Kermes Light

You Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 04:33:00 +0000

As I was rocking Kai back to sleep a few nights ago and I looked down at his serene face—head sinking back below the crook in my arm, his tiny puckered mouth slightly agape—that Joni Mitchell line from "Big Yellow Taxi" popped into my head: You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. It’s not that that line describes how I was feeling in that moment—in fact, it was just the opposite, which is what made it so perfect. As I was gazing down on this perfect little soul, present in all of the happiness I possess in my life right now, I suppose my subconscious could not conjure up any words to directly convey my sentiments at that moment and instead offered me the antithesis: You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. After Kai was born my whole life changed in a way I never knew possible. Really, I never knew what could be until it truly was! As I continued to rock Kai with all of these thoughts swirling round in my head, I meditated on that phrase as an antonym of what I was feeling. It reminded me of the popular use of aphorisms among mystic poets when trying to relate their experiences of the Divine, to illustrate through words the, ultimately, ineffable. And, really, it is the Divine I am experiencing in those moments. It is the Beloved as shown through the beautiful son I hold in my arms. As parents always say, no words can describe it, and so to bring us closer we need words that seemingly lead us further away: You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

...And for fun, Pinhead Gunpowder's version of "Big Yellow Taxi":

Kai Starts Making Music!

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 23:06:00 +0000

For the first time, Kai is starting to make music with an instrument. He has two little wooden rattles that prior to a week ago merely served as instruments to chew on. He did delight in the sound they would make when I shook the rattle for him, but he either never could or simply never would replicate the sound himself. Now he has become a little musician!

The generation of parents to which I belong is obsessed with knowing exactly what is right for their child and wanting all of the current research pertaining to every developmental step. Sometimes I tell myself that I am different and cannot be lumped in with the rest, but then I have moments like right now where I know, I too am one of those parents.

Over the last few months or so I have really been thinking about music and its effects on Kai. Music is a really important part of my life and I want Kai (any phrase beginning with "I want (my child)..." is already heading towards what is most likely a projection) to have that love and understanding of music as well. I don't want him to end up like Steve Martin in The Jerk struggling to snap his fingers with the beat. I want him to have lots of exposure to music and for that to be a strong part of his life. Nevertheless, our culture does not expose children to music in a nourishing way any longer. We no longer (or at best rarely) gather as a community and play music that nourishes all members of that community--young and old. I feel it is important to have Kai experience only (or by and large) live music in his early years and yet I began to wonder, is my guitar and my voice enough (I haven't played my trumpet for him--maybe if I mute it...)?

I began to think that perhaps I was being too dogmatic in my attitude towards media. So I did some research with my hypothesis being the following: if television does not help and in fact impairs our faculties of speech than it follows that music does not help and perhaps even impairs our faculties of music (rhythm and tone).
Here are my findings:

Infant's sense organs are still developing (though hearing develops in-utero) and thus are more sensitive to sensory input than adults' sense organs. For ears, this means that their sensitivity to tone, rhythm, and volume is particularly acute. According to researcher Shannon de l'Etoile, "[c]ommerical recordings can be beneficial, if selected and implemented with care; however, most recorded music marketed for infants tends to be too fast, too complex, and in the wrong key for young listeners. Consequently, your singing voice and instrumental skills are your best tools for providing meaningful musical experiences for infants."
In another study on music's effect on infants in intensive care units, the researchers found that live music was associated with a slower heart rate, deeper sleep patterns, and more stable weight gain whereas recorded music yielded no significant effects.

In some more subjective research, I asked one of the music teachers' at my school (who has two grown children and two teenagers) what he thought about music with Kai. "Is singing to him enough?" I asked. "Absolutely. More than enough. When I read stories, I would sometimes sing the stories instead of read them. And, of course, you just make up little songs all the time. The more you sing to them the better, and if it's pentatonic all the better."
[Just a little aside, pentatonic is a five-note scale that in the Waldorf world we prefer to sing and teach music in until 3rd Grade. As with the rest of the Waldorf curriculum, our music curriculum is a recapitulation of human evolution and culture. Thus, in early human cultures music was largely pentatonic. As human culture evolved we became more and more comfortable with harmonies closer together (the 5th sounded great, then the 4th, then the 3rd, and now in Modern music we find the 2nd!).

I would love to hear folks' thoughts on the topic.

And then, for your enjoyment. I couldn't resist:

Linda and I Fought Over the Word Pecan and Made Kai Cry

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 23:38:00 +0000

Yesterday, Linda and I got into one of our meaningless debates (usually instigated by me) where each of us chooses a side and does not back down. We were all on the couch with Kai in the chair I had made with my knees as the back of the chair and with my lap as the seat and Linda sitting next to us. Discussing what will happen tomorrow for Thanksgiving, we got talking about pecans, when Linda--out of the blue and taking a turn from her usual pronunciation of the nut--called them peh-cans with an emphasis on the "cans" (and "a" as in apple). I was taken aback at what to me was a completely new pronunciation of this word. "That is the first time anyone has ever said peh-cans!" I exclaimed. "Ever in the entire history of the world?" Linda mockingly shot back. "Well, I have never heard anyone ever pronounce pecans any other way except either peh-cawns or pee-cans." Well, the lines of argument were drawn. In my camp was the contention that I have never heard a third way of saying pecans and thus I do not believe a third way of pronouncing pecans exists as a greater cultural-linguistic phenomenon. Apparently, Linda was only asserting that a third way of pronouncing pecans can exist and not (as I mistakenly thought, which really was the root of our argument) that groups of people actually commonly pronounce pecans in a way that transgresses the two commonly known forms of pronunciation.
As the miscommunication swirled out of control and our heels dug deeper into the proverbial ground we both grew less and less aware of the fact that a third person was there with us--in fact, seated right between us. Suddenly my eyes were forced to focus on this person right in front of me as the corners of Kai's mouth dropped, his cheeks sagged, and his lip quivered letting out a very very sad cry. Caught in the line of our argumentative fire was Kai and the discord between us clearly was not sitting well with him. Quickly I picked him up and held him close reassuring him while also laughing at the absurdity of the moment: "It's okay Kai. Mommy and Daddy love each other--see?" (Linda and I put on big happy grins trying to show him we really aren't mad). I give Kai to Linda and she reassures him as well. I hug Linda and Kai trying to show him that I still have affection for his mother, she for me, and both of us for him. Slowly his tears stop still on his face, the corners of his mouth tighten back into a smile and his eyes start to glow again with glee.
This was really the first time Kai had seen us fight. The crazy thing was how we were not angry--frustrated and irritated maybe, but not angry. Nevertheless, the fact that we were not kind, that our words were pointed at one another, that we were completely out of harmony upset him. I know that babies are sensitive, but wow! There's the proof!

The Natural World and Kai

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 21:40:00 +0000

After 4 1/2 months of life with Kai, I have a pretty good gauge on his likes and dislikes. These affinities usually depend on time, place, mood, and circumstance, but there is one constant: being outside. If Kai is being inconsolably fussy, I am nearly 100% certain that he will feel better once we are outside. It's really quite an amazing thing. Whether carrying him or putting him in the stroller, when Kai goes outside his worries are like a balloon that freed from ceilings and walls floats out and up into the stratosphere, disappearing from sight.
To try and pinpoint what it is outside in the open air that calms him would be a pointless reductionist venture that would, ironically, miss the point. What this does make me think about is how isolated our homes (and other buildings) are from the natural environment. How different would our lives be if we were in constant interaction with the elements? Not to suggest that we should live without shelter, but what if our homes allowed a more fluid exchange between the indoors and outdoors? I think about our first (and thus far only) camping trip with Kai where on the second night he slept for 12 hours straight. He has performed this feat a mere three times in his 4 1/2 months of life, which does not prompt me to make a causal link but at least makes me cock an eyebrow.
Lisa babysat Kai the other night (our first nighttime babysitting foray) and we got talking about this phenomenon of our buildings being so environmentally isolated. Right now, she is actually studying building design and how homes can, are, and have been built in ways that use the natural world to insulate or cool themselves through a natural transference of air and energy. This made me think of a trip I took as a freshman in high school to an Anasazi ruin that featured a ventilation system that ran throughout the complex whose design was all built upon the natural law of convection. Sometimes it seems like our civilization has gotten too clever for its own good. Less of what we do now is about working with natural forces than it is about overcoming them.
Lisa then elaborated on how much our current way of living isolated from the elements indoors prompts respiratory ailments and allergies because the air we breathe is so stale and recycled. But what about the less physical effects? What are the psychological, emotional, and spiritual effects of living so separated from the natural world?

All this being said I am happy in the house I live in. Maybe someday I could build a dream house that incorporates these ideas, but until then I have what I have. Winter is approaching, which will slow down the outdoor time a bit, but Colorado is still incredibly accommodating even with snow on the ground. Not only that, I can invite a bit more of the outside into my home in little ways. Saturday, Linda and I continued on our saga of making a more child-friendly home in anticipation of Kai's inevitable crawling, and in an effort to bring some of the outside world in, I dedicated one of our bookshelves in the living room as a nature table--arranging vines, leaves, pinecones, pieces of wood, stones (all of non-chokeable size of course!), etc. (I gleaned this idea from my Waldorf school world). The bookshelf below it will become a place to put nature table materials so that kids who come over can arrange and rearrange as it pleases them. It could use some characters, so I may add a cornhusk doll or some little felted animals, gnomes, or people so it can really turn into a story-scape for them to play with.
Anyway, as with everything, this relationship between indoors and outdoors is another piece of the ever-changing, ongoing puzzle of life. Another challenge, another creative opportunity.

Cute Video

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:53:00 +0000

So Kai makes lots of sounds, of the most common is "Hoo!" or even "Goo!" (babies really do make that sound!). Today he had one of his classic moments of exclaiming "Hoo!" and when I mirrored it back to him he thought it hilarious! Linda got the camera after the game had already begun.

Here are some highlights:

Baby Brain

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:27:00 +0000

At the beginning of the school year I warned all of my children that I now suffer from a condition known as baby brain. "So if I say anything funny or strange that really just does not make any sense, feel free to raise your hand and ask, 'Mr. Dewey, did you get much sleep last night?' or 'Mr. Dewey, do you have baby brain again?'" A couple of times I have been called out on my condition--though my baby brain prevents me from recalling most of these circumstances--and then the other day I heard a funny story from a mother of one of my students: "Now whenever she messes up on something, makes a mistake, or forgets something, she says...Oh, it must be baby brain." It's funny how children adopt language and try it on without fully understanding its meaning. It's also a reminder of how children bring my speech and behavior home with them. Funny and a bit frightening.

The Sadness of Change

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 01:08:00 +0000

It was only a matter of time until a more somber and sad post arrived, and here it is. Knowing me, this will surely be the first of many.

Following up on the last post on sleep, I've settled into my feelings a bit more and there's a lot more there than just wanting to get a baby to sleep.

My relationship with Kai Liang has changed. Of course, this is part of any relationship--especially that of a parent to their child. Nevertheless, it's the first time I have felt it and feel it I must.
Going back to work dramatically changed our relationship. Before, I was with him nearly all day. He enjoyed near equal time with me and Linda and sometimes I felt like (even though it's clearly not true) I was on completely equal footing with Linda save for the breastfeeding part. Now that I am back at work, Kai gets a maximum of four hours of me each day and those four hours aren't exactly the best of me either. He does not look at me like a stranger, and he always gives me a smile when I come home, but that same adoration and love does not feel the same. He is more comfortable with Linda now. He is so familiar with her and she with him in a way that I can no longer match. Funny-and-Playful-Daddy remains intact but Soothing-Daddy-Who-Puts-Me-to-Sleep feels like an artifact of early infancy. Even diaper changing used to be our thing until I went back to work. He still loves getting his diaper changed but I am no longer the proud ruler of Diaper Land.
Yesterday I began to feel like I had to work at strengthening my relationship with Kai whereas before it just got stronger with time. My patience has to be that much greater because I know that if I hand him off to Linda, I am handing off my limited time with my baby boy.
I think it is true that with time apart I can come back to Kai with renewed creativity and patience. But when I spend most of my day prior to coming home on my feet with 26 children demanding that same creativity and patience--I can feel my resources dwindling.

Okay, enough sulking? I'll move on.

I know there is a bigger picture. I never question our love or that we will forever be bound together. And I know that the wonderful thing about everything that has to do with Kai Liang is that it is just like Colorado weather: if you don't like it now, just wait a few minutes!

Sleep, What's That?

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 18:50:00 +0000

The last week has been an odd one with Kai's sleep. Though going to sleep has never been a regularly seamless process, there used to be some kind of pattern around him falling asleep. This last week has felt like a serious upset of what used to be. Or what I think used to be...
Late this morning when it seemed clear that he needed a nap (and, in fact, he is still fighting it--eye rubs and all) I had this pondering moment: "How did we get him to fall asleep?" It was the same kind of question that arises during a night of insomnia, when after tossing and turning for an hour you ask, "How do I fall asleep?" You imagine how your hands are positioned ("Do I have one hand under the pillow and the other hand at my side? No, that feels awkward...") or your legs, what side is most optimal, and all of these questions merely confirm your worst fear: I am never going to sleep.
So as this question confirming doom appeared in my mind, it became clear that all I can do is try and enjoy the present. I looked at myself from the outside and saw me in my pajamas, Kai sitting upright in my arms, and us both looking out the window on a rainy fall afternoon. "That looks pretty nice," I thought, and I smiled.

Kermes Light Facelift!

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 18:35:00 +0000

Hello Dear Readers!
After a month long forced (by work) hiatus I am back and the blog is better than ever! Two major things have changed:

1. A new look! Hope you like it. If you have trouble with readability let me know.

2. Now you can receive email updates when there are new posts. Look up and to your right and you will see a place to submit your email address to receive said updates. Now you don't have to check back to this page only to be disappointed that there is nothing new!

After accomplishing these changes, I think I now have the internet literacy of a 12 year old.

Here are a couple dated posts I didn't finish:

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:25:00 +0000

Sorry about my drop off recently. School has started and the first month back is always challenging and extremely time consuming. Anyway, in the last month so much has happened that I have not written about! I started on a couple posts a month ago that now seem really dated, but I think you will enjoy them. Just imagine they were written in August when Kai was 3 months old:

Funny Guy Dad (8/24/11)
So I seem to already be shaping my role as funny guy dad, which is great because it means I am on my way to cultivating an appreciate audience for my corny jokes. Linda laughs at my jokes, but then scolds herself for doing so. Kai, on the other hand, can be an audience of completely uninhibited laughter and without regretting it later.
The signs have been building to where now I can pretty effectively get smiles and near laughs out of him. About a month ago Linda, Kai and I were sleeping with Kai on my chest, and suddenly he let out this peal of laughter! Both Linda and my eyes nearly popped out of our heads with excitement, but we hadn't been able to get a repeat performance--sleeping or awake. Until yesterday!
Last night as I was stripping Kai down for his bath and we were goofing around with him lying on his changing table he let out a big old giggle! I exclaimed "Oh my goodness!" and Linda ran into the room thinking maybe he'd peed or pooped on me. I told her he'd laughed and I tried to get a second one out of him. Sure enough, moments late a bigger, even longer giggle burst out of his chest! This just sent me into hysterics flapping my arms around and hopping up and down with squeals of excitement (like son like father?). During most of this Kai had one of his more curious looks on his face that asks "What are you doing?"
The latest incident came minutes ago when Kai was fussing in his bassinet and I went to get him to see what he needed. The room was completely dark and he seemed largely unresponsive to me picking him up until we stepped into the light of the living room. As soon as he saw my illuminated face his whole face brightened up like the sun and a huge smile spread over him. Precious! Soon he was yapping away and smiling and goo-gooing at me ready to have play time. I knew he was hungry so I gave him to Linda to nurse, but he just kept staring at me and with his eyes that said "Let's play Da-da!" When we set him on the Boppy in nursing position he took no interest in feeding and instead was intent on me hearing the latest jokes he had been working on while I was gone during the day. Need I say they were hilarious?
I am truly reveling in this time where there truly is nothing he can do wrong and thus nothing I can be upset at. Sure, I can be annoyed but that's solely my problem. For a while, no discipline exists, which means I can be the funny dad lots of the time and stern disciplinary dad none of the time! What a wonderful time.

Impermanence and Change (8/27/11)
A few days ago Linda said to me "I never understood impermanence and change like I do now having Kai." It is amazing how much watching the growing and maturing of a child from in the womb, to infancy, to babyhood, and on through childhood teaches you about impermanence and change. You realize just how few absolutes there really are. When Kai was a month old sometimes I would say "Kai is an easy baby," which always made Linda feel uncomfortable. "It's still really early" she would say. I would concede and hope his trend of easiness would hold out. Nevertheless, to say "Kai is easy" turns Kai into a noun being defined and how can you really define a person? Greater minds could make a great philosophical, semantic, and ontological exploration here. I have baby brain.

Linda Makes Kai's First Album

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 01:10:00 +0000

Linda has put together a little album. Enjoy!

Click here to view this photo book larger

“He looks like…”

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 02:42:00 +0000

A funny thing often happens when someone meets Kai Liang. They will look at him, then at Linda, then at Kai, then at me—their glances shifting between us—until finally they come out with “He looks like…”
What is funny about the “He looks like…” game is that just about every possible opinion under the sun has been uttered. Observations have been corroborated just as much as they have been contradicted (though the most popular opinion is that he looks like Linda's father). He looks Asian, he looks White, he has Vernon’s eyes, he has Linda’s eyes, etc. etc. etc. This is not to dismiss the validity of these observations—they could all be true! What is amazing is how amorphous his appearance really can be, all the while still distinctively remaining Kai. My latest theory on this phenomena is that he is still so connected to the spirit world that he cannot be so fixedly tied to physical classification and understanding. Perhaps it is a bit romantic, but to be romantic is not necessarily to be wrong! ; )

A little while ago, our friend Coco asked me "What is it like being a White man with a son who is obviously Asian?" (Coco, I hope I am recounting your question correctly). I am not sure my response was adequate, and I have been thinking a lot about me, Kai, Linda, and our different racial heritages and how that will play out in our family dynamic. I responded largely with that I had not really thought much about it. I guess what I really mean is that I have not thought about how that racial difference affects my love for him because it really does not enter my mind at all. I do think a lot about me being White and Kai being mixed Asian and White (or Hapa) quite a bit and how that will affect his experience growing up and what I can do as a parent to support him in his own identity development and how to protect him from feeling alienated from either White culture or Chinese culture or both.

About a month ago, we were all on a neighborhood walk as a family with Kai Liang in the stroller, when we were walking through an alley behind a gas station and a 40-something-looking White woman saw us and asked if she could see our baby. "Of course," we replied and as she walked up to look at Kai she said "I just love half-breeds!" and proceeded to admire at his cuteness. We were very literally dumbfounded by her comment, our mouths firmly sealed and minds working hard to fathom what this woman just said. She ended her viewing by turning to Linda and saying "He has your eyes!", which was another odd thing to say, seeing as how his eyes were closed.
As soon as we were out of earshot, Linda and I looked at each other with gaping mouths desperately trying to utter something that would help it all make sense. All I could come up with was "What do we do the next time that happens?" After all, he was only about a month into a longer life surely full of comments of this sort. The best I could come up with was "We prefer mixed." But even then, I'm not satisfied. I would love advice on this one if any of you have some to share.
This encounter prompted me to better understand the Hapa experience (Hapa is a slang term derived from Hawaiian meaning a person of mixed racial heritage with partial roots in Asian and/or Pacific Islander ancestry) so I picked up Kip Fulbeck's Part Asian, 100% Hapa from the library. I think I will have to buy it as a coffee table book. After all, as Fulbeck says in the foreword, "I'm really making the book I wish I had access to growing up." The book is kind of a photo essay on the Hapa experience. Each page is a different Hapa individual with their picture on one side and their response to the question "What are you?" His book is a beautiful response to that very loaded and problematic question. Here is a favorite of mine:

To get a glimpse and to see Kip Fulbeck's other projects, go here or you can preview it at Amazon.

Oh, and here is a cute picture of Kai Liang after bath time in his frog bathrobe. You can find more under "Pictures of Kai."

Mmm....Baby Smell.....Mmmm....

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 18:26:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago Linda, Kai, and I went to our Kaiser pre-natal group reunion. We all swapped birth stories, tales of figuring out parenting as we go along, and of course adored each other's children. At one point Linda and I were chatting with one of the nurses and I mentioned how the entire house smells like baby. "I mean everything! And it's not just diaper smell, or breast milk, it's something else entirely that I just cannot describe." The nurse enthusiastically agreed and seemed able to recall her own experience of the wonder of baby smell.
Later, Linda mentioned to me how she never really noticed a baby smell, which left us both with an inconclusive "Huh."

I have continued to think about the phenomenon of baby smell, especially because I cannot escape it! It's just so wonderful! To try and describe it, it's sweet and musty and rich and when I hold Kai and press his soft and squishy chest to my face I get the nearly irresistible urge to devour him!
I've thought, "Perhaps it's pheromones or something," but every time I got on the computer I forgot about my baby smell wonderings (I think perhaps because the computer dulls my senses. I am not kidding).
Well, finally I remembered and lo and behold it has been researched! A Swedish study headed by Professor Bill Hansson tested to see whether there in fact was a newborn smell and, if so, what its effect was on others. Marina Green at TLC magazine summarizes, and their conclusions are fascinating!

The results of their experiments showed that men were better at distinguishing T-shirts that had been worn by newborns, and fathers were more likely than non- fathers to speculate correctly. The women had trouble distinguishing the scent of a newborn child from an older child but they all agreed that clean, unworn shirts smelt “most pleasant”.

Amazingly, none of the women could detect this baby smell--only the men, especially (but not exclusively) fathers. This comes as a surprise for a few reasons: 1. Women are generally found to have a stronger sense of smell. 2. Our cultural assumptions around gender and bonding. 3. A previous study by Karin Bengston at Hebrew University in Jerusalem had found that mothers could identify their babies by smell.
Here is Bengston's take on the research:

"Women have always had to be more concerned with the job of looking after their children than men and display protective motherly instincts in their presence. These feelings toward the child were never as natural coming from the father because he was primarily concerned with the hunt for food. A successful hunter was better off adopting an aggressive stance. Back at the homely campfire this peculiarity could prove dangerous for the youngest and most defenceless members of the clan, especially under less than ideal conditions."...According to this theory, men sniff out the information on baby aroma that is common to all small children but women focus more on the factors that distinguish their own child from other children.

I cannot say I have been aggressively hunting as of late. Even when I am "bringing home the bacon" it has been from working with children--though children who apparently have largely lost their newborn smell (not until puberty will they produce their own "mature" smell--won't that be nice!). Nevertheless, I must say that walking in that door after running errands or doing some work at school, I am immediately hit by a thick wall of baby's sweet sweet aroma, and most everything that was hanging onto me melts away.
To speak of the bond (whether assisted by pheromones or not) between Kai and I, one of my favorite moments is when I finish changing his diaper and he just lays there on the changing table, arms over his head, a serene look on his face, and his eyes on mine. Right then, it is so clear just how much we are attached. We both know that I am going to pick him up and love him until the end of time. All his eyes seem to ask is, "Where to now daddy?" And away we go.

Backyard Adventure!

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 14:43:00 +0000

Late last week Kai and I made an exciting discovery. For our morning walk one day, I decided to walk to the Barnum Recreation Center and time how long it took us to get there. We had not gone this way yet because it involves crossing very noisy, polluted Federal Ave. Nevertheless, the intrigue of nearby attractions compelled me to make the journey. And wow what is it worth it!
After crossing Federal we went north onto Grove and in a few blocks found ourselves overlooking a creek feeding a marshy pond all nestled right behind the Barnum Rec Center! My imagination began to run wild. The creek comes from the west at a nice trickling pace and I immediately began to imagine boat races with Kai from first, boats as represented by leaves, sticks, or blades of grass, and then growing up to build our own boats to take down to the waters to race.
After my mind settled back into the present and I looked once again toward the pond, I could see three large white birds resting in the middle of the pond. "Swans?" I thought. But after watching them further, they did not have the grace of a swan in movement or in build. Kai and I hurried closer and when I was close enough to recognize them my jaw dropped in awe: "Pelicans!" Three American White Pelicans! As Kai and I circled the pond it turned out there was another group of 5 on the other side of two small grassy islands on the north side of the pond. I was and still am completely stunned. Though I knew that Pelicans came through Colorado, I had no idea that some would actually roost in Denver. After all, migration season is over so what other reason do they have to be here? Furthermore, I was astonished to see them chowing down on what seemed like loads of fish. My pessimistic view of Denver ecology was beginning to take a brighter turn.
This being my first time seeing American White Pelicans, I was fascinated by their behavior. Never did the pelicans stray from their respective group. The threesome and the fivesome would swim altogether, nearly shoulder to shoulder and then would dive their great long necks with massive triangular heads down into the water near simultaneously. Then as each of them caught their fish they would raise back up with beaks open, shaking the fish down from their beaks' flopping jowls (throat sacs I guess is what they are called) down into their throats. Apparently, as I confirmed with my Sibley Field Guide to Birds, they hunt cooperatively, chasing fish to one another.
As exciting as the pelicans were, they were not the only exciting presence at the pond. Aside from the usual suspects of Red-winged Blackbirds, Canada Geese, Green-Winged Teals, crows, cowbirds, and swallows, were Snowy Egrets, sandpipers, Double crested Cormorants, and one little fellow I could not identify. It had a similar body structure to a sandpiper, but considerably bigger with a white underbelly, black chevron-like markings on its back and wings, and a gorgeous cinnamon neck and head. Lastly, both its legs and bill were incredibly long with the bill being slightly upturned. This little guy liked to wander through the mud poking in its bill here and there in search of something to eat. This little mystery was the American Avocet.
Since that first exciting morning, I've been back a few times with Kai or Linda or both and all our new favorite characters (and yesterday we even saw a couple Killdeer) are always there, except the pelicans seem to be a bit more particular about when they come out. This morning Kai and went again and I actually had my camera this time to snap some shots. Here are a few of the best we got.

Our little friend the American Avocet

Here you can the egrets, teals, and pelicans.

Can you make out the two cormorants amidst the geese? You can see the avocet and egrets too.

Pelicans!

How to Make Your Kid a Writer

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 17:01:00 +0000

I found this post linked from Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog, and I absolutely love it. You can click on the link too see the whole thing, but I've pasted an excerpt below. When reading it, I had the same reaction that Coates apparently had: this is not just great advice on becoming a writer, but great advice in parenting.

First of all, let her be bored. Let her have long afternoons with absolutely nothing to do. Limit her TV-watching time and her internet-playing time and take away her cell phone. Give her a whole summer of lazy mornings and dreamy afternoons. Make sure she has a library card and a comfy corner where she can curl up with a book. Give her a notebook and five bucks so she can pick out a great pen. Insist she spend time with the family. It’s even better if this time is spent in another state, a cabin in the woods, a cottage on the lake, far from her friends and people her own age. Give her some tedious chores to do. Make her mow the lawn, do the dishes by hand, paint the garage. Make her go on long walks with you and tell her you just want to listen to the sounds of the neighborhood.

Let her be lonely. Let her believe that no one in the world truly understands her. Give her the freedom to fall in love with the wrong person, to lose her heart, to have it smashed and abused and broken. Occasionally be too busy to listen, be distracted by other things, have your nose in a great book, be gone with your own friends.

Let her have secrets. Let her have her own folder on the family computer. Avoid the temptation to read through her notebooks. Writing should be her safe haven, her place to experiment, her place to work through her confusion and feelings and thoughts. If she does share her writing with you, be supportive of her hard work and the journey she’s on. Ask her questions about her craft and her process. Ask her what was hardest about this piece and what she’s most proud of. Don’t mention publication unless she mentions it first. Remember that writing itself is the reward.

Let her get a job. Let her work long hours for crappy pay with a mean employer and rude customers. If she wants to be a writer, she’ll have to be comfortable with hard work and low pay. Let her spend her own money on books and lattes – they’ll be even sweeter when she’s worked hard for them.

Let her fail. Let her write pages and pages of painful poetry and terrible prose. Let her write painfully bad fan fiction. Don’t freak out when she shows you stories about Bella Swan making out with Draco Malfoy. Never take her writing personally or assume it has anything to do with you, even if she only writes stories about dead mothers and orphans.

Let her go without writing if she wants to. Never nag her about writing, even if she’s cheerful when writing and completely unbearable when she’s not. Let her quit writing altogether if she wants to.

Let her make mistakes.

It comes, as usual, with good timing after taking a very long walk with Kai yesterday. We walked all the way to the Platte River, which took us about 30 minutes each way. To get there we pass through our little neighborhood with houses and families like ours: barking dogs, giggling children, sparrows chirping in the hedges, and the smell of hot summer pavement, the dairy factory to the north, and flowers in bloom. Afterwards we pass through some Section 8 housing projects leading to Bar-Val-Wood park with adults playing baseball, kids playing basketball, older siblings watching baby siblings, warm pine pitch wafting in the breeze, cottonwoods letting go their fluffy flowers, and the subtle scent of car exhaust and industrial production.
After passing through the park, there remains a kind of five block dead zone between it and the Platte River: nothing to shade us, no providers of fresh air, just lot after lot of this or that industry. Yesterday, we passed by mechanic's shops smelling of engine oil, grease, gasoline, rust, and cement. We saw sparks flying from a metalworking shop soon to close its doors and move elsewhere -- a warehouse cutting and polishing granite.

All of these sights, sounds, and smells made me wonder what will be the sensory triggers for Kai's memories? Will the slight hint of cinnamon and cream remind him, not of a cinnamon roll, but of the Robinson Dairy factory at 7th Avenue next to the Platte? When I hear fireworks and think of the Dewey cabin in Idaho, will he be thinking about this neighborhood and their zeal for explosives? What will be the lasting sensations in his own personal life story?

"Favorite Things To Do With Kai" List

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 17:50:00 +0000

As Kai gets bigger and bigger, my list of things to do with him gradually grows. Nevertheless, just because it is on the list does not mean he will not object. Kai’s likes do not extend far beyond mom’s breasts, being held, having a clean diaper, and sleeping. Our favorite things list are really just things I like to do with him that he will at least tolerate. Now that he is smiling more I am getting a better gauge over the preferences of my little audience.

1. Read poems and nursery rhymes. Favorites include Night and Cradle Song by William Blake, My Bed is a Boat by Robert Louis Stevenson, Lullaby by Tennyson, and Wynken, Blynken, and Nod by Eugene Field. Sometimes I make up a tune for the lullabies, other times they are just read.

2. Play guitar with Kai in sling. After imagining for years having a son to sing it to or with, I sang “Father and Song” by Cat Stevens for the first time to Kai. It was really magical. Linda was in the bedroom falling asleep with a smile.

3. Looking into each other’s eyes. He has these moments throughout the day when he is just taking in the world. And his eyes are so clear, so free of judgment, unclouded, and open--wondrously open. So open his mouth is open—in the shape of an “O”—and he longs to take the world in so much that sometimes he sticks out his tongue like he is trying to taste it!

4. Me burping him, him on top of the world! Sometimes I am not really burping him anymore as much as patting him—a rhythmic reminder of me while he is up there, craning his neck to see what normally his tall daddy sees. I can’t see what he sees when he’s looking over my shoulder behind me, but I like to think that he’s got my back.

5. Taking walks! As a family we went on our first walk about a week ago and our first hike just a few days ago. Kai and I have been have some father-son walks together as well. It’s a nice way to bond and give mom a little bit of her own space for a short while. The other day we took an all family walk with Kai in the sling, and as we passed a young teenager he had a double take, stopped, wheeled around and said "Is that a kid in there?", to which we affirmed. His reaction was excellent: "Whoa! That's trippy!"

Here's a video of us taking our first hike:

Deja Vu?

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 14:44:00 +0000

The other day Linda and I were sitting on the couch with Kai laying on Linda's chest, his head on her heart, facing the window, facing away from me. He was sleeping, deep sleeping with his torso rising and falling with each big little breath wearing a red onesie. I put my hand on his warm back and gently began to rub it up and down with long (as long as a tiny baby's torso can be) strokes. Suddenly my eyes dashed back into my head with the entire world expanding beyond my normal vision. A certain taste found itself in the back of my mouth and my mouth soon began to water.
Reading Swann's Way right now I cannot help but think of the famous scene of Proust and the petites madeleines, which upon tasting it, he is overcome by an onslaught of feelings:

"[it] had immediately rendered the vicissitudes of life unimportant to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory, acting in the same way that love acts, by filling me with a precious essence: or rather this essence was not merely inside me, it was me. I had ceased to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. Where could it have come to me from--this powerful joy?"

Unfortunately, unlike Proust, I could not trace this feeling back to a source. Was I remembering myself as a child, seeing me in my baby boy? Or was it a visceral feeling of fatherhood? Either way, two feelings predominated above the rest: Love and Truth. Love for my son, for all that he is, has been, and will be--a love that, as Proust relates, transcends mortality. And truth for the unmistakable reality of this moment and the conviction of my own feelings.

Party Time

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 01:09:00 +0000

If we celebrate the 4th of July every year like we did this year, Kai might start to think he has two birthdays. Yesterday my parents threw a party for everyone to come and see Kai and party. Minutes, indeed hours passed of Kai being passed round and round from one person to the next. Friends and family hovered intently around him to ensure that there would be no Bogarting the baby. In the month since Kai was born I have never been around him so long without holding him (save for when a diaper needed to be changed. No one seemed interested in that duty). A couple of times I would panic with the thought of "Where is Kai?!" feeling the strangeness of his absence from my arms. My wide eyes would then settle on a friend with Kai sweetly resting his head in the crook of their arm.

Judging by the cake, you might think our son is Uncle Sam, but I guess that's the kind of cake they're expecting you want on the 4th of July.

Scary huh? You can't see it but we (my dad and I) are both wearing khaki shorts too! It is one of those moments where find out just how strong heredity can be. We'll see how far from the tree Kai will fall.

Kai Liang...

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 06:37:00 +0000

Kai Liang. Just the sound of his name sends a jolt of love through my chest as if something gently tugged at my ribs from without, like a child yanking at the strings of a kite before the wind sends it soaring into the air—dancing.

Welcome!

noreply@blogger.com (Vernon Dewey) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 06:27:00 +0000

The birth of my first child, Kai Liang, has brought upon an irresistible desire for me to share him--and a bit of myself as it relates to him--with the world. I could not bring myself to join Facebook, so a blog it is! He is the inspiration though not necessarily always the subject.

The title of the blog comes from a dream I had the night Linda (my wife) and I found out she was pregnant. I awoke the next morning, turned to Linda and said "I dreamed its name was Crimson Light!" Unfortunately, a blog (which made one post in 2002 and that is it!) already had the name, so I looked at the etymology of "crimson" for other ideas and found "kermes." Interestingly, both crimson and vermillion derive from a genus of insects (kermes) whose dried bodies were used to make red dye. Anyway, a bit of a tangent.

Welcome!