The musical talent that runs in this family... my god.

Well. Before the little one is even born, he/she is learning the classics, like this one here from Nana May (soon to be, that is)

And here's a clip of the future Nana, Aunt April, and Aunt Keri.. being themselves like no one else can... be.. them.. huh?

Sudden rain, and other things.

Things are quited down for the moment But, like the sudden rain last night, so might life suddenly rain down upon us with unexpected drops of experience. Rain. There's a lot to learn about the world little one. The cycles, the hours. The cleansing power of rain. Things you can learn in books, and others you learn from looking around.

But this wait is almost unbearable. The due date we were given is September 21st, but most of our friends who have had children lately have had them come as early as three weeks before the due date. So, by those standards, our little one may very well be here anytime from next week to a month from now.

Friday night it actually hit me that Dana is actually going to have a baby soon. Don't ask me where I've been this whole time. Most likely in my head––the control room with all my experiences on giant display screens, like NASA command control, the Batcave. Events and people all kept in discreet files; faxes and memos flowing in a constant stream, connections being made every day. But the commander-in-chief of my control room must have made an executive decision to leak this news slowly, for fear of system upheaval––or even better still, mass hysteria. But when the last bit of news finally had sunken in , I felt happier than I'd ever felt before. A pure strand of joy––hydroponic hippie joy, if you will––filled my body. The kind that, if bottled, Timothy Leary would have been lecturing about. So it suddenly dawned on me... this is my life. It's happening. It's here. It's now. And I love it. All of it.

Only a man would think of this one

Oh, and that man that would think of this, would also need to be a huge NASCAR fan....

and probably have a sweet moustache...

and four cars on his property that are covered by a tarp.

Almost an Ima (that's Mom in Hebrew)

Look how beautiful Danush is. I mean, how damned cute is this? It's heartbreaking. Sleep is becoming more and more difficult as I'm running out of room on the bed ;) But seriously, for Dana, it's getting tough with the baby moving so much, the extra strain on her back and the swelling in her legs and feet.

At our friends house this weekend, we had the ring on a string gender test done. Tie the wedding ring on a string.. hang it over the belly and wait. If the ring begins to create a circlular looping pattern––Girl. If it swings like a pendulum, back and forth––boy. Well, according to this test, it's going to be a hypnotist... or a jeweler. It did swing back/forth like a pendulum though. Hmmmm.

No baby was hurt during the filming of this clip

OK. This is pretty clever.

It's not Dana––so don't get all excited and start hungering for autographs!... (But we're going to try it for sure)

Koby and Michal sent this one from Israel. (along with a million other clips ;)

Man, what a complainer I am...

Hello little one. All this noice, and not one word about what your mother is going through. Here I am, trapped in my head as usual, finding some way to categorize and organize what's happening here into neat digestible chunks, while your mom is carrying you inside her belly. I've got a few things on my mind related to your coming so soon, but your mother... in addition to things on her mind.. she's got a thing inside her belly that is growing and kicking all day long. Man... I'm such a complainer. There are days––almost full days––when I don't think about the pregnancy, and that is my privelege being a man. Dana (your Ima) cannot go a full minute without you on her mind. And that is her privelege as a woman. A feeling that I will never experience. Such a full sense of the pregnancy she must have. Sometimes I come home and find myself a bit giddy with surprise––Oh yeah, duh! That's our little baby in there squirming around. He or she will look just like us, and ask us millions of unanswerable questions (that I will, of course, give any old answer to for fear of being percieved as an idiot)

So your mother (your Ima), she's a strong woman. She's resilient She doesn't stop moving. Even when the look of pain and discomfort have clouded her face, she won't let anyone know what she's going through. She hates to complain, but at this point, she has every right to. If it were me, forget it. There wouldn't be a person in a ten mile radius that wouldn't know how uncomfortable I was.

So, little one. Wee one. Give your mother a break when you come out, OK? She's been working hard on you, making sure you come out the way nature intends you to. She can't even have coffee, or a glass of wine! Do you have any idea how this can affect an adult??? Well.. you'll find out when we start weaning you off breastmilk. Touche!

First post from my email account

Now that i've got this new found ability to post to the blog here from my email... expect to see more frequent postings. It's been a hard two weeks with this new gig I've been working on... crazy hours.. not much time for personal life. But it times out nicely with the birth of our little one. Should have at least 2 weeks to bask in the glow of parenthood (and sleep an hour and a half per night)

This photo was taken by my friend Patrick Winfield... there's something so serene about this, but with a tinge of violence that captivates me. If you want to tell Pat how sweet his photo is email him: patrick@10e20.com

The 'Outside' Report

This is the first time I am addressing you, my unborn child, directly in any form. So remember this. Hopefully, by the time you are able to read, and hopefully appreciate subtle humor–and perhaps a bit of irony here and there–computers will still be around and will not have been replaced by some new form of technology that will be incomprehensible to us 'old folks' who triumphantly struggled through the days of meager Dual 2.5 ghz power macs. Ha! your generation will laugh at us when we talk about these days, much in the same way we chuckle incredulously when the old folks haunting this joint talk about a time before television, when people sat around and stared at a radio(that also functional as furniture) So... after this brief intro to me, your father and his temperament, let me continue by describing the physical surroundings of where you are about to begin your childhood.

A yellow school bus has just passed on the next street down 'Centre Street." We live in Upper Nyack, NY now in a small cozy California ranch. I am sitting on our deck made of wood from a Cedar tree, which is quite sought after because of its natural immunity to weather and insects, and even more for the way it changes from the brutal sun so gracefully growing a silvery patina. It is unforgettably cedar, with its delicious scent–unmistakably cedar. It always reminds me of Nana and Papa's cedar closet in their 6 wayne avenue home, the home your aunts and I grew up in. It was a magical place where April and I would play hide and seek, a place of mystery packed in small boxes. A hanging museum of outfits from Nana and Papa's past lives, before April and I were even a tugging at the back of their minds. A time when it was simple May and Tom Daly––he in his soldiers uniform and she in her leg cast from a ski accident from Hunter Mountain, before the first snow board was inented. Relics from a time when life happened in a series of square images glued in a book, covered in plastic like so many couches in my childhood memories.

A minyan of tall proud trees surrounds me now as I write. Locusts are rattling in the tree tops marking the sacred boundary where earth passes the baton to the sky in the race toward the edge of time. Here we are, little one we do not know yet, but who we will soon love like no one else alive. Fate has chosen the three of us to spend a little time together here on this beautiful sphere filled with so many different creatures. A bluejay has just hopped from one branch to another. And now another. Before me, a line of trees stands in front of a backdrop of morning sun. A great opening can be felt, the Hudson River valley, not more than a quarter mile from here; a gouge in the earth created by a glacier, brimming with history and progress. Battles and brick yards, sailors and ship yards, and simple folk making a living. Ema is down at the Art Cafe which is a small oasis in Nyack, built from nowhere by Safta Dita. She is amazing, with her vision and the drive to realize that vision. May you inherit all the best traits from all your ancestors, those you will come to know as well as you know yourslef, most often better than that, for they will know you better than you know yourself, for they will be able to see themselves in the corner of your smile, or the wrinkle of your brow, and will suddenly realize all that has passed, and all that will come again.

Waiting patiently (without fingernails)

Daddy