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.

Emergence

Yesterday I felt as though I had finally emerged from Winter. Surely much winter remains in Omaha as the days remain short and the bitterness of February still lies ahead. But yesterday (and today) at least, my senses would beg to differ.

And it was not a gradual emergence but more a sudden startling one. I was home and comfortable, surrounded by snowy drifts which seem to loft higher than any in recent memory. And the next thing I knew, I’d opened the door to the outside and felt the cool crispness of the morning air. Just for an instant (I imagined) I’d seen my springtime shadow. And yet the sunshine and warmth and indeed my shadow remained distant, just beyond the lingering fog like a flower to blossom in April but desired today.

I stood on the porch and savored the rich damp morning air. And I knew from past experience that few things elicit from me such fond memories of days gone by as does Italian coffee outdoors in the chill of a foggy morning. Moments like these are exhilarating and often remind me of my morning walks to nowhere in particular from the coffee houses and café in London or Rome or Vienna or Prague.

And this fleeting feeling of springtime endured just long enough for its transformation to blanket me…mind, body and spirit. Suddenly the dreariness of winter cleared and the burden of cold lifted. And this feeling of happiness would follow me for the rest of the day and into the next.

W Estates 2009 Castello Supertuscan di Siena

The last few months have been busy for Denise and me. We’ve been busy with work, busy with some light travel, busy dealing with various preparations for winter, busy attending to daughters (and now a son-in-law and two grand-dogs) in three time zones, busy with friends, busy anticipating the Christmas season to be savored with each of our daughters returning home - busy.

I’ve also been busy transforming grapes into future headaches. And at the risk of transforming the character of this blog into some sort of full-fledged bloviation of wine snobbery, I’ve decided to write about winemaking as a second consecutive blog entry.

My second dive into winemaking was a bit more challenging than the first – although still rather simple. I made an Italian Supertuscan, a blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot all from vineyards near Siena, Tuscany, Italy. I started with an imported juice and for extra depth mixed some crushed grape skins into the fermentation. Then I added a wee bit of English oak and toasted French oak that I then strained out during one of several post-fermentation rackings. The oak was in the form of small shavings and was intended to emulate the complexity of flavors gained from aging in barrels.

At bottling, the wine exhibited a light taste consistent with Italian table wines and a relatively low alcohol content of around 12.5%. The color was good and the clarity was fine. My yield was thirty bottles at 175ml. I will cellar this new wine for at least a year. And hopefully next Christmas it will be ready for consumption...or maybe the Christmas after. All in all I’m quite pleased with the turnout but am hoping in future winemaking endeavors to improve upon the boldness and gain better control over the fermentation. [Click here for a few pictures of the process.]

W Estates 2009 Riesling Ice Wine

It has just occurred to me that I’ve never written about winemaking. Perhaps it’s because the impetus to my new found hobby, our daughter’s wedding, was such a distraction from our “normal” routine that I seem to have left lots of balls in the air for a while. Never-the-less, here we are in November and alas, my maiden vintage is all but all consumed.

For my first attempt I chose a simple wine – a Riesling Ice Wine. Ice wine gets its name from the time critical practice of harvesting newly frozen grapes late in the harvest season. The late harvest allows time for natural dehydration of the hanging grapes. The diminishment of water concentrates the sugars and maintains a high acidity. Then a late harvest immediately following the first freeze allows for a crush and juice extraction whereby frozen water crystals are left behind and the resulting juice exhibits an ultra high concentration of flavor and sugars. I started with prepackaged juice pressed from naturally frozen Riesling grapes.

The first order of business in each step of the winemaking process involves the sanitization of equipment and tools. For this I perform a thorough scrubbing with hot water followed by an immersion or shower with sodium (Na) metabisulfite diluted in water. After a quick rinse, everything is generally contaminant free.

For the primary fermentation process I used an 8 gallon (30L) food grade plastic bucket with a breathable lit. I combined about 5 gallons (19L) of juice with about 10 grams of dissolved bentonite. Bentonite is a type of expansive clay commonly used in basement waterproofing, cement, ceramics, adhesives and cat litter. Its ability to absorb relatively large amounts of protein molecules makes it a particularly useful clarification agent in white winemaking. This mixture is then diluted with about 2.5 gallons (9.5L) of water. Then I drew a test sample of the mixture and I took a reading of the specific gravity of the future wine using a hydrometer.

Specific gravity is the relative density of a liquid compared to 60-degree water. My hydrometer is a floating glass tube, bottom weighted to remain vertical. There are markings along the vertical sides that allow for a reading of its floating depth. In this case my unfermented ice wine juice weighed in at a specific gravity of 1.16. This reading would serve as a baseline for monitoring the fermentation process and determination of the potential alcohol content of the finished product. Next I sprinkled about 10 grams of cultured yeast on the juice and closed the lid. Thus began the magic of primary fermentation on day 1 of my first winemaking endeavor.

On day 8 I drew a sample, tested it and found the specific gravity to be 1.074. Something less than 1.080 is considered optimal for this wine. By comparing the initial to current specific gravity and utilizing a conversion formula I determined that my partially fermented “young wine” had yielded an approximate alcohol content of 9.8%. So far so good.

At this point I transferred the partially fermented liquid from my primary fermentation bucket into a freshly sanitized 6.5 gallon (25L) glass jug called a carboy. The term carboy is derived from the Persian word qarabah or “big jug”. I used a long plastic tube to siphon the liquid from the bucket to the carboy and left behind a mess of sludgy looking gunk comprised of the sediment from expended yeasts. The transfer process of drawing of wine from the sediment is called “Racking”. And once racked from bucket to carboy, the wine enters its secondary fermentation stage. This allows for a clean finish to the fermentation process with a diminished probability of contamination from prolonged exposure to wasted yeasts. I placed an airlock into the top of the carboy to prevent the intake of oxygen and airborne contaminants.

On days 19, 20 and 21 I sampled and tested the wine to ensure a stabilized specific gravity. Then the wine was racked into another carboy and I added a few grams of metabisulfite and sorbate. These act together to fight off contaminants such as rogue microbes, fungi, mold and wild yeasts. These additives also produce carbon dioxide (CO2). This unwanted gas was driven off by several minutes of vigorous stirring.

Next I added an isinglass fining agent. Isinglass is a gelatinous product of fish collagen. It serves to remove yeasts and hasten the clarification of wines. I drove off the remaining carbon dioxide (CO2) by another several minutes of vigorous stirring and then I replaced the airlock. Now we wait.

As the days go by you can see the coming of clarity as the suspended solids fall away. The clarification process is quite fascinating.

On day 34 I sampled and tested the wine. It still appeared a bit hazy so I replaced the airlock and waited some more. On day 62 the wine appeared to be totally clarified and brilliantly polished. I took final readings – specific gravity of 1.076. This calculates out to approximately 11.5% alcohol content.

I corked and labeled 30 bottles - a combination of 1.5L, 750ml and 375ml. These aged for 6 months and were then transported from Omaha to Seattle and served along with the other wines at Matt and Jenna’s wedding. This 2009 Riesling Ice Wine was a sweet, thick fruity explosion served extra cold and sipped delicately over desert; or in this case, wedding cake. Mmmm-boy!

Click here for a few more pictures of the process.

Words and Pictures

Today is my Birthday. And although I know that realistic life expectancy falls somewhere in the seventies, as a child and young adult 100 always seemed like a better number to me. So now at 51, by anyone’s math, I’m probably on the back nine.

It’s a gorgeous fall weekend in Omaha. The leaves are golden and falling and we’re enjoying clear skies and nearing 50 deg F (8 C). The sun feels warm on my face and when I stop and sit my imagination runs. And sitting here in our home on this my third such birthday since launching My Quest I’ve just looked back over the list of my thirty-some previous posts. All these assembled words serve to remind me of all the many events to unfold in our lives over the past two years - many forgotten if not for the effort of committing them to the written page. And I’m left to wonder if every two years has been so eventful or if somehow these last two years have been different. I know the answer. Immediately I regret not picking up a pen twenty or thirty or forty years earlier. High school, college, early marriage, young daughters, career growth, maturing marriage, and growing daughters - what forgotten thoughts might now exist?

Fortunately I’ve always been a picture taker. And we have literally thousands of pictures that have captured so many treasured moments in our lives and in the lives of our children. We have countless photographs of treasured looks and remembered events and they seem to comprise the bulk of our memories. That’s how memories live sometimes – in pictures if not in words. But pictures fail to portray the image of the photographer – as if not present and remaining unaffected. Words are vastly superior in this regard. Words convey thoughts and feelings, joys and fears, excitement and contentedness. And I imagine years into the future, grandchildren could choose to read these words and would then know their grandfather more so than simply by a faded photograph in a long forgotten book. More so, I hope, than my scarce knowledge of my grandparents and theirs.

My Daughter's Eyes

In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I want to be
In my daughter's eyes...
-Martina McBride; In My Daughter's Eyes

Over the past month I’ve been thinking a lot about Matt & Jenna’s wedding. I’ve been trying desperately to identify what it was about the wedding that was so personal to me – special enough to merit perhaps the most important family event I've written about since launching this blog. There were so many moments, so many treasures. How does a father process so much joy and boil it all down into a quantifiable sensation or easily communicated anecdote? What was it?

Was it the venue? The winery and grounds at DeLille are spectacular anyway but on this day, everything was perfect. (Pictures) Was it the wine? We had plenty; after all we were at a winery in the number two wine producing State in the Nation. Was it the pure joy that emanated from the faces of Denise’s parents and Matt’s mother Fran? They were each so delighted to be there together with family and friends. Was it the pride that shown on the faces of Matt’s father and step mother? It was so nice to meet them and we had such a nice time in our short time together.

Was it the peace I felt in sharing this day with my Dad and knowing that my Mom was with us in spirit? I know this day was bittersweet for him – mostly sweet though I hope. Was it the sudden and unexpected clearing of skies and ceasing of rain precisely upon the commencement of procession and the Trumpet Voluntary? I attribute this to an answer to many unified prayers and a reserved favor from my mother.

Was it Matt's first glimpse of the bride and the wedding dress? Was it the colors of the trees and the flowers and the sky and the pond and the meadow and the dresses and the tuxedos? These were all so vibrant.

Was it the apropos reading of James Dillet Freeman's "Blessing for a Marriage" during the ceremony?

"May your marriage bring you all the excitement a marriage should bring, and may life grant you also patience, tolerance, and understanding. May you always need one another - not so much to fill your emptiness as to help you to know your fullness. A mountain needs a valley to be complete. The valley does not make the mountain less, but more. And the valley is more a valley because it has a mountain towering over it. So let it be with Matthew and Jenna. May you need one another, but not out of weakness. May you want one another, but not out of lack. May you entice one another, but not compel one another. May you embrace one another, but not out encircle one another. May you succeed in all-important ways with one another, and not fail in the little graces...May you have happiness, and may you find it in making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it in loving one another."

Was it standing arm in arm with Jenna as the Pastor delivered his question of consent towards me, her life long watchman? I froze, delaying the delivery of my single line only to be so sweetly reminded under my daughter’s breath – “Her Mother and I…Her Mother and I.” Was it the gentle acceptance of her hand as Matt received my Jenna from me at the altar? Was it the spectacular late summer evening Seattle weather – 65, calm and drying?

Was it the Father-Daughter dance and that wonderful song "In My Daughter's Eyes"? (Click here to listen) I'll treasure those few moments with Jenna forever. Was it the fabulous assortment of food - crostini with crab and artichoke, filet medallions with peppercorn and wild mushroom demi-glaze, grilled salmon with sweet Thai chili sauce? Whoa! I can still taste the food. I wish I had tasted more of it.

Was it the warmth Denise and I felt from the presence of so many of our dear friends and relatives who traveled so far to share this event with us? This was huge. Was it the comfort in the countless friends of Jenna and Matt who introduced themselves and shared with Denise and me a bit of their common bond with our daughter and new son-in-law?

Was it the knowledge that this day, and all of their future anniversaries will forever fall on “International Talk like a Pirate Day” and the surprise existence of sixty or so black eye patches on the dance floor? Me wonders who'll be takin' the blame for that deed...ARRRR. Was it the overall gayety of the reception - the music, the busy dance floor, the laughter? (Pictures) Was it the wine?

Was it the happiness evident on the faces of M & K as they proudly participated in the marriage of their big sister? I love that these girls love each other so much. Was it the handling of my Mother’s 58 year old wedding veil as the wrap to Jenna’s bouquet, a tradition so masterfully imagined by my niece? Was it the night time exodus of the new bride and groom under the brilliant archway of 3 foot long sparklers held high by so many well wishers? Was in the somberness that crept upon me following her departure?

Was it one of these? Was it all of these? …Perhaps. Or maybe it was all of these and none of these.

It’s taken me a month to sort through a flurry of emotions and the endless memories of that day. And after much contemplation I’ve concluded that the single most significant treasure wasn’t about the wedding at all. It was more about the “marriage”.

For me the sweetest song of the day was the utter joy and pure contentment that I saw in my daughter’s eyes. I could feel it – penetrating my aching heart. And I trust that her Mother saw it too. That look in her eyes is what I’ve lived towards for all of these many years as her daddy, her father, and her friend. It’s what makes a father’s heart beat - that wonderful look of true happiness on his child's face. And the stolen glances, of wanting, of respecting and of loving, between Matt and Jenna on this day were an added comfort that will remain with Denise and me and warm our parental hearts forever.

...In my daughter's eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope you see
how happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes.
-Martina McBride; In My Daughter's Eyes

Click here for more wedding day pictures.

First and Golz – Advancing Towards Marriage

Looking back, the play-by-play accounts seem rather traditional if not predictable. Daughter graduates from college and moves to follow a new career. Time passes. Daughter meets a young man through mutual acquaintances and interest blooms. The young man meets daughter’s parents. Time passes. The young couple join the daughter’s sisters and parents on a family trip abroad. The young man proposes. A wedding date is selected. A wedding dress is located. Planning ensues, announcements are sent and more time passes. Family and friends converge upon wedding city. There is much excitement and readiness. The wedding unfolds. New son-in-law whisks daughter away from the protection of her father. (This is the onerous part). Father reflects and is comforted by the honor of the young man and the unquestionable happiness of the daughter. Time passes…

And so it was that our first daughter Jenna married Matthew Golz. It has taken me a month to collect my thoughts - and I am happy.

Over the past twenty years DeLille Cellars in Redmond, Washington has become the State’s premiere producer of Bordeaux and Rhone inspired wines. The winery properties project a fantasy like image with its restored 1890’s farmhouse, grazing sheep, dreamy soft meadow, trickling brook and rich landscaping. Being there, one could easily lose their bearings of time and place. The canopy of trees creates contrasts of defused light and deep shadows reminiscent of the French Expressionist works of Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh. And the winery and 10-acre site overlooking the Woodinville Valley offers a splendid venue for a late summer in Seattle wedding not to mention a wonderful location for a fabulous wedding reception.

The day before the wedding would be a busy one. And as 11:00 arrived, so would we converge upon DeLille Cellars for last minute instruction from the coordinator on procedures and placement for the upcoming ceremony…practice.

The day offered an ideal 70 degrees and sunshine and everything was as it should be. The mothers were teary. The bride and her father were joyful. The groom and best man were nervous. Our stars had aligned.

Following rehearsal Denise and I volunteered to deliver the “children” to their vacation lodge where they would remain until after the honeymoon. Kasey is a Shepherd, Chow, Lab mix and Maddox is a Rottweiler, Lab mix. They were each rescued from previous circumstances and have become wonderfully playful pets. The trip to doggy camp in Snohomish, Washington was just over an hour. They seem to like riding in the back seat of a small car. It’s easier to lick the back of the driver’s ears from there.

That evening was a formal rehearsal dinner in the cellar dining room of Januik/Novelty Hill Winery in Woodinville, Washington. (Click here for a few pictures) This welcome reception was a wonderful opportunity for far traveled guests to meet and greet the wedding couple without the distractions and constraints of time of tomorrow’s wedding reception.

Januik/Novelty Hill is a state-of-the-art winery. It is also an exceptional piece of architecture that has won several design awards including honor awards from the American Institute of Architects and the International Interior Design Association. Its harmonious use of simple materials, concrete, wood and glass mirror identical traits necessary in winemaking. An honest blend of a few materials that, in the end, offer a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. (Click here for a few pictures) We had a wonderful time that seemed to end all too quickly.

Morning arrived with a vengeance. The girls were delivered to a ready room at Willows Lodge, a mere half-mile from DeLille. Here the moms, the brides maids and the bride would do whatever it is that girls do in preparation for a wedding. They would have at their disposal a hair stylist, makeup artist, photographer, unlimited Starbucks, mimosa and about five hours to squeeze it all in. (Click here for a few pictures) I was quite content to leave them and join Matt for a relaxing breakfast at the nearby Barking Frog. Then several hours later the guys all converged upon DeLille for beer and brats on the barbie for lunch – a pre-wedding ritual of sorts. Very manly.

I would depart early as it was my privilege to sneak a peek at the just readied bride and then to deliver Jenna and her mother and sisters to her future. We all sensed that this day would be spectacular.

The Leap

I’ve never jumped from an airplane. But I imagine that if I did, there would have to be a great deal of preparation – mentally and physically. Then as the day for the jump approached, there would be moments of apprehension and some nerves. I’d worry…”Has this been thought through? Was there anything more that should have been done? Can the chute be trusted? Will I be different when it’s over? Will everything be OK?”.

Then as the aircraft ascends the “jump” would take on a life of its own and things would just happen without conscious action. The plane would climb and level out. The pilot would give the instructor a nod. The instructor would make a few last second adjustments to my equipment and then signal the all clear. Then everyone in the plane would look at me, waiting as I kneeled at the open door and gazed out into the unknown - my mind racing, heart pounding, adrenalin flowing. Then the instructor would roll his eyes at my hesitancy and shove me out of the plane. I’d role and tumble and everything would be a blur as I plummet ever faster toward the earth and I’m all aware but incapable of grasping anything or comprehending everything at once so I’d scream and scream and scream, but no one would hear and everyone would be watching my silent descent from the plane above and from the ground below and I’d be alone in the world for those few minutes except for the buffeting of air and the tugging of gravity and the camera man freefalling beside me to capture every thoughtless expression of emotion and then I’d suddenly jerk upward as the chute deploys...It’s over. Then I’d settle into a peaceful serenity as my brain catches up with my body and it finally registers that everything will be fine. And then for the first time that day I’d smile. And I’d be so happy that the slightest breeze would be capable of altering my movement. And I’d float...and I’d float...and I’d just know that everything was to be better than before – because I jumped…because I trusted the chute.

That is exactly what a wedding is like! I don't know how else to describe it.

Two weeks ago, as Denise and I witnessed the marriage of our daughter I'd liken the experience to the thrill of skydiving. There’s the waiting and anticipation and then the sudden blinding flurry, almost too much to take in so fast - too fast. Everything seemed to be happening and I was there watching it all as if remotely. I was aware of everything but remained incapable of dividing myself into it all at once. And then as quickly and as intensely as it began, it was over.

As the proud Father of the Bride, I’m still sailing a bit above the ground. But indeed I’ve survived the ordeal and couldn’t be happier.

Watchman

Nothing in life prepares a father for the marriage of a daughter. Not the night feedings and hours of rocking, not countless little songs, the giggling at jokes or tickles; not the construction of doll homes, the flying of kites, hoops in the driveway, the first boyfriend; not the handing of car keys, the sorority move, the permanent job offer - nothing. In fact, it is quite the contrary. All of these things together with a lifetime of precious moments and all of a daughter’s endearing qualities combine together with a father’s natural love to transform his role from simply her daddy into her teacher, comforter, provider, and protector - her watchman.

Nor too does anything in life prepare the father of a daughter to accept, trust and love a son-in-law. The life of a watchman seems to shield against this. And yet it has happened – Saturday. On a small rise of earth in a clearing of cedar and fir overlooking the grounds of a little winery in Redmond, Washington I watched with beaming pride as my dearest Jenna Marie West accepted the hand in marriage of the love of her life, Matthew Golz. May God watch over them and keep them safe and happy, all the days of their lives.

With that wish, and without tears or regret, the watchman sleeps. Still, I can’t help but feel like I’ve given away one of the few things that I need to survive. And deep in my proud and contented heart I know that I can never want it back.

Irish Equinox 2009

Thursday, September 17, 2009 scored my eighth annual toast of “Cheers to your health and that of your Mother” in traditional observance of the Irish Equinox. (click here for some background). This year’s toast was held at Paddy Coyne’s Irish Pub in Bellevue, Washington. And true to form I reached my "equinoctial point" (about four pints) a pint or two prior to our departure.

Incidentally, 4,400 miles (7,092km) to the east is Paddy Coyne’s Public House, the presumed namesake at Tully Cross in scenic and desolate Connemara on the West coast of Ireland. It was established in 1811 by Patrick "Paddy" Coyne.

This Paddy Coyne’s in Bellevue is one of three such Paddy Coyne’s pubs in the Seattle/Tacoma area. There the Guinness is good, the atmosphere is sweet and the food is excellent. Oh, and the company was familiar despite being 1,350 miles (2,175km) from home. And on this occasion, I had the pleasure of much company. In fact, our little group of twenty or so comprised the bulk of the patronage. We had visitors from Redmond, Washington, Omaha, Grand Island, Norfolk, Wayne and Wahoo, Nebraska, Missouri Valley and Ames, Iowa and South Bend, Indiana. Included in the mix were my wife and three daughters, a close friend of my oldest daughter, my Dad, my wife’s parents, two of my wife’s sisters and their families and two couples from Omaha who are among Denise and my closest friends.

If I’m not mistaken, on this night the Emerald City seemed a wee bit greener. And as long as we were all in town, we decided to stick around and catch my daughter’s wedding on Saturday.

Thirty Love

"The most important thing a Father can do for his children is to love their Mother."
-Father Ted Hesburgh – President, University of Notre Dame 1952-1987

My first crush was Kim Wolf. I remember that she had this beautiful olive skin, gorgeous dark brown hair, penetrating eyes and a teasing Mona Lisa smile. And it could have been a mutual crush as far as I knew, but at the time I hadn’t the courage or wherewithal to act upon it. I was six. Below are pictures from my class party on Valentine's Day 1966. And as evidenced by the pictures below we were grievously segregated, boys from girls, by that heartless Mrs. Hallstrom on this otherwise splendid day for wooing. I’m second from the left in the back row. My mother dressed me in a white turtleneck shirt and a red sweater with a black striped v-neck. Why couldn't I have been the cowboy? My enchantress is second from the right in the back row.

My next measurable crush was Denise James. And at sixteen, I was slightly more courageous. We met in Mr. Schultz's tenth grade study hall. She would attend to her studies rather seriously and I would make noises and devise pranks in general defiance of authority and in certain obstruction of my proper education. Obviously this strategy served me well because thirty four years later, Denise and I have just celebrated our Thirtieth Wedding Anniversary. And of all the pictures I remember from our youth, this one she gave me in the tenth grade is the one that reminds me the most of her today...although she would probably disagree.

In preparation for our first date I spruced myself up in my finest white pants and a dark blue big collared silky shirt with enormous orange flowers...whoa! With my crazy long hair and this spectacular 70’s wardrobe I was brimming with false confidence. And to this day I thank God that a similar image has never darkened the door at our current home in pursuit of one of our three daughters. I'm not sure what I would do. Incidentally, it would be two years until John Travolta would legitimize this look in the opening street strutting scene in Saturday Night Fever…“Ah, ha, ha, ha, Stayin' alive. Stayin' alive.” Anyway, we went bowling and Denise crushed me all over again.

By the time our senior prom rolled around, we had been dating for almost a year. And for this special occasion I selected the coolest tux and largest black velvet bow tie that $35 could rent. I can't tell from this picture if Denise is thinking "this dude is so hot!" or "what's up with that ruffly shirt and clown tie?" I would give anything now to have that tux at my disposal on Halloween. Or just to randomly wear to the office or out to eat with friends.

We were both about to begin our third year at the University of Nebraska when we were married. It was August 11, 1979 – two years after the world saw Saturday Night Fever and Denise had me dressed in a Travolta-esque white tux. It's an embarrassing costume by today’s standards but less so than that funkity prom costume that I had selected for myself.

On January 2, 1983 Denise delivered me to the airport in Omaha and we would say good-by for four months that seemed like forever. I would spend those months abroad studying in London and traveling throughout the UK as part of my graduate degree in architecture. And Denise, a recent Business graduate would remain in Lincoln at her new job and would send me letters, pictures and money. I missed her terribly and thought of her constantly. I cherished those precious photos from home and her conveyance of memories from many missed family events. And we vowed to never be apart from each other again.

In late April of that year Denise flew to Athens, Greece for a much awaited rendezvous. We would then travel together through Greece, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France and England. This was a great time in our lives and we grew so much in mind and spirit and commitment through the hardship of this experience. I think that we continue to connect the adversity and triumph of travel with the delight of this rendezvous. And traveling together has remained a constant passion of ours for all these years since.

Our first of three daughters was born nine months and ten days after Athens. We were young and knew nothing of parenting but we loved this precious little souvenir from Italy with all our hearts and we knew that our lives could never be the same.

We moved our little family from Lincoln to Omaha after my graduation in December of 1984. And in 1987 our second daughter M blessed our lives. It's funny how one love becomes two and two becomes three without ever diminishing it's divided self. And in a few years, little sister M and big sister J would learn this truth for themselves with the arrival of baby K.

Over the years our wedding anniversary has often been observed as somewhat of a family event as opposed to a private celebration for two. The family and the marriage are after all, direct extensions of each other. We’ve never found the logic in separating the two.

The customary anniversary dinner for five was kicked up a notch in 1999. For our twentieth anniversary we boarded our first cruise. The five of us sailed to San Juan, St Thomas and Tortola.

For our twenty-fifth anniversary in 2004 we fulfilled a twenty year long dream and returned once again to London and Paris - this time with our daughters. We loved sharing the places and memories from such an important part of our past.

This year in consideration of our past, present and future, I changed it up a bit and with the unanimous encouragement of three daughters, I went the traditional surprise jewelry route.

And now as I reflect on all these past thirty years and all of our collective memories together, I can barely suppress my eagerness for the future as our daughters embark on their independent journeys and assemble their own collection of memories. And I pray that we will continue to be a part of their journies and that their lives will remain as blessed as Denise and our girls have made mine.