Sunday, February 8, 2015
The fog came back. It silenced the crashing waves and blanketed the landscape with its covers. Pinholes of light are airbrushed in tiny glows and the wonder of what waits beyond fills my head. I dare not venture out. I know nothing’s out there but my bones tell me otherwise. Even the foghorn sounds foreboding. I’ll wait it out.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
My name is Michael Bayouth and I am the father of the groom. I would like to start off by saying on behalf of the brides parents Maureen & Jim and Taylor’s mother, Karen and myself, I’d like to give a warm welcome to all the relatives and friends who have joined us here on the East coast to celebrate Beth & Taylor’s wedding. I know that many of you have traveled long distances to be here. Thank you all for coming to help celebrate their special day and thanks to Karen for organizing this rehearsal dinner or booze-cruise as I’d like to call it. As I look around this boat I realize how many friends Beth & Taylor have and I hope that you all have a great evening.
Today, I must admit that I am the proudest Dad in the world. Taylor, good job!
I think that you will all agree that Beth is stunning. Karen, and I and his stepmother, Jan are all very proud of how he has grown up and we are delighted that he has found someone who he obviously loves and cares for very much for. I wrote a letter to Taylor on the day he was born. I had thought that I’d probably read it on a day like this but he lost it. And no, I didn’t make a copy of it. But he grew up always going for what he wanted in life. Whether it be a certain salary he thought he deserved a job or in this case - Beth. For example, once we were vacationing at the beach and a large, beautiful yacht was anchored just off shore. It appeared that no one was on it so I told him that the maritime laws state that any vessel unmanned can be claimed as salvage. The next thing I knew Taylor was swimming out to the yacht with his buddy and boarded it. No fear just intention. Needless to say this didn’t go over well with the owners who were sunbathing next to us on the beach. I had some tall explaining to do.
The point I’m trying to make here is that Taylor always has gone for what he wants. He’s not shy. So, Beth, considered yourself boarded.
I am probably not the best person to give advice on marriage but I do know that in a marriage there comes a time when you stop painting the town and start painting walls and ceilings.
You must choose the right partner for the right reason and I think that they both have done this. Marriage is the meeting of two minds, of two hearts and of two souls. It is clear that Beth & Taylor are a perfect example of this. Anyway Beth & Taylor do not need my advice. (Raise glass) A toast.
May they be blessed with happiness that grows and with love that lasts and have a peaceful life together. I wish them enjoyment for today, the fulfillment of all their hopes and dreams for tomorrow and love and happiness always.
Of the three brothers who lived here, two were very evil. Bobby and Johnny. And very cruel to their sweet young brother, Tim. But little Tim had a breaking point. Tim was only four when he killed them both for payback. Two years later Timmy’s parents are barely hanging on because Timmy’s not so sweet anymore. Possessed by his evil brothers for their murder, Timmy has taken to doing bad things. Timmy’s got the Bobbyjohnny.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
I was following Kim. The day had purpose. The freeway in Montecito seemed scarce of other cars as we drove through the grey morning fog. Fog. I felt isolated, reflective. Today, I thought, I’m turning 60. The anvil dropped. Then, traveling further inward, “This is kind of considered the end of your life by some. Jesus.”
We were coming back after a night staying in a beautiful house perched atop the mesa in Santa Barbara. Kim had swung it for us from her vacation rental company she works to celebrate my birthday. It was lovely, the dinner, the wine, the view.
I thought about that incredible view and all the thinking I did on that balcony yesterday. Trying to stay conscious and keep it all in perspective and regard it only as a number. “But, sixty,” I thought, “Craig T. Nelson had just died on Parenthood and he was only in his early seventies! I only have ten years left!” I thought, rounding it down.
Wayne Dyer had bailed on me and I was slipping down the side of the mountain into the boiling magma below. “Damn, life is almost over! This is just not fair. It went by so fast. And, I was just getting the hang of it, too. My cell phone beeped.
I glanced at it. “Taylor.” Probably, a day early, happy birthday post, I thought. I slid the text open and read it. “Hey family! Beth saw the OB today and he thinks baby isn't low enough for us to wait much longer. We've decided to have baby tomorrow, via cesarean, at 8am. Yay! Happy birthday, dad!”
Suddenly all my doubts and fears about being an old, dying man, vanished, sliding simultaneously off the frame of my consciousness, like somebody had suddenly jerked the pegboard away they were all hanging on.
I’m going to be a Grandfather. Life’s is not over. It’s just beginning.