Kindling

Last night as I walked down our street to the mailbox, I noticed a young girl, maybe 12 or 13, shooting baskets in her driveway. I do not know her but I recognized her. And as my mind drifted I felt a quiet desire to go down and join in the game. I did not.

I’ve become used to feelings such as this and recognize them as a grasping toward the past. My mind is reaching back to recapture time with our young daughters – time and memories that have been drawing me back so frequently of late. This is not a sad or unpleasant feeling. It’s just there, ever-present and beneath the surface. I’ll see something or someone and it’s like a tender spark that ignites a little candle. And this candle’s been lit at the grocery, in line for coffee, in traffic and especially at restaurants when Denise and I are invariably seated near a young family with three girls or three boys. These moments always carry me back - willingly.

And lately I’ve grown to recognize a different light in the memory of our beloved dog Lexi. This candle comes in the steps of a passing dog or a distant bark in the night. But I especially notice it as an absence. I'll come in from outside and catch a glimpse of something on the floor or in front of the window. It always proves to be a mislaid coat or a standing package, obediently waiting just as it was left. And it taunts my heart into eager anticipation of her dancing paws and joyous tail.

Yesterday was Lexi's birthday. This was the first year in sixteen that our family would not celebrate by witnessing the frenzied devouring of a McDonald’s hamburger from a plate on the floor in the kitchen. She really loved those burgers. And our children were thrilled with the thought of this special treat for a dog on her special day.

The candle gleamed again yesterday afternoon as I drove down the street from my office. And as silly as it sounds, the kindling was a red sign with golden arches. The burger was great. Thanks Lex - miss you girl.

Forgive My Blogligence

After much time and delay I’ve finally decided to focus at least some of my efforts again towards My Quest. It’s now March and since the first of the year, actually more like early December, I’ve succumbed to a pesky indifference toward writing. And this apathy has manifested itself into a sort of negligence of blog – a “blogligence” if you will. I tell myself that my absence from this blog is likely the result of a natural lethargy from deep winter. Still the romantic in me tries to think of it as writer’s block. Of course that term implies that the equal and opposite exists - as if my ability to write were once ever unblocked.

And this blogligence has not been for want of blog worthy events. At the time of my November posting of “W estates Riesling” and my hastily written December posting of “W estates Supertuscan” Denise and I were deep into our anticipation of our upcoming Christmas convergence in Omaha. Our three daughters and new Son-in-Law were all scheduled for an Omaha homecoming from Seattle, Washington, South Bend, Indiana and Ames, Iowa. And this would be our first time all together since the Wedding. It snowed heavily for three days. And with all of the snow, we were secluded together in our home - snowed in there with no passable roads for four days. Fortunately we were all together and happy for it. It was a wonderful Christmas together as evidence in the writing of Jenna's blog post "The Whitest Christmas of All". This was indeed a fabulous week filled with family, fun, feast, firewood and flurries of fresh fallen snow. Wow, nine same-letter words in one sentence! And to add to our joy on that occasion, our Son-in-Law’s mother Fran flew in from Chicago to join us. Our family’s holiday festivities could only have been finer if our first daughter’s former fiancé’s mother Fran were flying in from Fort Lauderdale, Florida – that’s ten same-letter words! OK, enough with the foolishness.

At the time of my brief January posting “Emergence” Denise and I were again in a mode of anticipation. We were about to depart for Seattle to visit Jenna and Matt. We had a great time together and we are always reluctant to leave. Jenna's blog post "Home Is Where the Heart Is" has found its mark in our hearts and we are so proud of the life she and Matt have forged for themselves in the Pacific Northwest.   

Over the winter we’ve kept quite pleasantly busy. There’s been our interest in M’s ongoing Thesis work. She’s proposing a transit hub and mixed use development in the center of Omaha at the site of the dying Crossroads shopping mall. Its name tells of its central location at the precise intersection where North, South, East and West Omaha converge. Its prominence as a “location” along Dodge Street, Omaha’s predominant East-West corridor and 72nd Street, a major North-South artery is unquestioned and timeless. The term “Crossroads” is fully appropriate. But it’s prowess as a shopping district has waned and M’s Thesis is a study of its potential for revival.

We’ve kept busy with the design and ongoing construction observation of a wine bar and cellar project currently under construction in the residence of some very dear friend’s. It’s rather spectacular and will surely be the subject of a near future blog post.

February brought the unexpected hospitalization of my Father and his remarkable recovery from a triple bi-pass. He’s lived alone since the passing of my Mother in September 2001. He’ll be 80 in April.

Then there have been K’s semi-frequent, and usually unplanned, visits from Ames. She’ll sweep back into our home and suddenly everything reverts back to times gone by. Her visits always warm our hearts and give us pause to recall the days when hugs were not so dependant upon time and distance.

Is it proper to step back and tell these tales and relive these experiences? Or is it more apropos to continue a forward focus and concentrate my efforts on current and future joys. Time and type will tell. But now our anticipation has shifted once again. M is readying herself for graduation from Notre Dame. It’s been a long five years but at the same time we all wonder where all that time has gone.

And as I sit here looking out at the melting winter I’m reminded of all the happiness that my life continues to offer me and I sense the realization that there is so much of it yet to write.