The Ryan Scion

There’s a lot of flux going on around me, and I have found myself in a topsy-turvy world. Perhaps, it’s all like birthing pains – a lot of discomfort and work to bring a beautiful new creation about.

My sister-in-law gave birth last week. It never surprises me how miraculous it is. All the hopes of the world can rest on this infant. John Patrick “Jack” could find the curse for cancer. He could make the breakthrough in the search for the unified field theory. He could be an Olympic sprinter in 2024. He could save the world.

I take that back, he is saving the world, now. He embodies the optimism that we all need to survive. Just over eight pounds, he produces a force greater than gravity. He can move the human heart to believe again.

There is love in the world. There is peace on this earth. There is hope.

I’ve only been able to see him once – within 12 hours of his birth – since I have a head cold. However, I got to hold this tiny person, watch his chest rise and fall as he breathed. This wonder does not cease to amaze me.

I’ve watched the flurry of activity that this little boy has conjured, just simply through his existence. Jack is a joy and a curious baby. When he hears someone speak, he will turn his head to look toward the location that the voice in coming from. It is surprising to see him in action.

We all take for granted the ability to speak, to talk, to walk, to understand, and we get to watch an infant to learn everything that we can do. This is all new to Jack, and we get to share in his discovery. Jack grounds us to see what really matters: love, life, family.

I can’t be more proud of an uncle. I unconditionally love this little guy.



In the middle of the melancholy of the world, a newborn like Jack is our touchstone to a brighter light.

We're Still Building and Burning Down Love

I hopped on the bus this morning, and looked back out the window and realized how gray and dreary a day it was. This is the first time in 6 years that September 11 was a rainy day. I remember how beautiful the sky was on September 11, 2001. I was late for work and left my apartment hearing that a plane might have crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings in NYC.

The sky was azure with no clouds in the sky, and they had been in the subsequent years.

I always feel melancholy on this remembrance day. I wasn't immediately impacted; I was spared losing someone I love. Though, I have many friends and acquaintances who did lose best friends, co-workers, lovers, sons... For example, one of my favorite people in the world lost good friends from her TJX Companies days on Boston based flights. I can only be empathic to their losses.

In Leon Uris' book Redemption, his main character Rory Larkin says, after losing his dear mates at the snafu in Gallipoli, "All men have a measure of cowardice in them. I learned that love of one's mates can overcome your fears. I learned that every survivor of this horror must try to live a good life because he lives for many men."

I read Redemption in 1995, after my Leon Uris run of Exodus, The Hajj and Trinity. I was moved by this line, and on September 11, 2001, it became even more moving and poignant. I feel this quote demands us to carry the obligation of being the force of change in the world. For Johnnie Doctor, Jr., Alberto Dominguez, Rodney Dickens, Dorothy Alma DeAraujo, Joseph Angelini Jr. and for everyone else who lost his or her life, we need to carry out the good in world that they aren't here to do.

During the weeks after the attacks, I found myself listing to albums from my middle school-high school years. The nostalgia soothed me and just made me feel better. Very heavy in the rotation were: U2's Joshua Tree, Sting's The Soul Cages and Madonna's Immaculate Collection (only for "Life to Tell.") So, for me, what better tribute could there be for the loved ones of those who lost their lives in the September 11 attacks, then U2 singing "Where the Streets Have No Name" in front of the roll call of all the lives from whom we all must now live?



In paradisum deducant vos Angeli; in vostro adventu suscipiant vos martyres, et perducant vos in civitatem sanctam Ierusalem. Chorus angelorum vos suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeatis requiem.

Damn you, Campbells! Sell 'em in the US.

I need to give a shout out to my new co-worker, CQ!

She had related to me that her mother was going to Australia in June, and I suggested that she let her mom know about Tim Tam. These are incredible biscuts/cookies made by Arnott's - an Australian icon of a company - which was acquired by the Campbell Soup Company ten years ago.

When I was in Australia, all of David's friends asked if he had shared with me a Tim Tam. He replied that he hadn't yet and his friends were in shock. That next day, we went to Woolys and I asked him about this Tim Tams, and he led me down the bikkie aisle. I found them in many varieties: Original (Milk Chocolate), Dark Chocolate, a coffee flavored version and my personal favorite -- Chilli Chocolate (which doesn't exist anymore.) I bought as many as I thought prudent.

I bought one of each package and quickly devoured them before our ANZAC Day weekend trip to Cairns. While in Queensland, I headed off to a Coles and bought a package for the visit. After returning to Sydney, I bought six packages of Tim Tam, 3 for Sydeny and 3 to bring back to the States (with my copious amounts of wine.)

What I thinks draws me to them is that they are not avaiable Stateside. We can get a good Tassie beer at Rae in Philadelphia. The Ants Pants Cafe on South serves your toast with Vegamite, if you ask. I've gotten Milo at the South Square Thriftway. However, these delicious caramelly chocolate cookies sandwiching a thick layer of tasty chocolate cream drenched in chocolate remain illusive.

734

For those of you who know me or have been following my blog, the numbers 3, 4 and 7 are more often than not found in my hotel room numbers. When I get only 3s, 4s and 7s, then I take it as a sign.

My hotel in Palo Alto was 4024. Fours… Recently, I have adopted a whimsical sense of tetraphobia. This fear of the number four is an Asian cultural belief based on the fact that the Chinese word for “4,” si(3), sounds nearly the same as the word for "death", si(4). Therefore references to the number are avoided.

So I was humorously relived when my room number at the Hotel Palomar in San Francisco turned to be 734. Looking back, my trip was full of folly. Many things went wrong, but, thanks to my friends, I was able to land on my feet. As I settled into San Francisco at the end of my trip, I realized again why I enjoy that city.

In a round-a-bout way, I wanted to share some of the camera phone pictures that I have from my trip to the Bay Area for the Ivy Plus conference.

Here’s a view from the roof of the sky box of Stanford Stadium:

This is Hoover Tower from the Skybox roof: A view of the vinyards of Thomas Fogarty Winery (where the conference ended at dinner):

Erratum…

In my quest to be correct, I wasn’t. Willem Janszoon made the first European contact with Australia in 1606 and not Dirk Hartog in 1616.

At the end of 1605, Willem sailed from Java in the Duyfken to the coast of western New Guinea, then headed south crossing the Arafura Sea. He entered the Gulf of Carpentaria and, most historians believe that he made a landfall at the Pennefather River on the western shore of Cape York in Queensland during the early part of 1606. The route Janszoon took lead him to believe that this land was a southerly extension of New Guinea. He and his crew landed there, but found the land swampy and the people inhospitable. Willem Janszoon returned to Java in June 1606 after naming his discovery "Nieu Zelandt". The name was not adopted for that area, but it was used later by Abel Tasman to name New Zealand.

Those Dutch were all over the place, too.

…Going Like Mad and Yes I Said Yes I Will Yes

The key to being a writer is writing. It’s a very simple concept but one that I’ve drifted away from. So I’m working on free writing for 12 minutes a day. It can be a summary of the day, a journal entry, a conversation with myself or Molly Bloom-inspired stream of conscience.

I never realized how difficult free writing is. Making yourself write for a discrete amount of time without stopping is tough: your hand cramps, you think faster than you write, you want to correct and you shouldn’t.

My biggest issue is that I want to be correct when I write. Last night I wanted to write about Australia but I got too caught up in trying to iron out details about Dirk Hartog, his Hartog Plate and the date that he landed in Shark Bay.

(Dirk Hartog was a Dutch explorer who is accredited with being the first European contact with Australia in 1616. He left a pewter plate commemorating his visit on an island in Shark Bay in Western Australia.)

So, I walked away from the computer and took out the notebook that I was going to use for the class that I had hoped to take this spring. I set a timer for 12 minutes (1/5 of an hour) and wrote.

My hand got very tight writing, but I scribbled something out. It was the beginning of something.

...Yes I said Yes I will Yes.

My Lastest Obsession

While English history is very interesting to me, I perfer the history of her colonies. I am a big fan of The Other Boleyn Girl -- it's a must read -- and I love Jonathan Rhys Meyers since Bend it like Beckham.

It's the Evanescence song, Lacrymosa, in this trailer for the Tudors that I'm constantly listening to. I love the use of Mozart's music in the song. It reminds me of my days in high school when I was focused on Requiem masses. So, maybe I'll catch the show.