My Life: Part 2

I was about 4-years-old when my parents started to tell me about a baby. They were expecting a little sister for me around the beginning of August of 1980. Though I didn't really understand what a sibling might mean, I looked forward to that day. It just took a very long time to get here and not just because my perspective was very young.

It seems that near the culmination of mom's pregnancy, there were a lot of outings and overnights at one of my aunts' house or my grandparents' house. There were about 4 or 5 false starts, where they told me excitedly...

We are going to go to the hospital and have your little sister. When we come home, you will have a baby sister. But then later, they'd be back and they would not always be smiling and there was no baby. I'd learn later that my mother had a lot of false starts and contractions that backed off as the day wore on. Since she was not bedridden, her water had not broken and the doctors were not sure how long it might be... they sent her home. Although I didn't recognize it until much later, this was very frustrating for my parents.

The baby was originally and ostensibly due in early August. But on the morning of August 26^th, we were still waiting impatiently. Then once again a trip was made to the hospital while I waited with a family member or neighbor. This time, for sure, we are going to go have your little sister. The smart kid that I was had begun to have his doubts. I'd learn later that the original due date was over three weeks earlier than what came to pass.

But that day was the right one and I was later brought to the hospital to see my parents and the new addition. What was the first thing my parents said to me about the little sister when I was brought into their room?

Here's Your Little Brother!

This was obviously one of the first moments where I began to get a small inkling that my parents did not really know everything in the world. They were not all-knowing like I'd come to believe. Because they had already had a boy, they just magically assumed that their next child would be a girl. They understood mentally that the gender determination is a random coin toss, but their minds played a trick on them and they didn't even know it until much later.

But no matter! I had my sibling and I was young enough to not really miss being an only child up until that point. Furthermore, although Jon was a boy and not the Jeanine they had prepping me for, he was really just a baby and not as interesting as I had pictured at the age of four.

I loved him instantly. But he wasn't practical. He couldn't play or jump or run or ride big wheels with me. I think that was what I had pictured since I'd never spent that much time around babies. They had told me that there would be a lot of changes and responsibilities with a new baby in the house, but all I thought was that I would soon have a best friend to tool around with. I think this is an issue for just about all older children, as I saw the same limited reaction from my oldest daughter when her sister was born. She thought of the baby as just a very animated doll for her to play with and got confused at first when that turned out not to be true.

Despite this, having a sibling is one of the greatest things on Earth. Who else but a child from the same parents can understand you in quite the same way? Frankly, I feel sorry for only children. It's not natural.

Jon's pre-birth gender surprise was not the only surprise he had in store for my folks. Even though I'd been around for a few years, my parents were still rookies. He's had an interesting and adventurous life so far --especially in his teen years-- and I can't help sometimes feeling jealous of him for it. I look at him occasionally and wish I'd been that cool.

Maybe some day...

Update

2007/11/17: One of the pitfalls of your Mom reading your blog when you are writing about your life story is that she WILL correct you when you're wrong --and rightly so she should! A major detail in this story that I forgot was that my parents did in fact have an ultrasound early in the pregnancy and the expert's opinion was that the baby would likely be a girl. Leave it Mom to set me straight in comments below.

We did not just assume that the new baby was going to be a girl. An ultrasound indicated that it would be a girl. However in 1980 ultrasound was unreliable, especially as early in the pregnancy as it was. Oh well, we love Jon just like his big bro.

Thanks Mom for keeping me accurate. I do appreciate it. Although, you know, that doesn't say anything very nice about Jon that a medical expert was looking for male genitalia and missed them, ... but let's not bring that up, okay?

My Life: Part 1

My parents are James E. Arconati and Lois C. Arconati. They are both St. Louis natives and met in high school. They were married in 1970 and I came along in 1976. I don't know all that much about the intervening years, but I'd like to believe they were happy years. I do know that they were very happy when I was born. They look happy in the pictures at any rate. And I should mention the pictures as that will be important.

My Dad, The Photographer-Geek

My parents took a disproportionately large amount of pictures. My father was a professional photographer at one point in his younger years, so this was a natural extension of his interests. But there are pictures of me from a few hours old and on. This may not seem that unusual but there is even some video of me at a crawling age. This was the late 1970s. My dad had access to a video camera through his work and was given limited permission to borrow it and learn how to use it. Of course, he pointed it proudly at me.

I've always viewed his interest in video as a natural extension of his interest and experience in photography. More recently, my mom said something that struck me funny though that shows a different perspective. I believe Dad was working at Southwestern Bell. Someone there had asked for volunteers that knew something about Television. Dad raised his hand because he "watched a lot of T.V." That's funny and I'd bet my dad is humble enough to admit it's at least partly true. But then again, it's got to be an oversimplification. For instance, I like food. I eat two or three meals a day, but I can't cook. I have no interest in it. Gadgets, particularly cameras, make my dad's eyes light up.

As a result of all this, I'm very comfortable around cameras. I'm kind of glad that I'm not a celebrity since they seem to develop so many issues. But I will never feel awkward with a camera pointed at me as is the case for some people. I am also very comfortable with technology in general, but if you are reading my web site, you could probably have guessed that.

My father, my sage, my fountain of knowledge...

My Mom, The Teacher

Perhaps my mother is as much of a geek in some respects. But more than anything else, she is a teacher and an educator. Briefly and prior to my birth, she worked at a telco just like my dad. But for most of her adult life, she has worked in education. She was a full-time teacher for many years and worked as a substitute on and off after my birth. I think as I got older and Jon was born, she switched to full-time daycare within the home. She'd later get her Master's degree (yeah mom!) and she now works as a school counselor. But as I was growing up, she was always a teacher even when her full time job was raising Jon and I.

She was also very interested in psychology and science in general. It's probably an unfair oversimplification to draw a line from her mother's mental illness to an attraction to studying the mind. I prefer to think of it as a ... an attraction to discovery.

Something I have learned as a father is that children teach you to discover things again. Adults look at a lawn full of fallen leaves and see chores; raking, bagging and/or mulching. Children see piling and crunching and jumping. Adults drive long trips across country and wouldn't even notice the beautiful sunset until the children in the back seat marvel aloud about it. To an adult, bugs should be swatted or sprayed. Children stare in fear, or awe or wonder or curiosity as the caterpillar makes it's cocoon. The child picks up the leaf or the stone or the bug and sees it for what it is, simple but yet beautiful and new. Perhaps I really only understand these things now because my mother encouraged me see them as a child.

I've joked over the years about what it was like to have a mother who was also a teacher / psychologist. "Eat your greenbeans!" I'd mimic. And then in the same breath, "--And tell me about your mother," as I stroked my non-existant Freudian goatee. The punchline being that she was my mother.

My mother, my guru, my fountain of wisdom...

So Much More...

Some of these details are really very fuzzy to me because I really didn't live them. I only heard these stories years later as I grew. Like any impermanent memory, I may be filling in the details haphazardly. And what's worse is that these events are all second-hand. My hope is that you get the impression of these early things as I experienced them --or quasi-experienced them, if you prefer.

There's a lot more I could say about my parents and they deserve whole volumes. Trust me when I say that they play a large role in the chapters to come. But now, let's get back to my brother.

My Life: Preface

Memories are crazy things. They are in most ways unlike any physical object that could be used in an analogy. They are at times fluid, solid or gas. They exist as data, furtive electrons but also spiritual nuances, emotional bindings and physical sensations. In summation, I'm amazed, overjoyed, perplexed and annoyed by their persistence --and sometimes by their furtiveness. For instance, I can't recall for you at this moment the exact sound and tone of my son's voice. But I can recall the color and texture of the walls in the hospital where my little brother was born 27 years ago.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. My earliest memories are of the events of the birth of my little brother, Jonathan L. Arconati. But as preface, I should really give a bit of background before that and go back to my own birth. I don't want to break down my entire family tree, but I'll at least introduce my parents.

It's Time - This Is My Life

Back in March of this year, I reaffirmed my plan to get drafting out my life story for whatever it is worth. It was my original plan with writing a blog, because at the time that is what I thought a blog was for. I thought it was an autobiography rather than a daily journal or public diary. A distinction does need to be made.

But I strayed from that plan and was really not the worse for wear. But then I read Nikomas' blog and I was inspired. Nik took over a dozen blog posts in a row and specifically made no mention of his day-to-day stuff and just briefly rehashed his whole life. He started right after his father died. I wrote:

Coming right on the heels of his father's tragic death, this depth of digging into one's life and sharing it from beginning to today was very inspiring.

I don't really know if Nik had already planned to write about his background before his father passed away, or if it was related. Either way, it was an unapologetic and revealing look into his past. Although he never stated it, you could feel as if his thoughts of his father were on his mind the whole time.

My son has died, and although it may be imitation, I'm going to do the same as Nik. If you can allow me to use an analogy, I'm going to put away my little pickaxe and small hand shovel. I'm gonna start up the engine on this here giant diesel caterpillar machine and really start to carve something out. Hopefully, it will still look like me when I'm done.

I can't promise I'll be as brief as Nikomas' 14 posts, but when have I ever told a short story? Are you along for the ride? Good? Good.

Tattoo Confirmed

In case my previous post on the matter wasn't clear, I did get a tattoo about two weeks ago. I wanted to talk about it, but I also wanted to wait until everyone important had a chance to see it physically. I didn't get a chance to complete that until over this weekend. Both my parents, my kids and all my siblings have now seen it.

Did it hurt? you might ask.

Compared to what? I should reply. I should further answer with No more than usual, and point to the last month as explanation. But I'm afraid that would get lost in translation somewhere.

No, the physical pain was very remote and removed. I didn't even flinch once.

One Month Mark

As of today, it has been one month since my son passed away. There is a lot I could blog about --regarding Lucas and otherwise-- but right now I don't want to.