Definition of Precious

There are few events in life as precious and blessed as witnessing the sparkle of wonderment in a child's eyes.

My grandson, Nathan, is in his peak years of enchantment - he is eight years old. I don't think there is another time in one's life when the world is that magical, purely unprejudiced and openly awaiting discovery. A time when spider webs and fossil-like rocks are the coolest, most awesome finds; when superman ice cream is the best food in the world; and when press credentials bearing T.rex's photo - purchased at a souvenir kiosk - can grant our entrance into worlds beyond our imaginations.

About a week and a half ago, Nathan and I took a trip back in time . . . way back . . . about 250 million years.

We picked up our tickets at the window and a couple of hot dogs at the snack bar. We sat, eating while watching the clock. At 6:00 pm, we gathered some bottles of water and snacks in preparation for the journey ahead. With travel brochures in hand and our hearts thumping a little louder, we took our seats and waited. I took a couple of flash photos before our journey took us back to a time long before digital photography was invented.

Before long, most of the seats were taken up by anxious time-travelers such as ourselves. Strobe lights began flashing and a voice came over the loud speakers: "Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, please take your seats . . . will begin in ten minutes."

Nathan's face lit even up brighter and he turned to me, "Thank you, Gammy!!!!! Thank you so much! You're the best Gammy!"

I couldn't have been any higher with bliss then in that moment.

Before long, the first dinosaur of the Triassic Period came out from behind the huge teeth that acted as a portal between our two worlds.

The sounds of these magnificent and mysterious creatures, as well as their commanding and majestic presence, swallowed our senses whole. For one night, there was nothing else except Nathan, the dinosaurs and me. I was completely immersed in the present moment of an ancient past.

That was the night of 200 million years. That was night Nathan and I walked with dinosaurs.



Walking With Dinosaurs

Happy Birthday Adam

Wow, so many Virgo birthdays in my family! Yesterday we celebrated my niece / Goddaughter Melissa's birthday (pictured above with Adam) and today is my son,
Adam's 22nd birthday. I named him Adam because he was the first male into my maternal side of the family in a couple of generations. I have three sisters - no brothers. My mom had two sisters - no brothers. And my first child was a daughter, Alexia. So, when Adam came around, he was ADAM, without a doubt. The story is much more mystical than that - but I'll leave it at the simple explanation for now, for Adam knows he chose his name and me as his mother.

Adam, you are a wonderful man, a fantastic son, and a great friend. I truly enjoy your company and our conversations, even though they get heated sometimes, as we are worthy debate opponents.

You came to me before you were born - I knew you were coming long before you arrived. People thought I was crazy - but we proved them wrong - because out you came and here you are. I always knew you came with a clear purpose. You have struggled with knowing that purpose - I understand more than you know. You will do it all one day, but for now, enjoy your youth, your life and your music. You have talent, abilities, intelligence and knowledge beyond most people's grasp. From the time you made campaign signs around the house for Dukakis and you cried when Bush Sr. won (you were two or three) to the time you won the Invent America Contest (all on your own, I might add) for your school in first grade (and gave a speech about your passion - The RecycleMobile) to the time you switched your political views to the Republican party (then, back to Democratic party again!) - You have never ceased to amaze me! Your first word (well almost) was "Why?" "Why is the sky blue, mama? Why is the moon full, mama?" . . . You had a fascination with space and stars and UFO's (even saw one with Grandma) and also with the Eiffel Tower and Statue of Liberty . . . "Mama, is that as big at the Eiffel Tower?" "Is a dinosaur as big as the Eiffel Tower?" You loved architecture (you taught me all about the streets of Detroit and showed me the beautiful, historical Art Deco buildings) at a very young age and, as a child you stacked every Matchbox car you had as high as you could to make a tower. You also knew everything about cars, even at two years old! You adored Henry Ford. It blew my mind. You also had a passion for history, especially the history of the United States of America. I used to joke with you that you were one of the founding fathers reincarnated. (Well, not completely joking ;)

As your mother, I know I sound biased, and of course I am, but you know I have never been the type of mother who patronizes her children - I hate being patronized so I would never do that to any of you. I have always been honest to a fault - I have expected a lot, especially from you because I knew you had it in you. I never let you slide - I never let you off the hook easily. No two people are alike and therefore, no two children are alike - so as a mother I mothered you each in a way unique to each one of your needs. I always felt you needed me to be a rock - an unwavering, strong force in your life . . . and a lighthouse to guide you in when you needed to wander off on your own and when you needed comfort.

Grandma was with me the day you entered this world. You were the strongest baby the doctors had ever seen. You flipped over the moment you were placed in the bassinet after birth - telling the world they could kiss your...! We all laughed. You have not changed much - your are still strong, determined and, yes, a bit arrogant at times! But you know that.

You are a born leader - and your blessing is your curse - be careful with your power and your gifts - here I go again, trying to guide you - the man! Whatever you decide to do in life, I will support your decision - I know you will invite me to Amsterdam to watch you create and mix music at your opening of a trendy club, or you will invite me to a dinner in the country for which you are the Ambassador or Minister of Foreign Affairs . . . or something to that tune or the other. Keep on with the doing . . .

I love you so much and I am so proud of you. I can't believe I am so blessed for you are my son, my Adam. Happy Birthday

Creating and mixing music for Luke's graduation party

Adam took me to a Tiger's game in May

Signing Alexia and Steve's wedding guest book

Out to dinner with Luke and family

Above, Adam mixing his unique blend of house and techno at 5th Avenue in Royal Oak

Sometimes life . . .

"Mom . . . Steve died"





The middle-of-the-night voice on the other end of the phone; my daughter.

I didn't quite understand.
"What? Steve who?"
"My Steve!"

Her Steve, Nathan's daddy, my son-in-law.

Steve died while sleeping in his brother's chair. The irony of it: his brother lives in their childhood home - the same house Steve and his twin brother, Robert were brought home from the hospital as newborns . . . and the very same house that his twin brother died of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) . . . in his sleep. Steve never let go of his connection with his twin brother. Their bond was mysteriously strong. I feel in my heart that Steve never felt deserving of life - a life he felt Robert was robbed of as an infant.

I will always remember Steve's kind and generous heart, his infectious smile, his love of music and cooking and animals (especially his dog Zeus who died some years before) and his love of sleep! Like Nathan said, "At least daddy is doing what he loved to do - sleep!" Though he so enjoyed spending time with his friends - and he had many - he also valued his moments of quietness, solitude and contemplation. I will miss his big, warm hugs, the way he said, "I love you, mom," and the loving dinners he cooked for me. I miss Steve.

I have so much I want to say, but the words just won't release themselves from the tight grip of my heart.

Steven Michael Smith died on June 9, 2007 . . . at the age of Christ; thirty-three.
This past Friday, August 10, 2007 would have been his thirty-fourth birthday.

Sometimes life . . . insert sentiments here

Happy Birthday, Luke

My Lessons as a Mother
To my firstborn, my daughter Alexia, I gave her the dreams I dreamed
To my second born, my son Adam, I gave him directions on how to dream
To my third born, my son Luke, I gave him a white canvas and a brush

My baby is eighteen today! I know he would cringe at the "baby" part of that . . . but, nevertheless, he is my youngest child of three . . . and eighteen years ago today, he came into this world with the courage and strength of the lion he is. He has been with me through a lot - the many major changes in my life - and he has taught me so much about life . . . acceptance, patience, kindness, honesty . . . He is very wise for his years. Happy Birthday, Luke. I love you!