bloggie blog

My sister Emily has four great kids. I never get to see enough of them, and the youngest of them is James, whom I’ve only seen once, so I like when she posts about him and the others. You can read her post if you like, but really this entry of mine is all about this picture of my awesome nephew with his amazing Benjamin Button man boobs.

I’m an uncle again. My sister Emily had her fourth baby on Thursday, and it’s their first boy so Reid finally has a dude to raise. I’m more than happy to add James or Harrison (or some other name because they can’t make up their minds) to the lovely band of now nine nieces and nephews that I have. Welcome to the world, unnamed boy. Welcome!

My family has been working towards improving my sister Cynthia’s health. She has MS and has tried for many years to find treatments to relieve her symptoms. Last month we rented a hyperbaric oxygen (HBO) chamber for her. I was skeptical that this would help, but it made a difference. She is regaining lost vision, and is retaining more in her short-term memory. It’s fair to say that I can hear the improvements during our phone calls.

Taking a chance, I asked a bunch of friends if they could donate. Most didn’t donate, and that’s as I expected. Times are tough! There are so many worthy causes! I get it! But a few people have been able to donate and have been amazingly generous in their giving. I am blown away. Thank you, David. Thank you, Dossy. Thank you, Linda. Thank you, Lewis. Thank you, Quincy, Mass! And the list goes on. Your generosity amazes me.

This morning my youngest sister Emily wrote with the news that the fundraising efforts have paid off to the point where the HBO chamber is being bought today.

Thank you, friends. My family thanks you. I thank you. Thank you.

(Donations are still accepted! Leave me a note if you’d like to help. There will be an ongoing trickle of ancillary costs that will add up.)

This is one of my favorite poems. It was written by my dear mother, who passed away this week.

The story goes that this poem was inspired long ago by me and my siblings’ propensity for grabbing quickly at things in the basket on top of the fridge whenever dad would hoist us in the air, which he did often. If something fell down, it wasn’t my fault — gravity did it!

			Gwabity

		Kathryn R. Ashworth


	Gwabity did it;
		Gwabity told
	About all the things
		I climbed up and stoled

	Fwom off of the fwidge top
		And put in my pocket.
	Gwabity told,
		Though it couldn't talk it.

	Mama held
		My feet by her hand
	While I giggled and giggled
		At Upside-Down-Land.

	"Oh, oh," I said,
		And Mama did, too,
	As the pennies and pwetties,
		Away they all flew.

A paper clip here,
			A blue marble there,
	And one wubber band
		All hid in my hair.

	"Gwabity makes
		Things fall," Mama said,
	As the things I had gwabbed
		Fell down wound my head.

I’d mentioned this poem to mom recently, and it brought a big smile to her face. A couple of days later she said “Gwabity did it” with a twinkle in her eye. It’s one of the last things my dear mother said to me.

Thank you, mom. I love you. I miss you.

My sister Cynthia and I were born exactly two years apart, born on two separate April the 15th’s. She is in Indiana, I am in Los Angeles, and on this special day we both think of each other, and our parents, and the I.R.S. Happy birthday to us!