Goodnight Baby Boy

'Goodnight Baby Boy'

'Daddy, I'm not a baby anymore, I'm eleven'

So ricocheted the words from my eldest son's lips last Saturday at bedtime. We had said our prayers and his (vast array of pillows) were aligned in a haphazard, yet perfectly aligned, manner. His favourite blanky cocooned his body and my goodnight kisses still tingled on his face. The night light was on (despite the vocal protestations of his brother some 30 minutes earlier before he had submitted to sleep) and we had said our prayers. I seem to recall a discussion on why the Queen of England shouldn't be the Queen of Canada (I am raising an eco-terrorist-anti-monarchist).....a discussion conducted despite losing consciousness momentarily because of the cheese like emanations from his feet. His clothes lay strewn across the floor and his coat that he had been reminded three times to hang up, wasn't.

Earlier that day we had walked hand in hand across the parking lot before entering the grocery store. Even earlier, I had requested and received a public kiss.....horror of horrors!....and not just a peck on the cheek I might add! It had been a big 'ole wet lip smacker followed by guffaws of laughter as I had to dry my face!
Around 11pm the night before a bleary eyed eleven year old had stumbled into my room seeking solace and comfort after a bad dream. We had sat and rocked together for a good 15 minutes, after which I had sucked out any remaining bad dreams from his head (a la The Green Mile), before returning him to the comfort of his bed. He, of course, had no memory of these events the following morning.

See, despite his most fervent self proclamations, my Man-Child of eleven years old isn't quite ready to cast aside the mantle of 'baby boy'. When he is either at his most vulnerable, or when the warm grasp of his Father's hand is a welcome home, the little man reverts back to being a baby boy.

And I love it.

I don't think I will ever be ready to say 'goodbye' to my baby boys. I'll watch as they get taller, grow whiskers and become the wonderful men i know they will be. I'll watch Zachary as he tries to understand this world and balance compassion with directness. I'll watch Logan as he strives to find order in an ever changing world. I'll watch them love and be loved. I'll watch them bring light to the lives of others. But as I do, always, always looking at me will be the eyes of my baby boys.

I will still see the wide eyed wonder, the inquisitive mind, the delicious directness and the compassionate hand that were gifted to Zachary at his birth.

I will still see the deep and warm heart, the desire to serve and the strength to hold firm to a belief that was gifted to Logan at his birth.

I will still see my baby boys.

So get used to it Zachary.....and you too Logi Bear! You will always be my baby boys and there isn't anything you can do about it. Now come over here and give your Old Man a big wet smoochy woochy kiss.

Distance and Destiny

My Grandfather died when I was 10 years old and unfortunately my memories of him are few and far between. The memories I do have of him are of a quiet and distant man. I am sure that he loved his grandchildren and was gentle with them, but again, unfortunately, those memories are cloudy and hidden by the haze of a childhood long passed. This saddens me because my Grandfather was a true hero.

Like so many of his era my Grandfather put his life on the line to safeguard the freedom of his family, both those that already existed and also those that were yet to come. He spent much of the war fighting in Italy and was decorated a number of times. Had his heroics occurred during a 'quiet' period he may have even been awarded the Victoria Cross. Exact details of his actions are sketchy unfortunately. His heroism, however, is not.

At this time of the year its almost impossible not to catch a show that commemorates the sacrifices our forebears made during the various conflicts that have scarred humanity. As a documentary junkie I have caught more than my fair share. I love seeing the old grainy black and white footage. The thing that grabs my attention the most, however, are the interviews with those that fought. Men and women from both sides; all sharing the common memory of broken bodies, broken minds and broken lives. Some 60 years later these dark memories are still vivid in their minds. Comrades blown apart next to them; comrades left to flounder and die in a fiery oil slick; innocent women and children blanketed by carpet bombing. These were good people who were asked to do horrific things....in the name of duty, in the name of honour, in the name of survival and in the name of hope. Many still weep as they recall their experiences; many others keep a silent watch in an effort to maintain sanity. What is clear in all cases is that war is ugly and that war claims many more victims than those that lie in honour on the battlefield.

During a trip back home (to the UK) last month I visited my Grandfather's grave for the first time in a very long time. He died in 1976 and I can probably count on one hand, to my shame, the number of times I have visited his grave since then. I was lucky to have both of my sons with me this visit and I was able to share with them a part of their family history. They were not the ones who received the biggest education, however. That honour was mine. I left that cemetery with a renewed admiration for this man and the sacrifices he had made for me. As an adult I have a better understanding of the horrors that he would have experienced during his service for King and Country and it has made me realize that maybe some of the distance he showed in later years was actually his way of coping with the atrocities he had faced.

So although most of my memories of my Grandfather are hazy, there is one that pierces the haze like a lightening bolt. That memory is of a man who placed his own life on the line for me. A man who fought for my rights and my freedoms. A man, who like so many sacrificed so much.

Raymond Thomas du Kamp - a true hero.

I salute you Grandpa. The phrase 'thank you' will never be enough.

Of Teddy Boys and English Roses......

50 years ago today, or rather yesterday, a fresh faced Teddy Boy took advantage of a pure English rose.....no, hang on, got my dates mixed up. 50 years ago yesterday they got married. It was 50 years and three months ago that he took advantage of her, but I digress.

We are here today to celebrate an occasion that few couples getting married today can even contemplate, let alone hope for. Society in its wisdom has chosen to denigrate and lessen the importance of marriage and it has done so to its immeasurable loss. As a veteran of two marriages myself I know all to well that its hard and sometimes it ain't pretty. But that is its beauty and its reward. When my mum and dad got married they did so knowing that it would be for life. They didn't consider it to be a phase in their life, a temporary convenience, or even an opportunity to get a tax break, as so many do today. No, they signed on for life and that commitment was only cemented when my siblings and I came along. It was that gift of permanence, that promise of stability, that I am sure gave us, their children, a wonderful shield of ignorance and the gift of a happy childhood free from fear.

My Dad was a Guard on the railway when I was born in 1966; my mum already a stay at home mum with my elder brother Steven. I was followed by Sarah in 1967 and Simon in 1970. Four kids and a blue collar wage meant that money was not exactly flowing during our early years but if money was an issue it wasn't something we ever really knew about. Sure other kids had bigger toys and bigger houses but you know what, we never felt wanting. Railway passes meant we were able to take trips here there and everywhere, even to London to see the Queen. We had great family times and those trips are forever etched in my memory as I am sure they are in my brothers and sister's memory as well. Its amazing how vivid good memories can be. In fact I still recall riding 'Rankoutsider' to a second place finish in a Butlin's donkey derby, just managing to avoid slipping from the saddle I might add. Its a real shame that my future as a jockey was cut short by the du Kamp BMI genes.

The key thing is that my mum and dad gave us what every child deserves to have when growing up: fun, the freedom to learn, an absence of fear and above all the love and guidance we needed to make the transition from childhood to adulthood. They achieved this through sacrifice, by a commitment to family and by enveloping us with love, constant love, throughout our lives. They gave us strength, they gave us opportunity, they gave us great brains....but above all they gave us optimism. The optimism to take whatever life has throws our way and to turn it into the opportunity to succeed. What better gift can a parent give to their child?

I see these gifts every day in the way my brother Simon doesn't let life keep him down whatever the challenges he has faced. I see a man who oozes resourcefulness and ingenuity; a man who is an example to all that there is no reward if you give up. I look at the man he is and I hope that I have even a tenth of the goodness he brings to this world.

I see these gifts in my sister Sarah as she has balanced work and home commitments despite the most trying of times. A woman who embodies love, commitment and sprinkles all who meet her with a directness and a delicious sense of humour that just makes you smile. There was a period when Sarah and I didn't talk. I consider those lost years and I regret not having the courage to have avoided them. We live and learn.

I see these gifts in my brother Steven. As first born Steven was always a trail blazer, full of confidence, intellect and precociousness. He not only inherited his mothers eyes but also his mothers love of adventure. My mum sometimes keeps this side of her character hidden but man oh man she would put Sir Edmund Hilary to shame at times. This wonderful trait has allowed all of her children to look at life with awe and wonder, always ready to grab the world by the neck and experience all it has to offer.

I also see these gifts in myself. They have made me a better man and a better parent.

Last Christmas my sister gave us all the most wonderful gift. Unbeknownst to the rest of us she had converted our old cine film onto DVD and copies of the DVD lay under our Christmas trees. I hadn't seen these movies for over 20 years and they brought back such wonderful memories. The fact that I could now share them with my own children made it even more special. When I was younger I looked at these films with the eyes of a child. Now older I saw them through an adults eyes, a parents eyes. What I saw were two young people so in love with each other and above all their children. I saw sacrifice, I saw love, I saw family and I saw hope. In fact I saw everything that I want to give to my children.

There was a time in my life that I fought tooth and nail not to be like my Dad. I guess that's a rite of passage for any son. That's a hard thing to do when you find yourself growing to look like him physically everyday but I toiled daily. That all changed recently though when I came to realize that all of the things that I have come to love about myself were actually given to me by my parents, and especially my father. My love of adventure, my intellect, my optimism, my communication skills, my goofiness........the desire to be the best Dad that ever walked the earth. Now I look at my father through different eyes. Eyes now that can look past the annoying little habits and focus on the Man, the man I am proud to call my Dad, the man I am also proud to call my Brother.

There is an old saying that says behind every good man is a great woman. Some might see that as a little sexist these days, I view it differently. My Mum is the rock of our family. Quiet and unassuming to many, she has always been, and will always be, our strength, our fountain of love and the best mum anybody could hope for. She brings compassion, love, sacrifice and a wisdom that is amazing. The fact that our mum chose motherhood over conquering the world is something I will forever be grateful for.

Today is their day. Today we celebrate them. Today we celebrate family. Today we celebrate optimism. Today we celebrate love.

I therefore would request that you all be upstanding and join me in a toast to the happy couple.
To Mum and Dad, To Grandma and Grandpa, To Philip and Jennifer, To Fluff and Jenner.

50 years in the bag!

Heroes

We all have our definition of what a hero (or heroine) is. For some the images of first responders rushing towards the Twin Towers encapsulates all that it means to be a hero. Or maybe its a group of passengers bringing down a plane to save many lives but, in doing so, sacrifice their own. Maybe its the single parent who struggles to shield his or her child from the realities of life on the poverty line. I don't think anybody would disagree that somebody like Terry Fox deserves the title of hero. A man who led by example despite suffering from the very disease he sought to cure.

Sports stars of course come to mind, as do pop stars and film stars, but maybe their hero status owes more to adulation than true respect and sacrifice. Don't get me wrong, many of these people have tremendous talent and have achieved much, but even the most star struck person would find it difficult to truly compare their feats with heroism.

Heroism to me is born out of adversity. It requires sacrifice, it requires unfathomable stamina, it requires persistence and it requires love. Sacrifice to release the person from self concern, stamina to keep going when giving up would be so much easier, persistence to hold firm to truth, and love to feed the soul. Sometimes the hero will take centre stage, sometimes they will remain in the shadows, their sacrifice and achievements visible only to the few. Whatever their prominence their actions and achievements are always witnessed by God and will always be rewarded, be it in this life or the next.

I wrote this blog specifically so that I could recognize two people in my life who so richly deserve the title of hero. As with true heroes they would never consider themselves to be one. That's the thing with heroes, they never see the wonder that we see in them. To them they are just living their lives.

My first hero is a guy who for the last year has been fighting stomach cancer. People fight cancer all the time so you may be wondering what makes this guy a hero? He is my hero because in the face of an uncertain future he has continued to live his life with grace, has remained staunch in his love and belief in family and has continued to give of himself even when his body has faltered. I have watched from afar as he has battled this demon and refused to let it better him. Not one to steal the limelight he has continued to be a rock for his family and a true hero in every way. I salute you Ian.

My second hero is a lady of invention, a lady who just gets things done whatever the obstacle. Nothing is allowed to stand in her way and she will do whatever it takes to keep her family safe. Along the way she has tutored lawyers in law, doctors in medicine, bureaucrats in how not to f@ck everything up. She has sacrificed her body and health with long days at work followed by even longer nights at home. She has educated herself in all that she has needed to know to get the job done, however complicated that was. Throughout these toils she has made sure that she has been there for her son, providing him with a childhood free of worry, a shielding boom from the ills no child should know about, let alone face. She is an amazing person and my life is immeasurably better because she is in it. Her heroic feats may go unnoticed to the world but they are not shielded from my sight and I salute you too Aimee.

There have been other heroes in my life: men and women that have fought (and died) for my freedom; my Mum and Dad who brought me up in an environment that bred optimism and kindled love. I am sure that there will be others in the future. But today I honour Ian and Aimee for all that they are, for all that they have taught me, and for adorning this world with grace, dignity, love and honour......for reminding me every day what it means to be a true hero.

Ride of Deceit

You welcomed me with open arms

And immediately spun your lies,

Forgotten images of reality past

Love borne of a spiders web.

I succumbed to hope,

Gave in to love,

Sacrificed my inner self.

You took all that glimmered,

All that shone from my heart

And put it on the shelf.

You sucked me in,

Played off my knight,

Took me on a ride of deceit;

But the devil cannot hide

Her crimes of love,

Truth will always beat.

And as time passed

I sunk even deeper

Into the mire of a love betrayed.

I lost sight of me,

Gave in to you,

My soul it overpaid.

You sucked me in,

Played off my knight,

Took me on a ride of deceit;

But the devil cannot hide

Her crimes of love,

Truth will always beat.

As the debt amassed,

As the burden grew

And my heart lost its soulful way.

You just roamed the surf,

Finding lovers at every turn,

And I was drowning as you played.

Losing sight of who I was,

Scrambling for the light,

Fingers scraping as footholds gave,

Fighting the descent of night.

You sucked me in,

Played off my knight,

Took me on a ride of deceit;

But the devil cannot hide

Her crimes of love,

Truth will always beat.

And then things changed,

I chose to grab the light,

Chose to scale the face of hope,

Chose to fight for right.

I reached inside

And found the strength

To conquer all the pain.

Reached the peak,

Stood proud and tall,

My love and power regained.

You sucked me in,

Played off my knight,

Took me on a ride of deceit;

But the devil cannot hide

Her crimes of love,

Truth will always beat.

Let Down

Let down when it counted,
Left to fend alone.
Left to shoulder way too much,
The heart no longer home.

Vaulted to a downward slope,
Your burdens shunned as one.
Made to grow up way too fast,
Let innocence be gone.

Forced to tip toe, duck and swerve
Always hoping for the lull.
Fearful of the next reverse,
Never knowing who'll pay the toll.

Guilty all, no slate of white,
No purity of heart.
No excuses worthy of acceptance
For a life that's torn apart.

We let you down, no ifs or buts,
The veil of protection dented.
Innocent victims of a civil war,
All for adult feelings vented.

And where to now? How do I kindle
The warming flames of constant?
How do you fight without the pain
And leave your hurting dormant?

I can't pretend to know the answer,
But promise I for certain,
To practice all to keep you safe,
Your father, guardian and warden.

Shedding Skins

Sometimes we duck our heads

And turn away from sight.

Sometimes we choose to succumb and yield,

Afraid to carry the fight.

Sometimes the crutch we think we need,

Eats and not heals our heart.

Sometimes the weight of unyielding hurt,

Blows us all apart.

But deep within the flame still flickers,

The joy of old persists.

The spark that charmed an ocean wide,

Refused to say desist.

It burns, though duller, deep within

Waiting for the day,

When once again the glow will rise,

And hold the hurt at bay.

The time for shedding skins is now,

Future joys are there to take.

Take courage in your love of one,

Leave all within your wake.

Reclaim your place on the mountain top,

Bellow your voice so high.

Reclaim the love within yourself,

The Me, Myself and I.

Brave forward with a smile so wide,

Stride strong with a glowing beam.

Leave behind the hurt amassed,

Leave only joy within the seams.

Accept the challenge! Accept the task!

Cast off the cloak of doubt!

Tell the world that you are back!

It’s time to shout! Shout! SHOUT!