The Back Yard Olympics

The girls and the little one have gone to bed. The Most Recent Greatest Moment of My Life occurred at 3:06 pm this afternoon, when I got to rock my 10-week-old grandson Ethan Joseph Applegate to sleep for the first time. He was born on
March 24, nine lbs. and 20 inches long. I've come to see him once before but this is the first time I held Ethan. When I came out the first time he was just 10 days old and I was afraid I would break him.

He is the sweetest kind of baby, one who rarely cries except when he wants to nurse, who loves to be held and burrows into your shoulder with a tender sigh he repeats softly till he falls to sleep. I sang him the songs I used to sing to his mother and his sister when they were babies, "Sweet Baby James", "The Pony Man", "The Little Skunk Song" and "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." I also hummed two choruses of the Duck fight song. His mother is an avid Beaver fan, but she and Kourtney were shopping on Ebay for wedding and baby scrap book papers and did not notice. At his two-month checkup EJ had already grown to 12 lbs and 25 inches; I'm thinking outside linebacker or strong safety. His room is decorated in rocket ships. His father Thomas says he'll be a firefighter or an astronaut, and sometimes they call him "our little fire-naut."

It is good to have high hopes for a child. It is one of the reasons Marie and I always compliment the babies we see at a restaurant or a store. The positive attention of the village enobles the family and gives them a special place, bread for their journey. I often say, "Enjoy the next 22 years. They are going to be a lot of fun." It's lovely to see a smile of increased pride on the young parents' faces; all of us are encouraged to have our children praised. Peak down at the baby carriers and strollers you see. Ring out your praise for these tiny miracles like music, for they are the pride of our village, and the hope.

In our little family there is a touch of sadness. Though it is Father's Day weekend Army Sergeant Thomas Applegate is away on duty. He's in New England on a security detail at the home of Vice President Dick Cheney. He called several times to check on his lonesome wife and new son; he and his partner were released from their assignment this afternoon and they took a road trip through Delaware and Pennsylvania. He told my daughter Stephanie, "We stopped a this little store to buy a soda, and when we went inside all the food was in locked cases and the clerk was behind bulletproof glass. I think we were in the wrong part of Philadelphia."

I think of other military families and realize we are blessed. Thomas is flying in from Maryland tomorrow and he'll be home Sunday night at nine. I'll miss seeing him and sharing a beer and cigar on the deck when the girls have gone to bed, but there are thousands of wives right now who ache for husbands that are half a world away in terrible uncertainty. Imagine how they feel this Father's Day, with no more comfort than a crackly five-minute call, gripping the phone like letting go would make them drown. Unless there is a change of political fortune Tom will be deployed to Iraq in October of next year. He's committed: "The public only sees the media version; we make progress every day and what we're doing is right." When I talk to him I admire his confidence and his devotion to his job, but I'm no master of geopolitics: I only want that all those young fathers and mothers are able to come home as soon as possible and hug their babies with both arms. I believe you should thank every serviceman you see. It is another duty of the global village. To them I often say, "thank you for your service to the country" and I mean it. It has nothing whatsoever to do with red states and blue states or the signs that you might set out on your front lawn. Their work serves us all at a great price to themselves, politics discarded. In general I don't have a lot of faith in politics--I think all the most significant changes are fueled by ordinary people doing ordinary things with an extraordinary attitude. Politics never changed a diaper. It never nursed a child, or read or sung to one.

Naturally, young Ethan gets lots of visitors. In our little world he is the star attraction and the blockbuster of the summer. Tom's parents have driven west from Montana twice; Tom's military buddies stop by regularly. I got to town around nine this morning, arriving just as Stephanie's mother Kathy and Grandma Beverley and Aunt Ali were heading out, and Stephanie wanted for all of us to go to breakfast. We went to the Waffles Cafe on First Street in Yakima. Like in many small-town best places the food was plentiful and heavenly and served with a smile.

I enjoyed visiting with Kathy and her mother, wonderful after many years and miles to come to a place where we could sit and be a family and old friends, catching up on nephew Robert and Jerry's new bar. Beverly is a delightful woman, full of energy and good humor, the kind of person who picks up friends in remarkable places and enriches herself with years of humor and shared stories. When Robert's brother Joey died of lukemia at 14 she befriended the nurse who treated them and they regularly visit even now. Just today she was on her way to Joseph to visit the accountant she's used since Kathy and I were dating; he's dying of lukemia also, they've been friends for more than 30 years.

That quality of friendship is an art, and reflects Beverly's marvelous ability to enjoy and value people, something wonderful to see and be a part of. She and Jerry have a house in the country outside Castle Rock, along the Toutle River, where the old rascal Jerry can enjoy the view of cougars and bears and the pretty girls inner tubing downriver in the summer. They are refreshing and dear people, as genuine as the day is long. She invited me to come out for barbequed steaks. I suggested this Thursday, hoping to bring Doug and a bottle of Three Rivers Merlot. Norman Mclean wrote in A River Runs Through It, "I am surrounded by waters." I am deeply blessed to be surrounded by so many congenial and warm-hearted people. It is the compensation we get for growing old, if we have the wisdom to accept it.

I've learned that love doesn't divide; it only multiplies. Kathy has long since remarried to a terrific man, Mike Doty, outgoing and stable and good-humored like her father, and they seem far more suited to each other than we ever were. I was so young then, and so unprepared for the responsibilities of family and adulthood, and botched it thoroughly. We had Stephanie right away, I was working as a manager of a fast food restaurant; a long way from the life I'd dreamed of and the writer I longed to be. Kathy remarked today that she was glad I was writing again. It was good to sit down to a meal and be free to enjoy the things we have in common, a love of good company and Ethan Joseph and Kourtney Rose. It made a fine beginning to The Most Recent Greatest Day of My Life. These are the greatest days: at the gym a few days ago I was talking to an old man and he said "I'm happy just to be above ground." I think that's a good start for anyone, and worth far more than we often allow.

If you are a friend of the blog you know I love small towns, and I see a hope in them I believe the rest of America has misplaced. After the breakfast Kourtney and I went to a garage sale on the main street of Selah just down from the Red Apple market. We bought a bag of books for $3, and she picked out a cloth one for Ethan and then a bright satin Chinese puppet. We stopped into a little coffee shop called Java Jitters for a raspberry smoothie with a generous mound of whipped cream. We're on vacation and I'm Grandpa Golf--the calories don't count. The owner, Lori, was at the counter and knew Kourtney by name; she and Lori's daughter play sports and go to dance class together. The question of the day was (good for a dollar off on the drink of your choice) "how many "ones" are there on a dollar bill? Be sure to count both the numerals and the written "one"(s), front and back." The answer will appear in tomorrow's blog, and dozens of other answers will be sought. And tomorrow I will tell you about The Back Yard Olympics, because I need to sleep. Unfortunately my daughter forgot to leave out a blanket and a pillow. God bless her, for Ethan still nurses every three hours and she was just bone tired by ten, when she and Kourtney finished hand painting the coffee cups they'd decorated for Thomas for Father's Day. (Thomas, this information is classified, and if you read this before Sunday I'll have to kill you.) "World's Greatest Dad" they said, and all this time I thought that was me. I'm not bothered: love doesn't divide; it only multiplies. I checked in the hallway closet and found a nice sleeping bag. Thanks for coming today and good night.