Wednesday, September 21, 2016


The Little Blond Boy and La Principessa

It was a beautiful sunny early evening as we sat around a table sipping our drinks and laughing among ourselves. The beach behind us was washing away the last vestiges of summer, but the crowds of vacationers still lingered as if they were saying goodbye to an old friend forever.

As we shielded our eyes from the bright Cape May sun my cell phone came alive, it was my daughter-in-law in Burbank, California calling to tell me that the fun was over, my son Anthony (#1 Son) was rushed off to the UCLA Ronald Reagan Memorial Medical Center in Westwood for what would be heart surgery, as the doctors found some blockages.

The blue sky I sat under no longer mattered anymore, the drink was tasteless and the dinner that followed was simply a routine, something to do to while the time away until I could get out to see my son. I kept wondering how this could happen and it seemed to me to be the kind of thing I was taking in stride. As a parent you know not all days are pleasant, or sunny, sometimes a little rain must fall but this time, it was pouring once again.

The trouble was we were hundreds of miles away from home with friends who looked forward to this little vacation and we still needed to live our lives in spite of the current crisis. This has been our method of operation most of our lives for TLW (The Little Woman) and me.

Having to be chained to my imagination, seeing in my mind's eye the little blond boy I helped raise, all the times he called and greeted me with "Daddy!" and how good it made me feel, I twisted and turned in the agony of the unknown. I remembered all the times we played ball, watched the Mets and cried equally for both the Mets and Jets, made me want to hold his hand, as big as he is, but he is only the little blond boy. When his sister was growing up, lost in her world of disabilities, he tried to make up for that, after all, he was the little blond boy.  After his little brother died, and we were swept away in our own tears, he made the difference, helping us see tomorrow on a permanent basis, the little blond boy.

When challenges strike your children, it is you who must stand the ground, you must hold their hands and show yourself for him to know it will always be alright. He is older now, went through some tough times, weathered some pretty horrid storms that life threw at him, but he was rewarded ten-fold. He is blessed with a loving wife and the most beautiful little girl I ever knew. God is tough but he IS good.

So I got to Burbank, and saw the little blond boy, laying helplessly in a bed with tubes and bandages, crisscrossing his whole body, the pain was mine and grateful I was that his Mom didn't have to feel it as much since she was back home.

The little blond boy will not disappoint, not his wife, his mom or himself. He will fight through his pain and the trooper he really is, will do what it takes and just move on. The little blond boy.


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