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Saturday, October 04, 2003
Oy... last night's entry should indicate how tired and all-around non compos mentis I am...
First off: "2 years ago while recuperating from a broken hip, I had to break the news..."
Dad had the broken hip, not me.
And the whiskey is "Jameson" not "Jamison." I write this in shame. Irishmen should mind their grammar and their booze; it's our twin birthright.
Which, of course,brings me to the important stuff. Miles improves steadily. Lily had a downturn, then an upswing and now she's "on the quo," as they say ...uh... nowhere. I am far less acquainted with Dadhood than I am with words and whiskey, but I think I'm gonna like this. A LOT. When Lily gets obstreperous I softly sing "Hi Lili Hi Lo" and she chills right out. Miles doesn't seem to get obstreperous. (I tried to provoke him a bit and he snarled "whaddya think, I was born yesterday?") I have not yet tried singing the Who double header of "Pictures of Lily" / "I Can See for Miles," but as for now, the Kids are all right. All the Syd Barrett they've recently been hearing me play has not seemed to have any ill effect. Shelley has bonded with both of them like gangbusters.
The hospital staff is incredible. Nobody has pissed me off yet at all.
Both babies have long, elegant fingers. Too early to say which instruments, but I'm hoping for a bassoon at least.
Calls and emails have begun to dribble in. Thanks, friends. It is wonderful to talk to yez now that something GOOD has happened here and I ain't just pouring whines. I'll begin the long task of responding to all the accumulated email messages. We want to get more regularly involved with many of you so that these kids can enjoy the abundance of "Aunts" 'Uncles" and "Cousins" that I had in Holy Brooklyn. I wanna write songs and make comics and have parties and laugh a lot. Hearing Lily for the first time reawakened my soul. I can FEEL Pete in Miles. Holy shit.
Shelley is doing fine herself, and should soon be home to heal in anticipation of the babies' eventual deliverance from preemiedom. The baby shower that Shelley's condition forbade will have to be retooled into a "meet the kinder" bash once all is settled down. You can buy us stuff, sure... thanks for asking.
I am fucking wobbly. Good night. Tomorrow is a big day... lots of family converging on Stony Brook for a peek at the dynamic duo.
Wheeeeee!
First off: "2 years ago while recuperating from a broken hip, I had to break the news..."
Dad had the broken hip, not me.
And the whiskey is "Jameson" not "Jamison." I write this in shame. Irishmen should mind their grammar and their booze; it's our twin birthright.
Which, of course,brings me to the important stuff. Miles improves steadily. Lily had a downturn, then an upswing and now she's "on the quo," as they say ...uh... nowhere. I am far less acquainted with Dadhood than I am with words and whiskey, but I think I'm gonna like this. A LOT. When Lily gets obstreperous I softly sing "Hi Lili Hi Lo" and she chills right out. Miles doesn't seem to get obstreperous. (I tried to provoke him a bit and he snarled "whaddya think, I was born yesterday?") I have not yet tried singing the Who double header of "Pictures of Lily" / "I Can See for Miles," but as for now, the Kids are all right. All the Syd Barrett they've recently been hearing me play has not seemed to have any ill effect. Shelley has bonded with both of them like gangbusters.
The hospital staff is incredible. Nobody has pissed me off yet at all.
Both babies have long, elegant fingers. Too early to say which instruments, but I'm hoping for a bassoon at least.
Calls and emails have begun to dribble in. Thanks, friends. It is wonderful to talk to yez now that something GOOD has happened here and I ain't just pouring whines. I'll begin the long task of responding to all the accumulated email messages. We want to get more regularly involved with many of you so that these kids can enjoy the abundance of "Aunts" 'Uncles" and "Cousins" that I had in Holy Brooklyn. I wanna write songs and make comics and have parties and laugh a lot. Hearing Lily for the first time reawakened my soul. I can FEEL Pete in Miles. Holy shit.
Shelley is doing fine herself, and should soon be home to heal in anticipation of the babies' eventual deliverance from preemiedom. The baby shower that Shelley's condition forbade will have to be retooled into a "meet the kinder" bash once all is settled down. You can buy us stuff, sure... thanks for asking.
I am fucking wobbly. Good night. Tomorrow is a big day... lots of family converging on Stony Brook for a peek at the dynamic duo.
Wheeeeee!
Friday, October 03, 2003
FATHERS' DAY
Yesterday I visited my Dad in the nursing center where he is recuperating from the aneurysm surgery. This turns out to be the SAME EXACT ROOM where, 2 years ago while recuperating from a broken hip, I had to break the news that his grandson Peter had been in the World Trade Center when it fell.
Yesterday I walked down that same hall to give him the news that his new grandson and granddaughter had been born.
Yup, they're here.
Miles Peter Murphy and Lily Roberta Murphy.
October First.
Premature but doing OK …their Mom is doing well too.
God, they're beautiful.
I don't believe I'll ever feel the way I did in those few ecstatic minutes as our babies entered the world… It was like hearing notes H through Z and seeing every infra- and ultra- spectrum yet unimagined.
My Dad, who was inches from death last week, looks better than he's looked in over 2 years, and this news lit him up like a beacon. My Mom brought along a tiny bottle of Jamison's so me and he could have a wee toast. She didn't know, but that was Pete's drink.
After I first left the hospital - dazed - to get a needed night's sleep, I glanced up at a restaurant sign with a huge illuminated Tao. The balance of life: Pete called me from Korea when he was in the Air Force, asking me to design a Tao tattoo for his arm. The Yin-Yang thing, y'know. They identified his body by that tattoo. Keep an eye on things, bro.
Shelley is the strongest person I know. She is blissful now, and terrified, as is old Sport. Our babies will be in hospital for a long time, but we're hopeful for a very happy holiday season.
God, they're beautiful.
Yesterday I visited my Dad in the nursing center where he is recuperating from the aneurysm surgery. This turns out to be the SAME EXACT ROOM where, 2 years ago while recuperating from a broken hip, I had to break the news that his grandson Peter had been in the World Trade Center when it fell.
Yesterday I walked down that same hall to give him the news that his new grandson and granddaughter had been born.
Yup, they're here.
Miles Peter Murphy and Lily Roberta Murphy.
October First.
Premature but doing OK …their Mom is doing well too.
God, they're beautiful.
I don't believe I'll ever feel the way I did in those few ecstatic minutes as our babies entered the world… It was like hearing notes H through Z and seeing every infra- and ultra- spectrum yet unimagined.
My Dad, who was inches from death last week, looks better than he's looked in over 2 years, and this news lit him up like a beacon. My Mom brought along a tiny bottle of Jamison's so me and he could have a wee toast. She didn't know, but that was Pete's drink.
After I first left the hospital - dazed - to get a needed night's sleep, I glanced up at a restaurant sign with a huge illuminated Tao. The balance of life: Pete called me from Korea when he was in the Air Force, asking me to design a Tao tattoo for his arm. The Yin-Yang thing, y'know. They identified his body by that tattoo. Keep an eye on things, bro.
Shelley is the strongest person I know. She is blissful now, and terrified, as is old Sport. Our babies will be in hospital for a long time, but we're hopeful for a very happy holiday season.
God, they're beautiful.
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
WHILE IT'S STILL THE DATE... I AM A DAD.
Monday, September 29, 2003
Thanks to those who've written so kindly since I posted that alarmed message about my Dad. It's surprising to find that so many folks still check the blog. It's become increasingly difficult to write here or in emails; I can't get it together these days. I'm sort of stuck between lives approaching their beginning and others approaching their end. Things have been very fucking hard for months. I am joyless and don't wish to whine here. I'm glad Dad made it through surgery because we could not have taken his loss right now. I'm glad some people give a shit about me and mine. Maybe I'll feel like writing something more extensive soon, but now there's just too much going on to deal. Love to all.