Today is my happiest anniversary.

Fourteen years ago, after nearly not surviving his first 24 hours, my son came home from the hospital.

His Homecoming was the single happiest day of my life.

I will spare you the full narrative of his early birth and crash and struggle to survive.

I’ll spare you the weepy thanks to 28 doctors and nurses who literally saved my son’s life.

My son is a healthy teenager now.

All that is left of that early trauma is two little scars - almost invisible - on the side of his rib cage where they intubated him to vent air from his tiny torn lungs.

For me, the marks are emotional.

When you face your child’s potential mortality, the experience is so traumatic and so vivid, it gets woven into the tapestry of your life like a strand of the brightest silver among mere colors.

In the first days afterward, it stands out so very much, it ensures you never lose sight of it among the other rows.

And that changes how you feel about your life and the things in it.

It changes how you think and act.

And that changes your relationship both with parenting and with your child.

In my camera roll are hundreds of pictures like this. Maybe thousands.

I am affectionate with him. More so than most fathers, I know this. It is on purpose.

From the day my son came home from the NICU fourteen years ago, my entire journey as his father has been accompanied by a constant companion.


I am deeply thankful.

I am thankful for the gift of my son and the joy of loving him.

I am thankful for each day I get to be his father.

I am just so thankful for this blessing, this opportunity. Every day of it.

That silver strand woven into the tapestry of my life fourteen years ago…

That thankfulness is its reflection.

It is me tracing my fingers over it, remembering.

For my son’s entire childhood, I have filled up my camera roll with pictures like this one. Hundreds of them.

They are treasures to me for their very ordinary-ness.

They are the influence of that first silver strand.

They are daily acts so unconscious, so woven into my life as a father, they are just part of who I am.

They are thankfulness incorporated into who I even am as a father.

Fourteen years ago today, my son came home from the hospital.

It was the single happiest day of my life.

I have been deeply, profoundly thankful every day since.

I love my son with the entirety of my soul.

For me, today is the anniversary of that gift.


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More from @TheRealHoarse

24 Nov
I really can’t spend the next year arguing with people who are somehow AGAINST pushing for better communications from Dems.

So, I’m just going to block anyone peddling stupidity about how sucking at communications is somehow fine, necessary, unimportant or unfixable.
Seriously, I mostly hate Twitter lately.

Before Trump was elected, all of my existential screaming at the movie screen while the people in the horror movie couldn’t hear me happened off Twitter.

I didn’t join Twitter until the election.
It sucked the absolute life out of me.

As someone who understood his narcissistic personality disorder from the jump, that helpless screaming into the wind sucked the absolute life out of me.

The triggering of Trump’s narcissism was PTSDish enough.
Read 14 tweets
24 Nov
Conflict of interest laws exist for good reasons.

“Everything that looks like a potential conflict is one.” is not one of them.

“Every actual conflict of interest materially harms the public.” is not one of them.

Conflict of interest laws exist because, at least in part, because of the understanding that even the *appearance* of a conflict can erode *public faith in government*.

The agency most responsible for enforcing federal conflict of interest provisions is the Dept. of Justice.

There is no entity in our entire government that better understands:

1) Even appearances matter

2) Public faith in government matters

Read 10 tweets
24 Nov
In every ad agency pitch for a big account, there is that one client who rolls their eyes at even the topic of messaging.

It’s usually a finance guy or ops person invited as a courtesy.

They sit there like a bubbling teapot until they inevitably boil over…

…and blurts something out like “I don’t understand why we need to do all this. 🙄 We just need a good slogan like Nike.”

And everyone else around the table cringes. Their own colleagues.

You were supposed to just sit there and eat your bagel, Frank from Finance.

It’s like the scene in the Devil Wears Prada where Anne Hathaway makes a snide comment about a “blue sweater” and Meryl Streep takes her apart for her simplistic understanding of fashion.

Cerulean. It is cerulean. And you didn’t choose it. You were made to choose it.

Read 16 tweets
24 Nov
So, funny story…

As it turns out, one of my secret ‘trespassing to birdwatch’ spots is apparently also a local cop’s ‘drink his morning coffee in peace’ spot.
I should note that I am clearly trespassing. I mean, it is signed and fenced off.

But, hey, I know enough about the law to be dead wrong about my rights.

One gate is always open. That makes it like a swimming pool: an inviting nuisance.

They invited me with their nuisance.
Now, “technically” none of what I just said is true. But it **could be true** if it weren’t false.

That’s enough gray area for me.

So, I do a little (finger quotes) trespassing (finger quotes).

Big deal. Is that really a crime?

Well, yes, but I was being figurative.
Read 10 tweets
20 Nov
When I was a kid, this place was a dump.

I mean… it was literally a dump.

Back before we realized we were poisoning the absolute shit out of the ecosystem, any place unsuitable for easy development was treated as worthless.

This was a pristine wetland.

They turned it into a garbage dump. A landfill.

Every Sunday, my father would drive me home from New York City to suburban New Jersey.

We’d travel down the Turnpike off in the distance to the left.

Where I stood taking these pictures was a massive, sprawling dump. An endless line of garbage trucks rolling in to unload.

Read 15 tweets
20 Nov
Everything kind of sucks so I’m just going to post a few bird pics that made me happy this week.

This is a northern harrier. A “gray ghost”. A male.

Striking, beautiful birds.

I’ve seen a gray ghost only once before.

I literally filled up my computer with pictures this past year.

Was up til 3 am archiving and deleting to make room.

It was a chore but I found a bunch of pics I meant to go back and clean up but hadn’t.

Like this early morning red-tailed hawk.

I think he noticed me.
Serious bird photogs don’t bother going out on shitty light days.

A white sky is the worst. You can’t get good birds in flight pics against a white sky.

I don’t care. I go out anyway. It’s about the activity not the output for me.

That’s a peregrine falcon. Amazing birds.
Read 7 tweets

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