On Saturday, we formally celebrated Ethan’s 5^th birthday. It was a glorious day as the heat wave that has been punishing and relentless all summer long, took a break. The weather could not have been more perfect. My baby is no longer a toddler. He speaks in full, grammatically correct (mostly) sentences. He is asking thoughtful and fun questions, showing me that he is developing normally into a bright child. Oh, and he has quite the sense of humor.

Not 12 hours earlier, boom, a lunatic shot up a movie audience watching Dark Knight Rises. It could have easily been me or my friends. We just never know when it is our time, be it God’s choice or someone else’s. It was really difficult to watch the news coverage. As I get older, bad news seems to get harder to watch and digest.

Ironically, on Monday, I had an opportunity to visit the 911 memorial for the first time with a group of incoming freshman students. I was nowhere near the towers when the tragedy happened, but the devastation did not escape me, even 2 hours away in Albany, NY. As I got closer to the entrance, I felt tension and stress. I was not afraid to be there – quite the opposite. I felt very safe. The tension was a sadness and an uneasiness that felt haunting in spite of the 11 years that have now passed.

The memorial is beautiful. The museum is not open yet but architecturally, the building is very nice. I was focused on finding a name. It was the name of a college friend who died on September 11^th. I had not seen her is many years, probably since the years following our graduation from Syracuse University. But it was still awful to hear that someone who I knew and had spent time with at one point in my life, had been victim to the terrorism and devastation.

I found myself walking over to the Name Locator kiosk and was alarmed when after typing in her name, her photo popped up. I wasn’t expecting the photo; even the person who I was with let out a light gasp.  She was striking. But still.

Once I located her name, I went over to it, took a photo, said a little prayer and quickly exited the memorial.

As I made my way down 12^th Avenue toward Albany and Greenwich Streets, the lump in my throat slowly disappeared. I’m not sure that anyone who lived through that day and was old enough to understand it, will ever feel completely at ease at the memorial footprint. I couldn’t see myself taking fun photos and postng in front of the reflecting pools. I didn’t fault the tourists for doing so. I understand. I just couldn’t do it. It didn’t seem right to me. I imagine that the Pearl Harbor Memorial or the Vietnam Memorial have similar effects on the soldiers who lived through that chaos.

The rest of the week was relatively uneventful, until today, when I find myself writing this blog post while I watch the Olympic opening ceremony. I love the Summer Olympics. I am so excited that there are several athletes of colors from the NYC metro area. I am especially excited about Bronx Puerto Rican gymnast John Orozco.

The Bronx – my hometown – where over 10% of the population is unemployed, over 28% is below the poverty level and almost 40% of its children live below the poverty line. But we have the Yankees and now John Orozco. It is so much pressure for such a young man, I am sure. But no matter where he places, I can assure you that my fellow Bronxians (Bronxites?) are going to support him and cheer for him no matter the outcome, simply because he made it there, against all odds. A black, Puerto Rican male creating so much hope and excitement brings chills to my spine, because it means that my little brown boy’s future is looking brighter. He can and will do anything he wants and I am even happier that he won’t be the first -that there will have already been trailblazers making it that much easier for him to live his life and build his dreams.

So while we shall never forget Aurora or September 11, I for one will keep hope alive that for every horrific tragedy like these, there are hundreds more happy endings shaping our futures.

Sigh, He's Five

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
---- John Lennon

Five years ago today, my life changed. Ethan Erik Elliott was born and I became a mother. I was scared, excited, in love, worried, everything. He was so tiny, 4lbs and 11oz. Anyone who has seen him lately, knows he has made up for his birth size a long time ago. He is the typical boy: wild, rambunctious, loud, charismatic, sweet, loving, moody, and that's just this year. I look forward to and sometimes dread what's to come, but so far so good.

My favorite thing about him is his way with words and the things he says. - Zombies come from cemeteries. "You" is a letter, not a word. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. - It's hysterical and sadly, fleeting. So I try to enjoy it while I can and record it when I have the opportunity.

My biggest challenge with him is that he is spoiled. He gets almost everything he wants, as much as we try to temper that. He still has moments of tantrums at the most inopportune and sometimes dangerous times (like on the subway platform).

He's strong and strong-willed, traits that are simultaneously wonderful and frustrating. He has his father's features and mannerisms and his freakish strength. But he has my extroverted personality and silly humor.

Very recently a friend of mine lost her 6 month old daughter. I had not met the baby, but it didn't matter. It's never easy to here of such a tragedy. I almost feel selfish talking about my baby this way. But the reality is that I need to be thankful for him and who he is and for the good fortune that his tomorrows continue to come.

Happy 5th birthday to Ethan. May your  tomorrows continue to come and may you continue to be happy when you grow up.