MetroDad

Dear Andy

Dear Andy,

It's been six long years since your life was tragically cut short.  Sometimes it seems the nightmare of 9/11 was just yesterday.  Other times, it feels like a million lifetimes ago.  I know I say that to you every year but, for some reason, the passing of time is hitting me harder this year. 

I think it's because when I look in the mirror these days, I see a man in his late 30's with a wonderful wife and a lovely daughter.  I see a man who has a serious job, a serious apartment, and a seriously large mortgage.  And while these truly are the happiest days of my life, the job of life itself is much more serious now.

Yet, in my memory, you'll always be that beautiful, carefree, fun-loving, 30-year-old young man.  The one who called all of us every morning to see what we were doing that night. The one whose voice could cheer me up whenever I was feeling down.  The one who loved life more passionately than most anyone I've ever known. 

Maybe the passing of time has helped heal some of the wounds of losing you at such a young age. Now, when I'm walking down the street and something reminds me of you, I can actually smile about it.  Or I'll call Kyle up so we can laugh about it together.  I guess that's progress.  Ever since you passed away, whenever something reminded me of you, my eyes would well up with tears and my heart would get a little heavier.

I still miss you terribly, Andy, and I think about you all the time.  Every year, I hope and pray that the pain of losing you lessens to some degree. I'm not sure whether that's true or not.  All I know is that the pain never completely goes away.  Life, for all of us, just isn't the same without you. 

As for our crew of friends (whom you always lovingly referred to as "la famiglia"), life has taken all of us on different paths. As a group, we don't see each other nearly as much as we should.   Maybe it's because we're all getting older and are busy with our own lives. But really, I think it's because you were always the glue that held us all together.

Most of the time, the only times we're ALL together is when a new child is born or it's someone's birthday. And although, during those occasions, we're often surrounded by other people, we always take a quiet moment to separate ourselves from the pack to honor your memory and grieve over how much we miss you.  More than once, people have looked strangely at this group of 4-5 men hugging in a corner with tears in their eyes, raising a glass in your honor. You'll always be with us, Andy.

Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.  How could I ever forget all the great memories I have of you, Andy?  It's impossible. I'll remember them as long as I live. 

A wise man once told me that the best parts of a person's life consists of his friends and the memories that you forge together during a lifetime.  That wise man was you, Andy.  How prescient you were. 

I miss you terribly, my friend.  Every year on 9/11, I swear that I'm not going to cry, mourn or bury myself in a bottle of scotch.  Unfortunately, ever year, I end up failing miserably.  But this year, I think I'm finally ready to mourn you by celebrating the amazing love you had for life.  I know that's what you would have wanted. 

And more than anything, I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you. I always have and I always will.

Rest in peace, Andy.

Love always,
Your friend Pierre

Back In The Big Apple

BossLady and I had a fantastic time in the Pacific Northwest. What's not to like?  Clean air, beautiful scenery, and fantastic food.  Unfortunately, the weather is about as stable as Lindsay Lohan on a 3-day bender.  So while we did get plenty of sun, the temperature never cracked 70 and it rained practically every single day.

But really, Seattle and Orcas Island were fantastic. BossLady and I can't get over how nice everyone was.  So many people went above and beyond the call of duty to help us out, it was amazing.  Special props to my new friend Noel, the sommelier at Wild Ginger, who, after a brief conversation with me, not only went back to his office for an hour and typed out a personalized list of amazing wines he thought I would enjoy but also gave me instructions on which wine store I could find each one of them AND provided detailed driving directions from my hotel.  That shit would NEVER happen in New York!

Anyway, in exchange for your incredible kindness and warm hospitality, I now offer all of you Pacific Northwesterners my unexpurgated professional fashion advice:

(1) There's a reason that nobody designs polar fleece tuxedos or evening dresses.  As comforting as polar fleece may be, it really isn't appropriate attire for weddings or more formal gatherings. For that matter, neither are Crocs (in fact, there's really never an appropriate time to wear Crocs!)

(2) The only time a man should EVER wear a green blazer is when he has just won the Masters at Augusta.

(3) Unless you actually ARE a Hare Krishna, there's absolutely no need to dress like one.  (Apologies to the gentleman in whose coffee cup I dropped a few quarters. My bad, dude! I thought I was just being generous.)

(4) Personally, I use deodorant and wear a little cologne. You want to be different and use patchouli as a fragrance?  Cool. Be my guest. Just remember that the stuff should be used sparingly, like saffron in a fucking paella.

(5) If you're going to get a tattoo, go to a professional.  What's up with all the bad tattoos, Seattle?  Some of them were like stick-figure cartoons.  I thought maybe some pre-schoolers had opened up their own ink studio.   

(6) Corduroy should never be worn between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

(7) Men in kilts?  Wrong on so many levels.  Especially if you're not Scottish and you live in a city that has rain 360 days out of the year.  Clearly, any man who wears a kilt is beyond listening to my fashion advice.  You go, girl!

Now, I'm not saying I'm the arbiter of good taste.  However, I do work in fashion and although it's hard to believe, people actually do pay me good money for my opinions.  So let's just consider this a freebie for all your kindhearted generosity. 

Rock on, Washingtonians!

In other news...I have to say that one of the best parts of the trip was coming home to the Peanut.  BossLady and I missed her terribly while we were gone.  The hugs and kisses that we got from her upon our return almost made up for all of it.  I've had a lot of great experiences in my life but there seriously might not be a better one than having your little daughter run up to you with a huge smile on her face, jump into your arms, plant a big fat kiss on your cheek, and scream, "I love you sooo much, daddy!  I missed you!"

Speaking of fatherhood...BossLady and I attended a wedding Saturday on Orcas Island.  It was an incredibly heartfelt wedding with one of the most diverse groups of people I've ever seen congregated in one location.  I actually didn't know anyone at the wedding except for the bride.  However, on more than one occasion, I found myself completely engrossed in a totally substantive and incredibly cool conversation with several men. 

The topic?  Fatherhood.

Now, I've always believed that this generation of fathers is vastly different from previous ones.  Many of us today are more involved as parents.  We don't see parenting as a "job" or a "woman's responsibility."  We make sacrifices and juggle our lives in ways that I don't think older fathers ever did before.  And most importantly, we're more open with our emotions and we're not averse to discussing the deeply profound impact that fatherhood has had on us. 

At the wedding, I had some amazing conversations about fatherhood with men whom I had just met.  One told me about the enormous sacrifices he made to ensure that his children lived near their grandparents.  Another shared the devastating story of his wife having to terminate a pregnancy because of a rare disease that would have killed their child only days after his birth.  One man told me how he loved experiencing the beauty of the Pacific Northwest alone with his wife but that they felt something was incomplete because their kids weren't there to share the experience with them.  And the father of a four-month-old beamed about how having a child was the single greatest moment of his life. 

This fraternal bond amongst today's fathers is an amazing thing. I've become good friends online with so many of you who, on the surface, couldn't be more different than me but who share my feelings about being a father.  And more than anything else, that has proven to be the most important bond that you and I could ever share. 

Personally, I love being a father. It's become a major part of who I am as a person.  And though I may come across as a sap at times, the one thing I've come to realize about parenthood is that the only opinions in the universe that count belong to my wife and my daughter.  It's the reason I put underwear on my head to make my daughter laugh.  It's the reason I'll skip down West Broadway holding hands with her while singing cheesy show tunes.  And it's the reason my heart breaks whenever I see my daughter suffer.

So to all my fellow dads out there, happy belated father's day!  You truly are my brothers-in-arms and I couldn't be happier to know all of you. 

Friends, Giant Lobsters, & a Jive-Talking Peanut

One of my best friends, James, is not only a fellow foodie but also a very well-known restaurateur here in Manhattan.  We've been friends since the 7th grade and there's a good chance that our friendship was forged in the cafeteria discussing the culinary origins of that day's mystery meat. 

Anyway, to celebrate the Chinese New Year, James and I decided to organize a special banquet for 15-20 of our closest friends at Ping's Seafood in Chinatown.  Ping's is one of the most authentic Cantonese restaurants that you will ever find in the U.S.  However, some of the dishes take over 3 days to prepare so we wanted to set a date about 10 days from now.  We figured this would be enough time for people to coordinate work schedules and babysitters. 

Now, don't get me wrong.  I love my friends dearly.  However, trying to coordinate dinner plans with just ONE of them can be difficult.  Making plans with twenty of them is practically an exercise in futility and, logistically speaking, always makes me want to slam my head against a wall. 

To make matters worse, we all tend to share a very sarcastic New York sense of humor.  This morning, I sent out a quick e-mail to everyone advising them of the plans. 

Within 15 minutes, the following e-mail exchange took place:

MD: "Jimmy G and I are planning a Chinese New Year banquet.  We want to go to Ping's Seafood for an authentic banquet dinner.  Some of the dishes (like the 8 pound lobster, the winter melon soup, and the HK abalone) take over 3 days to prepare and you won't find them anywhere else in NYC.  Who's with us?"

Tulse Luper:  "Put me down for two bowls of finch eye stew and a dozen eel flapjacks!  And did Senor Ping mention whether they're still serving the pan-seared aardvark?  Also, The Doctor is requesting no-carb HK abalone."

James: "Just make sure Senor Ping is the one cooking on Saturday (by the way, Senor Ping is the chef, not the name of your johnson!)"

Meg:  "An 8-lb. lobster would have survived on this earth for at least 35 years, but possibly as many as 75 years.  He or she could take up to 15 minutes to die in boiling water!"

The DR: "I hear with a lot of melted butter, mayo and an adept use of tongs, it's not a bad way to go."

BossLady:  "Damn it!  Somebody help me!  I can't stop rolling me eyes!"

Milty:  "Some say that you can 'hypnotize' a lobster by rubbing the top of its head or its abdomen, thereby pacifying it before boiling.  Then, you press the point of the knife into the head and bring the blade right down between the eyes. This kills the lobster as quickly and painlessly as possible."

MD:  "I saw a bumper sticker that said, 'I love all of God's creatures...right on my plate next to the mashed potatoes.'"

Tulse Luper: "I have an 8lb lobster now and no matter how long I boil it..it just won't die."

The DR: "Take it out of your jacuzzi and put it in a pot, bitch."

This banter ended up continuing throughout the day.  Meanwhile, 6 hours and 20 e-mails later, not a single person has even replied whether they're coming to dinner!  I swear, sometimes I'm amazed that they let all of us become parents.  Shaping young minds, indeed!

In other MetroDad news...

(1) Today, The Doctor and I were talking about Britney Spears.  I told him that she shaved her head because she didn't want to get drug tested.  The Doctor retorted, "No way, man.  I was interviewed on "Inside Edition" last night and explained why that theory was wrong.  If they wanted to drug test her, they could have just taken a court-mandated blood or urine sample."  Turns out that the DR examined high-definition close-ups of Britney's head and speculated that she's having medical problems with her scalp.  All the stress and drug use may have been causing her hair to fall out in clumps so she abruptly shaved it off.

See, that's what I fucking love about The Doctor.  The dude doesn't know squat about football but he can discuss Britney Spears' head for hours. 

(2) Last night, I cooked up some mac-and-cheese for the Peanut.  When I asked her whether she liked it, she nodded enthusiastically and said, "High five, daddy!"  After we high-fived, she put her hand behind her back and, with a mouth full of food, said, "heemeeonhefwepsy."  I had no idea what the hell she was saying but she kept muttering the same thing over and over again.  "Heemeeonhefwepsy! Heemeeonhefwepsy!" 

Finally, after she swallowed her macaroni, she wiped her face, turned her back to me, stuck out her hand, and clearly enunciated, "I. Said. Hit. Me. On. The. Flip. Side!" 

Man, I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.  I swear...some days, kids are better than TV.

(3) Only 24 hours left until the MetroDad blog name contest is over!  We've got a few more surprise prizes to give away so go over there and put your entries in the comments section.  Hurry1

Dear Andy

Dear Andy,

It's hard to believe that it's been five years since you passed away.  In many ways, it feels like several lifetimes ago.  In other ways, the shadows of that horrible day are burned in my memory so strongly that I remember everything like it was just yesterday.

I remember in those dark days after 9/11 when I would call your voice mail just to hear your voice.  For months, I would call and leave you messages.  Tears would be rolling down my face as I spoke into an empty receiver telling you how much I missed you.  Eventually, they disconnected the voice mail, Andy, but don't worry.  I'll never forget your voice or the sound of your laugh.  In many ways, they're like the soundtrack of my youth. 

There's so much to tell you, my friend, that I don't even know where to begin.  The Peanut is almost two now.  Can you believe that, Andy?  It's amazing to watch her grow older.  She's a funny little kid with a ridiculously infectious laugh.  Her goofiness and love of life remind me a lot of you.  The two of you would have had so much fun together and I know "Uncle Andy" would have been one of her favorite people. 

Although the "boys" don't see each other as often as we should, we all remain very close.  Roy is still down in Miami with his family.  I spoke to him last week and couldn't help but smile a little about the grief you used to give him about being a low-talker.  Russell has his hands full with his little girl but he still lives like a rock-star banker.  You'd love seeing The Doctor these days.  He's traded in the leather pants for a plastic bib and a sippy cup.  He's a proud papa of a little boy and, if God has any sense of humor, the kid is going to grow up and become a total jock.  Of course, I see Kyle a lot.  He's still happily single and having the time of his life.  And are you ready for this?  Shar got married this past year and Sherri is pregnant!  Finally!  The wedding was out in Arizona and was the perfect time for a reunion of "la famiglia."  Needless to say, I spent a lot of the weekend getting drunk with your folks. 

Like every special occasion we all celebrate together, Andy, you were deeply missed.  You were there in spirit but I would have given anything to have had you there in the flesh and blood.  After you passed away, we had these little brass pins made for us with your name on it.  All the men in your family and all of your best friends received one.  Whenever we celebrate a happy moment together, we wear the pins.  Whether it's a wedding, the birth of a new child, or a small gathering, we wear the pins together as a way to make sure that you're still with us.  Because you are always with us, Andy.  And you always will be. 

I miss you, Andy.   I miss you terribly. The past few anniversaries of your death have been tough. But this year, I'm determined to not cry, mourn or bury myself in a bottle of scotch.  I don't want to go to any memorial services.  I don't want to hear about anyone else's losses.  And I can't even look at the television.  I just want to remember that terrible day by thinking about our friendship and what a truly amazing person you were.  You were one of the best friends a man could ever have and although losing you was one of the worst things that's ever happened in my life, I'm grateful for the time that we did have together. 

Rest in peace, Andy.  I'll love you and miss you forever. 

Your friend always,
Pierre