First, Last and Always.

Many things are discussed when a couple finds out they are having a baby. My wife and I are no different. I'm going to say that a strong 85% of our discussions over the last 4 months have been directly related to the baby. While a good portion of those are not common (putting a crying baby in the closet, if I should buy the baby golf clubs even though he won't use them for a few years, if instead of diapering the baby we could just restrain him into one room and cover the floor of that room with a plastic tarp), most of the conversations I believe are normal parenting conversations. One that comes up more then most is what to name the baby.

As discussed in previous posts, we're having a boy. Which is nice to know when you name your child. It effectively eliminates 50% of the choices. However, the remaining choices are quite vast. Luckily, lots of them are really stupid and horrible names like Sahale and Patwin. Might as well beat your child to death now and save his schoolmates the trouble. Both the wife and I feel like a nice normal name is the way to go when naming a baby.

The wife likes Daniel and Alex. I'm lukewarm on Daniel but I steadfastly refuse to name my child Alex. Mainly because my first crush on a girl was my friends sister who happened to be named Alex. I can only imagine giving my child a bath, calling him Alex, thinking about my first crush and getting a stiffy. Next thing you know, I'm divorced, I can only visit my child when a court appointed counselor is there and I have to register every time I move. So obviously, Alex is out.

I'm in a different and quite surprising boat on what to name my son. I'm pushing hard for his name to be Lee. What's so surprising about that is Lee is my Grandfather's name. Please understand when I say surprising, I mean I'm surprised it means that much to me.

I have never been much of a sentimentalist for names and the such. It always fascinated me how much a name means to people. I know people who wouldn't consider marrying someone unless they took their name. I'm the polar opposite. When the wife and I got married, I told her I couldn't care less about her taking my last name. It didn't mean much to me. She did take it, mainly for ease of use on tax forms and insurance papers, but still goes by her last name professionally. Which is fine by me. In fact, I kind of enjoy being called by her last name when we attend her work functions.

Then I found out the baby's due date was December 12th, the same birthday of my Grandfather. My grandfather has been dead for 17 years. He died when I was a freshman in high school. I hadn't thought about him in a long time.

What's interesting is I never would have thought of my Grandfather if not for a series of coincidences in my family tree. If you were to ask my what my deceased Grandmother's birthday was, I would have no idea. I couldn't even narrow it down to a season let alone a month. I'm really not ashamed of that. I loved my Grandmother but it's been a long long time since I've had to think about her birthday. But my Grandfather's birthday is, without question December 12th. How do I remember that so vividly?

Karen (Sister) - Dec 7th
Ron (Uncle) - Dec 7th
Me (Me) - Dec 9th
Michelle (Cousin) Dec 11th
Lee (Grandpa) Dec 12th

Nice grouping, huh? Apparently, everyone in my family gets horny right around the same time in March. I certainly did and now the wife and I are going to add another early December baby to the family.

Like I said, I hadn't thought of my Grandfather in a long time. But when I did start to think about him, I had nothing but wonderful memories of my childhood come flooding back to me. This was a man who was mayor of his town for years, a faithful member of his community church and am amazing family man. I started to remember how he wouldn't take the garbage out without putting on a tie. How he would take my sister and I sledding all day long in the cold winters of North Syracuse. He never lost patience with us, no matter how crazy we would be. And my sister and I could be crazy. I'm sure after we left he and my Grandmother had to clean for hours, just to have their peaceful home restored.

I also remember that he belonged to the Rotarians. Some of my best memories of my Grandfather were attending his Rotary meetings and admiring how respected he was in his society. When people found out I was Lee Milback's grandson, I was immediately welcomed and made to feel like a member, even though I was 13 at the time. He never talked down to me as a child even though I certainly acted like it. He was an avid golfer and tried to teach me how to play as well, showing infinite patience as I hacked it around his course. Now an adult, I can see how the seeds of my love and respect for golf came from him.

He's also responsible for the greatest show of love I've ever come or hope to come across.

I vividly remember the fear on his face the night of and days after my Grandmother broke her hip, confining her to a bed for the last three years of her life. And yet, for those next three years, he never complained about taking care of Grandma, he just did it out of love. I didn't fully understand it then but what he did for my Grandmother as she was slowly dying was as brave as anything a man can do. The hospital bed was too big for their room so she spent the rest of her days in the living room and he slept in the bedroom alone, which must have been awful lonely for both of them. He was being tortured, slowly watching the love of his life waste away in a hospital bed in the living room.

After years of living in horrible pain (of which she was fully aware due to her perfect mental health which let her enjoy every agonizing day), my Grandmother mercifully passed away at age 78. The whole family and most of the town arrived for the funeral and burial. Through the tears and sadness, my mother and her sisters talked to Lee about the future, maybe getting an apartment in the city or a condo on a golf course. He was also 78 at the time and in great shape for that age. But Lee wasn't interested in that, he just wanted to make sure that Norma, the love of his life for the last 52 years, was put to rest.

Norma Milback was buried on a Saturday. Lee Milback, having done everything he could for his wife and not wanting to continue without her, died Saturday night in his sleep of a broken heart.

The whole town turned out again for his funeral and we, the members of the family, kept hearing the same thing. "How awful for this to happen so quickly, what a tragedy for your family." And yet I didn't feel that way. I don't think the rest of the family did either. Of course, we were terribly sad that we would never see Lee again. But he didn't want to live without Norma. And none of use could see that as anything but a touching love story. My parents have said it and now that I'm married I can honestly say it too, I hope that's exactly how the wife and I go.

The wife and I both agreed to not make a final decision on the name of the child until he's born. However, Lee Simpliciano Howland has a nice ring to it, don't you think.

PS - If you were wondering how the dicsussion about whether I should buy the baby golf clubs went, here's a clue.