99 - Go to Church

Dear David,

I had the best weekend with you. On Saturday we left home early and drove all the way to New Hampshire in the Big Red Truck. It was a very long drive for a little boy. But, you sat patiently in your chair in the back seat, all the way up to the White Mountains.

We had so much fun that afternoon at Story Land. We rode the Roller Coaster, the Log Ride, the Train, and the Balloon Ride, at least a half dozen times each.

You napped in the back of the Big Red Truck all the way back to the Hancock campground. We set up camp, got the fire going and ate our dinner. The we walked together down the path through the woods to the East Branch of the Pemigewasset River. It was nearing sunset and the path was getting gloomy. But, as we stepped from the trees to the bank of the river, everything was bathed in dreamy, golden sunlight. The river was clear and flowed strongly through the smoothed granite sluice it had carved out over a thousand years. The scent of winter snow was still wafting up to us from the surface of the water.

I have been coming to this river since I was a boy, and have hiked every mile of it. I know every bend and eddy. It is wild from beginning to end. No dams, houses or factories line its banks. Its waters are good to drink. I have soaked my feet in it after long hikes, and dove into its icy grip on sweltering August days. If any river, is my river, it is this one.

While I was momentarily distracted by this beautiful scene, and my memories, the figure of a naked four-year-old boy wading out into the current entered my field of vision. For reasons all your own, you had taken off your shoes, and every stitch of clothing, and decided to go for a dip. I didn't tell you to do it. You didn't tell me you were going to do it. But my own history of being inexplicably compelled to be in any nearby water, is well known. You chided me for not warning you that the water was so cold. I reminded you of the snow we saw in the Mountains earlier in the day, and told you that was where this water was coming from. You splashed and played in the icy water for a good half hour until the sun set. Then we went back to our camp and turned in for the night.

Sunday, we drove to the base of Mount Washington, and rode the Cog Railway to the summit. I know this mountain as well as I know the East Branch or the Pemigewasset River. I have climbed it many times, from all sides, and skied down all of its slopes. On climbing up, the finest moment was always breaking through the tree line, and seeing the great, steep expanse of boulder strewn ravines, rising to the brooding summit high above. It always made me feel honored to be in the presence of such awesome power embodied in stone. The same way as I feel when I enter the great cathedrals. It is something otherworldly here on earth.

There are many churches on earth, and many beliefs. I hope you find one you like. If you do, or don't, I hope you do find a way to be tolerant of what other people find worthy of believing. So many of our troubles find their source in differences of opinion about which beliefs and church are right. Try to avoid contributing to that nonsense, if you can.

The made up story I like to tell is this:

Everyone believes in Santa Claus. But one day, a group people decided to believe he has Eight Tiny Reindeer. Another group decided to believe he has Six Tiny Reindeer. So they then decided to have a big fight about it. They both believed that Santa will somehow influence the outcome of the battle, and then give the winner more presents. That's about sums it up.

There's also some intolerance between people who believe in books that were written a long, long time ago and, the people who believe in books that were written just recently. The people who believe in the books written a long, long time ago, think that the books written just recently are Fairy Tales. The people who believe in the books written just recently, believe that the books written a long, long time ago, are also Fairy Tales. They all argue a lot over which books you should read and teach.

You should try to read them all. Plus any new ones that come out while you are around. Especially books on science and mathematics. When your Brain gets hungry for a sense of wonder, science and math will give it a hearty meal. Nothing so easily dispels the clumsy notion that the universe exists as a result of some fortunate series of simple accidents, as a good book on Quantum Mechanics or Molecular Biology. You are a part of nature. So understanding nature is a good way to understand a lot.

Your church is your choice. You can worship where you please. Your church could be a Mosque, a Synagogue, a library, the East Branch of the Pemigewasset River, or the flanks of Mount Washington. But try to go, listen and learn, at least once in a while, and make your life your prayer.

Love,

Daddy

100 - Make a home

Dear David,

I went on the Silver Airplane yesterday, and I'm far away now. I already miss you and Mommie and Michael very much, and can not wait to come home and see you and, of course, bring you Presents, as always.

When I was a little boy, my Daddy (who is Grandpa), and my Mommie (who is Grandma), made a nice home for me. I would go out and play, or go to school. But when I got tired or scared, or when School was all done, I would always be so happy to go home. At home, everyone was nice to me. At home, I could take a nap, eat Apples, lay down on the floor, play with my toys and watch TV.

It makes me laugh, when I take you someplace, and when we are gone for a long time and you are tired, or just not having a good time, you ask me, repeatedly, "Can we go home now?!"

It makes me laugh because I feel the same way, even now that I am Big.

Home is the place you go when you are tired, scared, hungry or lonely so you can Feel Better. Its the place where they have Birthday Parties for you and give you Presents. Friends come to see you there, play with your toys and drink Juice Boxes. Aunties, Uncles, Cousins, and Grandparents all come to our home to eat The Turkey.

I have lived in many places. But, just because you have a place to live, does not mean you have a home. I have had only two homes in my life; the one my Mommie and Daddy made for me, and the one Mommie and I have made for David and Michael.

We have a nice house and nice things. But what fills it up and makes it our home is how much we love each other. I hope you make a home for some people some day. Its very nice.

David, I can't wait to come home.

Love,

Daddy

101 - Your luck is a debt.

Dear David,

You are a very lucky little boy. You are healthy and happy. You have Mommie and Daddy, and a new little baby brother, who all love you very much. You have a nice home in a nice town, plenty of nice nutritious food to eat, your own room, and far too many toys.

You live in a beautiful country which, despite our troubles, is largely peaceful and free.

If you get sick, the Big Orange Ambulance that you like can take you to some of the best hospitals in the world in a matter of minutes, because they have a Siren.

You have good schools nearby, and when you are ready to go, you can go there for free. Both Mommie and I have good jobs and we save our money. So when you are ready to go to college, you can go to college.

Because you are so lucky, you are likely to spend a lot of time around other people who are as lucky as you are. Then it becomes easy to believe, that you are lucky for a reason. It becomes easy to believe that you have this luck simply because you deserve it.

But that's not true.

Your luck is a debt.

You are happy and healthy because Mommie and I have taken very good care of you. You have a nice home and lots of good food to eat because we both work very hard to provide you with these things.

You live in a beautiful country that is mostly peaceful and free because many people have worked very hard for lots of years, and sometimes even died so that little boys like you, who they never even knew, could live free and at peace.

You have good schools and hospitals to go to because many other people studied very hard for years and years at their colleges to be good teachers and doctors.

You have been very lucky that all these people worked so very hard so that you could be happy and healthy. You owe them a debt.

When you grow up, you should repay this debt. You can repay this debt by making sure that even more little boys, and girls, everywhere, are as lucky as you have been.

When there was just you and me.

Dear David,

Today was another wonderful day with you. You slept until about seven, then I went into your bedroom with a nice, big cold milk and we snuggled for a good half hour as you woke up. Then you wanted to watch TV in our bed, and further, wanted me to carry you there. I obliged. I showered, got dressed, got you dressed, and packed my Blue Backpack for our adventure in the city. We drove in The Big Red Truck to Orient Heights to take the Blue Line (or as you call it, “Gordon”) to the Orange Line (“Skarloey”), and got off at Chinatown. Once above ground, you announced that you wanted to ride on my shoulders. You are getting a little heavy for this at 35 pounds, but nonetheless it’s easier to navigate the crowded sidewalks of Saturday shoppers with you on my back. It also makes you happy, and that’s most important.

The weather was perfect today. We walked down Washington Street and then to Tyler and climbed up the 23 Magic Red Steps to China Pearl and got a table. David’s Chair arrived and our table was soon overflowing with steamed dumplings, sticky rice, and barbecue pork buns. You ate all the shrimp dumplings and had a cup of mango pudding for dessert. We ordered extra dim sum to put in paper cartons and bring home for Momma.

Then, back down the 23 Magic Red Steps we went. I lifted you back up onto my shoulders and we walked up to the Boston Common. We crossed the street at Tremont and Boylston and looked for the policeman on the nice big brown horse that is sometimes there, but you said that he must be sleeping today. You wanted to get down from my shoulders and walk on top of the wall beside the path. I held your hand as we walked along, then you jumped off at the end.

We arrived at the nice new playground at the Frog Pond. Because of the fine weather, it was bursting with kids and their parents. You ran inside the gate, climbed up on the jungle gym, and forgot all about me. I sat down and watched you, making sure to sit in my usual spot, so that when the sudden worry struck you about my whereabouts, you’d have only to look over and see me there smiling back at you.

It was only 10 o’clock. You and I had been cooped up in the house for most of the previous week as you got over a bad cold. The day was sunny and mild, so I decided to let you play for as long as you wanted. Not surprisingly, you played for almost two hours, only stopping by to see me once, to ask about the availability of a juice box, which I promptly produced from the Blue Backpack.

As the church bells tolled Noon, you resumed your perch on my shoulders, and we walked over to see the waders in the Frog Pond. A few weeks ago it was funny to hear you cry when you saw the waders, and insist they go away so that you could go skating, as we do on our winter trips. We looked again for the policeman with the horse, but he must have still been sleeping. Then we walked past the great fountain, chased the pigeons around at Park Square, went down the stairs to get onto the Green Line (or “Henry”) and head home. You started dozing off on the car ride home from the train station. I carried you upstairs, gave you a Nice Big Cold Milkie, and tucked you into your bed. As I went to leave, you touched my arm and asked me to go to sleep, too. I lay there for a little while waiting for you to fall asleep, and then fell asleep myself. I woke about an hour later. You were still sleeping beautifully. So I tip toed out of your bedroom and into my office, to write you this letter.

You are only four, so it will be some time before you are able to read this letter. It may be decades before you will read it and fully understand. Maybe you will have to have children of your own before you fully realize how wonderful I feel to have you as my son. I hope to be around to cheer all your accomplishments and discoveries, although nothing is ever certain.

But, what is certain is that you will grow up. I know that days like today will not go on forever. The things we did today will become less possible. First among these is probably riding on my shoulders; you are getting so big! But soon even snuggling and holding hands on the Boston Common will seem awkward and embarrassing for us both.

Soon, you will have friends of your own, be off to elementary school, play sports and have other interests. Then I can only stand by and watch, proudly. You will assert your independence and individuality, go off to college, get a job, and perhaps move away, and you and I will be much less connected than we are now. But, for now, there is just you and me. We are the best of friends and neither of us has a worry in the world. All we have is fun and love.

So, while these days are ours, I thought I would write you this letter. I have learned a lot in my years, and hope to learn more. But at this moment, I thought it might be useful to write down for you some pieces of advice that I hope will be helpful in your life. While fathers rarely find any shortage of advice to inflict upon their children as they grow up, it tends to be more of the situational variety. Wherein a child does something the parent does not approve of, and the parent prescribes some “advice” to remedy their actions. You are likely to receive that kind of advice from everyone, throughout your life. Unsolicited advice is seldom in short supply.

But now, at four, you are completely without the means to make mistakes of any serious nature. The only things you are capable of doing wrong is to accidentally knock some things over or have a tantrum because you are having too much fun to go to bed. That frees me to give you advice with might be better described as a life philosophy, rather than a set rules.

So I have decided to write you these 101 Pieces of Advice for you, my Son. I'll try to post a new one every few days for a year. I hope they are helpful. You may ask, “Why 101?” I don’t know. Maybe there are 102. You find out.

Love,

Daddy