Dad Entry #155

Before Christmas, Megan received a note from a classmate: "Dear Megan (with at least one letter partially scribbled out and rewritten), Here's my phone number (omitted for security reasons) Call me over break, Love, (we'll call him Richard)" Aunt Gretchen was highly critical of everything about Megan's suitor, including Richard's choice of paper. Aunt Gretchen's response: "Dear Richard, a. Get her name right. b. Equipment rental stationary, really? c. You've just ruined any chance you had in high school. Her dad considers you a predator. Move on." God bless Aunt Gretchen! My response, if I gave one, would've been simple and kind: "Richard, I trust this was an accident. You are forgiven. Once." Others in the family, like Uncle Scott, while not approving of Richard whatsoever, were still impressed by his boldness. It's hard to discount; I was in my third decade before closing letters to women (who weren't members of my family) with "Love, Dan."

The baby fish in our tank died. We had several, actually, that didn't make it. They are born so tiny it's common practice to sequester them for a spell (so they won't be snacked on). We did this, but something went wrong. Obviously. Megan coined a word describing what happened; she said the little ones, in their isolation, died from "unloveness." That sounds like a terrible affliction (and reminiscent of the very real and documented "failure to thrive" syndrome). My kids are lucky to have an incredibly loving array of family and friends. We have other concerns and challenges, but I'm not worried about unloveness right now.

Michael discovered Youtube a while back. There are great things on Youtube (fishing clips, tutorials, science videos, sports highlights, sharks!) and some things not so great (angry people, cutting commentaries, rambling nonsense, occasional lewdness). Michael knows there's a monster called the media, powerful and many-tentacled, and he knows it's impressive as both a service and disservice; it's a lavish furnisher of information - and Michael loves information - but it tends to be clownish and to hyperventilate in its insatiable eagerness to caricaturize, sensationalize, and profit from everything. Even the weather. But we like entertainment. Everyone does. The media may seem far-reaching and omnipresent, but there are places to hide from it. And we will hide from it. Often, I hope. I don't want my children to live the media's values. I want my children to live their own values.

We still sing Christmas carols at bedtime, cheerfully but softly. We are far from raucaus. It will be February soon, after all. Michael will tell you the Earth has to rotate over 300 times before we get Christmas again. Bummer. But carols are familiar songs, and Megan has a sweet voice. It's not uncommon for her to lose the melody reading lesser-known verses (from pages of lyrics) but she sings on unvexed. It might be painful if she wasn't so earnest and cute, and snug in her bed with her stuffed animals, fleece blanket, and bowling pin picture frame.