Little Shoes

It's been a few weeks since I last posted, but in fairness, a lot has gone on since my last post. The Monkey celebrated his second birthday. I got a paid writing gig. I had a bachelor party, a wedding, and a honeymoon. We celebrated Thanksgiving.

And there were these attacks in Paris by ISIS, the "Islamic State."

I started this blog largely to have someplace to reflect on family life, but I'll be honest, world affairs and politics have kept me pretty sleepless for several nights. I made the mistake one Sunday evening of reading some lengthy analysis of the Islamic terrorist group and it became something of an obsession with me. (I think everyone should read this analysis of ISIS from The Atlantic. Just be prepared for how disturbing of a reality it is.) "We will conquer your Rome, break your crosses, and enslave your women,” one of the group's spokesmen has said to the West. “If we do not reach that time, then our children and grandchildren will reach it, and they will sell your sons as slaves at the slave market."

The response here in the United States has given me no comfort. There is a humanitarian crisis of huge proportions brewing in Syria and Iraq, and the indifference of many of our leaders is difficult for me to comprehend. We keep seeing images of all of these people -- men, women, and children -- floating on boats, seeking asylum in Europe. Something like 2,500 have died trying to make the passage by water. Yet 31 governors and every single Republican presidential candidate has said we should close the door to refugees fleeing persecution by religious zealots. A few have gone further and said we should deport the ones who have already arrived. And one has made overtly fascist overtures, calling for the closure of mosques and monitoring all Muslims in the U.S.

I keep coming back to one image though, from a couple months ago. It's of a small, three-year-old boy named Aylan Kurdi. He is laying face down in the sand on the Turkish shore. He is dead.

It's one of those images I'd like to scrub from my head. I mean, I watch horror films by the score. I've watched decapitations, mutilations, and stabbings for pure entertainment purposes. Yet this is so much different. It's a child. It is real.

There is nothing graphic about the image. The boy could be sleeping. The thing that bothers me most are his shoes. They are Velcro.

We have lots of Velcro shoes at our house. Both the Monkey and the Ape are too young to tie their shoes, so most of theirs have Velcro instead of laces.

The thing I keep thinking is that someone had put those shoes on Aylan Kurdi's feet that morning. Someone helped him get dressed because he is too little to dress himself. Someone held his little feet and slipped on those shoes and thought, "I hope these keep his toes dry on the boat."

But life goes on. The Goddess and I went ahead with our plans and were married this past Sunday.

The wedding was really something pretty incredible. We had decided on a Gothic theme, held in a 150-year-old abandoned chapel. The Goddess was extraordinarily beautiful in a white gown covered in black lace. The wedding party walked the aisle to gypsy violin music. Our friend Eva performed the ceremony in full voodoo regalia. My cousin sang a solo to the accompaniment of an ancient pump organ, played by my sister. And we all wore Gothic/steampunk attire, much of it made by my costumer-cum-mother-in-law.

The kids stole the show, really. They all looked great, the eleven-year-old in a black suit and fedora; the seven-year-old in a silver and black dress, wearing a jeweled and feathered mask; the Monkey in a little sports jacket and bow-tie; and the Ape in black velvet and white lace, complete with black velvet newsboy cap.

Monkey and Ape had new shoes, too. Black. With Velcro.

Yesterday we celebrated our first Thanksgiving as a"legal" family. All six of us went to Granny's house and ate dinner with her and the Goddess' grandfather.

I have so much to be thankful for this year, but I've also never felt the weight of responsibility the way I do now. I look at the five faces here at Crackerbox Palace and I'm sometimes overwhelmed by how dependent they are on me. The food they eat, the house they sleep in, their safety -- all of it comes apart if I'm not there. Then I start reading the news and my sense of alarm grows minute by minute, reading about fascists abroad and fascists at home.

Maybe it is universal with parents, I don't know, but the world seems to have gotten more dangerous since I had kids. Yet my instinct is not just to keep them safe. It is also to teach them to be wide open to all the world is and to make it a better place. I don't want them to cower from the deranged, the lunatic religious fringe, the rich and powerful, or the princes of this world. I want them to meet them on their own terms, to shake their fists in their faces, and to scream, "This is my world, too, motherfuckers!"

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I thought I would include below our actual wedding ceremony, for a couple of reasons. One is that a few people asked me for it, curious about what was said. The other was to help anyone who might be looking for a form for a wedding but isn't traditionally religious.

We are avowed secularists, with a love of science. Yet we are also (rather confusingly) deeply spiritual and a bit religious. We strongly believe in the power of the human spirit and feel a need to mark important life milestones with both pomp and introspection.

The ceremony reflects all of that, I think. In a lot of ways it retains the form of a traditional Christian ceremony, with a sprinkle of Luciferian mischief and a touch of voodoo, all within a secular/atheistic worldview. Most of all, we wanted it to reflect our belief that life is brief and love only for a moment, so we should live and love as hard as we can.

(Officiant)

We welcome you gathered today, honored friends and family, and ask you to bear witness to the love shared between this man and this woman and join with them in celebration of their marriage vows. Whether you have known them for just a few weeks or for many years, you are an important part of their lives and they thank you for your presence.

We also call forth the spirits of those no longer with us -- not in a supernatural sense, but in a very real way, seeing their faces in the faces of their children and their children’s children, knowing their blood passes through our veins, and that they live in the memories and imaginations of those present.

And we call forth the Cosmos to witness today -- the mountains and rivers, the seas and the skies, and every living thing in them; the sun, the moon, and the eight planets; the stars and galaxies and the unseen and unimaginable universes that lay beyond ours. We invoke them knowing that the elements that form our blood and bones were made in the hearts of collapsing stars untold eons past, and that they truly are our brothers and sisters.

(Turning to the bride.)

(Name), are you coming freely to be married, solely for the love that is in your heart, not under any compulsion, but only to enjoy the benefits of a shared life -- and also a lower taxable income?

(Bride)
I am.

(Turning to groom.)

And you, (Name), are you coming freely to be married, solely for the love that is in your heart, not under any compulsion, but only to enjoy the benefits of a shared life -- and also a lower taxable income?

(Groom)

I am.


("Hallelujah," by Leonard Cohen, sung by the best man, accompanied by the groom's sister.)

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this... the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, The major lift
The baffled King composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, She cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above
But all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
it's not somebody who's seen the light
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah


(Officiant. William Shakespeare's "Sonnet 73.")

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day,
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
     This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
     To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


A vow is a promise, made sacred by your love for each other, and kept only through commitment and a good deal of labor, so I ask . . .

(To groom)

Do you, (groom's name), take (bride's name) to be your wife?
Do you promise to love her and adore her,
To comfort her in times of sickness and sorrow,
To delight in her joys and pleasures,
To share in both riches and poverty,
To love the children who call her mother,
To make a home with her, no matter how crazy she gets,
To nurture her hopes and plans,
And to worship her as the rock-and-roll goddess of your dreams?

(Groom)

I do.

(To bride)

Do you, (bride's name), take (groom's name) to be your husband?
Do you promise to love him and adore him,
To comfort him in times of sickness and sorrow,
To delight in his joys and pleasures,
To share in both riches and poverty,
To love those he loves,
To make a home with him, no matter headstrong he gets,
To nurture his hopes and plans,
And always treat him like a rock star?

(Bride)

I do.

(To best man.)

Do you have the rings?

(Best man gives the rings to officiant, if he has not lost them, trying not to drop them.)

(Officiant)

Rings have been used in many cultures and places as symbols of the eternity of love and one spouse’s ownership of the other. The bride and groom would, however, remind us that the joys of love and family are fleeting, that they should be enjoyed in that full knowledge; and that love is not slavery, for no one can truly own the heart of another.

Therefore these rings symbolize the fleeting nature of our time together, for the very elements with which they were made were born in distant stars and will someday return to them; and that love is beautiful and precious, though only for this life.

(Groom takes bride’s ring from officiant. Officiant turns to groom.)

(Groom's name), take (bride's name's) hand and repeat after me:
With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.
With my love, I will light your way into darkness.
With this ring, I ask you to be mine.

(Bride takes groom’s ring from Officiant. Officiant turns to bride.)

(Bride's name), take (groom's name's) hand and repeat after me:
With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.
With my love, I will light your way into darkness.
With this ring, I ask you to be mine.

You expressed your love with vows given and rings exchanged. You have kissed a thousand times and will kiss thousands of thousands more, but we ask you today to share a kiss, sealing your love and your life together.

(The kiss.)

Present to you now, for the first time, (groom's name) and (bride's name) as husband and wife!

(Exit back of house.)

Wherein I Crush My Entire Family's Hopes of Getting a Pool. Or Hot Tub.

I find myself saying this repeatedly, but this week has just been nuts.

First off: Halloween. Best. Halloween. Ever. I will emphasize here that all four kids spent Halloween with someone besides us. You may infer what you wish about the quality of the holiday and the absence of the kids, but its the truth. For my band, Halloween is the biggest night of the year, and it was truly stellar. It was followed by the Goddess and me enjoying ourselves in a proper debauched fashion and didn't end until about 7:30 A.M.

We did retrieve the kids the next day and it seems they had a pretty good holiday, too, which is good, I suppose. I mean, kids should get in on the fun, too.

The week was spent mostly planning a wedding, which is honestly a bit of an extension of Halloween.

We hit the party supply shops' post-Halloween sales and got some things for the wedding: toasting glasses, masks, a couple gallons of blood. If you're like me and basically celebrate all year long, these places are a gold mine on November 1.

Eva agreed to officiate for the wedding. She had to become ordained, which is remarkably easy online, and then register with the state. I think she's going to play it as some sort of combination voodoo/pagan priestess. We worked with her a bit on the ceremony, which is something I especially enjoy.

The Goddess' mother is designing and making a lot of the clothes for the wedding, including a vest and frock coat for me. There will be just a touch of steampunk flavor to the event, and that's right up her alley.

We found a location, too, which is excellent. It's an historic chapel that is no longer in use -- which is good, because we have lots of sacrilege planned for the ceremony. It was built in the early 19th century and has a very picturesque graveyard adjoining the building. It took several hours of emails and phone calls to find who was in charge, but reserving it was easy and very cheap.

The moment that we were most nervous about was telling the older kids we were getting married.

The Goddess brought herself and the two older kids to live here almost two years ago. Like a lot of "blended families," we've had our ups and downs. As a "step-dad," it's difficult to figure out your role. You aren't replacing their father (unless he has died, I suppose), and I feel very strongly that you tread lightly on that topic with them. The kids talk about their biological father whenever they feel like it. I listen and try to reinforce their positive feelings about him because he is very much a part of them.

A lot of advice about step-parenting says, "Don't assume the role of disciplinarian," which is all well and good, to a point. But when the Goddess has her hands full with a screaming baby, a toddler who keeps dumping jars of herbs and spices in the floor, a seven-year-old who is having an emotional breakdown because she was asked to practice ten minutes of violin, and an eleven-year-old who lied about homework again, I feel like I should probably do more than see what's on Netflix. So while I'm certainly not the primary disciplinarian, I've assumed a role as "the other adult" in the house.

I suppose I hope they also manage to see the other roles I play, at least to a certain extent: "breadwinner," occasional cook, dishwasher, and the like.

One day a few months after they moved in, the evening discussion centered around "How Do We Refer to You to Our Friends at School?" After some time, it was decided that they both would say that I was their roommate and butler.

A few months after that, the seven-year-old (then six) told me that she tells everyone I'm her step-dad. I literally cried the first time she brought home art work from school depicting each member of the family with the word "DAD" under my face. (She doesn't call me "Dad," by the way, I'm just guessing that was simpler to spell in kindergarten.)

The issue honestly doesn't come up as often as you might think. When we first discussed getting married to the kids, the eleven-year-old (then ten) said he didn't want anything to change. He didn't seem distraught or anything -- just expressing an opinion. When I gave the Goddess an engagement ring last Christmas, he asked about it and what it meant. Then he asked if it was real diamond. Then he asked if it meant I was rich. Then he talked about how diamonds are used in Minecraft. Then he asked how much an actual sword made out of diamonds would cost.

The Goddess was extremely nervous about telling them about the actual wedding -- that we had a date picked, that it was soon, and that we would be married. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal, but I've been known to be wrong.

We sat them down on the couch Tuesday night and told them we needed to talk to them about something important. I waited for the Goddess to begin. She looked at me, expectantly. We did that for about five minutes while the kids looked at iPads and asked if they could be excused. Finally, she began.

The Goddess: "You know that I've been wearing an engagement ring for awhile now. Well, we've decided to get married." 

Seven-year-old: "When?" 

The Goddess: "In just a few weeks." 

Eleven-year-old: "Why?" 

Me: "Well, the reasons are mostly financial. Do you guys know what income taxes are? Well, I would have to pay a lot more if your mom and I weren't married. That would mean that we would have less money to pay bills -- and less money for iPads and vacations and all that sort of thing." 

Seven-year-old: "So you'll have more money if you get married?" 

Me: "Yes." 

Eleven-year-old: "So can we get a pool now?" 

Me <confused>: "Well, I don't know if we'll have that much money. And the back yard is really small anyway. And it's uneven." 

Eleven-year-old: "My friend at school has a pool in his back yard and their yard is smaller than ours." 

Me: "I don't think we could dig into the ground deep enough --" 

Eleven-year-old: "Their pool is above ground." 

The Goddess: "I'd want a hot tub before we got a pool." 

Seven-year-old: "So we're getting a hot tub?" 

The Goddess: "That's what I'd prefer." 

Me: "No one said we're getting a hot tub." 

Eleven-year-old: "Mom said we were." 

Seven-year-old: "Yay! We're getting a hot tub!" 

The Goddess: "I'd worry that the babies would fall into a pool and get hurt." 

Eleven-year-old: "Not if it is above ground." 

Seven-year-old: "We should get a pool and a hot tub!" 

Etc.

This continued for some time. So the conversation about getting married consisted of about thirty seconds of marriage discussion and fifteen minutes of explaining why we can't get a pool to the Goddess and her children.

Sometimes your role in the family becomes clear all by itself.