Monet once said he owed his success as a painter to the flowers themselves. In the same vein, I owe being a writer to my kids. Early on, they became my flowers.
I found in children an energy, a hope, a vitality that often goes missing in adults. Children lead noisy lives of wonder and burlesque.
That’s still the case today. My grandkids are a feral lot, wandering from room to room, seeking corn puffs and mindless entertainment, often while half naked (see burlesque above).
Meanwhile, their parents — my daughters — are still toying with the idea of fleeing California in hopes of buying a house. As you know, California has run out of houses. If you manage to find one, it’s a king’s ransom, or a shack by the tracks. Even those go for a million-four.
Nothing changes, does it? Even on a bountiful planet, there’s never enough of anything.
So, on a chill-misty morning, I stir the coffee, listening to the way the spoon scrapes the bottom of the old porcelain mug. I like the house early like this, pre-dawn, with the creaks and resonance of church.
I stir the coffee and remember how noisy it once got. By 7 a.m., the kids would be up and chaos would ensue. I liked that too.
I liked the way the toast popped up a little burnt and how the kids broke the dryer door looking for a clean pair of undies.
I liked the way they wiped the milk from their chins with my dress shirt. I liked how we were always five minutes late leaving for school.
I liked the thud of the backpacks in the back of the car, the way the traffic slowed near school, the dad and moms walking the younger ones.
In those days, I could’ve written a column almost hourly, such was the material that flowed through my life. Didn’t matter the topic. The way they would carefully pick out donuts at the donut shop, as if choosing wedding rings. They never hurried life’s important decisions.
Same when we went out for dinner. I would often call ahead. It seemed a proper courtesy.
“Foam the runways, we’re coming in hot,” I’d warn the manager. “Just wanted you to know. FYI, I tip big but never foolishly.”
In a world where everything is controversial, there is no dispute that having kids is a both a glory and a curse. Personal time vanishes. The laundry piles up. You’re always low on string cheese and money.
There is a maple syrup stickiness to the kitchen floor that you can’t erase and often carry on your dress shoes to work. Cheerios? They’re everywhere, the couch, your pockets, the bed.
In our house, the dogs were always cleaner than the kids. Probably because we loved them more.
We used to have so many pets that I claimed them as dependents. Tree frogs, hamsters, cats, lizards, dogs, gold fish, rabbits and various molds and fungi.
One rabbit dropped dead when a coyote jumped atop his rabbit hutch out back. There was a teary service, of course, and a period of mourning that lasted about two years.
It was a great way to acquaint the kids with the concept of death. I mean, you can lose a grandma, and life pretty much goes on. But when you lose Muffie the Wonder Rabbit, it rocks kids to their very core.
“Muffie, you always made us feel loved…”
“Not me, she didn’t.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Pretty sure that Muffie was actually a Max. But, back then, there was really only one sex.
It was always left to me, Digger, to bury deceased pets in a corner of the yard where nothing grew.
The gold fish I flushed — “Back to the open sea, Nemo!” — but the others got a full military burial, with 21-gun salutes. Never mind the kids had ignored Muffie for months before her death, leaving me or Posh to care for her.
Still, to the kids, Muffie’s death represented systemic injustice, as the little bunny dodged the hot breath of the bobcats and coyotes most every night. It seemed to them a metaphor for fourth grade.
Not sure what happened to that bunny hutch. I think we gave it to the pre-school, where the teachers used it to grow weed off in the corner.
Or maybe they filled it with pink-eyed bunnies, which are quite adorable…vulnerable and needy and capable of a quiet love you can feel more than ever really see.
As with kids, I suppose.
Looking for a lesson or a laugh? Please check out my books, “Daditude” and “What the Bears Know,” available online or (preferably) in book stores everywhere. Thank you.
Coming Saturday: Matching Xmas PJs and favorite gift shops.
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Sweet, Sweet, Sweet! I never raised little kids but everything you write about yours is totally relatable. I guess I will get some version of it one day when my newlywed stepson gets around to giving us grands. Thanks for always reminding us of what really matters in life. Hope you had a great family Thanksgiving, Chris.
What a lovely read.
Thank you
Perfect. Thank you. Those were the days, my friend.
“Meanwhile, their parents — my daughters — are still toying with the idea of fleeing California in hopes of buying a house”.
I remember when my son, who lived two blocks from me, told me that he, his wife and their two sons were moving to Idaho because they couldn’t afford to buy a home in California. A very emotional day. Now he and his wife have four sons and live in a big house in Idaho. Good move for them, but we miss having them so close. We’re tempted to follow them but can’t stand the thought of four months of much colder weather than we’ve become accustomed to. Sad.
That picture of the Catlow brought back many memories. I am missing my boys more now than I ever have, with reminders of how quickly time passes.
You made my heart happy this morning. Thank you.
Reflectively beautiful. The Don Of Domestica at his finest. And those warm almost melting pics….. I have similar images floating in my mind, too. Many of us do. A band of dads–band of brothers. what a concept. Daditude indeed.
Such a great column to remind us of those days “we thought they’d never end “ like that song! A coyote ate my grandkids dog and it is still a traumatizing memory. Love the pictures of the grandkids (even they’re gone now) enjoy them every minute. We were involved with them throughout their life, and now even though they’re far, they call, text and are very close to us. Puddles looks just like you!!!!
Another winner Chris! I love how you & Posh provided your kids with all manner of animals……same with us. Actually was in a pet store recently with grown son (also a “Chris”) and he had to stop me from buying a “Bearded Dragon”. NUTS!!
Those grands are all so adorable — you are surely blessed!!
…a little coda from the holiday past.
Before Guests Arrive
There is the hush of expectancy
In the Autumn light this bright morning–
A kernel of silence in the husk
Of each moment’s anticipation–
The vaults of the rooms poised and ready
And gleaming tool settings are in place
In a trenchant yet seductive way
that invites movement to violate
Their perfection, instrumental coin
Being just one more thing to be spent
In the bubbling explosion of sound
Matter waits to unleash into space;
Objects take on a sharp urgency
Of purpose at this time, adorning
Surfaces with an edgy taut musk
Of meaning as if aroma’s sun
Was radiating scent with steady
Intent before the warm kitchen race
With time could begin to steam and play
Its water music and rich sensate
Assault on containment–to purloin
The last reserve of vacuum, time spent
Loosening consumptive bonds around
Arrays of pleasure with melting grace;
At last the first breach of time’s tension
Begins its tick-tock knock on the door
Of invention, a lush burbling stream
Suddenly flowing–a rendition
Of fireworks–to launch an extension
Shattering poise, for now there is more
Than energy in this sudden dream–
There is love, and we have ignition…
Fantastic!
I love that “writers” respond to your quasi-weekly dispatches from La Canada. Oh, and your apt description of feral grandchildren too!
..”..Time bent…”. Here comes Christmas. Can it really be only three weeks away? 2025 is a guttering candle.
This is a real gem and brought back so many memories. Loved the early years. Treasured times. And these pics of the grand kiddos are delightful! Growing up fast.
I just said this morning to my husband Richard how quiet and empty a house feels without the kids. Even all 9 of my grandkids are grown up. You brought back sweet memories thank you . ❤️