It's been a whole week since the event but I felt like it deserved documenting.
Some days are good and some days are not as good, and some days are just really nice. Last Sunday was one of the really good days. On the same day, I blessed my youngest son and I was able to baptize my oldest son. Both events were very sweet and full of tender emotions and and tears born of deep gratitude and love for my children.
Having extended family present made the day so much nicer. Brian and Beth commented on the blessing. I remember most of the blessing and I'm still considering whether this is a proper forum for sharing the content of that blessing. I'll err on the side of caution and not post it, with the caveat that if anyone would like to know I'll type out what I can remember and email it off.
The blessing was done at 1pm at the beginning of sacrament meeting and the baptism was done after church and a little dinner that my mom coordinated. As a side note, it is really nice to have a mom that will take charge in certain situations to organize special events where I would fall short.
Baptisms are always special but the significance of it didn't hit me until after Hyrum and I were dressed in our white clothing and standing in the hall to get a picture taken. At that point it hit me that I remembered a picture very similar to the one we were posing for but it was of me and my dad. I was baptized in the same font, and my dad and I took a picture next to the same wall.
The service was very impromptu, Ben led the music, I am a child of God, Kate gave a great opening prayer, Aunt Joie gave a talk on baptism and shared her testimony all of which invited the spirit in wonderfully. Then we baptized him.
Without going to into too much detail, I walked into the water which was a little cold, then turned and invited Hyrum to join me. I gave him a little reminder about how it would work then closed my eyes. When I said the baptismal prayer, I choked on the words, being overwhelmed with emotion, laid him under the water and brought him back up again and gave him a great big hug.
We got dressed back into our Sunday best and came out to our seats again where, Sarita gave a talk on the Holy Ghost. Both talked were addressed Hyrum. He came up to the front where I invited all of my brothers, the Bishop and a family freind that was there to stand in for the confirmation. For this I can't recount what I said, except the words "you can be a light that reflects the light of Jesus Christ", but the rest is a blur.
The whole time I was just so proud of my little boy and hoped that he would remember this as a day to remember. On a personal note, I was struck by the thought that while I may not consider myself worthy to perform tasks in the name of my Savior, he still sanctified the act so that my son wouldn't be denied the blessing of recieving this ordinance, and I know that the Holy Spirit was there to testify that it was accepted by the Lord.
My mind has just been blown. Last night I caught a piece of a documentary about the 9/11 terrorists. There were 4 planes, and one of the 4 was flown by two men that lived in my home town. Not only were they in the same city, the lived in the same neighborhood.
Let me backup. The documentary was about the amount of information that the "Intelligence" community had before the attack actually happened, and it was detailed. They had phone records of calls to the safe house in Yemen where Bin Laden was living and had setup Headquarters, records of wire transfers from Yemen to the Bank of America where my mother does her banking and literally next-door to the bank that I use. The NSA had records of the guy's Driver's License, Visa, Car Insurance, Car title.... All of them in his name, even though the CIA knew that he was known to be affiliated with Al Queda.
The point of the presentation was to highlight the failings of the CIA, NSA, and FBI in not sharing information. Apparently because of jurisdiction they couldn't, NSA only monitors internally, FBI is after a crime is committed, and CIA isn't allowed to operate in the USA or something like that. Because of that negligence or shortfall, these guys were in the country legally. They were officially indistiguishable from an exchange student, or a migrant worker. They had the same rights and protections of an American resident.
None of that is what stood out to me most though. On a much more personal and less globally significant level I was struck by the idea, that I very likely had seen this guy, or at least been in a proximity of less than 100 yards at some point. I can make this claim and I'll explain why. On the documentary they showed the actual mosque they attended. The map below shows it on google maps. For privacy I don't want to share my parents address, but it's literally 3 or 4 blocks away. Every Friday, this street Ecstrom would be PACKED around 1-2pm and I never understood why. I learned later that Muslims have something called "The prayer of Friday" which either begins or ends their sabbath equivilent. In any case, I can't count the number of times I'd been stuck in that traffic. For all I know, one of the jay walkers was THE guy. Even if it wasn't one of the guys that walked in front of my car, he was in that building at some point when I was driving by.
http://www.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=7050+Eckstrom+Ave,+San+Diego,+CA+92111+(Islamic+Center+of+San+Diego:+Mosque)&sll=32.820731,-117.166207&sspn=0,359.990655&ie=UTF8&ll=32.820668,-117.166003&spn=0.005725,0.009345&t=h&z=17&iwloc=addr&layer=c&cbll=32.820766,-117.166121&panoid=0G0ijW9Ybjz4gjCmzTKV5A&cbp=12,138.01612196192457,,0,4.317912251189721
With the birth of Emmett, the idea of naming children has been on my mind. For each of my boys, I've hoped to give them names that are unique without being odd, but more than that I've hoped for them that they could be proud of their names. I like to think that I've succeeded.
My parents thought of my first name on the way to the hospital to deliver me, but my middle name has always been a source of pride to me. I'm named for my 3rd great-grandfather. He was a pioneer, built or owned a railroad, built the first gristmill in UT and was one of the founders of Mesa, AZ. In short he was an amazing man. Google "Charles Crismon" and you'll find this, and this, and this. In having his name as part of my own, I have always felt a sense that I'm meant to accomplish great things like he had.
Which brings me back to Emmett. I've been blessed to have really good and admirable men in my life that have been examples of fatherhood, hard work and loyalty. I've been blessed to also to have these men related to me by blood and by marriage, who exude the difficult kind of love for their children. The kind that pays close attention and nurtures but isn't afraid to reprimand when needed and have the self discipline and restraint to make those corrections calmly. These men are strong and honorable and epitomize the attributes that I strive to have and hope that I do.
With that in mind, I had landed on James for a middle name. My oldest sister's husband is Russell James and he's one of these great guys.
When I revealed this name to my brother Wayne, out of the blue he made a connection to another person who doesn't deserve mentioning here. Wayne saying that disturbed me far more than a little, to the point that I needed to make the clarification to myself and to anyone else, lest there be any confusion who is the one I want my son associated with. For that reason, he will get to have two middle names. Emmett Russell James Riddle.
I should mention here, that I did explain to Wayne how disturbing his association was, and he apologized profusely, knowing the history and implications.
On the same day that Emmett was born, my younger brother and his wife found out they are having a boy. Previously they had been told that it was a girl. Fitting the stereotype, she was disappointed by the turn of events having already acquired numerous pink things and girl baby clothes, and my brother was very happy.
Back to the Namesakes topic though, my brother thinks like I do that a baby's name should mean something. With the choosing of a name should be a thoughtful and deliberate activity, not to be taken lightly. The name he decided is Isaac. My brother Wayne Isaac was and is ecstatic making the assumption that he is the reason for the decision. Little did he know (third person omniscient) that Aaron wants that name for the same reason that my parents chose it for Wayne. Isaac Riddle is an ancestor also who was a really neat guy, and coincidentally was at one time serving the same mission as Charles Crismon. We can't be sure, but it's not out of the realm of possibility and even seems likely that Charles and Isaac knew each other.
I'm so sorry for not having done this sooner. As you can imagine (or remember for those reading that have children), there is a lot of activity (chaos) associated with a birth.
Excuses aside though, we did get some good photos of little Emmett Russell James. The name is conditional on approval of my brother-in-law who is currently serving in Iraq. Remind me to write the post on Namesakes that I've been thinking of.
http://picasaweb.google.com/jared.riddle/EmmettDay#
Pretty much every picture that we took of the day is there. I'm going to put some of my favorite here too though.
The picture above is a favorite just because of the story associated. Alice told the story already once, but it bears repeating. Meg is on the phone with Alice, litterally two minutes before she started pushing. I can have mom check her call logs, but I'm pretty sure it will confirm that Emmett was born within 15 min of when this photo was taken.
This is the first picture taken of our little man. Still in all his glory, but wearing the oh so stylish hat. I sometimes wish I was so bold as to walk around the hospital in just a hat. Maybe a hat and socks. Sorry. Brian that was for you. Anyway, you'll notice that he still has a bunch of his umbilical cord attached. It was a two part deal. The Dr. had me cut once really far away, and the nurse a second time. That should give you an idea of how young he is (maybe 10 min old?).
The last that I'm going to put up here is my favorite. It's Emmet right before being given his first sponge bath. He was a little fussy, but would calm down when I held his hands to his chest. I know it was mostly because newborns are a bit agoraphobic, but I like to think he was aware that the hand comforting him belongs to the first man that loved him unconditionally.
All the requisite details now.
Born 11:07am on Jan. 5, 2009; Emmett Russell James Riddle weighed 9-4 and was 20 in long. His head was 13.4 inches around. Mother and baby are doing great.
We love you all and appreciate the support, phone calls, emails, texts and kindnesses extended to us.
I haven't posted much on new baby E. because I'vw only had internet access via my phone since he was born. While short text messages and photo uploads from my camera phone to Facebook are pretty easy, longer blog posts are a little difficult. In fact just typing this is bugging my neck and thumbs. I'll get some good pictures up here as soon as I get to a proper computer with a proper keyboard. Until then send me an email jared.riddle@gmail.com and I'll reply with a photo.
My first day of the new year was pretty uneventful. Uneventful doesn't feel like a real word. I know it is because I looked it up in a Dictionary, just kidding, it was a Thesaurus, just kidding, it was a Stegosaurus, just kidding, that's not a book, just kidding it is but it doesn't have any words in it, just kidding, it's an animal, just kidding they didn't really exist dinosaurs are fake, just kidding they're real. I know because I have one for a pet, just kidding, it's my freind's, just kidding she's not my friend we just hang out sometimes, just kidding we're married, just kidding, but we live together she just doesn't know it, just kidding, she knows but has a restraining order on me, just kidding.
So yeah, uneventful (why not eventless?).
I can't really think of anything that is worthy of writing about now. That might be due to having "Good Eats" with Alton Brown on the TV right now. He's so freakin' great.
I'll write more later about everything that happened, but this is just a quick post to show off the family again. We were missing Jon, Aaron and Wayne Isaac, but most everyone else made it and we had a grand time. You won't see me in the shot because I was conducting and the camera was to my right to get all the faces of the choir.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zt-zkZc7L9U
I like my family.
***** Added Feb. 03 *****
Forgive the lateness of this entry. I'll skip explanations and just get to it.
While out caroling this year, I realized why it is that we do it and why it is so important that we put up with the hassle. Let me explain the hassle part of it first.
My parents had 10 children. That's a brood by any measurement, and when we were younger and my parents began this tradition of caroling every year, it was a feat to get us all wrangled and transported from place to place. Since then, all but one of us has gotten married effectively doubling the choir, and of those that are married, only one is without children to date.
What was a mass of humanity has grown into a mob of strong willed adults, crying children .... well you get the picture. Each year it gets harder.
We start the night around 6pm (although every year the plan seems earlier and earlier and the actual start time gets later). Cramming around the piano in my parents 20x20 living room we have a practice of the songs that we will be singing. This lasts about 1/2 an hour then we get packed in the car and on to the first house.
We go to about 8 different houses that are miles apart, so every visit requires unpacking the children, arranging them in front of the house, repacking and driving to the next house. By the time we get to the last house around 9pm, the youngest are falling asleep in their parents arms, while the group just older is complaining of their feet hurting and hunger is setting in for all of us.
So why do we do it? That question gets asked by at least one brother or sister every year. This year it finally struck me what the answer is, while we were at our second house.
An older couple who has been on the route for as long as I can remember invited us in to their house and positively beamed as we all filed in through the front door. Shoulder to shoulder we crammed into their sitting room and belted Jingle Bells, Silent Night, Rudolph, and Carol of the Bells. When we were done, the wife was weeping. As we left, we exchanged hugs and handshakes with each of them. Then my sister said to me "See? That's why we do this every year."
We aren't doing it to show off how great our family is. It's not even so that we can feel close as a family by continuing a rooted tradition. While both of those are nice, it's become a service. Caroling is not just our tradition anymore. It's theirs. These families that we visit every year now have a tradition of inviting us into their homes. Hearing us sing is now part of their Christmas and they look forward to it. We do it because, they love it, and we get to show our love for them.
