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Archive for June, 2012

Two years later, big things have happened and are happening.

To begin, I’m married. I’m also having a baby. And we’re moving to Boston, very likely within the month.

I’ll write about all of that later. For now, I wanted to share something my father wrote recently to his kids. There are eight of us now — two spouses and two significant others have joined the fold. My dad calls us all his kids. In fact, he’s had an email group called “8 Kids” for years. He fills in (and, occasionally, vacates, though I suspect there will be no more need for that) spots as our love lives dictate. His only criterion for inclusion is that the new member makes his or her original member counterpart happy.  It’s a wonderful gift my parents have given us, that all they want for us and our partners is that we make each other happy. From our happiness, they derive theirs.

Anyway, Dad wrote this in response to a family email chain about all of the big things that are happening in all four/eight of our lives (Corvino kids have never been able to stand still for very long). I’ve read it a dozen times over the past couple of days. Sometimes, it really is this simple: My father loves us, and that’s all we need to know.

This is getting to be a long chain. I need to make an observation. This family keeps expanding in a variety of ways. Everyone needs to be included in these family emails. I have an email group, “8kids”. At times it had 6 or 7 addresses; now it has eight. You might try this maneuver so you don’t forget people. I keep adding addresses to this chain.

I know you guys are a little nervous about these big moves, but Dad is not. It is time to do these things; you are ready; and I confident of the results. Mom and I sure have a lot of places to visit. We need more than 12 months in a year.

Finally, all this makes me think of gardening. When Mom plants tomatoes she starts with tiny little seedlings. But when Grams plants tomatoes she starts with little, inconspicuous, dry, shriveled seeds. Nothing could look less promising. But she plants them; waters them; fertilizes them; worries about them; protects them from especially harsh weather. And they begin to grow; imperceptibly at first; then in great surges; they get very unruly in the middle of the process; but then little hints of what is to come appear; they get larger and redder; and one day Grams harvests and enjoys beautiful, unique tomatoes that could only have come from her garden. For the past several months I have been feeling like my tomatoes are ripe to bursting, beautiful, and full of wondrous flavors. I am a happy gardener. (And a sappy writer, I know).

All my love,
Dad


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