Category: Lydia

Another Father’s Day

My maternal grandfather, Clarence Williams, played in the Negro Leagues in 1930s. I’ve never been able to track down any statistics or even exactly what team he played for, though my grandmother thought he played for some team called the Giants. There were several “Giants” teams in the day.

The person I knew as my paternal grandfather, McKinley Green, I’ve mentioned before in these pages. He was a janitor, auto racing connoisseur, and loved the horses. I’ve never found the person who was my real paternal grandfather. I’ve long had a very complicated relationship with my father, who died in 2000, and I’m still looking for information about him.

When I became a father in 2004, I had a great deal of optimism about the world. I still love being a father, but the world? I’m not so sure about it. I guess I wanted the world to be freer now than when she was conceived, and I’m not at all feeling that’s the case. I want it to be safer, and given tornadoes in unusual places, more violent hurricanes and the like, not so certain about that one.

There are are some men who just always wanted to be a dad, but I wasn’t one of them. I like being Lydia’s dad – I LOVE being Lydia’s dad – but we’re getting a lot of those “Are you going to have another?” questions. That’s nobody’s business, of course, but I suspect if we were to have another child, he or she would be adopted. In fact, in the period we were “trying to get pregnant”, we got a lot of literature on the topic. We’re not actively pursuing the issue now, but if we do, you’ll be the 100th to know.

I got a handmade card and a two peas in a pod thingy for Father’s Day. I do enjoy this part.

I’m watching the Tonys tonight, my annual opportunity to say, “So THAT’S what (name of actor better known for TV or movies) has been doing lately. I thought maybe he was retired. Or dead.” I expect this person will watch; since Whoopi Goldberg is hosting, I’d bet money that this guy won’t be tuning in.
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Evanier has on his page this Fiddler on the Roof/Avenue Q mashup. I LOVE Fiddler and plan to see Avenue Q this fall.
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ROG

The Lydster, Part 50: Little Criminal


On Mother’s Day, I finally had a chance to gather the CDs I needed for Lefty’s Mixed CD thing. I put them on the shelf in the hallway, then we all left at 1 pm to rendezvous for a dinner with Carol’s family.

When we got back around 6 pm, I went upstairs to blog and Carol was watching TV (probably Dancing with the *****), and Lydia was playing by herself.At 7 pm, I went down to get the CDs and they were gone; also missing were several CDs that were in that alphabetical section, primarily Linda Ronstadt and the Rolling Stones.

Initially, I asked Carol, then Lydia whether they had moved them, and both said no. Still, I checked all the likely Lydia hiding places: the warming tray in the stove, under the bathroom sink, in her toy box, under the dining room table. They were nowhere to be found.

I was feeling crummy that morning, both physically and emotionally, so I called the police. An officer came over and took the information, though he felt it was unlikely that someone would steal such a pittance.

Finally, a couple days later, I found the CDs. They were filed in a usually closed piece of furniture that holds my discs. There were holes in there because I had laid some discs and they hadn’t been refiled. I’m sure that whoever moved them there was just trying to maintain some order. Oh, and then I had to sheepishly let the police department know that I had “recovered” the items.
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ROG

Since May 15, 1999


I had this dream back in February that Carol and I were going to be getting married. We were in this enormous mansion, and guests were already arriving, and flowers and champagne were being delivered when I realized that we had neglected to secure clergy for the ceremony. Somehow, I found someone in the crowd to officiate. But then I noted that we had also neglected to get a wedding license, and for that, we had no work-around. After pouting for several minutes, we started telling the guests and the caterers. The food and flowers were given away to the visitors, but the champagne was stored in the basement for another day.

Fortunately, none of that actually happened nine years ago. It wasn’t in a mansion but in our then-church. We remembered all the important details, including the rings. I don’t think we HAD champagne, but only because the church basement, where we had the reception, was “dry”.

I had to laugh when I read this post from Alan David Doane: “Sunday Stuff — Mother’s Day is here again, my annual reminder that I didn’t really plan my wedding anniversary (in less than two weeks) with any kind of budget or common sense in mind.” Well, if he botched it, I botched it worse, for, this year, Mother’s Day and our anniversary are only four days apart. Of course, we didn’t know for sure that we’d even have a child.

Happy ninth anniversary, honey!
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I neglected to mention Rocco Nigro’s birthday yesterday. But our mutual friend Fred Hembeck did. BTW, Fred and Rocco, Coverville did a Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds cover story this week. I’ve only gotten through side one so far, but I like it.

Side 1?
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The Lydster, Part 49: Skills

On Lydia’s birthday last month, I measured her: 3’8″ or 44 inches. Her mother weighed her on the bathroom scale: 46 pounds. Then the next week, the doctor took her vitals for her four-year checkup. 44″, 46 lbs. 0ur wall chart and scale meet medical standards.

For her birthday, we had a little party for her with her maternal grandparents, one of her uncles and aunts and two of her cousins. She was uncharacteristically cranky; I mean she can be cranky, but usually only to her parents at bedtime (and not that often). Actually, she was sobbing uncontrollably for reasons I didn’t understand, other than fatigue. So I got one or two of her stuffed animals, they talked to her, and she was fine. My wife said, “You’ve got skills.” I said, “You seem surprised.”

One of the things Lydia got for her birthday was a ball and bat. It’s not a Wiffle ball, but an OBall, with a bunch of the letter O glued together in a spheroid. BTW, Fred Hembeck will be pleased to know the colors of the ball are orange and blue, the Mets’ colors. She likes to hit. While I tried to rig up some T-ball-like arrangement, she prefers me to pitch to her. And though she writes and throws right-handed, she seems to prefer to hit left-handed. She likes the pitches low and inside, though she does OK low and a little outside as well. Perhaps she’s got skills.

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ROG

The Lydster, Part 48: Lydia is Four

Random thoughts for the occasion.

Lots of people say things like, “Can you believe it’s been four years? The time goes by so FAST!” Yes, I believe it’s been four years. I’m never quite sure what I’m supposed to say when folks utter such folk wisdom. Usually, I nod my head and say “Hmmm.”
I’ve been grousing about the early change of the clocks, which may not even save energy. Used to be that when I need Lydia to wake up at 6:20, so we can catch the 7 a.m. bus, I could just raise the shades, and she’d get up. But it’s DARK at what was 5:20 a.m., standard time, in March. She took a couple weeks to adjust to the new time. Heck, I’M still tired in the morning.

She definitely has a pecking order when it comes her playthings. Whereas all of her dolls (most of them called Hannah) used to rule, now it’s the stuffed bears (Elizabeth and TeddyTeddy) and the stuffed lamb. The dolls? “They’re just dolls!”, but the creatures are her “sisters”; very strange.

Lydia is one of the youngest kids in her class and one of the tallest. There may be a boy who’s taller, but he’s several months her senior. She is reasonably well, though she had had a touch of whatever was going around earlier this month. She’s only gained a pound or two in recent months, but is getting harder to lift. She’s been in a real hug and cuddle mood; I hear that this passes, so I shan’t complain.

She’s pretty smart. Some books she reads to me. I don’t think she’s actually reading them as much as reciting from memory based on the pictures, but it’s fun to be read to. She can count to 29; she stubbornly rejected my suggestion for “thirty” in favor of “twenty-ten”. She also knows what the color turquoise is, which I’m pretty sure I didn’t when I was four.

I still am not using the digital camera. These pictures were all on the same disposable camera I’d use then forget about, then use, then misplace. So it’s a lovely coincidence that it covers well the past few months of her life.

Happy birthday, Lydia!

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