The Book of Grievances

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Every once in a while I have a parental epiphany. It's as rare (and as terrifying) as an Ogopogo sighting in Okanogan Lake but it has been known to happen. Sometime in late March, I must have been over-caffeinated or high on baby farts because at approximately two o'clock in the morning I was awakened by what I can only describe as a prophetic vision of the greatest invention I will likely ever create. I've done a few admirable things in my life, such as completing medical school, but surely this achievement will be numbered among my greatest. 

As I was saying, just before 2 am, I had a dream/manifestation/divination of the perfect way to curb the constant fighting and tattling that occurs with gusto in my home. My mind was so excited by what I saw that I was unable to sleep until I jotted down these three words in my phone's notebook: "Book of Grievances." Actually, what I ended up typing was 'book of fetishes' but the next morning I quickly edited the autocorrection for fear that my wife would discover the error and trouble herself that I was going to author an erotic novel (although if this were true, rest assured that it would be an excellent read!).

After settling myself back into one of the most restful slumbers of my life, I awoke and gathered my little children around me to inform them that I am starting a "Book of Grievances." From that point on, any time they want to tattle on each other they are required to take this holy book and write an exhaustive tale of the events, with at least a page of descriptive narration written in small longhand. Then, on the opposite page, they have to draw the scenario in detailed full-color illustration. Only after they've done this will I listen to their complaints.

The Book of Grievances has been enforced in our home now since that time and, admittedly, I have not been as fervent about demanding its use as I intended. I've also made a few exceptions to the rules such as: 1) the baby is exempt, 2) Squeaky-E, the 2nd youngest is only required to draw a picture of the events (although you'll see that she does a decent job at writing too), and 3) if they're annoying me I sometimes send them to bed before the color is added to the pictures. However, even with the Gumby rules, it has certainly helped curb more than one royal rumble in the 'House of P'. 

The book will be continued and kept as part of our family legacy. I will occasionally share some of the more interesting pages on here to entertain the masses (and by masses, I mean the tiny number of accidental visitors who stumble across this humble blog). I hope you enjoy these adventures from the 'Book of Grievances' as they are told by my little pissants.

Here are the first entries.

Ethan's version of the events:

Ryan's version:

The Places We've Planted Ourselves

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Mrs. P and I have planted ourselves all around, and once outside, of this beautiful country. We've been fortunate to live in some of the snazziest locales our great North American continent has to offer.... as well as one of the most rotten. One of them (hopefully the best one) is still yet to come. 

A couple of our friends used to hang maps on the wall of all the places they've lived. When we get to our next destination, I'm going to pilfer their idea and do the same.

JoPapa

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I've been avoiding writing this post, not because it's not important to me but because it's very personal and I think that personal stuff sometimes needs a chance to dry before it is hung out for others to see. I have honestly experienced very little loss in my life (knock on wood) and consider this a blessing because I have an extremely tender constitution and emotions like a wet doily. The loss of my Grandpa Kelsch at the end of last week, however, I think deserves more than a pool of tears and heartaches (although I assure you that those are present as well).

You see, my grandpa was unlike anyone else I've ever met. If you'd ever met him you wouldn't forget. I've tried many times in the past to describe him to people and paint a picture of him so that others could feel his love for life but I've never quite been able to capture him in a way that does justice to the man that he was. He was a passionate, brilliant artist and recently painted this portrait of himself better than I would ever be able to with words.

I've come to realize as I get older that there are few people who ever do exactly what they want to with their life. Few people focus on their passion. My grandpa was one of the few. He loved art and he loved his family and they were his life. Every time I reflect on what I'm doing with my life I can't help but ask myself if I will ever love it as much as my grandpa loved touching his brush to a canvas. He was a gloriously jolly dude because he did what he loved.... and he took the time to learn to do it well. He also loved people which gave a soul to his work and those he shared life with.

Ever since I was a little squirt, I wanted to be just like my Grandpa Kelsch. I didn't get to see him often because of distance but I loved sitting with him while he painted a La Jolla landscape or sketched a portrait. I remember one time in particular that he sat with me and taught me a lesson on how to use a charcoal pencil. The vision of his hands running along the paper was hypnotizing to me and the scratch on the paper was a song I will never forget.

Everything he ever gave to me I've cherished. The other night I sat looking at a few of his paintings that I've been lucky enough to be gifted over the years and can't help but hear the echoes of his joy. He wasn't really called 'grandpa' to us or 'dad' by his kids. He was Jopapa to all of us. And we were dude, dudettes, and things were always 'swell' or 'spiffy'. Words were like candy to Jopapa and they are some of my sweetest memories. I've spent a lot of my life reading beautiful words from brilliant authors but none will ever have the effect that his did when he told me that I was "one snazzy dude."

Part of me wants to sit here and wallow in the misery of the loss of one of my best buddies but I can guarantee that that isn't the flavor of of fizzy wizzy that he'd want me to drink. While you'll be missed intensely, Jopapa, I want you to know that it's because of you that I continue to search for the passion that can consume me and bring life to my soul. It's because of you that I give my kids nicknames and try to be silly with them even when I'm tired. I'll miss you but I know that I'll see you and Jomama again after you guys have had a chance to paint a beautiful canvas for our family in the next life.

Hitting the road

Pin It I've hit the point where it is about time to start my externships. I'll be hitting the road to track down where I want to do my residency and where the fam damnly and I will park our behinds for the next 3 years after school. It's a big deal and I'm looking forward to it all. It'll mean leaving Chera and the kids behind for 5 months of the next year which will be tough (really tough) but it's a necessary evil to get where we want to go.

Our road map is different than we would have thought a few years ago - heck, even a year ago. But the good news is that we are going to all of the programs that we want to check out. There are a couple more I'd like to visit too but I'll have to make short trips later because they wouldn't fit in the schedule for this round.

So, here are the places that I'm going to be playing doctor for a month at a time next year (in the order I'm visiting them):

1. New Orleans, Louisiana

2. Kansas City, Missouri

3. Jacksonville, Florida

4. Albuquerque, New Mexico

5. Mountain Home, Tennessee

So, hopefully one of these places feels like home and I love the programs. The game all starts in March!

a man I barely knew

Pin It There are rare moments when I take the time to seriously reflect on the things that are important to me. Often important questions and deep thoughts cross my mind but I rarely allow myself the opportunity to be vulnerable and put them in words. I recall my younger years when I wrote in a journal with such fervent dedication that all of my most personal thoughts were recorded on paper. I have 5 years of densely written journals and then... nothing. It has been ages since I've allowed that to happen.

Tonight, however, I felt the need to reflect. The question that is floating around in my mind is "who do I want to be?" You see, tonight my wife's grandfather died. I hardly knew the man but something about him and his life captivates me.

The time I spent with Chera's grandpa Hannah was limited. I think the fact that I didn't know him well allows me to look at him objectively and make some observations that his family might have overlooked. Until tonight I knew very little about him other than what I had gathered in the short time I had the chance to talk to him. Tonight, after she found out about his passing, my wife shared with me many things I didn't know about him. Things which he should be proud to take to the next life. But those are her personal stories and I won't tell them here.

Here's what I knew on my own:

Over 30 years ago, Chera's grandpa Hannah was diagnosed with a severe form of Lupus, an autoimmune disorder. His doctors informed him that it was unlikely he would live more than 6 months. As the story goes, he told his doctor that it was God who would decide when he'd die and that he planned to live to see great-grandchildren.

Many years after being diagnosed with Lupus, he was there to meet his first grandchild - my wife Chera, who he helped raise for the first year of her life. She talks about him with such love and longing that I can only pray my own grandchildren will have for me.

Chera's grandpa Hannah has had an extremely difficult life. Because of his Lupus, much of the last 30 years he has suffered excruciating pain and undergone brutal treatments related to his condition. Since I've known him, he has been very frail and weak but that was never the impression I got of him. He reminded me a lot of Clint Eastwood - a rough-around-the-edges cowboy who was full of piss and vinegar. He is the type of man you'd imagine in one of those western paintings - maybe a sun-kissed cowboy sitting on his porch after a day of herding cattle. Despite everything his condition threw at him, he was strong. Maybe not in the way we define strength by today's standard, but the way it was drawn years ago when goodness was considered strength. In my opinion, strength is the ultimate form of beauty.

Like I said earlier, I didn't really know him well so I can't judge him by the life he led or the actions he took. What I do know is that sometimes you can just feel the goodness in people. I understand that it is easy to overlook someone's faults after they have passed on and only see them as the highlights of their life. But I didn't know his highlights or his low-lights.

All I know is that he was kind to me.

So, my thoughts have turned back to the question "who do I want to be?" I suppose the answer to that is that I want to be kind. And I want to be strong. I may never have rippling biceps or washboard abs but I can posess a strength beyond that. I want to be the the type of man that will be seen this way not only after I die, but also while I am alive. I guess that in many ways I want to be a man like Chera's grandpa Hannah... as I know him.

A man I hardly know has taught me what it is to have strength and kindness. I know that my wife and her family will sincerely miss their grandpa and I'm glad that my children were able to meet their great grandpa Hannah.

I am glad you are finally at peace. You deserve rest.