This is my 60th Holiday Season. I'm still learning that the holidays are not about me. It's taken a long time, but I didn't realize it until 15 years ago. I spent a lot of holidays as an ingrate, always looking at what I thought I was missing. Funny how your thinking changes, once you're sober for a while.
Over the years, I've realized that I really do have much to be thankful for, and have started expressing my gratitude a lot more often. This Thanksgiving (2010), I will be spending some time with the some of the people I am grateful for the most. Not all, unfortunately, as my son's family will not be here, and I will miss them once again. Probably the biggest difference in my thinking is that, while I will miss them, their absense will not prevent me from enjoying the time with the rest of my family.
I am truly grateful for each member of my family, my children, my parents, my grandkids, and the conglomeration of "orphans" we have "adopted" along the way. That also goes out to my buddy, my "brother from another mother," and his folks. I could go on (and on, and on,) about people I am grateful to have crossed pathes with, so let me just say that if you've met me, I am thankful for the experience. I would like to convey my thanks, however, to some really special individuals, oddly enough, my wife, children, and grandkids.
To start, I am eternally grateful for my wife, my lover, and my friend, Mary. I'm sitting here, trying to think of where to begin, but words are failing me totally. How do you say thanks to someone who has been at my side, through all of the wonderful, and horrible, things that have happened in our time together? Mary promised to love me, and I know there were times she didn't like me, but her love has never been in question, not ever. For many years, now, I've told anyone who would listen that I married the nicest person I've ever met. I mean that with all my heart. But nobody wants to hear that.
At one command, I told horrible stories about her; intentionally leading people to think she was some kind of domineering ogress. When they met her, and found out what a wonderful person she is, we had some great conversations. Mary knew what I was up to, more than once she heard me say something like, "I would, but the old lady would wad me up in a ball, and kick me around the room." Or, "No, if I'm not home on time, she has the Shore Patrol out looking for me." After meeting her, many of my co-workers told me, "She's nothing like you said," or, "If that's how you actually see her, you're missing a lot." It was a great joke, and took a long time to set up. It was worth it, though.
Mary is the most honest person I know. She's the type that will take back any overage in change, and can't see how people could walk off with it. She's also the type who will answer any question honestly, so if you ask her a question, you have to take responsibility for the answer. Not that she's ever rude, or blunt; she's an expert at what I call "woman-code," or the way women convey non-verbal messages, and will show more than she actually says. It's all in behavior, and she's earned the respect of PhD's in Behavioral Science, because of her ability to deal with behavioral outbursts in developmentally disabled persons. I've learned some "woman-code" over the years, enough to detect levels of sarcasm that are too subtle for most men.
She is almost my total opposite. I'm right-handed, she's a south paw. I enjoy the heat of Summer, she enjoys the Wintery chill. I really like animated stuff; she could care less. One would think, with so many differences, we'd have divorced years ago. We almost did, once, it was all my fault. I had forgotten one of the most important things in our relationship, our ability to talk to each other in complete trust, and total honesty. We resolved it by using that ability. Instead of dividing us, our differences complete us.
Tyffany Christine (Martin) Wanberg, we've come a long way together. There is no way to measure the depths of my appreciation for you. You went through the dark times, and I am forever sorry for dragging you through all of that. It was a major learning time for all of us, but you have made the most of your experience. I see it in the way you are with Victor, and when you are conducting your foster parenting classes, there's genuine love and concern that is obvious to me, but still apparent to the Bug and your students. Thank you for being my first. You were a great kid, and I mean it.
Cory Steven Martin, I'm grateful that I didn't follow through on the numerous times I wanted to kill you, as you were growing up. I guess it's a "Father/Son" thing, as I know my dad often contemplated my demise. I could probably explain it (on cultural and philosophic terms), but it's more fun watching you go through the experience on your own. And guess what? It won't be too long before Gino asks to use your car. Oh, Dad Moment, I hope I'm there... I'm so proud of you, and, believe it or not, always backed you up. Even when... ah, whatever.
Jacklyn Denise Martin, I am grateful you have found a "place" in life. As a Dad, I worry about things, like my kids having gainful employment. I am grateful that you have such a generous employer, who knows a smart employee when he sees one. I'm grateful for Georgia, for putting up with you, and not strangling you in your sleep. I'm grateful that you have been blessed with an eye for "the arts," and particularly photography. I'm also grateful to know you'll have a say in which "home" I end up in, maybe it'll even have cable.
Peter Wanberg, and Angelica (Raza) Martin, I appreciate you, most of all. We're a strange and wonderful bunch, some of us are just strange, but most are pretty wonderful. To think of all of the families, out there, that you could have chosen to be a part of, you chose mine. Are you sure? Nobody threatened you or anything? Well, I'm darn proud to have you. You can see what I love about my kids, and your love for them is all I can ask. It ain't easy being part of this family, sometimes you really have to want it. It is not, I might add proudly, without its rewards.
Victor, my Bug. You have brought a good deal of joy to me. I've never been one to differentiate between things because of some prefix or another. Very soon, you will officially be my Adopted-Grandson, and the prefix will never be spoken by these lips. You will become my Grandson, the eldest of the new generation. My love for you is not dependent upon a piece of paper. It's reflected in your bright blue eyes.
Isa, my beautiful granddaughter, I am very grateful for you. I got the first news of you while I was burying my dad, and my sorrows were eased. Although you don't know me very well, I love you very much.
To everyone else, thank you for letting me ramble on.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Moments of Silliness
I have recently made contact with an old "shipmate" from the INDEPENDENCE, a guy I used to run around Norfolk with. His name is Fran Ankenbrand, but we just used to call him "Ank," for short. If I'm not mistaken, we met when I rented a "room" in an apartment in Portsmouth, VA. The "room" was actually a bed, in a room, but we managed to work things out. It was a townhouse, with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a huge living room, and a full kitchen. There were, at any given time, between four and seven people living in the apartment.
I had an Opel Cadet, station wagon, that ran well, and took us out to Virginia Beach, on days we could afford the toll roads. On one particular, very pleasant, very sunny day, Ank, one of the roommates, and I took off for the Beach. We started in a bar that was on the Boardwalk, if you don't count the drugs we had taken before we left, and had a couple of beers. We decided to walk down the Boardwalk, for a while, and either stopping at another bar, or going swimming. When we passed the last bar on the Boardwalk, we sat down on the wall (actually a high curb), to decide whether we were going to the bar, or swimming. The illegal substances we had ingested earlier were starting to "kick in," I guess, that's the only reason I can think of for what happened next.
In retrospect, I really feel sorry for the two elderly ladies, who walked, unwittingly, into one of the most insane things I've ever (to this day, in fact) seen a person do. Ank was, as I remember, a thin, wiry kind of guy, who at the time was sporting a Van Dyke, kind of whispy, but fully noticable, and neatly trimmed. I knew Ank was a little crazy, we did some pretty harmless things that could have killed us, but I never expected this.
He was standing on the inner wall, and hopped down, right in front of the two elderly women, and started to sing the "Lolipop Guild" bit from the Wizard of Oz. He started doing the little dance, as he sang:
"Weee represent the Lolipop Guild,
The Lolipop Guild,
The Lolipop Guild.
An in behalf of the Lolipop Guild,
We present you with this lol-li-pop.
Here!"
At which time he stuck out an empty fist, austensibly holding the lolipop. I thought, although the whole thing lasted maybe two seconds, that the women were about to have heart attacks, or something, but they quickly squirted around Ank, and took off as fast as they could.
I had an Opel Cadet, station wagon, that ran well, and took us out to Virginia Beach, on days we could afford the toll roads. On one particular, very pleasant, very sunny day, Ank, one of the roommates, and I took off for the Beach. We started in a bar that was on the Boardwalk, if you don't count the drugs we had taken before we left, and had a couple of beers. We decided to walk down the Boardwalk, for a while, and either stopping at another bar, or going swimming. When we passed the last bar on the Boardwalk, we sat down on the wall (actually a high curb), to decide whether we were going to the bar, or swimming. The illegal substances we had ingested earlier were starting to "kick in," I guess, that's the only reason I can think of for what happened next.
In retrospect, I really feel sorry for the two elderly ladies, who walked, unwittingly, into one of the most insane things I've ever (to this day, in fact) seen a person do. Ank was, as I remember, a thin, wiry kind of guy, who at the time was sporting a Van Dyke, kind of whispy, but fully noticable, and neatly trimmed. I knew Ank was a little crazy, we did some pretty harmless things that could have killed us, but I never expected this.
He was standing on the inner wall, and hopped down, right in front of the two elderly women, and started to sing the "Lolipop Guild" bit from the Wizard of Oz. He started doing the little dance, as he sang:
"Weee represent the Lolipop Guild,
The Lolipop Guild,
The Lolipop Guild.
An in behalf of the Lolipop Guild,
We present you with this lol-li-pop.
Here!"
At which time he stuck out an empty fist, austensibly holding the lolipop. I thought, although the whole thing lasted maybe two seconds, that the women were about to have heart attacks, or something, but they quickly squirted around Ank, and took off as fast as they could.
Now, remember, I'm watching this as I am collapsing on the Boardwalk, in gales of laughter from the "Weee..." It was instant recognition of what he was doing, coupled with the total outrageousness, and that it was thought up and executed in seconds, I laughed until it began to hurt. And the look on Ank's face as he did it; he somehow made himself look Munchkin-ish, it was hilarious.
There were other, weirdly fun things done in that apartment, from the all-night Dealer McDope games, to flash-gun tag, and chasing a stoned hamster who probably had too much LSD. We were sailors. We were on an extended overhaul, and in our Homeport for a year. We were trying to have fun, and generally succeeded.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Died, and Gone to "Guitar Heaven"
The first time I ever saw Carlos Santana play was in an audition for the Fillmore West, on a Sunday afternoon, while watching the "Bill Graham All-Stars" play pick-up basketball in the Carousell Ball room. Bill would listen while he played, and stop only long enough to signal an staffer to either get more info on the band, or to get them off the stage. Some of the bands were pretty good, some were pretty awful, but Bill would play, and listen to the music, giving bands a chance to play one song, at least.
Santana began their with the now-classic song "Jingo," the combination of percussion instruments setting down a very Latinesque beat. Greg Rollie was on the organ, and laid out a melody, but the guitar playing of Carlos brought Bill Graham to a halt, mid-dribble. He stopped, holding the ball under his arm (apparently a signal for "time out"), and listened to something new, Rock with a Latin rhythm. I thought it was pretty cool, and, apparently, so did Bill Graham. I never saw the signal, but I did see one of the staffers sprinting for the offices. Bill gave them a second song, and I think it was "Oy Ye Como Va," but I wouldnt bet on it.
I didn't know it, at the time, but I had wittnessed the launch of a great career. Carlos Santana would go on to produce great music for almost six decades, now, and continue to play guitar, becomming one of Rock's most identifiable icons. One doesn't watch Santana play without noticing how much Carlos puts into his performances, and how deftly he elicits sound from an electric guitar.
Needless to say, when I first heard about Guitar Heaven I was pretty excited. Without hearing a note, the concept of the CD seemed very interesting to this long-time fan. Subtitled The Greatest Guitar Classics of All Time, the concept was for Carlos to "cover" such Rock classics as "Whole Lot of Love," "Back In Black," "Riders on the Storm," among the twelve songs selected for the CD. That much I heard in the pre-release bulletins. It was to be Rock and Roll, served Carlos Santana-style. I bought it.
The cover is Carlos, guitar in hand, his head back, his back arched, and you can almost hear the wail of the note. Surprises are in store, when you turn the CD over, and see the list of Featured Performers, including Chris Daughtry, Jonny Lang, Joe Cocker, India.Arie, and Yo Yo Ma. Sure, the playlist is impressive, but a great deal of talent went into the making of Guitar Heaven. The music is great.
Personally, I believe that the "jewel" of the CD is the Mark Serletic/Carlos Santana arrangement of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," featuring Yo Yo Ma on cello, and the vocals of India.Arie. Backed by the Santana band, with fresh guitar riffs by Carlos himself, the song pays homage to the originals, while getting a breath of new life from Mr. Ma and the ladies. Certainly the biggest surprize was the Serletic/Santana arrangement of "Back In Black," which takes the AC/DC standards in a new direction as a Rap Song. OK, I see the AC/DC diehards beginning to bristle, but let me put it this way: it works. In fact, if more Rap artists performed with real, honest-to-Betsy musicians, instead of "beats" created by scratching records, or however, I might even learn to like it. Then again, there's all the profanity in Rap, so maybe not.
I believe that Guitar Heaven is an instant classic, in and of itself. It is some of Rocks greatest songs, and the guitar work is vintage Carlos. Young people will find some old songs, made fresh by one of the Master's of Guitar. Definitely a candidate for Album of the Year.
Santana began their with the now-classic song "Jingo," the combination of percussion instruments setting down a very Latinesque beat. Greg Rollie was on the organ, and laid out a melody, but the guitar playing of Carlos brought Bill Graham to a halt, mid-dribble. He stopped, holding the ball under his arm (apparently a signal for "time out"), and listened to something new, Rock with a Latin rhythm. I thought it was pretty cool, and, apparently, so did Bill Graham. I never saw the signal, but I did see one of the staffers sprinting for the offices. Bill gave them a second song, and I think it was "Oy Ye Como Va," but I wouldnt bet on it.
I didn't know it, at the time, but I had wittnessed the launch of a great career. Carlos Santana would go on to produce great music for almost six decades, now, and continue to play guitar, becomming one of Rock's most identifiable icons. One doesn't watch Santana play without noticing how much Carlos puts into his performances, and how deftly he elicits sound from an electric guitar.
Needless to say, when I first heard about Guitar Heaven I was pretty excited. Without hearing a note, the concept of the CD seemed very interesting to this long-time fan. Subtitled The Greatest Guitar Classics of All Time, the concept was for Carlos to "cover" such Rock classics as "Whole Lot of Love," "Back In Black," "Riders on the Storm," among the twelve songs selected for the CD. That much I heard in the pre-release bulletins. It was to be Rock and Roll, served Carlos Santana-style. I bought it.
The cover is Carlos, guitar in hand, his head back, his back arched, and you can almost hear the wail of the note. Surprises are in store, when you turn the CD over, and see the list of Featured Performers, including Chris Daughtry, Jonny Lang, Joe Cocker, India.Arie, and Yo Yo Ma. Sure, the playlist is impressive, but a great deal of talent went into the making of Guitar Heaven. The music is great.
Personally, I believe that the "jewel" of the CD is the Mark Serletic/Carlos Santana arrangement of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," featuring Yo Yo Ma on cello, and the vocals of India.Arie. Backed by the Santana band, with fresh guitar riffs by Carlos himself, the song pays homage to the originals, while getting a breath of new life from Mr. Ma and the ladies. Certainly the biggest surprize was the Serletic/Santana arrangement of "Back In Black," which takes the AC/DC standards in a new direction as a Rap Song. OK, I see the AC/DC diehards beginning to bristle, but let me put it this way: it works. In fact, if more Rap artists performed with real, honest-to-Betsy musicians, instead of "beats" created by scratching records, or however, I might even learn to like it. Then again, there's all the profanity in Rap, so maybe not.
I believe that Guitar Heaven is an instant classic, in and of itself. It is some of Rocks greatest songs, and the guitar work is vintage Carlos. Young people will find some old songs, made fresh by one of the Master's of Guitar. Definitely a candidate for Album of the Year.
Friday, November 5, 2010
My Daughter, Jackly Denise Martin
Jacklyn, who prefers to be called "Jacki" (and I'll honor that), is the last of my children, so it's only right to start off with her. She will be 27 in January, yet it seems like only a few months ago I was changing her diapers (sorry, Jacki).
I remeber everything about the day she was born, January 17, 1984. I was, at the time, the Leading Petty Officer for the ADP Division. It was five months before I was sent to the Navy Alcohol Rehabilitation Facility, so I was still drinking. Mom and Dad were in town, to help out after the "new" baby, so I wasn't particularly worried about Mary. Mom and Dad could handle getting her to the hospital, if need be, so I was following my usual routine. For some reason, I hadn't had a drink, either at lunch, or after I got to the bowling alley for league night. I had a locker in a different bowl, and had my ball, but had left my shoes. No prob, I'd rent a pair, and was in the process of doing just that when I caught part of a phone conversation.
The Counterman at the bowl was doing a great job of multi-tasking (something the job really requires), and was answering the phone as he got my shoes. What I heard was, "Which one?" I knew right away, that the call was for me, because there was another Steve Martin in a different league. I told the Counterman, "It's for me," knowing it was probably about Mary going into labor.
I took the phone, and it was my mom. "Steven, your wife has gone into labor, and we're going to take her to Balboa." I pushed the shoes back, ran to my lane assignment, packed my bag, and was out the door.
I was riding a Suzuki GS-900, so it took a minute to get the bag strapped on, and my helmet and gloves on. I was off the lot, pretty quickly, and managed to get through the fairly light traffic in good time. Good enough, that I beat my mom and Mary by a couple of minutes, so I was on the floor when they came up on the elevator. This being the fourth time, I'd had my share of near-delivery experience, but when the elevator doors opened, I still wasn't prepared for what I saw.
Mom was holding Mary up; Mary was doubled over, groaning loudly. When she saw me, she said, "I have to lay down, now." I turned around, looking for someone to help, and saw a nurse on the phone in the "prep" room. She was a LTjg, and was talking on the phone. I admit, it was rude of me to try and interrupt her phone call, but she waved me off with a "Don't bother me" gesture that pissed me off.
I slammed the cradle down, and shouted, "Phone call's over. There's a woman coming out of the elevator who needs to lie down NOW!" The JayGee blinked a couple of times, and was about to ask who I thought I was, when she looked towards the elevator, and saw my mom and wife. "Oh! I didn't... I'll get her a spot right now."
At the moment, an Ensign was lying on the Prep Room table, resting comfortably. The nurse chased her out of the room, and quickly reset the table; the Ensign glared at me on her way out.
It took only a couple of minutes, and Mary was lying down, and obviously in deep labor. I headed for the waiting room with my mom, to get out of the way. The Prep Room quickly became a beehive of activity, and I figured they would look for me in the waiting room, if they needed me. I didn't see it, but Mary didn't spend much time in Prep, she was wheeled into Delivery within five minutes.
When Mom and I entered the waiting room, the Ensign -- now sitting with her Ensign husband -- continued to glare at me, and whisper things to her husband, who also glared at me. I was about to say "Hey, it's an emergency," when the nurse came in, and said, "If you want to be there for the delivery, you better get into scrubs, and get over there."
The glares softened a bit, and I dashed off to change. In something like a minute and a half, I was in the Delivery Room. Mary was in serious labor, I could tell, and the doc informed me that due to circumstances, there wasn't time to give her any pain medication. "This one is going to be au natural."
From my previous experiences with childbirth, I knew it was my job to help her focus on something, and to fight the pain through controlled breathing. We started "puffing," and the usual La Maz stuff, and she laid her head back on the pillow. She was beaded in sweat, and not trying to mask the pain, "There isn't time for this," she said, "this baby is coming now!"
"She ain't lyin'." The doc had a panicked look on his face for a second. "I see the top of the head now."
Seconds later, the doc took a step back, holding my daughter in his hands. She was already crying, and the doc observed, "This one's in a hurry to get living. A real 'zest for life'". He didn't know it, but he had spoken quite prophetically.
To say that Jacki has a zest for life is like calling the Grand Canyon a divot. As a child, she was fearless, rushing headlong into life. She would walk up to strangers and say, "My name is 'Jackwyn.'" It was easy to tell when she was determined to do something; she'd stand up, and set off on a quick pace, her left arm held out in front of her, as if to barge through any oposition.
Once, on a field trip with her 5/6 grade class, Jacki was on of the first kids to brave the cold creekwater, and get wet. When we got to the end of the trail, there was a rock, maybe 20 - 25 ft above the creek, that was used for jumping into a deep pool. Jacki was one of, if not the first to brave the jump. When I saw what she was doing, I had that moment of "parental horror," but she was determined to do it.
When she came up after, she ran to me, "Dad, you really have to try it!" I had just gotten my breathing under control, after she came up out of the water, screaming, and said something like, "Nah, not today."
She grabbed my arms, facing me, and looking me in the eye. "No. Dad, you REALLY need to try it!" It was the look of determination in her eyes. I mean, really, who am I? I'm just her dad, and would have done just about anything for her. I relented.
Standing at the top of the rock, I noticed that all of the other adults were dry, so I would be the first "big person" to take the plunge. I've never been one for heights -- at least without a railing -- so looking down was pretty upsetting, and I had a few "second thoughts". The teacher, a woman who was at least 10 years older than me, saw me struggling, and said, "I'll go." I decided that being the first adult would be "cool" to the kids, and said, "Nah, I got it," and jumped.
Somewhere on the way down, I wondered how I was going to hit the water, and the thought of "can opener" went through my head. I extended my left leg, hooked my right foot under my left knee, gripped my hands together around my right knee, and reclined my upper body. I knew it was a near-perfect "splash dive," by the "BOOM" of the water rushing in to fill the void as I cut into the water, and took a second underwater to enjoy it. I came up 20 yards down stream, and looked back at the teacher, who had moved to the jump point, and sporting the success of my "can opener". When I climbed up out of the creek, Jacki ran to me, a look of sheer pride and joy on her face, "Dad, that was so cool. The water came up way above the rock. How did you do that?" I had made my daughter happy, it just doesn't get any better than that.
You see, I kind of owe it to both of "my girls," for the many, many times they've made me happy. For those crappy days at work, coming home to my girls running to meet me, and greet me with hugs, what crappy day at work? Particularly to my little "Care Bear," who has always seemed to love me, even when I was acting like a jerk.
She has always cared enough to ask me what was bothering me, and even though I haven't always been honest with her, I know that I can talk to her. I think we bonded differently than I did with Tyff and Cory. Maybe it's the fact that we were both "babies" in the family hyerarchy. Everyone thinks we're spoiled, we both know the flaws in that line of thought.
Today, that zest for life has led her to do something she has always wanted to do, work around lots of animals. It is very apparent in her "hobby," photography. Her portraits seem practically alive, her landscapes have energy, and candid shots capture more than just the look of the moment. Her ability to think logically (she gets that from me), and problem solving abilities (which she also gets from me), has garnered her a reputation as a "subject matter expert" with regards to computers, and she applies these skills as a bookkeeper at Animal Care Center here in Vacaville.
I am very proud of my daughter, Jacki.
I remeber everything about the day she was born, January 17, 1984. I was, at the time, the Leading Petty Officer for the ADP Division. It was five months before I was sent to the Navy Alcohol Rehabilitation Facility, so I was still drinking. Mom and Dad were in town, to help out after the "new" baby, so I wasn't particularly worried about Mary. Mom and Dad could handle getting her to the hospital, if need be, so I was following my usual routine. For some reason, I hadn't had a drink, either at lunch, or after I got to the bowling alley for league night. I had a locker in a different bowl, and had my ball, but had left my shoes. No prob, I'd rent a pair, and was in the process of doing just that when I caught part of a phone conversation.
The Counterman at the bowl was doing a great job of multi-tasking (something the job really requires), and was answering the phone as he got my shoes. What I heard was, "Which one?" I knew right away, that the call was for me, because there was another Steve Martin in a different league. I told the Counterman, "It's for me," knowing it was probably about Mary going into labor.
I took the phone, and it was my mom. "Steven, your wife has gone into labor, and we're going to take her to Balboa." I pushed the shoes back, ran to my lane assignment, packed my bag, and was out the door.
I was riding a Suzuki GS-900, so it took a minute to get the bag strapped on, and my helmet and gloves on. I was off the lot, pretty quickly, and managed to get through the fairly light traffic in good time. Good enough, that I beat my mom and Mary by a couple of minutes, so I was on the floor when they came up on the elevator. This being the fourth time, I'd had my share of near-delivery experience, but when the elevator doors opened, I still wasn't prepared for what I saw.
Mom was holding Mary up; Mary was doubled over, groaning loudly. When she saw me, she said, "I have to lay down, now." I turned around, looking for someone to help, and saw a nurse on the phone in the "prep" room. She was a LTjg, and was talking on the phone. I admit, it was rude of me to try and interrupt her phone call, but she waved me off with a "Don't bother me" gesture that pissed me off.
I slammed the cradle down, and shouted, "Phone call's over. There's a woman coming out of the elevator who needs to lie down NOW!" The JayGee blinked a couple of times, and was about to ask who I thought I was, when she looked towards the elevator, and saw my mom and wife. "Oh! I didn't... I'll get her a spot right now."
At the moment, an Ensign was lying on the Prep Room table, resting comfortably. The nurse chased her out of the room, and quickly reset the table; the Ensign glared at me on her way out.
It took only a couple of minutes, and Mary was lying down, and obviously in deep labor. I headed for the waiting room with my mom, to get out of the way. The Prep Room quickly became a beehive of activity, and I figured they would look for me in the waiting room, if they needed me. I didn't see it, but Mary didn't spend much time in Prep, she was wheeled into Delivery within five minutes.
When Mom and I entered the waiting room, the Ensign -- now sitting with her Ensign husband -- continued to glare at me, and whisper things to her husband, who also glared at me. I was about to say "Hey, it's an emergency," when the nurse came in, and said, "If you want to be there for the delivery, you better get into scrubs, and get over there."
The glares softened a bit, and I dashed off to change. In something like a minute and a half, I was in the Delivery Room. Mary was in serious labor, I could tell, and the doc informed me that due to circumstances, there wasn't time to give her any pain medication. "This one is going to be au natural."
From my previous experiences with childbirth, I knew it was my job to help her focus on something, and to fight the pain through controlled breathing. We started "puffing," and the usual La Maz stuff, and she laid her head back on the pillow. She was beaded in sweat, and not trying to mask the pain, "There isn't time for this," she said, "this baby is coming now!"
"She ain't lyin'." The doc had a panicked look on his face for a second. "I see the top of the head now."
Seconds later, the doc took a step back, holding my daughter in his hands. She was already crying, and the doc observed, "This one's in a hurry to get living. A real 'zest for life'". He didn't know it, but he had spoken quite prophetically.
To say that Jacki has a zest for life is like calling the Grand Canyon a divot. As a child, she was fearless, rushing headlong into life. She would walk up to strangers and say, "My name is 'Jackwyn.'" It was easy to tell when she was determined to do something; she'd stand up, and set off on a quick pace, her left arm held out in front of her, as if to barge through any oposition.
Once, on a field trip with her 5/6 grade class, Jacki was on of the first kids to brave the cold creekwater, and get wet. When we got to the end of the trail, there was a rock, maybe 20 - 25 ft above the creek, that was used for jumping into a deep pool. Jacki was one of, if not the first to brave the jump. When I saw what she was doing, I had that moment of "parental horror," but she was determined to do it.
When she came up after, she ran to me, "Dad, you really have to try it!" I had just gotten my breathing under control, after she came up out of the water, screaming, and said something like, "Nah, not today."
She grabbed my arms, facing me, and looking me in the eye. "No. Dad, you REALLY need to try it!" It was the look of determination in her eyes. I mean, really, who am I? I'm just her dad, and would have done just about anything for her. I relented.
Standing at the top of the rock, I noticed that all of the other adults were dry, so I would be the first "big person" to take the plunge. I've never been one for heights -- at least without a railing -- so looking down was pretty upsetting, and I had a few "second thoughts". The teacher, a woman who was at least 10 years older than me, saw me struggling, and said, "I'll go." I decided that being the first adult would be "cool" to the kids, and said, "Nah, I got it," and jumped.
Somewhere on the way down, I wondered how I was going to hit the water, and the thought of "can opener" went through my head. I extended my left leg, hooked my right foot under my left knee, gripped my hands together around my right knee, and reclined my upper body. I knew it was a near-perfect "splash dive," by the "BOOM" of the water rushing in to fill the void as I cut into the water, and took a second underwater to enjoy it. I came up 20 yards down stream, and looked back at the teacher, who had moved to the jump point, and sporting the success of my "can opener". When I climbed up out of the creek, Jacki ran to me, a look of sheer pride and joy on her face, "Dad, that was so cool. The water came up way above the rock. How did you do that?" I had made my daughter happy, it just doesn't get any better than that.
You see, I kind of owe it to both of "my girls," for the many, many times they've made me happy. For those crappy days at work, coming home to my girls running to meet me, and greet me with hugs, what crappy day at work? Particularly to my little "Care Bear," who has always seemed to love me, even when I was acting like a jerk.
She has always cared enough to ask me what was bothering me, and even though I haven't always been honest with her, I know that I can talk to her. I think we bonded differently than I did with Tyff and Cory. Maybe it's the fact that we were both "babies" in the family hyerarchy. Everyone thinks we're spoiled, we both know the flaws in that line of thought.
Today, that zest for life has led her to do something she has always wanted to do, work around lots of animals. It is very apparent in her "hobby," photography. Her portraits seem practically alive, her landscapes have energy, and candid shots capture more than just the look of the moment. Her ability to think logically (she gets that from me), and problem solving abilities (which she also gets from me), has garnered her a reputation as a "subject matter expert" with regards to computers, and she applies these skills as a bookkeeper at Animal Care Center here in Vacaville.
I am very proud of my daughter, Jacki.
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