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As of tomorrow around 1pm, Addy will have been around as long as I was in high school. As long as I was at Randolph-Macon. I remember how in both cases it always seemed like nothing would last as long as high school did, or indeed that college would last forever (thanks to 3 degrees, that nearly was the case). But there is something powerful about the four-year mark. We do so much within four years that it makes a nice yardstick.





Obviously a lot has happened in four years, but I'll spare you the Family Ties flashback episode and just sum it up into the very fact that Addy is a precocious and precious little woman who is very much her own person. She's clearly influenced by us, but it's nuanced and very deliberate on her end. That which she does not like does not pass, but that which she does is plucked and incorporated into her being. She'll look to me and say, "Daddy, you like that" at the same time that she turns her own nose up to whatever activity, food or item it is on her own accord. She sometimes whines but always interacts, wanted or no, like it was her job. She's careful and reckless all at once.

Four years ago Corri was tooling around Target, hoping the walking would help (it did) but it was the spazzing out over a number of bizarre coincidences at home later that night that started labor. By midnight we were in the hospital, but it'd be more than twelve hours before Addy really started to appear.





In four years we raised a little girl whose photos hint at the young woman she is and will become -- it's pretty incredible and terrifying all at once. I'm really happy my grandmother and Addy got to know each other, and that grandma held Addy on her first day home. I'm happy that I mercifully finished my PhD by the time Addy was 4, as required by blood-oath (I finished academic requirements in December and this weekend I walk across the stage to be hooded and puffy-hatted). I'm happy that we haven't compromised who we are to become parents, but rather struggled and (hopefully) succeeded to make who we are part of our gift to her. I'm happy we have managed to expose Addy to our close friends who remain influential in our lives, even from afar- and I'm equally happy that they have shown her who they are so that she can enjoy them as much as we have and continue to. I'm happy. Period.

Cheers Addy. You're everything.

Love,
Dad




(You have to click this photo- it's terrifyingly cute and prescient of who she will become.)

I'm home now, after another standing-room only Obama event, well-organized and held together by Trish Boyd.

Addy and I stayed after in the downtown library and hung around another event of music and art. A nice event, if not nearly as electric. (Kudos to River Laker who organized another well-attended and amazing music/art event.)



Sitting in the organizing session with my near-4-year-old squirming a bit (but ultimately being amazing in her behavior, yet again) the air was thick with eager nervousness. People wanted to help, clamoring for sign-up sheets and stickers and buttons and tees and anything to show how they feel. To share how they feel.

Once again the crowd looked like an impromptu United Colors of Benneton ad. It looked like the kind of group that businesses and colleges stage so they look like they have diversity and cohesion. Except that this was not staged by a PR Director. It was not goaded by a casting assistant. It was not manufactured by a strategic plan. It was sincere. It was honest. It was hope.

Some of us in the room knew each other. But most of us did not.



And regardless, when a 2 year old being held by her patient mother near the door began to squirm and chant for Obama it was cute. She kept going and every face turned to her and did not judge, did not shush and did not quiet. Every single face, regardless of color, smiled. And the hands began to clap. And the voices began to join in.



A simple, possibly romanticized moment? Sure. But it was perfect. Because we all sat in that room not for ourselves. Not for a selfish hope that we would be coddled or taken care of as we aged as parents, grandparents or friends. We sat in that room for that little girl. For my little girl. For the young boy who played at his mother's feet. For the college students who Senator Obama spoke to today in Louisiana.



For those of us who do not need to be told to sit next to the student of a different color for a photo. But to those already sitting there, already hoping that we can make a difference by choosing a government that we can trust, that we can believe in. That represents us.



It's a nervous time. Our state as a political machine has let us down and lifted us up in the past. We're here to make sure the latter is what happens in just 5 days.



I'm ready.



-Dean Browell, 2/7/08

Interesting night.

I picked up a very wound-up Addy, who feel asleep in the car as we drove, and travelled to a restaurant/bar in Roanoke on Melrose called The Venue. In the car, I'd tried to explain to Addy what we were going to, or why before she nodded off. She knows basic geography, that she lives in Virginia and Virginia's in the U.S.A. So the idea that someone is the President of the United States wasn't totally beyond her. She asked if she could be president someday. I said yes. She asked if I wanted to be president someday. I said heck no. I asked her if she wanted to be president some day. She said heck no.

Waking Addy up, we strolled inside as the night grew dark. Inside, we encountered what looked like 150 people sitting, standing and reverberating with a palpable energy. We luckily found some seats on a corner stage the speaker's weren't using. Removing our jackets, we settled in.

Addy was fabulous considering how tired she was, and also considering she isn't a fan of loud, participatory noises (like thunderous applause). And even though we were late, apparently we were there in time for most of the speakers.

The leaders of the rally were very organized and seemed to be pleasantly surprised by the turnout (considering they were expecting 70 or less). Note that I often don't agree with most Roanoke politics (any side) but there were a few local politicians present. The mayor spoke well. Easily the most effective speech came from VA Delegate Onzlee Ware, who had driven in straight from sessions in Richmond (only to go back in the morning) to speak at the event.

Ware asked us to look around. He proceeded to remind those who had lived through, heard of or merely read about the civil rights movement that the movement itself took the courage of more than just blacks. He reminded us that Obama is also just human-- not to expect as many do for a black man to be three times the man that we would expect of another. But more than anything Ware seemed genuinely inspired by the crowd before him. We surprised ourselves in multiplying our own enthusiasm.


---

I want to note that I have always been at least fleetingly politically active. When I was much too young to understand politics I worked with Delegate Shirley Cooper and her sons for most of her elections, occasionally also assisting with other campaigns such as Mary Sue Terry. While I wasn't explicitly a Democrat as I grew in my personal philosophies (neither party seemed particularly welcoming to over-stated goth/alterna-kids) it was a Democratic slate that I worked for, handing out apples at fairgrounds and stickers at football games.

It wasn't long before all of that stopped and other bits of life interrupted my political engagement. Always a voter, I simply grew too sick of hypocrisy in either party to draw a straight line for allegiance. In college I participated in only a few major causes, notably awareness issues of rape and domestic violence and race/poverty. Sure I leaned left in many areas, but my more pragmatic side probably looked a bit Libertarian even then. Fiscal responsibility wasn't really my forte, as my debts made possible by Plan 9 and concert-going showed.

Post-undergrad I did become fleetingly involved with Nader's 2000 campaign. Nothing too engaged, but I did get so frustrated after one debate that I made a horrible t-shirt at the screenprinting shop I was working at: "The puppet robot and the puppet idiot make me want to Ralph." Did I vote for him? Yes, but only because I was in Virginia. Had I been in a less "red" state at the time I would not have. I always thought that the Republicans should have seen a post-Bush backlash coming because if Ralph did really cause Gore to lose in those key states, than the combined votes of Nader and Gore nation-wide certainly showed a majority of America was uneasy with the pendulum, all other election issues aside.

Fast forward eight years. And I have to admit that there is a dream playing out before me if Obama becomes the nominee. I see a hope that Addy will grow up not seeing the cracks and uneasy seams in our country's race relations like I have. That she will begin from a tabla rasa that will keep her mind from wandering to the rusty ideals still standing there from uneasy, incorrect historical dogma. I am not so polly-anna to think that she will grow up struggle-free in regards to race. Or that there won't be some seams in the fabric. But it would be amazing if in her conscious mind there was simply nothing special about being president and also being black. Would it be the same in the gender category was well if Hillary was president? Certainly. But the Clinton dynasty is hardly the most healthy. Moreover Hillary's distaste for the transparency Obama desires is telling enough. Clinton is part of a political machine that Obama has moved on from. She's coal to his wind.

---

Addy and I looked around the room at The Venue. All ages, races, sizes, shapes, classes... They were all there. And in the same moment that it was clear they were there, it was clear that they were not there; the presence of such differentiation brought about the obviousness of commonality. There was no overriding trait that we had in common at the core except that we were just human beings. It was really, strangely, poetic and it's hard for me-- a gen x cynic to the core-- to articulate how much it meant.

Addy captured smiles as she played with an unlit candle on the table and listened.

I didn't ensure Addy could say Obama's name or encourage her to chant. This isn't about brainwashing a near-4-year-old, it was just important for me and I was happy to have her there. It's about her in my opinion, not for her. She was tickled that I was smiling on my own as we listened.

After the speeches, we shuffled through the crowd and shook some hands. We picked up a t-shirt.

For the first time in my political life I was completely putting myself in someone's corner. For once I didn't feel that a candidate I supported wasn't being duplicitous or insincere in the slightest. In fact in the debate later that evening, Barack invited and baited those who doubted that sincerity by suggesting that all formerly "closed door" meetings with entities like the energy and healthcare companies be broadcast on C-Span for anyone to see. Banish the lobbyists. Throw open the curtains. Make this about us. It means that far more importantly to the history of this country we're not trying to elect a black president, we're electing a president who doesn't want to be president the way anyone else in recent memory did. He wants to be the first clear president.

I wondered and re-wondered whether to write this narrative at all. If I should post it only to friends on my LiveJournal blog, or to a wider swath among Facebook friends. Or bigger still, to anyone in public. I decided on all three. I'm not an overly political person publically (I just get in my sarcasm at times), but I'm engaged right now. I feel like I have someone in this fight. That the choice, almost literally, is clear. That a selection and installation of this person would shake up this country in all the right ways. It'd beat the grass and bring out the snakes. It'd call a lot of fair-weather Democrats on their bluffs. It'd change everything.

And in even some small way, it'd alter reality just enough for my daughter so that it'd be a whole new world for her to remember.






Finis.




...

P.S. Roanoke Times Story on the Rally: http://www.roanoke.com/politics/wb/149166
(Note to Rob Johnson, Addy's not elementary-school-age, she's a "big 3" as she likes to say; but it's a common mistake.)

P.P.S.
I can't believe I'm linking to Fox, but this was an interesting video and for some reason Fox chose Monty Python's John Cleese help moderate (?); it's a perspective on the debate that shows many sides of relatively typical citizens (just bear with the badgering by the Fox host):

CD being made of Addy's current favorite songs for use by grandparents*:

* = Note that many of these tracks are by artists these same parents would never willingly listen to, but Addy would demand, putting them in a fabulous quandary.

"Two Princes" - Spin Doctors
"ABC 123" - Jackson 5
"So Lonely" - The Police (live version, Atlanta 1983)
"Parklife" - Blur
"Jungle Boogie" - Kool & the Gang
"Monster Boogie" - Laurie Berkner
"Upside Down" - Diana Ross
"Chicago" - Chris Botti & Lyle Lovett
"Take Me Out to the Ball Game"
"Juicy" - Better Than Ezra
"Roxanne" - The Police
"Telephone" - Laurie Berkner
"Who Can It Be Now?" - Hall & Oates
"Spider-Man Theme" - 1960's cartoon version
"Hokey-Pokey" - Dan Zane and some guy named "Father Goose"
"What Time Is It?" - Spin Doctors
"American Girl" - Tom Petty
"Radio" - Regina Specktor
"My Own Two Hands" - Ben Harper

wonderful day with Addy... Went to a Salem Avalanche game (large minor league ballpark; Astros affiliated; Carolina League). Addy had a great time- my favorite moment was when she screamed at an Avalanche runner, "let the little man come home!" Indeed Addy, let the little man come home.



Now, I may have written about this before, but I feel it needs to be addressed again... So the park and team have a mascot named "Mugsy" that's a dog. No biggie. But there's another mascot that lingers in the branding, seldom seen in meet-and-greet form but ever present. I think he's supposed to be a giant snowball or something but he's big and white and they use him on some of the Kid's Club materials Addy gets.

His name?

"Big Mo"

I couldn't make this up. Someone in the front office has a fabulous sense of humor. Especially since there is a semi-existent gay population here.

Big Mo is everywhere.



There he is now!

The last time Amanda came to visit we got her a Big Mo doll because she couldn't stop laughing uncontrollably every time she saw the giant block letters "BIG MO" on the back of his doll jersey.

I'm just glad that we can have a stereo-type free, homosexual mascot in this day and age. How healthy! Finally we get some acknowledgment in a sport where Queen, the Village People and Gary Glitter make up the bulk of the anthems sung tunelessly by the homophobic. (Yes, I'm saying now that homophobes can't sing well. It's documented.)

It's a whale under water, but you knew that.



Drawn this morning.

Last weekend Addy was caught singing Regina Spektor's "On the Radio" to herself in the car (she likes that song and "Fidelity").

Awesome.

ALO sent me their new album (due May 1st) to review. Great disc on the first listen. As an anecdotal primer I wrote this post on MOG:
http://mog.com/Dean_Browell/blog_post/48806

Had a great morning. Unfortunately Cor had a migraine, but it gave me time to have a "Very Ferrum Saturday" with Addy and I visiting the local barber shop so I could get a $6.25 haircut. There she watched and giggled as I was in the barber chair, smiled into the iPod watching a Little Einstein's episode, and wandered around trying to be good among the men waiting for their turn so one of the father-son haircutting team of Layman or Clem (I swear those are their first names) would give her a lollipop. On this visit I learned that if a baby has a fever you cut up a fresh onion and put it in their socks; you'll smell the onion as if it was cooking, but in fifteen minutes the baby's fever would be gone. I learn so much on every visit. You should have seen Addy's face when the thin old man next to her said "onion in her socks" - she was hilariously horrified. We then had a big breakfast in "town", did a trash run, made a stop for some sliding at the elementary school playground, and filled the bird feeders (with Addy taking her requisite roll of calling the birds to lunch, screaming at those nearby, "HEY BIRD COME GET YOUR LUNCH!"). And that was all before 11am.

Also: a little late for Addy, but funny nonetheless...


clicky

I completed the book and wanted to be sure a few comments dribbled out before it gets forgotten.

First- Neal's a dick. He has issues that sometimes aggravate a reader and at times could completely polarize others. But more often than not I found myself in a similar space as him. We're hardly exactly alike, but there is a framework, maybe just a generational tie, that you don't find in any literature that even remotely pertains to parenting. There were times, to be probably too honest, where I completely and utterly connected with Neal and his mode. This probably means I'm a dick too. I'm fine with that, and I'm trying not to be.

It's not a book on how to be a parent, by a longshot. Which is funny because when i was a parent I assumed all of these books on parenting-- even the medical ones on just typical baby issues-- were not full of complete and utter bullshit. They are. In fact, the first real peek behind the curtain of parenting came for me at 8.5 months of pregnancy in Corri when we were told very casually and cavalierly that the due date, the very thing that had caused great calamity and alarm in ourselves and medical professionals, was a flexible and actually, probably, really, sorry-to-say, didn't-mean-to-lead-you-to-believe-otherwise, bullshit premise. The due date meant almost nothing and is a very ridiculous guess. Sure there are gestation and growth earmarks that are serious, but you'll see them lift the veil as you get closer that it's not that big a deal. As in, not as big a deal as even they made it out to be for the first 8 months. It's the first big lie. Like finding out that you know more than your parents in a subject or that the Easter Bunny doesn't actually track your movements and godliness via helicopter (something I actually was told and believed - thanks Mom).

Anyway, this book is quite plainly not even a remote guide to what it's like as a parent today. But it's an interesting look at what certain personalities and concepts take a hit with parenting. And it does so unflinchingly. It features pee, biting, Noggin, daycare and home ownership. But it also features the Ramones, the Thing, being a writer, political confusion, dual religion marriage, immigration, city life and how do you stay yourself when your very self is changing. And when you're staring at that precipice of transition, how there are a host of companies, organizations, religions and dreams waiting to catch you and teach you how to be a parent... They make choices easier. They make them for you. And before you know it, you're living someone else's dream and your child thinks of you in a way that Disney prescribed.

Recently we had a discussion about the American Dream and relationships and feelings and (probably unintentionally) gender issues... I'm not going to be the asshole who tells you that being a parent is so much harder than any of those things, even if it seems like by law I'm supposed to. It's work, for sure. But as a parent it is just as easy to become what culture dictates than what you decide to take from culture-- just like as a person in a relationship. Be the issue marriage, parenting... etc. There are metazoic layers of custom you can take refuge in, and quite frankly we should take notice and employ much of it because it's been pretty well proven. But you should do it by choice. Life doesn't get any easier when parenting. But I personally feel that if you take care of those you love by being who you are, you'll find you won't notice how hard it is nearly as fast.

Today Addy was sick, even before Rex Grossman's performance in the Super Bowl. For two hours we sat or laid on the floor with our blankets and pillows and played slumber party while making fun of Ashton Kutcher's character in Open Season. We giggled and eventually lay facing each other, staring, as Addy finally succumbed to the medicine and fell asleep. Nearly 30 minutes went by before I realized I was just watching her sleep, motionless. I love her.

This is the same love that makes me want to take her to Roo. I know better than to and we won't be this year, but I still want to. It's not to prove a point, it's not to be eccentric to force elitism upon her at so early an age. It's because I can't bear to do much of anything without her. And I'm so excited to show her the world. To watch her get excited about things. And to let her watch me get excited about things; maybe different things.

Before she was born, in fact it was arguably when she was barely a fertilized egg, I sat in the sun with Brian waiting to pick up Pearl Jam tickets. He was one of the first people on earth to know Addy was coming. We were on a blanket and I made us look like two gay dads by reading a book on Fatherhood that I would later realize was full of Yanni-level bullshit. But I remember laying on my back, staring up at the leaves on a tree that offered us a little shade. We talked probably more openly than we had in years that day and I recall just gushing. Gushing because, as I would say many times that year, I couldn't wait for Addy to meet our friends... At the Pearl Jam show that night I didn't think about taking Addy to her first concert-- I imagined a six or seven year old Addy watching Brian at a future show from the side of the stage-- surely her fiftieth show by then.

I wasn't a would-be dad who imagined being some purposefully alternative father, ready to force-feed her my culture. But I would be a friend who had been so careful to mitigate and assimilate culture before parenthood that I would continue to be so discerning as Addy entered our lives. And I'd teach her what little I knew about reason and love and life. And while I felt so naive at those first thoughts that romanticized day in Camden with Brian, I am proud to say that i still feel the same way. I haven't given up on that feeling. In part because who my friends are make up much of who I am... those choices in many ways define me. (Although that's possibly just an only child thing.) And other choices define me still. And Addy is also one of those choices and embody thousands more. And I want to make them because I believe in them. Not because an institution told me to.

Anyway. It's a pretty good book. Regardless, it made me reflect, which I enjoy and appreciate that you might even think about reading.

Sincerely,
Addy's Dad

If you are a parent, or are approaching parenthood, this is now on your reading list:




Seriously. I'm half way through it and it has nothing to do with agreeing with or even sympathizing, but just enjoying. It's the first book to make me tear up, laugh and identify with a nonfiction author in years. is it touching? Not really- not by design. It just is. It doesn't help that I'm the same affected, eccentric and self-absorbed kind of guy that he is, but I'm also desperately devoted to the life of my child.

All that talk of marriage and children and customs and the American Dream that we had a mini-spar over awhile back? This book is my argument, my example, my weakness and my fallacy. Does it smack of elitism in the face of conformity? Sure. Just like we were reasonably sure who we didn't want to be like in high school. But just like i learned there were people in Marlbank Cove that weren't soul-sucking rules-hounds measuring blades of grass, I had to prove that even living in Edgehill that i wasn't some sort of silver-spoon asshole. What does that have to do with parenting? How early you grow and how early you let them try.

I'm probably not making much sense. Regardless, check out the book.

Holy Shit.

I'm speechless. Already spoke with John Mark once and my parents twice by phone.

Florida didn't just do it, they did exactly what we knew they were capable of but were worried they couldn't sustain.

41 - 14! It's even a palindrome!

Worst title already claimed by ESPN.com: "Gate-R Done"

Today is New Years Day...

Already happened in 2007:

- Florida Gators win the national championship for first time in ten years

- Addy is nearly potty trained in less than a week

- I help our office score an amazing local client by coming to terms with the fact that I love my job ("Do what you love, fuck the rest.")

Upcoming in 2007:

- Lots of good times with great friends planned

- Seeing Stan Lee, Mike Mignola & more at NY Comicon

- Pearl Jam at Bonnaroo (I'm pretty sure of it)

My parents, proving that they have finally found their stride in gift giving, got Addy a set of electronic drums. In this horrible video she attempts to sing while playing. Unfortunately for her, the background demo song the drum machine uses is apparently NIN's "I Do Not Want This" or somesuch bad example.




I hope everyone had a great Christmas!

So Addy has a Christmas Party at her daycare this week and we have to provide a wrapped present so that she has something to open during the affair. No problem, she has tons of presents piling up from us (i.e., as Corri put it tonight, "Just because your parents got you socks and a telescope for Christmas doesn't mean we can't spoil our child."). So we found a cool one and Corri started to wrap it up.

CORRI: So who do we say this is from? Do we put, From: Mom & Dad?

DEAN: I dunno. From: Santa, maybe?

CORRI: That doesn't seem right.

(Pause.)

DEAN: I got it. Put, From: Jesus. That'll shock the shit out of them. Can you imagine them handing out presents and everyone's look on their face? "Oh look Addy, this one's from Jesus!"

First, it's official. I'm leaving Ferrum College to work for an ad agency in Roanoke. Can't wait- for many parts of it, including not wearing a tie, being creative all the time and not having the pressures of being a college's "face" and go-to guy 24/7.

Next, marvel at Addy's Halloween costume of a doctor. I like the ring of "Dr. Browell" - shall we have a hat trick?



And today was Folklife Festival with several thousand people (probably close to 13,000) all on campus for the annual event. Some images:

So what could suck worse than taking care of a pitiful, sick child? Being sick yourself while you try and do it. Thankfully, Corri was home most of the day today, but there was a horrible few moments there when Addy was, um, "expelling" and her also sick father was not having the best time with it himself.

Luckily, we're both feeling a little better after long naps and Little Einsteins. The biggest casualty of the day, aside from a few meals, was my usual Sunday focus on my comprehensive exam for my PhD. I'll be scrambling Tuesday and Wednesday to catch up. It sucks, because it's not like I skipped a writing day for hookers and blow; rather, crackers and jello.

Also, last night I finally saw The Aristocrats and it was fantastic-- but the DVD has also a tremendous extra Bob Sagat segment and some other great jokes.


--

And so I thought: there's no better way to turn thirty than to go hear a prominent atheist and evolutionary biologist! If anyone can put the groan of growing up into the context of the un-specialness of life it's Richard Dawkins. And I'm really excited to hear him. I'm a Blind Watchmaker fan and Dawkins was also a big influence on Douglas Adams.

Okay, back to the crackers.




P.S. For your reading pleasure, Richard Dawkins' "Lament for Douglas Adams" on the death of his close friend:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,3604,490295,00.html

Even though I had to work Homecoming and it was drizzling and 45 degrees all day, it was awesome. Cor had to work, so Addy and I had the entire afternoon and night together. We watched the Gators win (yay for Tebow's jumpshot), played Pirates, went to the local Mexican eatery for some great food (and Addy acted so adult, it was cute) and came back for a phone call to my rents, a walk with Kona, the ritual pre-bedtime Dora, some reading and then bedtime. We were both wiped out.

Anyway. I finally got to chat today with some people that had also recently been to New Orleans. That was nice-- instant kindred spirits. And I strongly recommend "Hexing A Hurricane" to anyone interested. It's not super-thorough, but a great set of clips and emotions.

And to repeat something i said in a comment elsewhere.... Right now I'm trying to convince our whole family (my parents and Cor's) to go to New Orleans for Christmas. As a favor to us and to the city. It looks like it might actually happen. And if it does maybe we'll do Yorkness:New Orleans 2007...

Addy's daycare interviewed her:



For the record, we don't let her watch Barney. That's something she only gets at school and is obviously is a bad influence.

But the fact that any parent is on here versus a toy... this is why money is bullshit. It's not about the things. Yes, I'm reading too much into it, but I'm in that mindset.