness to put down our problems and abandon our cares for a while.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits

The warmth and coziness I felt on one of the coldest days of the year wasn’t because of the candles or the heavy sweater or the blankets on hand in every room. It wasn’t found in a cup of tea or a comforting book. It came from a deeper place of hygge, a place of love and goodness and the unbreakable bond of family. On this quiet day that took its gentle meandering journey from morning to afternoon, my Dad and I moved through winter together. 

“At the heart of hygge is a willingness to set aside time for simply being with people and, ideally, having all the time in the world for them. Hygge is a vehicle for showing that we care. It’s a way of paying attention to our children or partners and friends in the messy reality of the here and now, and putting down the distractions that pull us in different directions. So many of us are drawn to a virtual world of connectivity. Hygge isn’t about a life without technology, but it asks us to balance our commitments and remember the value of human interaction, conversation, and physical intimacy. It liberates us to fully inhabit the moment without feeling compelled to record it.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits

Someone as self-less and giving as my mother deserves more than one day of celebration and appreciation, so whenever I get the chance I try to show her how much she is loved and adored by all of her family, especially her first-born son. (Shout-out to me! No offense, Powie.) 

In the last few years, as her focus shifts between grandchildren and husband, she’s had to juggle a number of tasks and responsibilities, but she has done so with the usual grit and determination and care with which she’s always tackled everything in her life. Lately, that means full-time care of Dad as he declines a little more every day, and while I know and see and understand how difficult the can be, I don’t often hear her complain or lament her role. A good nurse serves the needs of the unwell without hesitation or question – and my Mom has always been the best nurse I’ve ever met. Our family is lucky in that way, particularly at this point in Dad’s life. 

For all that, I try to implore the idea of self-care as she navigates the daily difficulties of all of us getting older, hoping she takes as much care of herself as she does for us. To that end, this post is a wish and hope that she hears and realizes how much we all love her, and how much gratitude we feel for everything she has always done for us. It will never make up for what she has given, but maybe it’s a small start for her birthday, and every day in the years ahead. 

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.