BIGGER THAN YESTERDAY

The perfect moment

9:07 Dropped Jackson off at camp this morning.  I stayed awhile, saying hello to the bunny, good morning to the turtle, getting Jackson settled.  I tried to be the good parent.  The promise of picking him up.  The fun he would have.  Still, I peeked back into the little window at his teacher holding him crying after I left – and I had my sad ride back home listening to an old Leon Russell song, “I’m up on the tightrope.  One side hate and one is hope.”

10:05 Had a meeting on the porch with Sybil and David and Stephie about ipad apps, flipbooks, TLC, Artisinal entrepreneurs, asset management, and logistics involving trains.  Went downstairs for a skype chat, four phones calls, 6 texts, 32 emails, 7 friend requests, and the new issue of Monacle in the mail.  Fired up the grill and made lunch for my crew.  11 more emails, a great phone call with my friend Rick in Atlanta, two donations to friends riding bikes to raise money for cancer.   Checked out the backdrop unfurled in the driveway, think about getting away for the weekend.

2:40.   Back out of the driveway, go up to Wyoming and make a right.  Go to the end, make a right, quick left, all the way down.   Another right, left after the highway, left through the town past the old Edison factory, go up, bear right, and park a couple of blocks later.   Say hello to the crossing guard reading the bible.  Go to the door, punch in 4 numbers and the star sign, and walk to a window looking out at a playground of kids.   Jackson is over there, pushing a merry go round.   I go through the door and wait for him to recognize me.   He comes racing across the yard screaming, “DADDY DADDY!!”and jumps up into my arms.

It is the perfect moment.  Almost surreal perfection.

August Weekend in NY

Stayed in New York after 6 shootings i  Brooklyn for an artisinal food story my friend Scott wrote.  All handmade, all small scale, possessed by quality and driven by invention.  Totally inspiring.  Stephie and Jackson met me and we stayed over at Kay’s.  Such lux in the heart of Soho.  Tall heavy doors, fluffy towels and robes, Honey Nut Cheerios stocked for Jackson.

Our days unfold like a summer rain, soaking everything gently without any drama.  We are all happier when we can bump around like a pinball,  bouncing around the city emptied out on a brilliant August weekend.

Explored 2 new playgrounds in the city.   Central Park where Jackson stripped down to his Thomas underwear and took off through a series of puddled tunnels.   I ran and crawled and kept careful watch, then lost him for about 30 seconds – but oh how those missing moments felt like some scary scene in a dated New York movie from the sixties that I never saw.  Jackson finally stopped and yelled out, “my Daddy!”

This morning we went to a great playground in Chinatown.  Down to the Thomas underwear again – much better site lines.  Then went to Hester St. Fair and ate: gravlux, little Japanese batter fish stuffed with bean paste, Swedish meatballs, maple ice cream with bacon and pecans, chocolate chip cookies with pretzels baked in, all washed down with iced green tea.

We all slept on the way home – which was not so great since I was driving.  Ate dinner out on the porch watching the rain.  Then ran out and got wet again.

Jackson at the beach

I am up too late in Columbus culling through some of the pictures from the beach last weekend.  Listening to a bootleg of Bruce singing, “Your Love is Lifting Me Higher.”   Thinking about Jackson telling me on the phone tonight, “Daddy, I come Ohio and take pix with you.”   Thinking that I need to go to sleep.   Also thinking that I want to stay up all night taking this all in.

Exercising with Scott, and Kate, and Michelle, and Carrie.

This year’s model

Stephie calls this, “where’s Waldo?”  We don’t know any of these people.  They were renting next door.

They were all incredibly nice to Jackson and were endlessly loading up his T-ball.

Please forgive me

My oldest and dearest friends,

Please forgive me for fighting the urge to photograph every single thing this past weekend at the beach, and mostly losing the battle.  Please forgive the light in that old beach house on Pearl Street that I look forward to all winter.  Please forgive me finding your naps, your headaches, your eyebrow plucking, your sun loving skin, your beach fried hair, your tan marks, your showered bodies wrapped in old striped towels, your melting ice cream cones, your electronic devices, your crumpled sheets, your piles of shoes on the porch – all so beautiful.

When I excused my obsession Sonya shrugged and said I am just documenting what they do anyhow.

All of your tolerance and love has allowed me year after year to build a collection of memories we can all share forever.

Maybe longer.