My dear girls,
I am writing this on New Year's Eve; it is the final hour of 2014. It has been a late night for both of you–although you didn't quite make it to midnight, it's far past your normal bedtime. Rebecca is falling asleep with her momma in our bed; I am sitting at the end of Allison's bed as she closes her eyes and drifts off for the last time this year.
New Year's Eve is that time of year when people are most likely to reflect on the events of the recent past and to look forward to exciting new changes in the coming year. It is a time of nostalgia, a time of happiness, a time of regret, and a time of hope. I am pleased to have done so much with you as you've learned and grown over this past year, but also sad and frustrated with myself for failing to document what we've done as well as I would have liked.
As a family, we have spent many memorable days together, going on exciting trips, playing and learning with each other, and sharing in the joy of numerous interesting events and activities. Although you certainly have more than enough toys and books to play with–clutter is a serious problem in our house right now–your mother and I believe that "experiences are more important than things." That is, we'd rather do something with you than buy something for you. We've gone on camping trips and museum tours, created lots of fun art projects and crafts, drawn pictures and built inventive structures with Legos and Lincoln Logs, vacationed in Disney World, traveled to water parks and restaurants, and played in the sandbox and sprinkler in the back yard.
Your mother and I have also been juggling our family time and our work and home responsibilities We've been working our jobs–your mother as a reading teacher working with children in kindergarten through third grade and I as an English instructor at Henry Ford College–and both of us have started taking graduate courses again, each of us working on our second Master's degree. I've been fighting a losing battle to clean, organize, and improve the house; your mother is not as tidy as I am, and you girls are good about spreading your toys and clothes throughout the house! I've also been going through a difficult time of self-reflection and uncertainty, grappling with difficult decisions about my career and my relationship with your mother. There has been much frustration and sadness for me this year, although you two have been a source of great happiness as well.
I sincerely hope that I can do a better job of making more regular posts here for you in the coming years so that you may some day read about the days of your youth through the eyes of your father. I have no shortage of pictures and videos; I will try to recap the past year's events even as I attempt to chronicle what takes place in 2015. I have been paralyzed by fears of my own inadequacies, knowing that much of what I write will be unpolished, crude, or even boring. It is better to do something like this poorly but with good intent that to fail to do it at all, however, which is why I regret not posting here for you more regularly. Know this: whatever may come–and I have a feeling that 2015 is going to be full of some very difficult and trying days–your mother and I love you both very dearly and have been so grateful to have had you in our lives. From the exciting to the mundane, it's been a good year. You have learned and grown so much, and you are kind and loving, too. Allison is "my girl"; Rebecca is "my buddy." Allie, you amaze me with your creativity, your artistic talent, your reading ability, and your inventiveness. You are no longer a baby but my little girl! Becca, you are shocking me with your own budding reading skills–your loving nature and tenderness (you give the best hugs!), your excitement and happiness when I take you to school, and your bright eyes melt my heart.
I love you girls so very much. I can't wait to see what 2015 has in store for us.
Your loving father,
Kevin
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Polar Vortex
This has been a cold, snowy winter, thanks in part to a series of chilly blasts of arctic air forced south and across the US. An unusual phenomenon known as "polar vortex" directed the northern jet stream away from its normal pattern thanks to a high pressure system in northeastern Canada and a low pressure system in the western US. As a result, the Metro Detroit area just broke the mark for the snowiest January on record--previously set over 100 years ago, according to local news stations.
School was closed for all four of us on Tuesday, and for both of you on Wednesday (although your mother and I had to report to work). For the moment, we all work or learn at different schools. Allison is attending the American Montessori Academy, and Rebecca goes to the Child Development Center on the campus of Henry Ford Community College--where I teach--three days a week. Your mother works as a Reading Interventionist at the Detroit Service Learning Academy, a school that's only three miles away from our Redford home but technically in the city of Detroit because it's on the other side of Telegraph Road.
You girls love working on "projects," so I decided we would decorate the living room with construction paper icicles. I cut long, squiggly triangles from blue and white construction paper and set out an assortment of blue, light blue, and white crayons and markers. When we were done decorating the icicles with snowflakes, squiggly lines, and, in some cases, even faces, we taped them along the edge of the book case, fireplace mantle, and coffee table.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Happy New Year 2014
Allison and Rebecca,
Today is New Year's Day, January 1, 2014. It is fitting that, on this day when it is customary to reflect on days past and resolve to live a better future, I begin this blog to you, my daughters of the future. I have been thinking about this for some time, and now I have officially created this electronic memoir, this space for me to reflect on our present (now your past) and to write you messages of hope, praise, fatherly wisdom, and deepest love as well as to chronicle moments of loss, sorrow, regret, or frustration. My intent is to write to you, as sincerely as I can, of what we are experiencing together now and what I want to make sure you know when you are old enough to understand and appreciate it.
This blog is a time capsule of sorts; I will need to create reminders to my future self to share this with you in fifteen years and to provide instructions in my will for you to be given access to this site in the event that I die before then. I envision us reading this on New Year's Day fifteen years hence, when Allison will be 20 years old and Rebecca will be a young woman of 18. I'd like to think that we'll be able to laugh together at my poor writing, dorky turns of phrase, outdated expressions, and memories of fond days past. Cognizant of my own mortality, I also accept the grim possibility that what I write now will come to you instead as a sad reminder of a loving father who is no longer around to share in your joys and your sorrows. In that case, I hope that this record of our days together will serve as a link to your past, a reminder of the man I am, and a vehicle by which I can pass along some advice to you.
I write this as a 35-year-old man and the father of two beautiful, creative, intelligent, curious, stubborn, loving, kind, sometimes mischievous, and always remarkable young girls, ages 5 and 3. We currently reside at 25090 Graham Road in Redford Michigan with your mother Tiffany and our three cats, Kali, Oliver, and Rafferty. Allison is midway through her first year of kindergarten at the American Montessori Academy, and Rebecca spends her school days either with Nana (Lynne or Grandma Baron) or at the Child Development Center at Henry Ford Community College, where I am in my eleventh year of teaching English and my tenth as a full-time faculty member. Your mother and I have been married for seven and a half years and have been together for a total of almost thirteen; she is currently teaching at the Detroit Service Learning Academy, where she works as a Reading Interventionist trying to help struggling readers develop their reading skills. My parents (your Meme and Poppa) live in Rogers, Arkansas, where they've been for about six years now. Your mother's parents (Ba and Nana) are about a mile away from us in a house on Lyndon.
How much of this will have changed by the time you read this? Will I still be in the same profession? Will we still be living in the same house? the same state? What pets, if any, will we have in fifteen years? From your perspective, the previous paragraph may have given you a sense of nostalgia or memories of the way things were, but for me, what you now take for granted as the current state of your lives is something I can only imagine. What will be your post-high school lives? Will one or both of you go to college (I sincerely hope so, but perhaps your path in life leads you a different way)? Will you have solid career plans, or will you be setting off in search of your vocation? When I entered college, I thought I would become a physicist and work in a laboratory wearing a white coat. Your mother graduated with a degree in Fisheries and Wildlife and had aspirations of working as a park ranger of sorts. Life has a funny way of taking unexpected turns.
When you read this, perhaps on New Year's Day in 2029, you will be much wiser, stronger, and mature--but you will still have much to learn and experience, too. I hope that I am still a strong part of your lives and that you can come to me for advice or just an ear to talk to. You are my special, wonderful daughters, and I will love you always. Happy New Year, girls.
Today is New Year's Day, January 1, 2014. It is fitting that, on this day when it is customary to reflect on days past and resolve to live a better future, I begin this blog to you, my daughters of the future. I have been thinking about this for some time, and now I have officially created this electronic memoir, this space for me to reflect on our present (now your past) and to write you messages of hope, praise, fatherly wisdom, and deepest love as well as to chronicle moments of loss, sorrow, regret, or frustration. My intent is to write to you, as sincerely as I can, of what we are experiencing together now and what I want to make sure you know when you are old enough to understand and appreciate it.
This blog is a time capsule of sorts; I will need to create reminders to my future self to share this with you in fifteen years and to provide instructions in my will for you to be given access to this site in the event that I die before then. I envision us reading this on New Year's Day fifteen years hence, when Allison will be 20 years old and Rebecca will be a young woman of 18. I'd like to think that we'll be able to laugh together at my poor writing, dorky turns of phrase, outdated expressions, and memories of fond days past. Cognizant of my own mortality, I also accept the grim possibility that what I write now will come to you instead as a sad reminder of a loving father who is no longer around to share in your joys and your sorrows. In that case, I hope that this record of our days together will serve as a link to your past, a reminder of the man I am, and a vehicle by which I can pass along some advice to you.
I write this as a 35-year-old man and the father of two beautiful, creative, intelligent, curious, stubborn, loving, kind, sometimes mischievous, and always remarkable young girls, ages 5 and 3. We currently reside at 25090 Graham Road in Redford Michigan with your mother Tiffany and our three cats, Kali, Oliver, and Rafferty. Allison is midway through her first year of kindergarten at the American Montessori Academy, and Rebecca spends her school days either with Nana (Lynne or Grandma Baron) or at the Child Development Center at Henry Ford Community College, where I am in my eleventh year of teaching English and my tenth as a full-time faculty member. Your mother and I have been married for seven and a half years and have been together for a total of almost thirteen; she is currently teaching at the Detroit Service Learning Academy, where she works as a Reading Interventionist trying to help struggling readers develop their reading skills. My parents (your Meme and Poppa) live in Rogers, Arkansas, where they've been for about six years now. Your mother's parents (Ba and Nana) are about a mile away from us in a house on Lyndon.
How much of this will have changed by the time you read this? Will I still be in the same profession? Will we still be living in the same house? the same state? What pets, if any, will we have in fifteen years? From your perspective, the previous paragraph may have given you a sense of nostalgia or memories of the way things were, but for me, what you now take for granted as the current state of your lives is something I can only imagine. What will be your post-high school lives? Will one or both of you go to college (I sincerely hope so, but perhaps your path in life leads you a different way)? Will you have solid career plans, or will you be setting off in search of your vocation? When I entered college, I thought I would become a physicist and work in a laboratory wearing a white coat. Your mother graduated with a degree in Fisheries and Wildlife and had aspirations of working as a park ranger of sorts. Life has a funny way of taking unexpected turns.
When you read this, perhaps on New Year's Day in 2029, you will be much wiser, stronger, and mature--but you will still have much to learn and experience, too. I hope that I am still a strong part of your lives and that you can come to me for advice or just an ear to talk to. You are my special, wonderful daughters, and I will love you always. Happy New Year, girls.