Family

I'm starting to get a cold of sorts, so this will be brief. 

I am blessed with a wonderful family, both biological and legal.  Every so often I forget this fact, thinking that I have an average family with its share of problems; there is truth to this, but it's like saying The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a decent American novel.  It woefully underestimates the value of the heart of it.

Every time I forget just how great my family is, I'm gently reminded.  This past weekend at the cabin, my in-laws were wonderfully gracious.  Today, my baby sister flew into town.  To see them interact with Grayson is to see love.  None of my siblings, biological or legal, are local, so watching them with Grayson is a special treat, for him, for me, and (from what they tell me) for them.  Aunt Jen, like all of the aunts and uncles, is incredible with Grayson.  She immediately shows how enamored she is with him, showers him with love and attention, and cares for him like nothing else matters.

Tonight was no exception.  I am so lucky to have the family I have, full of love and full of laughter.

iPhone Update: The Price of a Memory

If you've been lucid over the last 10 years and have had access to a television, you've seen the ads for a major credit card company.  Airfare to Orlando: $1,298.  Admission to Disney World: $375.  The look on your child’s face when they meet Mickey Mouse: Priceless.  There is some truth in this sentiment; you can’t put a price on making memories with your child, but the hidden message is actually more tangible.  For the price of $1,673 plus 18.9% APR, you can “afford” to make these memories.  Forget the cost of getting there and getting in, the memory is worth it.  To a point, I agree.  One of the greatest joys of parenthood is seeing a smile on your child’s face. 

Sometimes that smile comes relatively cheaply: peek-a-boo is free to play, and at just about 8 months old, it is guaranteed to grant a smile or two.  Sometimes the cost is a bit higher; gas at $4.17 a gallon, a few hours, and some groceries gets you up to the lake, and Grayson was certainly impressed with the cabin.  Other times, a family vacation to somewhere warm can cost thousands of dollars.  You hope that the investment of time and money is worth your while, that you (and your child when s/he gets older) will have memories that last a lifetime. 

As we grow older, though, memories blur.  They fade and morph.  They get dim.  Knowing this, and being an inventive, technologically advanced society with the kinds of disposable income that affords us the opportunity to take vacations, we have created ways to preserve these memories, or more accurately the moments associated with these memories.  Photos and videos have been around for a long time now, and they’ve been accessible to the middle-class public for at least a half-century.  In fact, the cost of capturing memories has diminished greatly over time, becoming exponentially cheaper over the last decade or so.  Today, if you have about $200, you can get a device that not only makes phone calls, but can take very acceptable digital images and shoot high-definition digital video.  No longer do you need to spend $1,000 on a good camera, another $1,000 or so in lenses and filters, $5 for a roll of film and another $5 to process that film.  Heck, you don’t even need to think in terms of numbers of exposures; you aren’t limited to 24 or 36.  This rough math doesn’t even account for the cost of a “camcorder,” VHS tapes and the VCR on which to play them back.

The seemingly costless access to digital photos and video has changed the way most people think about capturing these memories.  The majority of images today are spur-of-the-moment, candid shots.  The days of posing for a photo, while not gone, are waning.  The care taken to make sure the images are quality has dramatically decreased; if the photo doesn’t turn out, all you have to do is delete it and try again.  I would wager that I currently have more photos of my son in 8 months than my mother has of me in my first 35 years.  The memories are no less important, but accessibility to capture the moments (with a camera always in your pocket) is infinitely greater.  I often take this fact for granted…

…until that camera ends up in water…

You learn the true price of keeping a memory from dissolving.  It costs anywhere from $500-$1500 for the lot.  The wonderful news is that with technology, most of these moments can be recovered most of the time.  Data recovery services (and the digital media they recover) make possible what was once impossible.  If your photos and videos on film were destroyed in a flood or fire 20 years ago, no amount of money could bring them back.  Today, even a mangled hard drive contains some data, and there are people out there who will work tirelessly to move that data from an unstable device to a stable one.  With the proper mix of science, love and time, a large percentage of photos and videos can be restored.  The missing ingredient: mullah. 

Now I’m left to do some more math.  The true cost of a memory is “the price to recover my data” divided by “the number of memories can I recover.”  How much would you pay for a memory?  Whatever the cost, my credit card will only charge me a percentage every month to spread those payments out over time.

Service Can't Be Beat

It feels good to be home.  Vacationing up north was wonderful, but all that vacationing can be exhausting.  We drove home today, and even though the traffic wasn't bad at all, I still felt road-weary while unloading the car. 

The day wasn't over though... I had an appointment at the Genius Bar.  Either the definition of genius has changed, or it isn't as elite as I was led to believe.  My "genius" told me that if the phone would fully boot, he would be able to get my pictures off of it, but since it can't, there is nothing he can do.  Funny... if I could get the phone to fully boot, I might be able to find a way to get the data off of it too!

I left feeling less than satisfied, but I knew I didn't want to cook tonight. 

I entered a chain Americana restaurant pretty bummed, and I was determined to be dissatisfied with my meal too.  Nothing on the menu seemed appetizing; the booth was a little tight; I even noticed the napkin was something between paper and cloth.  Just as I was about ready to give up on the night, something magical happened: Angie.  Angie was my waitress tonight; she was older than 50, shorter than 5'2", and heavier than 175.  I expected her to be another off-putting thing in my life today.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  Angie was spectacular.  She was kind, honest, straight-forward.  She looked out for my bill by offering me a cheaper option to get the same thing.  She offered a fresh drink when the first glass was dirty.  She even accepted the lack of a dessert order with a "sometimes you're in the mood for Dairy Queen." 

Angie got me, and she made my day.  She served me.  It was a pleasure to tip her well.

In Memorium

Today is the day we remember that freedom is not free. It takes sacrifice and suffering. It takes determination and vigilance. It costs lives.

Today is the day I ate cheeseburgers and ice cream cake.  I watched television, and I worked on a carburetor.  I sat by the lake, and I played with my son.

I could never make the choice to fight in a war, but I like to think that I choose to stand up for our freedoms, to be outspoken in the face of inequality and injustice. And I know that I remember the countless lives that have gone before me, fought, died, and secured my freedoms.

Happy Memorial Day

Another Lazy Day

Most would argue that I haven't accomplished much today. I'm not sure I can effectively argue against it, but I'm going to try.

I woke around 6:00am this morning to let the dog chase after all the sounds she'd been hearing throughout the night. In her mind, the cabin was surrounded by squirrels, chipmunks and deer. Who am I to call her a liar?  She nobly spent the next hour sniffing the perimeter of the house, growling at ghosts and barking at the neighbors. Then Grayson woke up, eager to explore the new world around him and the fresh set of toys that Nana had purchased. Before I knew it, it was time to make lunch.

After lunch, I proved to the whole family why I never played baseball; I can't get a 3 year old out, and I can't hit his curveball. A walk ensued, down to the main road and back. A grand total of 10 legs and 12 wheels, 1.5 miles. It was well past Noon, so I PBR'ed myself ASAP.  While drinking from a red, white and blue can, I helped my father-in-law run a brand new flag up the lake-facing flagpole. I felt patriotic.

Before I could blink, it was time to teach my mother-in-law the way to slice an avocado without a trip to the emergency room. Steaks were on the grill. Dinner was served, and I ate while feeding Grayson some peas. He likes them more now that he is used to them.

After dinner, it was time to clean two diapers full of pea soup. There was a bath in between the diapers. Grayson splashed in the sink like only a child can. His smiles make it worth the while.

Now I'm sitting alone on the deck, taking too long to type this on my phone, drinking another beer with the dog doing another sweep of the yard for critters.

I haven't done anything today, but I feel good about everything I've accomplished. Hopefully tomorrow can be more of the same.

Mobile blogging

I'm far enough north that cell service is shoddy indoors. LTE doesn't exist up here, and high sipped internet is sparse. The cabin doesn't have wifi, so I'm writing on my iPhone.  It has taken me 3 minutes to type this.

It is nice, though, to be disconnected (somewhat disconnected). We've taken walks, put the boat in, set up the deck. The dog is happier up here.

Because of this, I'm keeping this short. I'll still write everyday. I just might not be as verbose.

Driving with an Infant

I must admit I'm a little worried about the drive ahead of me tonight.  To get up to the lake on a good day takes about two and a half hours, maybe three.  On the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, it could take up to four hours.  Traffic will simply be that thick on roads that were designed to service small towns only.

Most holiday weekends, this is a bit of an annoyance, but nothing horrible.  It is the price of going somewhere beautiful and relatively remote.  But this will be my first road trip with Grayson (not yet eight months old).  Stacy took him to Iowa when he was about three months old, but he is now at an age where he is alert and curious.  I have no idea what this will mean.  The farthest I've gone with him is 30 minutes down to Bloomington.  The prospect of potentially four hours is nerve-wracking.

I'll report tomorrow how the drive went.  Until then, pray for me.