Dear Dad
It’s been a long time since I have written. Apologies. As you know, I have been pretty busy over here with several projects and getting ready to make mom a grandmother for the second time. My wife is feeling good as we approach the November due date. I know you will be keeping watch.
Speaking of watch, when I was a kid, maybe in grade 6 or 7, that the owl that showed up to live at camp would come back every year. It has, and I take that as a sign. The same box is still on that tree, although the paint is long gone, by my math at least 50 owlets have been born right there. A few years after the first owl sighting, Ted and I added another box off in the woods behind the old tree house that we built. THAT thing is still up there too. I haven’t been up the rickety ladder in years. When Ted comes up, I’m going to find out if it’s still safe. Remember how excited we were when it was under construction with neighbor Shea? He knew his stuff and I learned a ton about measuring and cutting. You should have seen us expand that thing year after year. His son helped us too….although he mostly fetched tools and held the ladder, it was kind of like a passing of the torch. You used to talk about that. I was too young to get it….but I get it now. I’ve gotten used to being Uncle Tim, since Ted had his daughter first, but I am very excited to find out if Charlotte is going to have a boy cousin or a girl. We don’t care as long as the baby is healthy.
Healthy, as you can see, is what camp looks like. Ted and I are still consulting with Aunty Sheila, Kyle and Jaclyn on the log cabin. It’s way too big to be a cabin, and although we are still working through some details, we have decided to again call it ‘The Lodge’. It’s only fitting. We even managed to salvage the mantle from the old game room. We will use it over the stone fireplace in the new space. We didn’t expect to hit ledge when we dug for the geothermal, but it IS New Hampshire after all, so we will take some of the granite and continue the path that mom started on the old cottage road. Believe it or not, the foundation is still over there.
As I type this, I’m sitting on one of the meditation benches (my wife’s name for it, not mine) out in the ball field. I’m looking toward the new lodge. I wish you could see this thing. It’s going to be so awesome, with the community art center (Jackie) as well as the studio (Kyle and myself….engineering and computer tech.) AND mom has her sights on a painting studio on the second floor. She likes the light in the southwest window and jokes that she still wants to make it impossible for you to come upstairs and mess with her stuff.
Mom is 64 and Ted and I played the old Beatles song for her on her birthday. She cried, which means we either nailed it or destroyed it. Either way, I remember you telling me that music holds all kinds of emotional power that shows itself throughout life at weird times. I was also too young to fully understand that when you said it…..but now it’s clear. I also remember you telling me that “When I was older….” I would realize that music is a vehicle. You grinned like the cat that just swallowed the canary when I asked you what you meant. You said something about your friend and music mentor teacher something something guy….his name was Gerry, like our snowman we built every winter. Gerry said that the music is a vehicle….well, anyway, once I started playing guitar in high school and then during college…..yeah, I get it. Ted get’s it also. With his cello collecting dust, but his piano skills cooking as he smiles at the ladies. His wife keeps him in check though. Mom likes her….says that she’s perfect for Ted…..keeps him on the path and focused. Remember when he would get distracted just crossing a room to pick up all of his socks that he left around? He STILL does that and now his daughter throws the socks at him. It’s so awesome. I love the payback.
Dad, another reason that I write, is to share with you that I am taking some stock of my goals here. I just turned 30 and I’m thinking back to all of the car ride ‘men time’ that we had….the chess matches, trips to get food, go on mom missions with side stops for junk food and fries. (SSSHHHH) and all of the stuff you told us. I never realized that all of your talks about how to treat other people, and how to connect and talk with others was your way of teaching us how to be interested ALWAYS in the world around us. You were teaching us how to be men. How to go into the world that is programmed to eat us all up. Now since I’m about to be a dad, I’m hoping that I will be able to do the same thing. You delivered the lessons without it ever seeming like a lecture. We wrestle with what is important to us, but we don’t always share the why. I will always try to share the why, and hopefully the how. I’ve applied that to my work with the Mars engineering stuff for the cargo lander. I can’t believe that my name is going to be on the team that sends the first load of construction materials to the landing site for the manned mission. NASA hasn’t changed….everything is always 10 years out, but at least our shit will be up there so we can expand the human footprint or whatever the hell their motto is this year. It got a bit dicey after that Russian Cosmonaut managed to get pregnant on the moon a few years back….man you should have heard the jokes. Too easy….especially with the gravity factor….but anyway, the world did not end, and the space network kept it together long enough that I kept my job. Yeah, yeah, I know….Go Moeschen.
So what else can I tell you? I know that you are around; I can feel your presence just like in Star Wars XXIV. God, those movies won’t ever stop. By the time I show them to my kids, I’m going to need 5 years to just get to Luke cooking up the Death Star…..I mean the first one. Which reminds me, why can’t these writers come up with a new plot line? Ever since the AI laws, everything sucks. It’s all been done. Sometimes I wish that AI had been left alone just to see how far it would have gone. I guess once it could actually access the missile codes, that was too far. Scary shit. But less scary here at the lake, like it’s always been. I remember you and mom talking with Gram about how nice it was NOT to watch the news. You would hate the chips that came out in the late ’30’s that we all have now. At least you can choose wrist or forehead. The people who scan their heads at the store look stupid. It’s way easier with your wrist and there’s way less of a chance of the filter being compromised by the retinal censors on every corner. Don’t worry, it’s not really Big Brother…it’s the ChinaDisney thing. You and I once talked about the seeds of this being planted in professional sports stadiums back in the ’20’s. Remember? As soon as you accepted your ticket, the NFL (and others) had the right to track you and your purchases all over the property so they could market stuff to you. Like the old Amazon days. Seems tame compared to now, but this is progress I guess. We actually have the option to chip the baby….you should see the ads for this mess….but we are going to wait. At least no one walks around with a phone anymore. Those days were stupid too. People used to actually have car accidents over being distracted on your phones. In college, we had a whole discussion in communication seminar class about that technology laying the groundwork for the human surveillance models that are out now. I don’t miss the phones. It’s so much easier to pop the chip and see Ted. I chipped with him this morning and he was in the kitchen (as usual) making some kind of breakfast slop. Like always, he only had on shorts and his house is a hot mess. He’s flying out next week for end of summer at camp with his family to see mom, Aunty Sheila and Uncle Mike, who still says he’s going to retire soon. I’ll believe it when I see it. The coolest part of that story is that Sheila is on another national book tour and is going to visit Ted in Seattle this weekend. He’s wrapping up his fruit tree growing seminar that he still has going on the side.
Fruit trees: The orchard on the hill by the old cabins is going to look amazing as it looks over the stage where the tennis court was. The summer music kids have their concert next week and mom says the early apples should be just about ready. The students will pick them again while I go out behind your house to gather 4 apples from your failed stand again. We won’t cut them down, but we do still laugh at them. The Black Walnut trees behind Ted’s place are doing better and those things were ignored back there for years. Ted wants me to tell you that ‘Old Faithful’ that damn stubborn old Kioti is still running. Ted built a serious waterfall with it last spring using some rocks from way up in the woods behind the first trail that mom built with it. Remember when she got it stuck in the mud way up behind Rick’s old place? I know you were laughing but I think you were pissed too.
Well it’s getting to be late afternoon here, and someone is yelling from the house, which means my wife needs something….I have enjoyed busting out the old pen and paper here to write you a letter that no one will ever see, unless they find my stash when I’m gone. Just like the life videos that you made for us. You never told anyone about them and we were all surprised when we uncovered them in the folder. Good thing we didn’t wipe the Mac. I’m going to put this in the same spot as the other random stuff that I’ve been collecting that reminds me that you are always close by, and here to still guide us. You taught us well. I hope to continue the pattern and I know that I can. I am strong enough and motivated enough to power through whatever comes when I am a parent. Mom knows that she did well too. You should see her spoil Ted’s little nugget. She’s too funny. I’ll tell stories of camp, how much fun I had as a kid up here and when my kid is old enough to have bonding time, the life lessons will start again.
I guess they never really end huh? I miss you Dad.
Love,
Tim
August 5, 2044
Moeschen! 