It’s the most wonderful time of the year, which means it’s time for my annual Christmas card, co-starring my dog, Berkeley Buster DeVoe. This year we decided to class it up a bit with more formal attire (last year we went casual with onesies). It’s a tradition. I mean, who says only married couples with kids can take Christmas card pictures? Hope this year’s version brings a smile to your face.
I love the moments when you’re feeling down and someone does something so small, so unexpected to brighten your day. I saw this little note from my dad when I was playing “Draw Something,” and suddenly, everything became OK. It’s not much, but I know it’s from the heart and that he means it.
In some ways the cell phone and Internet have built communication barriers between people. We’re so self-absorbed. But this, to me, exemplifies one of the best benefits of these modern-day staples. I’m glad my loved ones are only a text message, Voxer, tweet, Facebook like, or, in this case, “Draw Something” comment, away from me.
My 3-year-old nephew, Jordan, absolutely loves my dog, Berkeley, so much so that he started acting like him (barking, walking on all fours, the whole nine). I captured this Kodak moment in the backyard of my mom’s house. Jordan went outside to play with Berkeley, who was resting in the shade on the warm afternoon. Little Jordan, without prompting, went down in the grass and laid down beside him. I live for these precious moments!
So I recently found out something new about my father, as we were discussing the fact that it’s difficult for me to gain weight. It runs in the family. When he joined the Marine Corps in his early twenties, he weighed a measly 107 pounds. His recruiter gave him a week to gain seven pounds (bringing him to 114 pounds, the minimum weight requirement then to join the service), so Pops proceeded to gorge himself on everything he could get a hold of. And taking heed from his recruiter, he didn’t take a poop that entire week. So when he weighed in seven days later, he gained a solid eight pounds. While at boot camp, my dad was given extra food rations and more time in the mess hall, compared to the other recruits who had just minutes to stuff their faces. He emerged three months later weighing a solid 145 pounds.