Dear Dad (2025)

Dear Dad,

You've been gone almost ten years. 

That is shocking to me, but I got to see my nephew last week, and considering he was only three months old the one time you got to meet him and he just finished fourth grade, I suppose it shouldn't be. 

Quinn, who was eight when you died, is graduating from high school on Tuesday. Mom will be here for that, but at the moment she's in LaCrosse with both Arno and Barrett. We didn't realize until Arno stepped into our kitchen that he hadn't seen it since before the remodel in 2016. He feels so present in my general existence that I missed he was absent from my home for so long.

We were trying to remember the last time our original family was all together in one spot, and worried it might not have been since we were all gathered around your hospital bed in the library. But I checked my old photos and remembered a few times prior to the pandemic years that we managed it. The pandemic messed with many things, including most people's sense of personal history and time. 

One of the things I really hoped might be changed for the better after losing you was a greater sense of urgency among family to make more time to be together. I think we feel that, but it hasn't altered the realities of how our lives function. We're still tethered by responsibilities that are anchored by dates and places that keep us apart. I watch my children, who are all adults now, casually hanging out in our home this summer, and wonder how rare that will become for them in the future. Maybe the logistics of their lives will overlap better than has happened with me and my siblings.

There have been updates to our house both big and small I wish I could show you. Last year we had a bunch of landscaping done, including new walls for the gardens in front and toward the back. We have a new front door that works much better, and new windows in the front room that actually open. I finally put something at the end of the banister in the living room where it looked like a light probably once existed and has just been a goofy looking hole for decades. I found a glass garden orb to put there, and it has solar powered lights inside that turn on in the evening, so it's pretty and also illuminates the stairs a bit at night. 

The big plans in the near future involve renovating the first floor so Ian and I in our new empty-nest lives come fall can live on one level. The nook room you used to stay in will become a bathroom with a walk-in shower, the little bathroom will be a laundry room, and my home shop will move upstairs to Aden and Mona's room while the shop becomes our bedroom. The upstairs will be shop space, Quinn's room (eventually an office and library), and a proper guest room. I think it's a good plan, but I vacillate about altering the house. Although I've never regretted updating the kitchen or redoing the deck, so I'm sure I won't look back and miss the current layout. (Now that I'm writing this, I'm wondering if maybe we should turn the teaching studio in the store into my building shop instead? We don't have as many teachers back there at this point, and it could be easier so consolidate more of the woodworking there. Not sure.)

Mom is good. She's doing such beautiful work, I'm so sorry you can't see it. She's doing a series of animals from India, and she made reproductions of her drawing of a goat that I'm getting framed. (Who knew how spoiled we were by excellent free framing growing up? I miss that!) She's got two interesting book clubs full of intelligent, thoughtful people, and her social life continues to be way more active than mine, but maybe with the free time that comes from having kids out of the house Ian and I will do more with friends. She was in India earlier this year, and if we're lucky and the mandolin orchestra goes to Italy in the fall, I'm planning to bring her along for that. She had the first part of her cataract surgery recently, and next month she has a heart procedure that I will be with her for. She's had a run of rude doctors, but we're hoping the surgeon is better at repairing leaky heart valves than he is at reassuring patients. If it works, Mom should be less fatigued, but honestly for 82 she's accomplishing a lot more than many people at any age. 

All five of your grandchildren would make you proud. Ellora loves Berkeley, and is currently studying abroad in Berlin. Little Rivyn is ten! His interests shift around, but seem to circle back regularly to trains and swords and folklore. Apparently right now he's into geography and flags, so maybe he and Quinn can bond over that sometime.

Aden finished her senior year at UW Stout, but she's doing a fifth year to take advantage of more of the great art courses they offer. Her game "Tubular" won the prize for best game-play at the SGX event this year. Even Mom enjoyed playing it at the senior show the next night. I'm glad Aden's had a positive college experience and gets to extend it a bit longer. She's home for summer. If she moves back to Milwaukee after college we've offered her the back upstairs apartment at the store building. I think it would be fun for her and Mona to live across the hall from each other, but there's no way to know yet where she'll wind up and what opportunities will be out there. 

Mona seems to be really enjoying her life right now. She's very private, so I can't tell you much, but I do know she likes having her own space, her Etsy shop is doing fine, and she's putting in regular hours at the tattoo parlor. Her mentor genuinely appreciates her talent. He told me they would never consider offering instruction about her art, because it's exceptional. They only guide her in understanding the specifics of tattooing. The list of people waiting for her to give them a tattoo when she's ready is getting long. She takes advantage of living near the lake by visiting the park often, and she walks over to the house most evenings. I worry whom she'll hang out with once Quinn leaves in the fall, but otherwise I think she's in a good place.

Quinn requested meatloaf and mashed potatoes for graduation night dinner, so I need to get to the store tomorrow. She's so smart, Dad. And so dear. We've been playing more Scrabble lately, and I'm sure you'd find it cheating with how often we look things up as we go, but we learn so many new words playing games together. Today's game yielded: SEY, LI, and REN. She got into nearly all the colleges she applied to, but she was wait-listed for U of Michigan (which was her first choice), and the only rejection she got was from UW Madison (her second choice) and that really surprised me. Anyway, she's enrolled for fall at UW LaCrosse, which I think will be good. She may need to transfer to another school when she figures out specifically what she wants to study, but for at least the first couple of years I think it could be just right. I love that she'll have family right there, and Barrett on campus. I communicated with the person in charge of gender inclusive housing, and I am reassured that the school will be a supportive environment. Quinn's good at everything and loves to learn, so I can't wait to see what she'll do. All of her teachers at her last conference gave her glowing reviews, particularly in Spanish, Psychology, English, and Economics/Social Studies. Her favorite class was Costume Design/Sewing. (She hopes to make some clothes this summer from our retired Indian table cloths.) She's still a geography wiz (especially when it comes to playing Geo-Guesser), and we got our VR machine working again and she's back to playing Beat Saber. She has her last piano lesson this week. I plan to go along so I can actually hear her play. At home she uses the keyboard with earbuds, so I never get to hear how she's doing. I'm glad she can play, but I'm not sure what it means to her. She asked for the lessons, so it's not like we made her play, but I'm glad she has a musical foundation should she be inspired to do something with it.

Ian continues to enjoy not being in the Army. He's dedicated more energy into the passenger rail and Linux groups. They're lucky to have him. I'm hoping once we get past the big renovation work and are settled into a routine without kids in the house that maybe we can travel more. Even just some nice day trips where we find a dog friendly hotel for the night and explore somewhere new would be fun. Ian misses his mom. It's weird since we sold her house last year that there's no reason for Portland to be a necessary destination anymore. I know the same will be true one day of Pleasant Ridge, but I honestly can't let my mind go there for long because I start to feel physically upset.

Arno is back to a job description I don't know, but he seems to be focused on developing an interactive system for parents to get mental health guidance in real time for their kids. He's also had me do typing tests as part of a research project that I did not benefit from. His life continues to be a whirlwind of grant proposals and trips to India and everywhere, mixed with a lot of work, unexpected home issues (I've lost track of how many times their floors have been repaired), and caring for Pepper. I wish you could see how beautiful their apartment is now. The expansion into the space next door has been a big success.

Barrett was just here for a book signing! We also got to tag along with him to a morning TV show and a bug talk at the Wehr Nature Center the same day. You would have loved the event at Boswell. He gave a great talk, and then signed books with original drawings of insects for people. It's amazing to watch him interact with his son and to see him light up with enthusiasm talking to everyone he meets. I think my favorite line of his at the nature center was when he posed a question, and Arno offered up a possible answer, and Barrett responded with something like, "Not only do you look good, but you know your stuff!" I hope Quinn gets to take a class from him.

At Boswell they asked how my writing was going, and I admitted I was stalled, but hopeful. I have not tackled the edits I paid to have done last year on my novel because as dumb as it sounds, I can't deal with following them in the Google-doc form everyone else seems to like. I have tried repeatedly to have the comments open on one side of my screen and my manuscript open on the other for the rewrite, and it's impossible. So I finally just printed out the whole thing and will copy the edits by hand so I have something physical to refer to, and finally do some writing again. I find it insane that it only takes me a couple of months to write a draft of a book, but years to make something happen with it. I was on the verge of giving up because maybe there was no point in being stressed out over something no one is asking for. But then I got an email from a lovely violin scholar who reminds me very much of you in that the word "gentleman" aptly applies, and he wanted to let me know how much he enjoyed my last book and was looking forward to reading more. So I will keep going. I'd also really like to dive into the next repair guide, but I'd rather do that while in the next waiting phase after editing the novel, so that keeps getting pushed aside.

There is a story about me and my violin store coming out in Milwaukee Magazine next month! I asked the bookstore to reserve two copies for me, and in my heart one of them is really for you. When I think how much you loved to clip articles, I ache a little every time I'm in one and you don't get to see it. I imagine how doubly fun for you it would be to clip an article that was also about someone you love. When Barrett's Insect Epiphany got a huge spread in the local paper, I cut the article out and taped the date along the edge they way you used to.

I wasn't feeling photogenic when the magazine came to take pictures, so I brought along Domino, because she's always cute. Plus she's a legitimate fixture of the store at this point. When we're out, it's not unusual for someone to say, "Hey, that's the violin store dog!" I do love that baby-sized pup. I gave her a bath in the sink this afternoon and now she's super soft.

Store is doing well. My health is better this year compared to last. I try to be good about continuing the exercises I learned in physical therapy last summer so that I won't relapse into not being able to walk again. That was awful, and I don't take being able to move for granted. My next big building project is a pair of violins, one of which is designated for Mom to paint. There's been lots of fun playing with both Festival City and the MMO. I wish at every concert I could see you in the audience.

I need to wrap this up before Father's Day is over. It's been a nice day. I made Ian waffles for breakfast. Quinn and I played Scrabble. I washed the dog and picked up around the house. Ian and I popped over to the store to finish a couple of things. Aden watched an episode of the new season of Taskmaster with us while we ate a dinner Quinn prepared. I walked Domino several times in the nice weather. Mona arrived at the house and helped Quinn make banana bread. I poked at this post a little bit at a time over the course of the whole day, and am finishing up at my workbench.

I have a great life, Dad. Although I often feel conflicted, because the world/our country is coming apart in ways that would have had you feeling justifiably alarmed, but on a personal level I am fortunate enough to be okay. I love my family, we're managing in the moment, but there is so much just beyond our reach that is so terribly wrong that it's hard to grapple with some days. I honestly cannot guess at what things will be like if I go to write you a letter next year. The sheer stupidity of the decisions being made at the highest levels would have you in despair. The cruelty of it all would break your heart. And yet, I can promise you on this day the people you loved most are good. That's something. All I can tell you is I will use the stable ground I am on to help steady others when I can. Because I know that's what you'd want me to do.

I love you. I wish I could hug you.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Kory

 

Dear Dad, 2024

Dear Dad,

This is the ninth Father's Day without you. Did I remember to call you on the last one in 2015? I hope so. I don't remember.

I was just glancing through pictures from back then, and it's odd to see how young Quinn was in particular. She was only eight when you died. There is such a world of difference between eight and seventeen. How much of you does she remember? So many of those memories must include your being sick or needing a walker. That's so unfair. I wish she had more experiences like mine, where you shared information about history and the world at the dinner table, surprised us with poems, dashed around city streets going from one gallery or bookstore to the next, always greeting me with a smile, and tucking a twenty dollar bill in my palm at every visit claiming it was overdue allowance. 

We never really got an allowance growing up, did we. There was a week where I remember I got a dime, and my brothers each got a nickel, and then there was a stretch where you had a stack of comic books you drew from once a week to mostly the boys because after my first couple of copies of Magnus the Robot Fighter, I lost interest. Then randomly in high school you thought twenty a month or a week was deserved for no reason I can think of. We had paper routes, so we didn't need it, but I liked the extra record money. I guess my approach to allowance with my kids has been the same. I'm happy to just get them what they need when they ask, or hand them money if they are going somewhere they might need it, but they seldom ask for anything. They have what they need. They don't feel entitled to more. I feel like my brothers and I grew up with that same sense. When I hear people say if you don't pay kids for chores they won't appreciate the value of money, I never buy it. I think it depends on the kids and the circumstances and the examples they see around them. The example I got was to make good choices, and books and art were among those.

So, let me think what I would update you on if I could call you this year.

I guess first is to let you know that Mom is okay. She had a scary fall down the front steps on her birthday back in October, and that was a mess. She broke her heel and had to be off her foot for months. It still hurts, and she's moving a little slow, but she's healed up remarkably well. Arno and Barrett and I took turns going out to help. She had lots of support from friends. Physical therapy made a difference, and she's back to her regular life as far as I can see. She's making beautiful work, including finishing up the project with the small cabinets to house books based on different trees. You'd be amazed. I know she still misses having you there to help her determine when a piece she's working on is officially done. All the current work is stunning. 

Mom actually told us a really funny story about you recently. We were in Pleasant Ridge for an unplanned evening (after touring U of M we were supposed to go straight to the cottage, but decided to visit Mom and stay there a night and she put together a meal so much more elegant and tasty than anything I could have done if given a week to think about it) and we started telling Dad stories. And she described how the first time she tried to cook for you in your apartment she opened the oven to find the smallest skillet she'd ever seen, and your response was, "Oh! I lost that six months ago!" She also said your cabinets were filled with empty boxes you found attractive, and things like a chipped teapot that couldn't be used but were all aesthetically pleasing. We may have a gathering later this year just to record everyone's stories about you (so they aren't lost like a tiny skillet in an oven).

The U of M tour was fun. We've taken four official college tours with Quinn so far: Beloit, Lawrence, U of I Chicago, and U of M. So that's two small schools in small towns, one small school in a big city, and a very big school. My inclination is to have Quinn not too far away so she still has access to things like home and the doctor she likes etc., and in a small enough environment that she doesn't fall through the cracks if she's not assertive. But big schools have advantages, too, I just worry. I just want her to have a good college experience. She doesn't know what she wants to study, but she's good at all subjects and loves to learn.

Quinn's a lot like you in many ways. She's quiet and serious and smart, but with a really wry sense of humor that takes people by surprise. She's particularly good at Spanish and art and writing, and of course geography still. She joined the debate club and the National Honor Society this past school year, and she also had a paid internship with some sort of sustainability company. She has nice friends, her grades are good.... The only thing I can think of to improve upon would be for her to practice piano regularly. I ask her every semester if she wants to continue lessons, because I know it's frustrating for both her and her teacher that she's not putting in the work, but she insists she wants to keep going. If she wants lessons she can have lessons, I just don't know what's happening from her point of view. Anyway, Quinn is lovely. It's easy to imagine how much you would enjoy going with us on college tours.

Mona's doing great. I wish you could see her art. I know you called her out as a genius many years ago, but her aunt recently said the same thing when we were in New York recently. I'm not entirely sure what's happening in her apprenticeship because she's very private about her life, but I know she loves the things she's learning and appreciates her teacher. There is so much more interesting stuff to know about tattooing than I ever realized, and she loves learning it all. I really think this path is a good fit. Plus she loves having her own apartment above the store, and she regularly pops in on us at home to hang out, especially now that Aden's home for the summer. I love seeing all the siblings together.

Aden's taking the slow path in college, which is fine by me. UW Stout is affordable, and she loves it, and she's still grappling with managing ADHD and anxiety and performing well in her classes. She's very good at what she's doing, and has won several awards so far, but turning in regular assignments, etc., is still a struggle. She's made some beautiful art, some of which I've had framed to hang in the house. Her current obsession is sea monkeys. Aden continues to be a delight, and I'm glad she wants to take advantage of being in  There are lots of classes she still wants to take, and I don't have any timeline she needs to fit into. 

How many years were you in school? Hamilton College, Univ of Geneva, Columbia, Wayne State.... I think I'm missing something. I have it in my head that you were at Teacher's College for a bit, but Mom disagrees. I know I wrote all of it down (your entire school and work history) on my laptop years ago where you gave us a hilarious blow by blow of many things, but that was one of the items lost when my computer crashed. I figure if anyone could see the value of taking your time to enjoy being in a learning environment while you can, it's you. So I tell Aden her grandpa would have approved, and to take whatever classes make her happy.

All three kids are so sweet and funny and kind. I worry about them and love spending time with them and wish you could visit with them. You would find each as fascinating as I do. 

Your other granddaughter loves college (of course) and is studying art history and anthropology. I hope I get to see her this summer, maybe at the cottage if we're lucky. Your grandson is bright, creative, funny, and surprising. He had his first cello lesson the other day, and if it sticks, I may wind up building one more cello after all. I really thought I was in the clear and would never need my cello form and templates again! But we'll see. He's one of the few people on Earth I would actually make a cello for.

Oh, and speaking of building, I was just in New York where a couple of my violins were part of a show of women luthiers! It was the second leg of a touring exhibit of instruments, and the showroom was just down the street from Carnegie Hall. You would have loved this trip SO MUCH. I wish you could have been at the makers' brunch with me and Mom and Arno, and I was on a panel talk that I think you would have enjoyed, and the concert that evening (all woman quartet playing music by women composers on instruments in the show) was amazing and you would have loved everything. It's impossible to walk around that city and not think of you with every step. We even walked all the way to the Cloisters on our last afternoon in town (which on my wonky knee was quite a feat). You made it to the Cloisters finally, didn't you? Wasn't that a running joke for a while that you kept meaning to get there, but somehow never did? The whole trip was wonderful, Arno's new office is great, their renovated apartment is incredible.... You should have been there. I wish you could have been.

Ian's good. He spent part of this Father's Day at the violin store running the rental charges. I've been really happy to see him use more of his retired-from-the-Army time to get involved in projects he's interested in, like his Wisconsin Association of Railroad Passengers group, and more Linux things. The other apartment above the violin store freed up, so we made it an office where he can set up the 3D printer, etc. I still need his help running the business, but I want him doing more of what he wants to as he can. Oh, and we're finally in the process of selling his childhood home. It's been two years since his mom passed away, and he agreed it wasn't good for the house or the neighborhood for it to just be sitting. Emotionally that's all still a lot, so I handled as much of that as I could. Losing a parent is awful, so I understood. I wish I didn't understand so well.

I'm trying to get myself unstuck with my writing projects. It's weird that for me being stuck has nothing to do with actual writing. I don't have any trouble writing and have never suffered with any kind of writer's block, but I have a need to finish a project before committing to the next, and the wedding novel has been stalled for years at this point, simply because I don't know what to do with it. I finally decided to send it to an editor and get professional advice. We'll see. She's had it for a couple weeks, which means in my head I feel like the whole book is garbage. Few things are worse than handing someone a book you wrote and then having to wait for them to read it. But it's a start, I hope! I just want to be unstuck and start playing with more of my projects.

Health wise, this year has been annoying. I feel like I was fine, and then I turned 55 and fell to bits. My right knee got all swollen and I couldn't walk for a few weeks. Physical therapy is helping, but yuck. I was kind of relieved when I found out the mandolin orchestra wasn't going to Spain this summer, because I don't think I could handle airports, etc. I'm on a CPAP machine now, which is stupid looking but I like sleeping through the night. I'm wearing aligners again because something was off with my bite. I had another biopsy, which was uncomfortable to say the least, but the results were benign. I have a thyroid check coming up, I need meds for my blood pressure, and I have another colonoscopy scheduled in about a month. I figure since colon cancer took both you and my grandpa, that's not something I can afford to ignore. That's too many things! I don't like going to the doctor. I have thoughts for when the last child is out of the house for getting both Ian and myself in a better eating and exercise routine, so maybe that will help with some of it.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to say, but I'm getting tired and I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow. I do miss our Monday chats. I don't reach for the phone anymore when I think of something to tell you, but I still think of things I would say all the time.

I miss you. I miss you so very much and it still hurts. Is there an age that's too old to just want your dad? If there is, I'm not near it yet.

Ha, the dog just came in to nudge me into petting her, and I make that same funny wgshkk! wgshkk! sound to her that you used to do to our cat and dog. Domino is such a cutie. She'd have let you pet her!

I love you, Dad.

Kory

Dear Dad (2023)

Dear Dad,

So much to tell you about this year!

First, some general updates on the kids, which is the thing I most miss being able to talk to you about. 

I can't believe when you died they were only 13, 11, and 8. That was half Quinn's life ago at this point. There is such a world of difference between those ages, and 21, 19, and 16. I mean, could you have imagined Mona with a driver's license? She's still the only kid who has one, although Quinn is doing a good job in driver's ed and should have no trouble passing her test when she's ready. We need to bug Aden about finally taking her test again, even though she's not keen on driving. Mona seems to like it, and Quinn is getting more comfortable behind the wheel. 

Anyway, Aden loves her college, but she's been struggling. I think we missed catching that she likely had ADHD and anxiety issues when she was growing up, and now there are bigger complications with that at a college level. It's so hard to know sometimes what things are typical kid problems, and what things run deeper. All kids have bouts of laziness and bad time management, but how are you supposed to tell that from something parenting alone can't correct? We're working on some things with a therapist over summer to see if we can get her to a more confident place come fall. Aden is so talented and kind and lovely... It hurts to watch her not be able to do the things she wants to do. Regardless, she's managed to grow up quite a bit in her couple of years away at school. 

I'm glad Aden's home this summer. Although she's living in the downstairs nook, since Mona has kind of taken over their whole room. I know for Aden that home does not feel the same as it used to. That's such an odd transition, isn't it? When I visit Detroit, the house is still home, but there's really nothing there that's mine now. And yet, when I lie in the guest bed in my old space, I still recognize the patterns on the wooden door and the way the light shifts in the room. Somehow that's enough to feel like I belong.

Aden's been doing some nice print work. A lot of art schools have apparently abandoned print making, but not Stout. She does some adorable animation. The best news recently was that apparently one of the big video game design studios is now in Madison, which would be nicer for an eventual job than maybe all the way out in California. (At least for her mom.) She's hoping to spend time with friends up at the cottage before going back to school. Her new housing assignment will include a real kitchen and a private room, and she's looking forward to cooking again, and more privacy. She's playing a lot of a game called Tears of the Kingdom. She still has the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

Things for Mona have begun to turn in a good direction! She's been frustrated with her unfruitful job searches and was feeling stuck, but she's now on track to apprentice with the new tattoo shop opening across the street from the violin store soon. She had a great interview, they loved her work, and she's prepared to put in the hours and effort to learn those new skills. Mona will also be moving into the Airbnb space above the shop, so that will be a short commute. I think it's a good fit. She'll get to create art that's personal to people that they literally carry around with them everywhere, and make a good enough living to still pursue other avenues with her art as she likes. I'm excited for her.

The biggest adjustment to her moving out may be less of not having her around (since I'm sure she'll still come to the house and hang out from time to time), but more of the bird being gone! I can't picture that corner of the dining room without Keiko. He's so loud! And present. And lately he's been hanging out in a tinier cage next to the TV so as we watch things, he watches us. (And tells us that he's an adorable Keiko bird.) You never got to meet Keiko, but you'd have liked him. I wonder if seeing him would have reminded you of stories of your own birds that maybe you hadn't told us before.

Mona's sewing some beautiful things lately. Things far more intricate and professional looking than I ever came up with. We got her a really nice straight stitch machine. Apparently the better the machine, the fewer things it does, and this one does straight stitching really fast and well. I think what sold her on it was the extra arm that you can use to lift the sewing foot with either your elbow or your knee, so you can keep your hands on your work by the needle to spin it, etc. Saves Mona a ton of time. She's got an Etsy shop, and she works diligently to fill orders. You'd be as proud as I am of how hard she works. I'm already looking forward to updating you next year on how it all goes.

Quinn is good! She is SO relaxed and happy compared to a year ago. Remember how reserved she was, even back at 8? Like, not so much shy (which she is), but like she had her guard up a little all the time. Now that she is able to be herself in the world, she still spends a lot of time in her room and she'll never be an extrovert, but she moves differently, with a grace that wasn't there before. It's like she can breathe. I love it.

It's a scary time for trans-people right now, particularly kids, but so far Quinn's had nothing but support. I have friends in states that aren't so lucky. I'm grateful for her school and her doctor, and that even the people at the social security office who helped get her gender marker changed were happy to help.

She's doing well in all her classes (particularly Spanish), she continues with piano in a sluggish way but insists she doesn't want to quit, and she wishes she weren't so tall but otherwise is just quietly being Quinn. She's in charge of having dinner on the table at 6:00 when I get home from work four nights a week (which she does with the aid of a Hello Fresh box).

My favorite thing with Quinn is that during the school year, I get to straighten her hair every Sunday night. She has lovely waves in her hair, so of course she wants them gone. I miss the physical contact you have with smaller children that evaporates when you have teens. Getting to put on a movie and play with Quinn's hair for about 90 minutes while we watch something together is something I look forward to each week.

Speaking of missing smaller children, we got ourselves a baby-sized dog! I needed her. I really craved having something to scoop up who was excited to see me in a way that doesn't happen when your children are bigger. Ian was a holdout on the idea of a new dog after Chipper died, and periodically I'd ask him if I could start looking, and he wasn't ready. But then Quinn said she wanted a dog, and of course Ian relented. Now we have our little Chihuahua-rat terrier mix, Domino. You would love her. Everyone loves Domino. And this dog would have happily let you pet her all you wanted. Mona and I even flew with her to New York where we stayed with Arno and Deepanjana, and by the end of the trip she was doing the subways like a local dog. I got some nice pictures of her by the Nick Cave mosaics in one of the stations. (You'd have liked those, along with the Chuck Close ones.)

Arno and Deepanjana are doing the best I've ever seen them. Their lives are more than I can adequately describe, but they are thriving. And Ellora got into her dream school! She loves Berkeley, and is currently doing work in Madagascar. The newly expanded apartment is honestly the nicest place in New York as far as I'm concerned. Crazy that after Ellora moved away that they finally have extra space and a second bathroom.

Barrett and Dosha are doing great, too. Barrett's soon-to-be-published book is so good! It's filled with Mom's drawings, and he even found a way to include a picture of my viola. I don't know if that's the instrument I would have wanted to represent me in a published book, but that instrument has cochineal in the varnish which is what he needed. (I just remind myself that people interested in cultural entomology are not going to be scrutinizing my lutherie skills the way violin makers would, so it will be fine. But that's the viola I made for myself when Ian was deployed, and the only time I had to carve was after midnight and between newborn feedings so its claim to fame is that it exists at all.)

Rivyn is amazing. It just hit me that he's the age now that Quinn was when you died. That's kind of mind boggling. That little baby you got to hold briefly in those last few days at home has grown up to be imaginative and funny and is such a delight. He cycles among several interests and is better read at this point than most of the adults I know. I wonder how much of Barrett you'd see in him and what elements would be completely new.

Ian is well, but he's still adjusting to the passing of his mom. It's been a year. He's still undecided about what to do with the house out in Portland. I get it. After grandma died, I realized I couldn't drive by her old house without feeling a lot of pain. There's something deeply awful about being severed from a place that was once a close part of you and your story. I don't know if once Ian lets go of his childhood home if that's the last we'll see of it. I don't know if when someday we have to let the house in Pleasant Ridge go if I'll ever see it again, or if that whole neighborhood will just be gone from my life. It's a jarring, unpleasant thought. I don't know if there's a way for Ian to resolve any of that in his situation that doesn't hurt, so in the meantime it just gets postponed. Grief is hard. Grief is persistent. 

Mom's done a lot of traveling this year. She spent a few weeks in India and had an incredibly nice time, then she and I got to travel to Austria! What an amazing trip. She got to hear my mandolin orchestra perform in Graz, and in Salzburg. I made her watch The Sound of Music before we left because we were in some of the places that appeared in the movie. Somehow Mom had gotten to this point in life and not seen it before. I feel like you must have watched that movie, right? I saw it as a kid, so someone must have been there. (I guess this goes on the list of questions that it's too late to ask.) Mom's amazing. Her work is more beautiful than ever, she's busy. She misses you, of course, but is doing okay. Still the best cook ever. Every time she serves us a meal I think about asking you in that book of questions what your favorite food was, and you wrote "anything Karen makes."

I'm doing okay. I'm frustrated (as usual) with my lack of progress on book stuff, but will make time soon (I hope) to sort it out. The store is really busy, and I need to make time to work on the commissioned instruments on my bench. My health is fine, which I don't take for granted, and we have what we need.

I miss calling you on Mondays. I miss curling up with you to try and help with your crossword puzzles. (I know I was never any help, but occasionally there was a Star Trek clue that made me feel useful.)

Hey, I'm not crying this year as I type this. Is that some kind of progress? I don't know. It's probably good that I can think of you in a similar way to how I think of people who are still here, and not focus almost solely on your being gone. But I really really miss you. What I wouldn't give for one more hug from my dad this Father's Day. You gave great hugs.

I love you, Dad.

Kory

Dear Dad, 2022

Dear Dad,

Wow, what a year. We’re in this weird phase of moving out of the pandemic, while the pandemic is also still here. The beauty of being vaccinated, though, is hospitalization and death seem off the table. Long Covid is still a concern (I know too many people suffering with that to take it lightly), but the fear has lifted. Now it’s just an annoyance. I’m tired of masks. I’m tired of takeout rather than eating in restaurants. I’m tired of the social stress of people behaving without care for others and the divisions it causes. (Someone actually stuck a flyer on the door of the violin shop by the sign saying we require masks condemning our “virtue signaling.” That was just cowardly and rude.)

But the exciting thing about life getting back to something closer to normal is we get to do stuff again! There are concerts to play, and people to see.

The event where I thought about you most was when Mom and I went to Venice. Dad, we went back to Venice! But this time I got to play a concert there with my mandolin orchestra. I wish you could have heard us. You’d have loved it. We played against a backdrop of Tintoretto paintings. It was wonderful to have a chance to travel with just Mom for a week in Italy like that, but you would have loved it so much. The food, the canals, the gelato, the art, the endless places to wander. . .  You wouldn’t have kayaked with us, though. Mom and I would have waved to you as we paddled and you stayed in your suit and tie on a nice civilized path alongside the water. But oh, Dad, you would have loved all of it.

The garden back in Detroit is looking amazing. I don’t know how Mom does it. Our yard is such mess! Literally, right now, because we had a new deck put in, and the old pile of deck garbage is still here. The new fence doesn’t go up for another week or so. But it’s so nice to be in the backyard! I’m sitting on the new deck right now in the shade of the beech tree, perfect temperature, nice breeze, no fear of rotting boards giving way underneath me and sending me to my doom. We even strung some lights from the garage to the terrace above the new deck the way I always meant to and never did. We might repaint the mural on the garage wall from a dozen years ago. Quinn in particular feels it's time to paint something much better. Mona has ideas.

I got to do the varnish workshop again, finally. I still had those three instruments in the white I bought to use in 2020 before the pandemic shut everything down. And I had three instruments of my own to varnish, so that was fun. (I don’t think I’ll build three instruments at the same time anymore. Two is plenty. Three gets overwhelming.) I built a violin for Mona that she doesn’t want, but I’m glad I did it anyway. The little bird Aden drew on the back of the scroll came out cute. The violin sounds nice! I still need to make one with simpler wood for mom to paint. That’s one of the many projects that never quite seems to happen, but I do want to make a violin in the white for mom to decorate. That would be cool. I wish I could have done that with you, too! I’m trying to picture how fast you would get that done. It would be funny, because my part, building the instrument would take months, and then you would paint something amazing in under ten minutes and that would be the only thing anyone would comment on or praise. (And that would have been fine.)

Which reminds me, I did an internet search not long ago for your ties. I think often about all those ties you painted in that sweatshop in Brooklyn and there have to be some of those still out there in the world. I feel certain I would recognize your work if I saw one, but who knows? Mona and I went through a portfolio of Mom’s old prints from early in your marriage and before, and it’s fascinating to see what elements of her style have persisted, and what things are hard to recognize as her hand. Maybe those ties of yours don’t resemble what I think of as your work. Maybe I’ve passed one on the street and didn’t know.

Writing is weirdly stalled. I need to buckle down for one more edit on my latest novel, and figure out what I’m doing. I feel if I play the numbers game, I have a shot at a traditional publisher. But maybe I’d like the control better of staying indie and just investing in real marketing for a change. Or maybe creative control but with some support from a hybrid publisher is the way to go. I don’t know. All the non-writing bits of writing gets really discouraging and frustrating. But I like the new book. It’s fun. (And wouldn’t make you weep like the first one did!)

I think the oddest thing at the moment that I wish I had you here to talk about is the transition away from having kids in the house. We spent so many years where everything was centered around the needs of our kids, and scheduling things based on school calendars, or having to base so many meals adjusted to boring palates. . . And now they are essentially all grown up and it’s wonderful in new ways, but very different. Ian and I actually have to figure out what we want to do. We’ve spent a long time tag teaming to get things done, but now we can do things together again. So there are good things which are exciting, but it’s also a bit sad. I’m looking back on all their childhoods and wondering if it was okay. I don’t get a do-over. Maybe it wasn’t enough. I tried, though. I really did try.

I keep thinking there will be some relief at least in not being responsible for all of them in front of me all the time, but then I think about that lunch at your house where Alit was over. She’d just had her first child, and she said she had been experiencing nightmares where she was scared for the baby or didn’t know where she was and was panicked, and you looked at her sadly and said, “That never goes away.” So I’ve thought ever since that I should be prepared for that to be the case.

Luckily, though, at the moment it doesn’t seem to be. Aden finally got to leave for her first year of college, and when I don't hear from her, it means she's happy and busy. At the moment, Aden’s off being a camp counselor to six and seven-year-olds. She loves it. She found the job herself, and she’s teaching little kids art, and seems to be really enjoying everything. She loved her first year of college. There were a couple of complications, but you know what? She handled it all herself and did fine. She loves UW Stout. She’s made good friends. She’s adorable and sweet and making beautiful things. Aden’s even in a print club where they did some giant woodcut pieces that they printed on fabric using a steamroller! How fun is that? Anyway, she’s amazing. She’s still magical. All blue eyes and happy laughs and funny and kind. Just like the tiny girl you remember, only taller. I really miss her. I was supposed to have a week with her between college and camp, but then Ian’s mother died, and she agreed to go with her dad to Portland to help him sort out the house and the estate stuff. I don’t know if she was helpful in a practical sense, but the emotional support she gave Ian was invaluable. With a little luck she’ll be home for a week or two at the end of the summer, but that seems like a long time away. We have lots of Star Trek to binge together whenever she gets back.

Speaking of Ian, he’s doing okay. I think he’s still in a bit of shock after losing his mother so unexpectedly. The stress of managing the house in probate, etc., is a bit much. I’m trying to help where I can. But I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and there’s really only so much anyone can do. That’s just a hole in your life that never gets filled. You learn to walk around the hole or face away from it sometimes, but it’s always there. I feel like the yard that is my life has a few big holes at this point, and maybe when there’s nowhere left to walk that’s how you know it’s time to go.

I wish you were here to talk with Mona. She finished high school a semester early, and graduated 6th in her class! You’d have been so proud, but you wouldn’t have had a ceremony to watch. She tried a semester of college online through UWM, however it was awful and turned her off of college entirely. I keep telling her that that wasn’t college, that was sitting at our dining room table watching assigned YouTube videos, and she should do a real semester of art school somewhere in person before she makes up her mind if that’s of any value or not. I feel like she might have listened to you. She did apply to Pratt based on the idea that you thought she should go there when she was only 11. You loved college so much (14 years of it? Am I remembering that right?) and you would have had lots to tell her about why she should give it a go. She’s not really listening to me, so nothing I say gets through. If you were still around, I would find a way to send the two of you off to Paris for a bit, and you could give her the tour you once gave the St Paul School boys, and you could draw together and see all the museums, and I would be satisfied that that was enough of an education if she still didn’t want to do school. She is focusing in on jobs and putting together a resume. The most enticing plan of the moment is to set her up in Nancy’s house in Portland and let her get a fresh start in a new state, but with housing and transportation covered so there is a cushion while being far from home. We’ll see. I know she will be fine. It’s just hard to see her so anxious while she’s living in a time of unknowns. But damn I wish you could see her work. She’s so good. She won the Racine Art Museum Peep contest this year with her Peepzilla, so her sculpture abilities are as strong as ever, but her ink drawings are mind blowing. I would give anything for you could see.

Quinn came out as trans recently. She surprised us with a cake that was the trans-pride flag inside. Not that the news was a surprise, just the cake. Remember all those conversations we had when she was only two and insisted she was a girl? Changed her name and everything for a couple of years? I know you thought I was being overindulgent and not helping her in the world by going along with it at the time. But now I’m wishing I’d advocated more for her earlier. It’s so hard to know. She needed to come into herself in her own way and her own time, so maybe an official coming out did have to wait until now. I don’t know. But I’m really proud of her for being so courageous. This country is so cruel to trans-people, and the rhetoric is so nasty, that I’m already fearful about places she can’t go and be safe. As if anyone has anything to fear from someone as sweet as Quinn! I wonder how you would have handled her coming out? I suspect it might have taken some adjustment (heck, I will be stumbling over pronouns for a while out of habit), but I also picture you doing some amazing drawing full of rainbows and weird birds to send her in celebration. I know your love would never have wavered. There’s nothing not to love about Quinn. I’m hoping the fact that her entire family is in her corner will help what will likely be a complicated path. I’m going to smooth it as best I’m able.

Well, the lights above the new deck have switched on in the dusk, and the bugs are far too interested in my laptop screen. Time to wrap this up.

I love you, Dad. That never changes. I hate that you didn’t get to go with Ellora on her tour of colleges (I can’t imagine anything that could have made you happier!), or that we can’t really tell you she got into Berkeley. I hate that you don’t get to see how little Rivyn (not so little now at seven!) is a bundle of creative energy like his father and such a pure delight. You would be amazed at the beautiful work Mom is doing lately. She told me she misses how she always counted on you to look at a piece and be able to tell her when it was done. It feels unfair that life goes on and you’re missing some wonderful things. But life isn’t fair.

I love you. Happy Father’s Day. I will try to make you proud even though you can’t see.

Love, Kory

Dear Dad, 2021

Hi Dad. I miss you.

It's been almost six years. I know because your youngest grandchild is six. I haven't seen him in over a year because of the pandemic, but in pictures he's looking so big compared to that tiny baby you got to hold before you died.

Six years is a long time, but on the upside, I can now talk about you at some length without bursting into tears. I'm able to share stories about you with my kids that make them laugh or smile without it also bringing me down. That doesn't mean your absence isn't still difficult, but grief is strange like that. I've adapted to it. Although that sometimes means it hits me in a wave at an unexpected time.

This year is looking up compared to last year at this time. I'm actually surprised by how quickly we're able to go back to normal in a lot of ways, considering how practiced we got at our socially distanced protocols. Things are opening up instead of closing down. It's amazing what it does for your attitude to know you could go out and do something, even if you stay home anyway.

But this Father's Day we did go do something! Mom is here (after a visit to LaCrosse) and we got tickets for all of us to the Milwaukee Public Museum. We have a membership, but you need timed tickets as part of their Covid protocols. Plus we all wore masks, which is no big deal at this point. We mostly wanted to see all of our old favorite displays before the museum moves in a few years. Things like the giant T-Rex eating a Triceratops in that spooky storm setting probably won't survive because they are out of date with current science, but it's fun to visit while we can and remember how nervous it used to make Aden when she was little. We even had the fun on this trip of introducing a family to the hidden snake button. (No kid should go to the Public Museum without getting to push the snake button.)

Last year when I wrote you, Aden was getting ready for her first year of college. That's where we still are, because she wound up deferring both semesters. Covid not only made us nervous, but it made the college experience look really rather abysmal. But our whole family is now fully vaccinated (YAY!) and things are looking up for fall. I think things will be normal enough at Stout again that it will be worth going. The silver lining in the deferrals is that not only did I get an extra year with Aden at home (which I've really appreciated), but she kind of has the fear of leaving home out of her system now. She's had a LOT of home lately, and is ready to move on. It's nice to see her excited rather than nervous. I think she's going to enjoy college.

Mona finished her virtual Junior year fifth in her class. Virtual school has been a mess for many, but a boon for Mona. She's on track to graduate early, and I'm trying to convince her to go back to in person learning for her last semester. I think she needs friends and socializing and time out of the house, but she wants us to sign her up for the continued virtual option. We'll see. Mona remains complicated in many ways, and it's hard to know sometimes if we actually know what's best for her. Currently she's excited about applying to art schools, both near and far, and she's been using the studio at the violin store to work on pieces for her portfolio. I wish you could see it.

Quinn graduated from Fernwood and will be moving on to Rufus King High School in the fall. He may have to take a city bus there, so that's something we still have to figure out. After a year of virtual schooling, he's ready to be in person. He did get to do the last month or so of eighth grade in person, but it was still odd with masks, and partitions at lunch, etc. The graduation was weird. It was held in the Bay View High auditorium so we could all spread out. The one part of the ceremony I was really looking forward to was the slideshow of the photos. Each kid was supposed to submit a baby picture, a slightly older picture, and a current picture, and they would show them on a big screen to music. It's fun to see how each kid has grown. And I submitted photos for Quinn twice! Both times under the wire--first time by email, second time by text as requested. So I was, um... disappointed when on the screen under his name they had to use a stick figure as a stand in because the pictures somehow didn't go through. Oh well. (It's kind of funny, and I have it on video.) 

Anyway, Quinn is now the tallest person in the house, and definitely has the longest hair. He's still smart and funny and sweet. He'd give you a good run for your money at Scrabble. (Remember when he tried playing with us when he was really really little, and he put down "Japon" and we had to explain that "Japan" wasn't spelled that way, but more importantly you couldn't use proper nouns? He was so embarrassed. We should have just let him play whatever he wanted, but he would have been upset with us later for not making him stick to the rules. He still likes rules.)

Ian likes not being in the Army anymore. I definitely like him not being in the Army anymore. He's doing a great job running the building and keeping the finances in order at the shop. I married a good man, Dad. I remember how you had your doubts twenty-something years ago when I told you we were getting married. That upset me until I talked to Grandma about it, and she just smiled and said, "Do you think there is any man you could pick that your father will believe is good enough for you?" I know you came around eventually, but I thought you'd like to know it's still good, and we're happy we're together.

Business is busy. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed lately because there is so much to do, and I'm about to lose my assistant. She only came up about twice a month to work, and I know that's not enough to count as really putting a dent in my workload, but it was nice to occasionally not have to do everything. It's hard doing everything. But I am grateful to have a job that survived the pandemic. I just keep hoping at some point I'll catch up on all the work at the store, and have more time for the projects I need to finish on my bench at home. I put in long hours, but never seem to get there.

But there's lots to pay for coming up, so I should just be grateful for the work. Besides college to fund starting this year, our deck out back is falling apart, and we have to replace it this fall. Remember how weird that deck is? At first glance people always think it's great, but it's ridiculous. Too many levels accomplishing too little. And it's just rotting all over and is officially a hazard. The new design should be scaled down, but with more space that's actually usable. We'll see. We really didn't want one more big project right now, but we don't really have a choice. (Short of not stepping outside the back door anymore to be safe.)

Chipper died back in March. That was hard. He was such a weird little thing. I know it made you sad that you couldn't pet him. I wish there had been a way to explain to his little doggie brain that he didn't need to fear all men. Anyway, I think of him most when I'm in the kitchen. I was used to him planted at my feet with that hopeful look on his face as I chopped things. I miss him being underfoot, and I miss his wanting me to scoop him onto the bed in the mornings. Did you have moments when you missed Anna? She was a weird dog, too, and I know you and mom were relieved not to have to factor her into your schedules anymore once she died, but wasn't it kind of nice having a dog? Someday we'll get another one, but not soon. That freedom from one more responsibility is definitely nice, but I miss having something to pet when I sit on the couch.

Writing is sort of stalled. I need to get the last project wrapped up before I can put my brain into the space of the next one, and I'm sort of stuck as I send out queries and wait to hear back from people. I hate waiting for other people to do things when I want to move forward. But I do still need to do a full couple of rounds of editing, so I have to make time for that. I wish you could read the new novel! I miss your proofreading skills, although Barrett (and occasionally Arno) has been wonderful for that.

You know what you would have loved? Visiting college campuses with Ellora. Arno described to me their process of visiting potential schools, which in pandemic times means no tours, just wandering outside of buildings and getting the general vibe of an area. They visited Yale and Amherst and Harvard, etc. It sounded like a lot of fun, and right up your alley. We still haven't seen Aden's college! I'm taking Aden up in August for her orientation, so we'll see it then. It has me thinking back to when you and I visited Oberlin. Remember how the dorm I was supposed to stay it looked too freaky, so I ended up in your hotel room instead? I liked that trip. I feel like we didn't have enough trips together like that, but I don't know when we would have had the chance.

What else would you want to know about this past year. . . Politics improved a bit. Trump is out and Biden is in, and I don't miss the daily weight of panic that the news used to bring. The Middle East is still on the brink of mayhem, racism is still a dire issue, environmental reports and mass shootings usually make me want to cry, but at least there are grownups in charge again, so I don't feel desperate about breaking news every hour. You would find so much to clip in the papers, some of it better.

My orchestra gets to play in the new fancy hall this coming season! I wish you could come! I'm still glad you got to hear me play in that Russian concert back in the Pabst several years ago. That was a good concert. I'm lucky to get to play with such talented people. I discovered during the pandemic that if I don't have something specific to prepare for, I don't take my instrument out of the case. So I guess my idea that my viola should be on my "if stuck alone on a desert island" list isn't a good one. 

Aden and Mona got to take a trip to New York to spend a couple of weeks with Arno! I drove them out there and stayed a few days to help get them acclimated, but then they were on their own to learn to navigate the subway system, etc. It was a good growing experience for both of them. They learned things about themselves and each other that were surprising. Mona even called me one night to say that she hadn't realized how much I usually facilitated certain conversations, and that she was having trouble finding things to talk about with her sister. Without someone there to dictate the plans, etc., they had to negotiate between themselves, and they have very different ways of moving in the world that don't always mesh. I know it upset them both not to be in sync, but it's part of learning to be with others. I think it was good for them, even when it was hard.

My kids are getting so grown up, Dad. I mean, Aden's going to be 20 this year. 20! It's simultaneously really young and really old. I don't know how to process it some days. How did you deal with it when I moved away? I remember my friend Alit saying at lunch at your house after she had her first baby how she was having nightmares about something happening to her child out in the world, and she wondered when that goes away. You said it didn't.

What were your worries? Were there any moments where you felt more reassured that I was doing all right? Knowing my girls made it to and from Central Park on their own made me happy. Aden's actually been using the bus since she returned to Milwaukee, because now that doesn't seem daunting compared to NYC. I hope the world is kind to them so I don't have to worry too much.

Sheesh, I feel there is a lot more I should be telling you, but my mind is sort of blank. The pandemic stuff made everything blurry and flat. It's hard looking back on the past year and to put anything in any order, or see anything as significant. Maybe next year's update will be more exciting! I would say for this year, things are okay. Life is never easy, but I have what I need. You don't need to worry. I hope part of this reality is that your nightmares are over.

I love you.

Happy Father's Day.

Kory

 

Dear Dad, 2020

Hey Dad.

I can't believe it's been almost five years since I've heard your voice or made you laugh. The words "I miss you" are inadequate to how I feel. But they are all I have, so... I miss you.

This year has felt like a decade. I'm not even sure where to begin to catch you up, and I'm not sure what articles you would even clip, because everything is insane. The news moves so fast, and it's all either ridiculous or dire (or both), and there's no way you could have even hoped to keep up. (Although I'd have bought you fresh scissors for Christmas so you could try.)

Last summer we didn't do any big trips. We did a couple of really nice family events at the cottage, and Arno and Barrett got us kayaks we can use there. (I wonder if we could have ever talked you into a kayak? I doubt it, but it's hard to know. You did tell us about your traveling in Europe on a Vespa, and I can't picture that either. Your moments of unpredictability remain some of the best family lore.) I'm wishing we had done some real travel, because all of our hopes for that this summer were dashed. Quinn was supposed to do a class trip to NYC and Boston, but when we talked about it early in the school year, he admitted it would be more fun with his family, so I told him we'd use that money instead toward all of us doing a big East Coast trip together. We had plans to hit lots of small states, and go as far north as Maine to visit Ian's sister Ursula and her husband. But no.

Because a pandemic hit this year, and the world ground to a halt right around my birthday. (Which is in March, so I'm a Pisces. Every time I see a horoscope, I think about you reading mom hers from the paper, and when I'd request mine you'd ask, "When were you born?" every time!)

Mom's doing okay. She's got a ton of interesting art projects, and she's been in the garden a lot, but I know she's tired of feeling isolated. I wish she had you at this time. I think you'd have been perfectly happy to ride out Covid-19 at home, clipping articles in the library and not having to share Mom with guests.

For the rest of us, though, it's been strange. Everything got canceled, Dad! My concerts, my varnish workshop, my book signing at Boswell's (wouldn't that have been fun?), Ian's Army retirement ceremony, Aden's high school graduation.... Just, everything.

And being trapped in the house with a lot of unexpected free time was not as useful as it might sound. All of us felt a creative drain. I think because even though on the surface it may have looked like a vacation, it was really a crisis. Being in survival mode makes it hard to focus during waking hours, and even though we were sleeping more it wasn't very sound. But I think we've leveled out. Aden is drawing and painting again, and making small things out of clay lately. Mona is drawing on the computer and started constructing something today out of feathers and wire. I've been finally getting into my home shop, and today I worked on a cribbage board with Quinn of our own design. We're starting to feel like ourselves again.

So the pandemic is weird, wearing masks is weird, social distancing in Target is weird, not letting people inside my store while still trying to run my business is weird.... It's all weird. And sad.

And the Black Lives Matter movement has exploded into a worldwide phenomenon after even more deeply upsetting instances of police violence caught people's attention. I'm hoping this time around will lead to real change. I've been thinking about it a lot, and compared to the first time I saw video of the police beating a black man in my lifetime (which would be Rodney King), today we can instantly follow up with research. White people are actively learning things we didn't know. We're seeing things in new ways, and a lot of people I know are willing to accept hard truths and history that is new to us. Today I read about the MOVE bombing in Philadelphia. Last week I read up on the Tulsa Massacre. I wonder if those events are in your files somewhere? I may look next time I'm back home.

I wish I could ask you about any of this. Because the other day someone posted a piece about Detroit and the "'67 Rebellion" and it stopped me in my tracks. Growing up, it was always the "'67 Race Riots." I remember you and Mom talking about watching things burn and how scary it was. But I realize now we never really talked about why it happened. Those desolate stretches of Detroit that never got restored after the fires were just a fact of life. Never occurred to me to think of it as part of a rebellion. My new homework will include rethinking my hometown.

You taught us so much about the destructiveness of discrimination in connection with your family's Jewish history, it would be fascinating to get your perspective on the struggle of minorities now. You'd have been proud of Aden for going to a march.

You'd be proud of Aden in general. She's registering for her freshman college courses tomorrow! She has to do all of it online, and we've never gotten to visit the campus in person (pandemic and all), but it's still exciting watching her prepare for college. She's nervous. She isn't sure how much of a grown up she's expected to be, or how much of a grown up she already is. But Dad, she's so lovely. She's grown into a remarkable artist and person. When she talks to you about something that excites her (video game design, anime, certain YouTubers who cook creatively...) she just lights up in a way that you can't help but be drawn in. She's sweet and kind and has such a tender heart.

Aden didn't mind too much not having a high school graduation. (She understands that was more for me.) But she was sad not to have been able to say goodbye to people in her school. They didn't know when they left for the day in March that they weren't going back. There were people she would have liked contact information for, and teachers she would have liked to have thanked. Not to mention she finally got her schedule just the way she wanted, with an interesting English class on African-American Lit and a ton of art classes. When she went back a couple of weeks ago to pick up her things, a piece she'd been making was still sitting on the pottery wheel where she'd had to abandon it. Lots of projects she was excited about were left unfinished. Everything about her senior year was left unfinished.

I wonder how odd her first year of college will be with these added complications? But she's not alone. I reminded her that everyone will be in the same boat, and the class of 2020 can bond over not having had graduations, and trying to make new friends from behind masks and at least six feet apart.

I was sad I didn't get the experience of touring colleges with her. I remember your taking me to look at Oberlin. That was a nice trip. And I'm still glad I backed out of staying in that weird dorm and just sharing your hotel room since it had an extra bed. (You told me the place missed out on calling itself the "Oberlinn.")

I'm going to try to write real letters to Aden at school. Getting mail helped me a lot my freshman year at OSU. Mom wrote letters, and you sent post-its, and I still have them all. I know if you were still around you would send Aden packets of articles and she would love them.

So Aden's doing okay. I'm feeling like I haven't prepared her well enough to go out into the world, but she can cook, and do laundry, and can write a good essay when she has to. If she can just be a little brave and find some friends I think she will do well. I hope. Was it hard when I went off to college? What advice would you have for me now as the parent, I wonder.

Mona is doing okay. I think. I can never be sure. She still gets anxious, and is already a little panicky about the idea of school starting up in the fall again. I'm not sure how to help, however she's at least willing to talk to me. I'm so proud of her, Dad. She works so hard. She's been doing online gym for summer school so she can take that out of her schedule for her junior year. Can you believe she's a junior? And she's driving. Or, at least, she supposedly knows how. She needs practice. You were always so calm with me in the car when I was learning. Ian is like that. I am not. I never expected to be as freaked out as I am trying to help my kids learn to drive, but yikes. It's really nerve-wracking.

She finished her two years of French, and did well, but I have never heard her speak it. All she would tell me is the numbers are weird.

She's working on the cover art for my new violin repair diagnostics book. She's excited by the idea, but struggling a bit to get something together for me to look at. I hope that works out, because I think that would be a cool thing to have in her portfolio when she's ready to apply to art school.

Mona's still in pain. It's been two years of this now, and I hate it. We've been to our regular doctor, two different ENTs, the pain clinic at Children's, she's had an MRI, dental x-rays, tests by vestibular rehab, and a recent trip to a neurologist. Nobody can tell us what it is. Although for the migraines that accompany the ear pain, the last doctor did recommend she go cold turkey off any pain medicine to sort of reset her system (since, ironically, at some point migraine meds start to cause migraines). We have prescriptions for more things she could try, but she said she'd rather not. I don't blame her. Thankfully, her ears in the past couple of weeks feel plugged up and there's a lot of pressure, but less pain. The orthodontist said there's a chance she'll just grow out of whatever it is. He said he sees a lot of teens with odd pains and issues that simply go away once their bodies get past this stage of rapid change and growth. I hope he's right. Mona shouldn't have to deal with chronic pain. Life is already hard enough without that.

Quinn continues to take things in stride. Dad, he's getting so tall. When he's not slouching I think he's my height. Possibly taller. And his hair is down to the middle of his back and all wavy and doesn't tangle and it makes his sisters really jealous. His voice is changing, too, but we are careful not to comment. He's very sweet, but at thirteen is easily embarrassed. He's super fast at games like Tetris. Still doing in fine in school. He's stopped playing violin but still takes piano. It got to a point where both were suffering and he needed to narrow his focus. In March, before the pandemic, he went on a school ski trip and broke his left wrist, so I got to be one of his hands for his online lessons. I miss that time with him.

And I asked him recently, since our Latin lessons got canceled in this new era of not going anywhere, if he wanted to continue that when possible, or just be done. I fully expected him to say we should let it go, since this was the perfect opportunity to do so. But he surprised me by saying when we could go back to the university and have Latin again, he wants to. On the one hand, the ablative case hurts my head, but on the other, I really liked that time with Quinn once a week. We always had a nice time on the drive, and sometimes stopped at the lake to look for beach glass on the way home. I wonder how much of wanting Latin lessons again is really that? Or is that just motherly wishful thinking?

Dad, he's so sweet. He's always willing to come out of his room if I call up the stairs and invite him to play a game. And the fun thing about playing with a smart kid is I never have to go easy on him. He hasn't beaten me at Boggle yet, but he always finds some really good word that I missed. You would have loved playing with him.

And he's funny. He has this amazing deadpan sort of delivery that is hilarious. He took some sort of aptitude test at school that recommends different professions, and his list was wacky. It included artist (which I thought was odd, since there was no way to assess talent in that area on a test like that), and cartographer (because he's still freakishly good at maps), and BARTENDER. Bartender? What kind of exam suggests that to a seventh grader? I laughed so hard! But maybe it's right, who knows. When I was talking about that with Mona, she said, "You know what I think Quinn should be? A Comedian." And at the one parent-teacher conference I got to go to for him this year, his teacher remarked that he was really funny. She said it took a while to recognize his dry humor, but that he's always making people laugh. So it was a surprising idea at first, but I can imagine it. You'd have to be really smart, and methodical, and good with language, and he already has the delivery and timing. But you also have to be comfortable in front of crowds, and right now, that's hard to picture.

Anyway, I think Quinn is coping best of all of us with the shift to a pandemic schedule. He finished the school year on Zoom, and now he's got video game goals. He seems content.

I think Ian's content, too, as much as he can be with all of his concerns about keeping us financially solvent in these strange times. I don't think he misses the Army. Probably parts of it, but not the hassle. I like having him around more. I couldn't ask for a more supportive husband. Our anniversary is tomorrow! 23 years. I should break out the poem you wrote for us as our wedding reading and share it with the kids.

I'm doing okay. That last novel of mine that you got to read the draft of years ago? Just Friends, Just War? I finally polished it up and got it out into the world. Sort of. My launch got canceled, but everyone who has read it seems to have liked it. I wish you could have read the final version. Barrett made a really nice cover for it. If Mona gets too stuck on the cover for the repair guide, I may use that instrument drawing you made for me that I have framed at the violin store. I don't think you'd have minded. (Heck, I feel like if you were still around you'd have cranked out fifty versions for me to choose from in a day!)

My health is better, so that's good to report. The mastitis thing seems to finally be gone. I hope. If it returns again I am not going to the doctor. They just exacerbate all of that mess. I stopped taking all pain medication last year after my colonoscopy showed poor side effects from them, but I don't get headaches the way I used to. Only problems are some high blood pressure that my doctor put me on pills for (so that seems under control), and my back is goofy. Eh.

Since the pool closed and I can't swim now, I broke out my old dojo notes and have started up our old stretching and blocks and strikes warm up. We do that as a family almost every evening. The kids are getting more flexible and better coordinated, so that's working out well. Plus, it's about an hour every night where we listen to music and catch up. I really like it. (It makes the dog nervous, and the bird is fascinated.)

That's been the most reassuring thing lately: enjoying being together. Because when we block out the news for a little while, and forget that the world looks like it's coming apart at the seams, our own little space with each other really couldn't be better. (Well, it could be less cluttered, but that's how we know it's real life and not a movie.) I love my little family. Despite everything, we know we are really lucky.

Arno and Barrett and their families are also doing fine. Your other two grandchildren are amazing and you'd be so proud, Dad. I do feel better about the future looking at all your beautiful grandkids and knowing they are next in line to help run the world. They'll do it with intelligence and compassion, which is sorely needed.

Well, this note ran past midnight. I should sleep. I love you. And I really really miss you.

Kory

Dear Dad (2019)

Hi Dad.

I wish I could call you today. So much has happened, and I hate that you're missing it.

Dear Dad (2018)

Has it really been almost three years since you died?  That's a long time to have gone without your hugs and kind words.  Do I still have your voice right in my head?  And your laugh?  I'm starting to wonder.  Until almost three years ago I got to refresh those details periodically.  Now whatever memories I cling to are all I will ever have.  I hate that, and it doesn't get easier.  I don't reach for the phone to call you on Mondays anymore, so at least I can say the reality has sunk in.  I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad one.

Oh, Dad.  What would I tell you about what life has been like since last Father's Day?  I guess that in recent months it's been better than the year before.  Last year was a nightmare and I'm still suffering occasional flashbacks of pain, but when I think back to where we were, and look at where we are, there is no comparison.  There are still issues to deal with and I'm scared every day that things could fall backwards into crisis again, but for now I will be grateful that on a day-to-day basis life in our home is normal again.  That's no small thing.  Normal is a gift.

Father's Day 2017

Dear Dad,

You've been gone almost two years now.  It still hasn't really sunk in that I won't see you again, or get a hug from you anymore.  I miss making you laugh on the phone.  I miss being able to ask you questions when I'm having a grammar moment.  I don't automatically reach for the phone now when those moments happen, but I still haven't quite let go of the belief that you are out there and I just haven't seen you in too long.

When I haven't seen someone in a long time I'm usually a little surprised when we are reunited that there are details I forgot--bits of mannerisms or scents or motions that go with a person that you don't hold onto well at a distance.  I'm still adjusting to the idea that my perceptions of you will not be updated or renewed, but I'm left with whatever I already have.  It's not enough, but it will have to be.

What would I tell you today, this Father's Day without you again, if I could call?

Hey Dad

I miss you.

Did I call you last Father's Day?  If I didn't I meant to.  I know I didn't get a hold of you every single one, but I certainly thought of you.  I'm thinking of you today.

I actually think of you every day.

Remember how I used to call you on Mondays?  Mom was usually out drawing in Ann Arbor and I knew you'd be a little lonely, so I'd call?  I miss that.  I still reach for the phone at work when I have a quiet moment on Mondays and want to tell you something, but then I remember.

Double Dad Day

I got to spend Father's Day with both my husband and my dad this year.  I don't know if that's ever happened before.  My dad's been staying with us for the past couple of weeks while my mom has been on a trip.  He worries that he's a burden since he needs help getting around and we have to keep track of his medication, etc., but he's not a burden; he's my dad.

I feel bad that I haven't been able to get him out to a bookstore yet like he wanted, but the only day I had free from work the weather made it too complicated.  (Dealing with a walker and an umbrella while trying to cope with parking on the East Side was more than I felt I could handle.)  Other than that it's been a good visit with lots of Scrabble playing.

The highlight for me was having both Ian and dad at my concert on Sunday.  I play so many concerts I know my dad would enjoy that he can't be here for, and from my end there's nothing like having someone you love in the audience.  This weekend the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra had a Father's Day concert in a beautiful church up near the university.  The building had real Tiffany stained glass windows and the acoustics were amazing--no need for mics which was great.

The first half of the concert was our artistic director, Rene Izquierdo, on solo guitar, which is always wonderful, and the second half was the orchestra.  We did a nice assortment of tunes, from Classical pieces to Irish songs to Tin Pan Alley standbys....  It wasn't perfect, but parts of it were better than we've ever sounded, and I was so happy my dad could be there.

When I went to meet him at the end of our performance he told me he was so proud, and he got a little weepy, which meant it took a lot to keep myself from getting weepy.  It was about as good a Father's Day moment as one could ask for.

But what I think of as an important Father's Day moment for Ian actually happened a couple of months ago.

The Journal Paradox

I have tried several times in my life to keep a journal.  The idea appeals to me so much, to chronicle my thoughts and the moments both big and small that shape who I become.  Events and people I'm convinced I'll never forget fade from memory, and having some record of all of it to refer to later is reassuring.

Blogging has been my most recent stab at keeping a journal, and arguably my most successful in that I do it regularly, but it's not the same.  I like putting a pen to real paper and having something to store on a shelf that I can pull down and page through.  I often take a blank journal with me when I go on an interesting trip to jot down my adventures and to have a place to store things like ticket stubs or park passes, and reading through all of that later is incredibly satisfying.

But here is why keeping a journal always falls apart for me:  The moments when you have time to write are seldom the moments most worth writing about.

When I read through any of my journal entries from when I was in school they are all a depressing ramble about being a lonely misfit.  My plans fell through and I was stuck at home or in a dorm room feeling sorry for myself and there was lots of time to wallow in that and get it all down on paper in excruciating detail.  But what about the nights I was up with my friends laughing until I couldn't breathe?  Or exploring something new on campus?  Or working hard on a great project?  No time to write about any of that.  I was too busy living it.  And then it slips away and seems like old news by the time there is a moment to get it onto paper.  Even those trip journals skim quickly over any experience of the Eiffel Tower to go on about doing laundry in a youth hostel.  Finding the time to write skews what you write about.

Same thing happens with blogging now.  Between the kids getting out of school and Ian leaving for a couple of weeks of Army duty I've had no time to write.  And there has been so much to write about!  In my head I've started about a dozen different posts, some of which are on topics that will keep, but most of which seem time sensitive and are lost if I don't do something with them.

For instance, writing about Father's Day after Ian gets home and I have time to write about it is weird.  That will be around the 4th of July, and at that point I'm sure I'd rather write about that.  So, without any great detail, here is a shot of Ian and the kids on Father's Day on the bridge in front of the Milwaukee Art Museum where I was performing with the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra before Ian had to rush off to Ft McCoy:

I could write a whole post about the museum.  Or the art fair.  Or what the kids made for Ian for Father's Day.  Or whine about how the Army took Ian away on Father's Day.  Or playing mandola on stage.  Or how cool Lake Michigan is.  Or how Mona complains about squinting in the sun.  Or Quinn's butterfly shirt.  Or the state of the kids' shoes.  Or eighty-gabillion other things that I find interesting but I have no time to reflect upon.

I plan to write a post about Quinn's new Australia map that we made:

And I really want to write a post about my brother Barrett trying to give my kids a lesson in climbing trees:

But we'll see.

I'd rather enjoy a life well lived and forgotten than a worthless existence of navel gazing that is carefully documented.  Socrates may have thought the unexamined life was not worth living, but trying to keep a journal has taught me otherwise.  Self-reflection is a bonus, not an end in itself.

I have more to write, but a full day ahead.  I hope I find some time to tell you all about it.

Not Just a Gig (Babble)

I just got back from a gig with a small version of the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra.  Two people playing first, two people playing second, a bass, a mandocello, a guitar, and me on mandola.  It was a last minute performance for a memorial service at the Milwaukee Athletic Club, which is a posh old-school kind of fancy place with pretty chandeliers and excellent service and food.

There are practical parts to setting up a stage, putting up stands and organizing mics.  It’s nice to spend time with fellow musicians.  It’s fun to make music.  It’s odd being the hired help at an event where people are in mourning.

The service was for a man who was only 53, but who made a big impact in the area in terms of conservation.  I didn’t know him, but he sounded remarkable.

During the break in the middle of our set I got up to stretch my legs and grab a snack, and I wound up at the front of the room where easels were set up with loving tributes from the daughters of the deceased.  Pictures of sweet young girls about the same age as my own, hugging their dad.  One photo even showed the girls wearing uniforms for the Milwaukee Children’s Choir, just like my daughters have.  There were carefully printed notes saying, “You’re the best dad in the world.  I wish you weren’t dead.  I miss you.”

I have a post set to run this weekend about my husband in time for Father’s Day.  I just stood in front of those photos and drawings thinking about how impossibly hard this Father’s Day will be for those little girls.  How hard every Father’s Day may now be for them.


I am glad I have my dad.  I’m glad my kids have their dad.  I don’t take that for granted.  My heart hurts tonight for people aren’t so lucky and who will be missing their own fathers this weekend.

I think our group played well today.  Many people told us they enjoyed the music.  It’s odd, in a way, to be invited into an emotional event but set apart from the core of it.  We were there to do a job.  But music isn’t like any other job.  We are there to create beauty in the air.  I hope it helped make today less hard for some of the people there.  And I hope they know that even though we were hired help, we appreciated the meaning of the moment.  It was not just a gig.  I will not forget the little girls in those photos anytime soon.