It has become a cliche since Tom Brokaw's book of the same name, but Poppi, Bianca's almost 97 year old grandpa, was part of the Greatest Generation.  He fought in WWII.  He raised a wonderful family that has stuck together through thick and thin for more than 50 years.  He cut hair well into his 90s in his small barbershop set up in his basement (after he retired as a barber he took the chair, his scissors, and strop with him).  And early this Memorial Day, one of the millions that helped defend the world from its most pressing existential threat, passed away in the quiet comfort of hospice only a day after all of his family gathered at his bedside.

Poppi was, perhaps, the Platonic Ideal of the Patriarch.  He focused on the most important things--his faith, his family, children and golf.  Okay, so maybe golf is the odd thing on that list, but he was fixture at family functions and even as he cross 95 years old he was engaged and engaging.  He will be missed.

Here he is with the most recent of his great grandchildren, Isaac Anthony, from Isaac's first Father's Day (Isaac was 4 days old):

Good bye Poppi.  Your example will continue to guide us all.  

Upon graduating to the Pony Room, Isaac met a little girl that is DEATHLY afraid of thunder.  It is so bad that when it is thundering they put her in a corner of the room with no windows and play her soothing music.  And Isaac, being the sensitive kid that he is, saw this is felt bad for her.  He talked to her and undoubtedly picked up a bit of her fear of thunder.

Last night we had a small thunderstorm and when the first boom, he became a little anxious.  After the second and third he was downright "nurvus" (thanks Nanna).  I decided then and there not to let him be afraid, so we went outside (it had not started raining yet) and we talked about thunder.  I told him it was caused by lightning and that thunder is just a sound and can never hurt him.  I told him lightning could hurt him, but if he paid attention and did what Mom and Dad said, he would be fine.  I also explained to him that the house would protect him.  We also talked about how thunder happens and the relationship between thunder and lightning.  

He was still a little nurvus so I gave him hugs every time there are a big clap or rumble.  Then we talked some more and something clicked in his small, high powered brain.  He was no longer afraid of the thunder but was interested in hearing it again.  By the end of the storm he had raised his tiny fist into the air and shouted "Don't mess with us!" which is the refrain he and I use to tell bugs and things to back off.  

Nothing makes you feel more like a dad than explaining things to kids and helping them not be afraid.  This world is a big scary place, and I can't tell you how many questions I asked my Dad for that very reason.  His answers always provided me with solace.  The unknown is always scary, but the well-known hardly ever is.  

There is a very real sense in which raising a kid is like fighting the Borg.  You remember the Borg, the cybernetic enemies of Jean Luc Picard and the crew of the Next Generation Enterprise.  Oh you don't?  Your not that big of a nerd?  Anyway, they were these part man/part machine aliens that would try to implant their tiny machines in a person's body as a way to make more Borg.  They also adapted very quickly to things like weapons fire, damage, and the like.  

Isaac's recent sleep habits have been less than stellar.  After Christmas we adapted our nighttime routine and it worked for a few months, but recently it was taking hours to go to bed.  We changed it again and it worked for two days and then went back to trouble time.  Now we have changed again.  And it seems to be working.  But see, this little guy is just like a Borg, always adapting and so we have to be able to change and shift on a dime.  

This is what makes being a parent so challenging (or one of the things).  There is never a sense that things are set.  Routines only exist for a while and then they are gone.  We look back at the days when he slept for no more than three hours at time and realize that he has had dozens of sleep routines.  It is all about adaptation.