#drawforanhour

Sorting through drawings. Great time with Finn last night. Saw some wonderful people that I don't get to see much anymore. Endi (Poskovic), Julie and their boys, growing like weeds (now that Finn has cut his hair, Elvin stands alone as the long haired lad triumphant), and Nick Tobier whose energy, "bounce" and passion I miss a great deal. It was also heartening to see former students out and about engaging and infusing. Keith Kemp (with grey in his beard!) and creative wiz Michael Eugene Burdick (who graciously shared his table with me.) Ryan Wheeler was there from CCS (though I never had Ryan in a class, a piece of his "inspirational" artwork adorns my refrigerator.) Also nice to see Ryan Standfest laboring over his huge pile of medium, next to Timothy van Laarand John Charnota with his logical, dice born drawings. Chris Riddell still has that laugh by the way. Had a few words with Jennifer Belair, and Melissa Dettloff (who share some WSU lineage with me.) Nick and Grace, current students from CCS who JUST finished finals and, rather than get immediately out of Dodge, came out to see what the big deal was. You two have cemented your grade of D-, well done. I am sure I have missed many, but the evening was a blur. A marvelous blender of unfiltered making. Thanks for the invite Alison and Megan.

Off to Dick Blick today to get Finn a "big pad." I can't describe what it feels like to have your son follow you up the creative path. Past the finger paintings, pinch pots, and paper plate "hand turkeys" into the REAL stuff. Whether he stays on this path or not is up to him, but for now, we're going to need more paper...

holidays

A divorce doesn't prevent the holidays from coming, but it certainly changes them and  complicates them a bit. I went from a father who tucked his son into bed on Christmas Eve, and was there when he awoke on Christmas morning, to a dad who drives cross town to pick him up on the 25th, consequently missing out on both the "eve" and "the morning."

Traditions have to be revisited, often to appease a court order, signed by a stranger. That's the way it is. Over time, hopefully, lines of communication can grow to allow "flexibility." But a child is by far the most important factor in all of this. Not the petty pissing matches of his parents.

The number on the calendar tends to mean less to me than it used to. I attend mass on Christmas Eve, and I miss my son. The singing of Silent Night brings tears to my cheeks for more reasons than it does the others in the pew, but this reflection and ceremony of emotion, fueled by absence, along with heartfelt thanks for another year of his health and happiness (he was born on December 31st), serves to strengthen my bond with Finn. 

I have always tried to create  new traditions for my son and I during the holiday season. We hang stockings, he and I, and we put up and decorate a tree. This year he hung every ornament himself with pride. We have an advent calendar, and I am charged with "keeping up" when he's not with me. I also put out a plate of cookies on Christmas Eve, that are mysteriously consumed, save some crumbs before Finn and I arrive home. Our Christmas is on the evening of Christmas Day, after the trip to relatives, good warm showers, the donning of pajamas, and some special snacks. We sit in front of the fire and I get to be Santa's conduit. But I also get to be Finn's father at a time when being so is the greatest gift I will ever receive. I have enough socks, and I purchase my own cologne. We stay up late, laughing, until he just can't keep his eyes open anymore. That's when I get to tuck him in.

The next morning we have a grand breakfast together, and plot our day of doing nothing. Nothing at all. The 26th is the Feast of St. Stephen (St. Stephen's Day) for good Catholics, Boxing Day for you Kiwis and Canadian friends. With all due respect to the liturgical calendar, and a nod to old St. Steve, I like to joke that this is MY day (my name is Stephen after all.) My special Christmas Day with Finn.