Which gangstas are the most dangerous?

Q. Who's seen me at my most nervous?
A. K.M.H.

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

K.M.H. is the only person in these entire 40 posts who has been on a date with yours truly. Serious. We're talking an evening date. Me picking her up, paying for dinner, seeing a movie, kiss good night... no other way to detail the evening: DATE.

We actually had a couple of dates.
Then she hopped on a plane for Spain.
I have that effect.

Kidding aside, that Spanish voyage was well known before date one - so I think the dates went well because I was an immature fellow not knowing what to do with a possible long term thing - so the only way I could have a good date was knowing that its end was imminent.

Regardless, or as she would say ironically "irregardless," we became good friends. Which may not really surprise most because I met her before my 12th birthday... But if you know the history you know that we didn't speak one word to each other over a near 10 year stretch.

Thankfully our paths intersected one night many years ago and I consider her a confidant. She has a very hard and honest opinion that is never shy from being shared. I'm very appreciative of that... appreciative of her.

In fact, we really need to get caught up... It's been too long...

Who's very fun?

Q. Can you think of someone who has matured, but is still has as much fun as when he was a kid?
A. D.G.

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

This guy, D.G., I 've spent some of the most carefree fun around. I have great memories of driving over to his neighborhood after school (high school) to play as serious a street hockey game you'll find without park district involvement. D.G. made out of PVC pipes his own nets, had full equipment, and even crafted a "Willard Cup" (named after his Grandfather) to award to the 3 on 3 team champion.

Later, in the year of my personal purgatory between High School and College, D.G. and I found our way to some great concerts in the city. Foo Fighters and Reverend Horton Heat are the best memories - but this year of our concert going lives was highlighted by the discovery of Ben Folds Five: a now defunct trio from Chapel Hill that has yet to be topped in "best first impression by a band" ever.

We've also gone to quite a few college football games in a historic stadium in Indiana, which made me very thankful to return the favor last month - by taking D.G. to a Marquette home basketball game. I was very happy to see him experience a sell-out atmosphere at the Bradley Center, and equally as crushed when MU couldn't beat Syracuse.

What's truly remarkable: though all the changes we've had in our lives - our level of fun together has never dipped... Not through my high school illnesses, not through us going to different schools, and especially not because of his l0vely wife.

This needs special attention: too many friends have been lost from finding "love." They more so enter a "exclusive friendship" instead of a romantic relationship... D.G. is to be commended for staying a close of a friend to me as always- and has won bonus points for introducing his wife into my life too (for she's super cool as well).

I'm very thankful to have D.G. in my life - without him would certainly decrease my quality of life to depressing levels.

How can you close the gap?

Q. What crowd do I feel the most distant?
A. The cousins from my Dad's side of the family

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

Family reunions for my Dad's family seemed to occur every four years in my youth.
I remember being the only one not in high school.
Then I remember being the only one not in college.
When your dad is the youngest of six, and your his youngest - it sets you quite a ways apart from some cousins... I have cousins who have kids my age.

But I'm really looking forward to this August, at a psuedo-reunion under the umbrella of a wedding outside San Francisco. Sure, there's still that distance in age, but I feel that the experience gap is shrinking. It's going to be a great time to catch up... For me, and for them.

What's something my Dad and I have in common?

Q. Do you understand the joys of an older sister?
A. My Father's two sisters

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

My Dad has two olders sisters: Katie and Margie.
I know, from great experience, that an older sister is a huge wealth of information and guidence.
Usually the info isn't requested.
Thankfully, the advice comes from areas of expertise not just little known by us younger brothers - but from areas completely off our radar.

I've had the pleasure see my Dad's sisters give him advice.
It's fun to see my Dad squirm...
Fun to know that I have more years to expect these situations from my beautiful sister.

Margie lives out in California... I can't wait to see her this August at one of our great family weddings. These weddings have become the defacto reunion for my Dad's side of the family... Sadly, I fear that funerals may soon replace these because
a) nobody more can get married
b) our mortality

Katie, I've spent a considerable more about of time with thanks to her recently living about three hours south of here. The first memories of Thanksgiving were our trip down to Peoria to see them. Sleeping on the futon. Worshiping their cable television. Trying to learn from Katie's husband: my Uncle Ted. (Uncle Ted is a retired professor of philosophy of Bradley University - I regret that they moved to the Pacific Northwest when I finally became educated enough to debate with him)

I might have sold my Father's brothers short yesterday - there's a very long fight I've had with them in which I struggle to maintain a truce. Sadly, I don't understand the dynamic between brother to brother the way I know the dynamic between younger brother and older sister...

Was the doctor was a good man? and thorough? (Lebowski On Trial)

For three weeks I served as a Juror in downtown Chicago. It was a Civil Trial - medical malpractice. Basically, I had to evaluate if the Defendant was a good man, and thorough.

The specifics of the case were daunting: the visual torture of doctors' notes, nurses' notes, blood test results and expert testimony became overwhelming at times. For the sake of my civic duty, I took copious notes. (I also kept as quiet and listened as intently as Liam)

I was jolted in the jury box during the cross examination of the Defendant. I don't have access to the official transcript (although I do wish I could have given the court reporter my number - but that's another story related in my quest for a special lady friend), but here's a very close reinterpretation:

QUESTION: ...and the ultrasound showed it to be one by three and a half centimeters in size?
ANSWER: Yes.
QUESTION: About the size of a golf ball?
ANSWER: Obviously you're not a golfer.
QUESTION: But that's what the note said...

Later in the trial, the Lawyer for the Plaintiff said, "The imperial 'we'?"
Close Counselor... Nice effort.

In an action completely unrelated to my love for all things Lebowski, we ruled in favor of the doctor.
He was a good man, and thorough.[TQ]

When happens when "black sheeps" become the majority?

Q. So are there people out there with different names related to you?
A. My Dad's brothers

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

Today's post was to be dedicated to my Dad's three brothers, and the extended family under their various patriarchies...

Honestly, I hate to say it - but I'm pretty distant from them all... Geography doesn't help I guess... Not to mention my Dad doesn't seem much like his older brothers (at least the two still living). It's pointless to get into the differences...

Maybe if I list them out you'll have a better time knowing my inability in knowing where to start
-the former Jesuit turned author
-the former Priest turned protestor
-the touring musician
-the academic, university professor, muscisian
-the one that has learned the craft of making mandolins from scratch
-the folk musician, who I'm sad to say probably would't recognize on the street tomorrow
-the landscape architect or evaluator of organic farms in New England
-the mother in Minnesota (who has two kids who I think are in college now)
-the homosexual in San Fran
-the 50+ year old cousin of mine that got married in a cave (still married)
-the cousin, who I've never met, that lives in Australia

I actually think I'm missing some...
But in listing that out, I think I've found my focus.
The widow of my Father's oldest brother.
Ever since my Uncle's death, my Dad has taken it upon himself to make sure he stays in contact with her.
She's the kind of person that I want to write to her grandchildren - to remind them they have an awesome opportunity with an unbelievable "crazy fun grandma"
Carla, her name, calls my dad "Danny." (It's always a surprise to hear this nickname, and a shock to see my Dad react to it)

My Dad doesn't seem to be cut from the same cloth as his older brothers... And by extension, I might feel as close to those cousins as some others... But by that same token, I need to understand that my life has been shaped by them.

Who raised who raised you?

Q. How many of the four were you honored to know?
A. My grandparents.

(For Lent, I've decided to write 40 posts about people I love / made me who I am / thankful to know / appreciate)

My Dad's dad had passed long before me. My mother never even got to meet him. I share his first name. He was born in the North of Ireland, and I will have to settle for a third hand account of how he got from there to here. Somehow, I feel like a huge slacker when it comes to the Men in my family. My Dad's dad intentionally saved up his vacation days to use before Christmas - in which he'd take a part time job at the Post Office during their busy season. My father has a similar work ethic - you can see it today in his resistance to retirement... Meanwhile, I'm more content than ever to sleep in and waste time in front of a computer or television.

My Dad's mom had also passed before either me or my sister. Thankfully, at least my Mom got to meet her. There's not much we know about the woman raised by a strict English Protestant family named The Bartletts. We can only guess the internal persecution she endured falling in love with a foreigner - and a Catholic one at that. Stories about her are held very close to my father's chest. It creates a charming mystery around her.

I have few memories of my Mom's dad. My sister has a much more vivid memory. I remember meeting Digger Phelps at his funeral. I remember my Dad trying to tell me that was a big deal. It was "pre-highlighter" Digger. If I had known then what I know now... who knows. My Grandfather drove a big yellow Cadillac. Nobody loved the University of Notre Dame more than him. He was able to get my parents married on campus, and was able to get burried in the campus cememtary where he rests today. It's good that my Marquette dedication started after his time... It would've made for an uncomfortable Christmas.

And finally, we have my Mom's mom. "Grandmother" as she insisted to be called, was a very large prescence in our family for the last 15 or so years of her life. If a heaven exists, which I believe does, and I'm allowed one last confession I will devote the majority of my time in front of the gates to this woman: my Grandmother. I regret all the times my eyes rolled, all the times I shot back smart-alek remarks, all the times I put up a fight when called into service. This is the woman that raised my Mother, and I never gave her the amount of respect she deserved. (understandably, there is no way to ever give as much respect as these kinds of people deserve, but there was no doubt room for more). I think the only way I can make it right is when my Mother gets to that stage in her life. I could almost feel the hurt of sacrifice my Mother exerted caring for her mother over a long amount of time when the end was clearly just out of sight. I have from now until whenever that happens to get stronger. Thinking about that task now makes me weak.

Grandparents force you to think about mortaility.
I believe their intangible influence is beyond measure.
Anybody who still has grandparents around today - I am envious...