My Two Dads

September 21, 1951 was undoubtedly a great day --

Because MY dad was born...

.... and H2B's dad was born!

Yep, my father and my future FIL shared a 60th birthday on Wednesday, September 21st, 2011!

I'm a day late in writing this post because I got super busy, but I'd be remiss if i didn't say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to two of the greatest dads on planet earth.

I'm so lucky that they are both in my life -- here's just a few examples of why they are both so awesome.

One, they are both funny, kind, smart, handsome, and YOUNG looking.

THANKS, Dads, for the awesome genes, the same ones our kids will hopefully inherit!

But here are a few things I'd like to share....

H2B's dad... well, he lives a mere 7 blocks from H2B and, I guess, me.  Although I haven't officially moved in there yet, I'm spending almost every night there, and I'll live there full time soon.  It's been really FUN to have them so close -- we can walk there,  he can walk to us, etc.

My favorite story about H2B's dad is that when H2B was a kid, he and his best friend formed a whiffle-ball league... in his dad's back yard.  They ran an entire baseball diamond into the back yard, and his dad not only allowed, but ENCOURAGED this act.  H2B adn his friend would post scores, league rankings, schedules, etc on the front door, and the boys would bike over daily to see how things were shaking out. 

The more I get to know my future FIL, the more I like about him -- bottom line, he's been a great father to H2B and that is fun to watch.

My dad?  Well, I could fill an encyclopedia about the amazing things he's done for me, ranging from funding my musical and then college education, to showing me how to have a great sense of humor and a strong work ethic, but also to kicking my BUTT (figuratively, of course), when I was content to just sit on it and let life pass me by.  Parents and kids always have tough times, and I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge all the times I rolled my eyes and wanted my dad to bug off, but in the end, here's what I have:

Dad.  I have made jokes for the past decade about our tough / tender moments (high dive, golf course, phone rules, towels on the floor), but in the end, none of that matters.  You have been there for me in ways I cannot articulate for my entire life, but especially in the past few years.  One of the TOUGHEST things I inherited from you was my inability to naturally ask for help, or fess up when the going gets tough -- but during a time that I rarely talk about on this blog, you were there for me in ways that bring (and literally brought) me to my knees with gratitude.  It had nothing to do with paying bills or cleaning up messes (though that was certainly involved), but EVERYTHING to do with being my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, my toughest critic yet my biggest fan, and ALWAYS my strongest advocate.  We are so much alike that I have learned, in adulthood, to listen to you more; to realize that sometimes your criticisms and words come from a place of living, learning, and loving.  I know you think I don't listen -- and H2B would probably have the same criticism, but know that I do; and that my "not listening" is usually a knee-jerk reaction that is later followed by contemplation and then acceptance that, yeah, Dad (husband), you were right.

I love you.

I'll be 34 when I get married -- I've lived "alone" or close to it since I was 21 -- so it isn't quite like you're "giving away" a daughter who has lived at home for years.  Despite your having a more traditional history of marriage and family, you have never ONCE made me feel bad about my choices in life or the circumstances that have brought me where I am today -- if anything, you've made me feel empowered to OWN the life I live, and to take pride in what has brought me here. 

On October 15th, the flowers, the music, and the dress will be beautiful.  The food will be savory, the cake will be delicious, and the DJ will be lively and fun.  But what I look forward to the most is you walking me down the aisle -- to "give me away," to a man just as great as you, with his great dad in the audience.

All of my love,
Jessica

We Will Never Forget

Ten years ago today (well, ten years and a few hours), I woke up and quickly showered and dressed.  It was 4 AM, East Coast Time, and I was in Detroit, working as an event planner for the UniverSoul Circus as a part of my first job out of college with The Kydd Group.  I brewed some crappy coffee in my hotel room, got in the car, and drove to a nearby hospital where we were doing a promotion on behalf of General Mills -- ie, handing out cereal samples and allowing Buzz, the Honey Nut Cheerios Bee, to interact with kids, nurses, and passerby while he danced the Cha Cha Slide.

Around 8:30 AM, we ran out of cereal samples - so I got in my rental car to drive a few miles away and pick up more.  We'd all been up since the crack of dawn with no radio or TV at our outdoor site, so when I got back, it was with the news that "something really weird just happened -- a plane hit the world trade center." 

My naivete prevented me from understanding what this meant -- in my quiet world, it meant that some idiot private plane pilot had miscalculated his flight path and made a really stupid mistake.

An hour or so later, I got back in my car to get MORE cereal samples, and the game had changed -- two towers, both hit, and it wasn't an accident, it was terror.  And in the 15 minutes I was in the car, the first tower fell.

By that time, we were wrapping up the promotion; we were somewhat aware of what was going on, the FAA had grounded all flights, and I was offiicially stuck in Detroit.

My brother was in London.  My father was in Atlanta.  I was in Detroit.  And my mom was at home, frantically figuring out how to get me back there.  I was supposed to fly that day (and later in the week to NYC), but my plane wasn't going anywhere.

I was surrounded by a family of co-workers, but I was terrified.  The answer crystalized pretty quickly -- get in your car and drive.  So I did.  Without permission, without questions, without answers, I got in my little rental car, and hit the road, not stopping until Madison, WI where I checked into a crappy hotel room, and got dinner at a bar -- where I saw the footage of the towers falling for the very first time.  I  listened, oddly, to Howard Stern the entire way, as he was the one doing the best live broadcast from the site of the destruction.  If you know me, you know that I'd spent years LOATHING Howard Stern - but on that day, he was a beacon of clarity and information on a confusing and scary day.  I didn't listen to a single piece of music the entire way from Detroit to Madison, just his voice, keeping me informed and, oddly, soothing me into calm.

I cried.  I sat at the bar of a cafe, and ordered the chicken.  I watched towers fall for the first time, burst into tears, and asked for my check -- the bartender said "Nah, it's on the house, get yourself home."  And I cried even harder.  Because all I wanted was my home - my silly little apartment, my mom, and the co-workers I'd come to know as family.

The next morning, I got up early and drove from Mpls to Madison, heading straight into the office.  I was overwhelmed and confused, and couldn't keep back the tears.  Two weeks later, I quit my job - I couldn't get past the notion that it was what had taken me so far away from the people and life I love during a difficult time.

9/11 was a catalyst for a lot of bad things in our world today - and we all live today in the shadow of 9/11 and what it has meant for our country; it was a game changer for the economy, the airlines, and the way we look at every thing and person around us.

But what I'll never forget is the outpouring of LOVE.

Stories came in from all over about the sheer good Samaritan-ism that rose out of the ashes.  The work of the FDNY and NYPD cannot be summed up in my words, but what touched me was the everyday actions of everyday people -- everybody just did what they COULD.  Shopkeepers opened their doors and handed out shoes to those running from the destruction.  People opened up cars their for rides.  Handed out sandwiches and bottled water to those who couldn't find food or shelter.  It was America's finest hour - a true example of letting love drive out fear.  For days these stories came in, just when we all thought they'd be done, another story would emerge, like a symbol of the very best of humankind.  My brother was studying in London, and attended a church service with some of his buddies - they were stopped, just for being Americans, hugged, comforted... in the midst of destruction; in the midst of his plot of hate, Osama Bin Laden brought out all the love in the world.

This article, written by one of my favorite writers, sums it up in words I do not have, but the part of it that I've always taken away is his comment about celebrating in the streets.  And that is why, earlier this year, when OBL was killed, you did not find me celebrating.  You did not find me watching the rally cries outside the capitol.  It was -- and should have been -- a somber moment, a moment of realizing just how horrible it is to celebrate the death of anyone.  I did not celebrate that day, I cried - just like I'm crying right now, both in remembrance of 9/11, but also out of reverence for the fact that we've become a nation that chooses to celebrate a death -- because we have to be.


We will never forget.

Off and running,
~Jessica

Technical Difficulties

Hey, just wanted to pop in because there's something weird going on with my blog and whenever I open this site, I get redirected to blogrolling.com or something, which is definitely not my blog. :-)

Also - to a few who have commented or emailed.  I'll be back to blogging soon, but with trying to plan a wedding in 90 days, move, get two houses ready to sell, and have a full time job, i just haven't had a lot of free time to write.  Thanks for understanding!



Off and running,
~Jessica