The Myth of Damnation

I have three sons who are kind and intelligent, but one of them gave me fits when he was young.  He got into nearly every kind of trouble you can imagine and even spent three nights behind bars after doing something especially bone-headed.  My wife and I spent a significant portion of our free hours and sleepless nights wondering what to do about him, but never--not once--did we consider giving up on the kid. 

In fact, I was thinking of him when I wrote the following:

When I tell them, “Be careful,”

And my children nod in a way

That suggests more weighty thoughts

Are roaming through their heads,

Like: What’s for dinner?

A feeling emerges—

Spontaneous and irrepressible—

From the same place

Gratitude is born:

I loved them before they could walk,

And also before they could speak,

I can do no less now,

Though they seem deaf

To good advice.

Why do we believe a loving God would feel any differently?  To assume God damns His children is to believe He gives up on them.  I can't imagine what might have happened if we hadn't loved our son unconditionally and did everything in our power to effect a turnaround in his life.  As it now stands, he's working on a PhD in biology, specializing in the mechanisms that cause gene mutation.  He recently earned a National Science Foundation Honorable Mention.  I anticipate great things from him.

If being a father and grandfather has taught me anything, it's that children deserve our uncompromising love and devotion.  I refuse to believe in a God who doesn't feel the same way.  Play the video of my granddaughter below and tell me you disagree.

This World Has Potential

My son, Aaron, was recently named the Charles Mingus Composition Award winner at Berklee College of Music in Boston.  There he had the enviable opportunity to work with Maria Schneider, who is one of his musical inspirations.   

Here is a piece he recently wrote and performed at the JazzSchool in Berkeley, California.  It's part of a four movement jazz suite and this particular movement is entitled This World Has Potential.  It's a reminder to me that despite the many things we can criticize about our circumstances, the world remains a remarkable and wonder-filled place.

I hope you enjoy the music.

Why Lyra (my granddaughter) is the Star I Orbit

1. She does something new every day
2. Her favorite word is her own invention (A-dee-a!) which can mean anything from "Look over there," to "Hey, that was cool"
3. Beatles songs make her dance and sing
4. She drops food on the floor and laughs as the dogs scramble to eat it
5. She knows all the gestures to patty cake
6. She thinks "This little piggy" is hilarious
7. She climbs onto the dogs when they're napping and gives them hugs
8. She loves blackberries straight off the cane
9. Sleep is the only thing that can slow her down
10. When I sing the final line to the lullably, "You're the best little one, ever could be," she joins along, singing, "Beeeeeee" in something resembling harmony

Meeting My Granddaughter for the First Time

This is the star I orbit. I'm trapped in her gravity. There is no escape.

Lyra Xie Bahr--Born June 9, 2009

It's official. I'm a grandpa! Lyra (as in lyrical) Xie Bahr was born on June 9th. Both mother and daughter are well. The father is as proud as a peacock.

(As my son was quick to point out, we're in June now. My earlier reference to Lyra's birthday as being in May was incorrect).

Update: She's two-years old now and here's a video of the star I orbit. 

On the Prospect of Being a Grandpa

Shh…this is just between you and me, okay? I have a secret. You see, it appears that I’ll become a grandfather in June. Consider yourself informed. Now, mum’s the word.

At first, the news wasn’t easy for me to accept. It was another reminder that I was heading inexorably toward creaky-limbed old-fart status. What was to come next? Adult diapers and soft food didn’t seem too far behind it. Then something remarkable happened: I saw that little girl on TV. You know the one—the precocious child who demonstrates how to email a photo of her pet fish and ends the commercial by saying, “I’m a PC and I’m four and a half.” Suddenly, I wanted one exactly like her.

My change of heart is due, in part, because my daughter-in-law, Piper, is a beautiful young woman from China, whose childhood pictures remind me of that PC girl. But there’s more to it than that. During the twenty seconds, or so, while the commercial played, I was reminded again of the reasons we cherish children and how much we can learn from them.

Here are a few ways they are infinitely superior to us old coots.

Children are refreshingly honest. Even when they stray, they don’t make excuses. Listen to a child ask for sweets and what do you hear? They don’t say, “Nine out of ten dentists claim this is good for your teeth.” It takes them a while before they can justify, cajole and haggle like an adult. All they say is, “I want it.”

Children believe in magic. They jump from stumps and fence posts, run like the wind and act like masters of the universe. And because they are unburdened by adult fears, they are free to be motivated by love and the best of all intentions.

Children invest in dreams. I'm not speaking of our day-time musings or even our night-time fantasies, but rather the sense for who we can become. This sense is important, because the alternatives to proper dreams are horrific. In fact, it’s difficult to imagine anything as frightening as a human being with evil intent, unless it’s the mass of humanity with no intent at all. And while most adults have spent their dreams, children continue to invest in them. In the end, it’s what will save us all.

Children are insatiably curious. Despite their natural tendency to believe everything we say, children still ask “Why?” It’s the best of words. I’m sure a youngster invented it and it’s the driving force behind a child’s incredible growth.

Children are fair to a fault. Take the youngest child out for an ice cream cone and he or she will insist that you take more home for the siblings. They are our fairness monitors and they fulfill their roles to perfection.

On second thought, tell the world my secret. I’m starting to feel pretty darn good about the prospect of being a grandpa.