Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

Our family is blessed by the birth of the first baby girl we've had, at least among the first cousins, in 29 years . . . Maya Rory. Her Mommy is the last girl we've had, LOL!

Maya Rory entered our lives on Sunday, November 20th, at 8:51 p.m. She joins her a 9-year old big brother (and the light of mine and Dr. J's lives), Nate.

And she is absolutely perfect. Especially her head.

The Christening

We recently visited with Dr. J's family in Lahng Island to attend the christening of our 4-month old nephew, Brandan Hayes.

He's such a cutie-pie in his baptismal outfit! Brandan also has the sweetest disposition -- he's an absolute joy to hold and coo over. And as his Mommy says, "I wish a 'Brandan' on everybody!"

The icing on the cake of a terrific weekend (in addition to excellent food and wine), was getting to spend time with our other nephew (and Brandan's big brother), Tyler. Dr. J loved spending time with his godson, and we were amazed at Tyler's energy and endless stream of conversation, LOL!

It's Not Me, It's You

I have been having a really rough couple of weeks. Okay, so actually it's been longer than that. Sometimes I can cope with things (wait, make that PEOPLE) better than at other times. But I increasingly find myself worn out, and just plain sad.

I have been waiting for some insight, advice, or revelation that would help me feel not quite so blue. And waiting, and waiting. And struggling, and struggling. And falling deeper, and deeper. I find it harder to outrun the shadows. Their darkness keeps gaining on me.


Today was another dark day. And as I left work early to catch the bus, I saw a girl walk by me with a t-shirt on that read as follows:

IT'S NOT ME.

IT'S YOU.

That really gave me something to think about as I rode home. And the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that some changes are in order.

If You Can Read This, in English, Thank a Veteran!

What Is A Vet?
Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC


Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.

You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL.

He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".

Remember November 11th is Veterans Day

"It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the flag."

Father Denis Edward O'Brien
USMC

Men Get Breast Cancer, Too!

Breast cancer in women gets all of the attention.

However, the word needs to be spread, that MEN GET BREAST CANCER, TOO! Because of the stereotyping of breast cancer as something that only strikes women, male breast cancer is often misdiagnosed with tragic consequences.

That's why women need to spread the word, and nag the men we love to see a doctor if they notice any abnormalities in their breast region or pectoral cavity. And not just any old doctor, but someone who is familiar with male breast cancer. Too often, it is misdiagnosed as unilateral gynecomastia, which is dismissive and usually false.

It took us 3 doctors before we found the right one -- a surgical oncologist at Stanford University Hospital. He was kind, discreet, and was sensitive to the feelings that men have when confronted with breast tumors. And he had the experience we were looking for, as he had operated on at least 100 other men who had similar tumors, not to mention thousands of women.

I encourage everyone to check out the John W. Nick Foundation for more information and resources about male breast cancer.

And girls, keep after then men in your life to be healthy. Preach, teach, nag -- whatever it takes. And find a doctor who takes your concerns seriously.

Halloween Costumes

Every year I poll my friends with little kids to inquire about their Halloween costumes. Here are this year's results:

* Dragon
* Pirate named "One-Eyed Jack"
* Pop Star
* SWAT Team Member (I love Nate!)
* Fairy
* Grim Reapers (2 different kids)
* Batman "with muscles"
* Superman
* Ballerina
* Batman (I guess without muscles)


Gosh, I miss all of that!