Tim was recently promoted to boatswains mate petty officer second class, otherwise known as BM2. This is the new patch he will wear on his sleeve (if it’s not on his sleeve already).
With the baby on the way, this couldn’t have come at a better time. When Holly and I were down in Florida last month, we visited Tim and Carrie’s apartment. All of us were hanging out in the freshly painted nursery, and I heard Tim refer to Carrie as the CO. I laughed.
This is how I feel about Holly, too.
Here is Tim with Carrie, his new wife, and the Navarros, his in-laws. I am so proud of him. None of the older Navarros speak English, but that didn’t stop Tim from dancing and kissing all the women and hanging out and talking trash with all the men. I could have never done that in my twenties.
The This I Believe website claims their project is an attempt to engage “people in writing, sharing, and discussing the core values that guide their daily lives.” Based on a popular 1950s radio series hosted by Edward R. Murrow, the series has been back now in various forms for a few years.
Perhaps because of my interest in narrative nonfiction, I wanted to see what I could do with this format. Writing it was an interesting experience. It didn’t really come together until I was able to acknowledge that I have struggled with faith. From there it turned into a little testimony to Mom, which pleases me to no end.
My humble offering to the ongoing discussion, I hope you like it…
Piggyback Belief
I have always lacked faith, believing instead in life’s shrewd certainties. When I went to the Bronx for in-patient drug treatment, I felt my chances were slim. I had been using heroin for ten years in my small hometown in Pennsylvania, and New York City seemed like exactly the wrong place to kick a heroin habit. But I found a challenge and urgency in the Bronx that pulled me through treatment.
Despite my success, I didn’t think I would last long outside treatment. I didn’t want to feel ambivalent, but I was trying to be realistic: I had no family ties to New York City, no job skills, and no education.
I got assigned an AA sponsor, who I eventually went to meet at a busy downtown diner in Manhattan. I told him what I was thinking. Wiping fried chicken from his fingers and mouth, he leaned forward. “Do you believe that I believe you can stay sober?” As soon as he said it, he waved his hand in my face and added, “Now listen here! I’m not asking if you believe any of this. I’m asking, if you believe that I believe it.” He jerked his thumb into his chest.
Miami was a heck of a lot of fun. I thought it might be similar to San Diego or LA, but it’s a much different feel. More tropical. The birds outside our hotel sounded like the jungle noise you hear in the movies. We stayed in Fort Lauderdale, which was a little off the beaten path for seeing Tim and Carry, but a very beautiful place to be in its own right.
This was the view off the balcony of our room:
Private beach at our hotel:
They had these permanent, collapsible beach tents installed on the beach. I haven’t seen them in Jersey, Delaware, or anywhere here on the West Coast. You put them up and huddle inside and it feels like you’re in a big conch shell. Especially cool at night, under the stars.
Me giving Aaron sand boobs. You probably shouldn’t do this to a kid in puberty, but he took it like a mensch.
Ed, Tim’s step-dad, took us all out to eat an awesome Cuban place in South Beach.
South Beach is notable for having mannequins in retail windows with enormous breasts. You would think just my eleven year old son would notice a detail like this, but these mannequin breasts grabbed me and my wife’s attention, too. What a zoo! I love Cuban food. I have to get one of those little Cuban espresso makers.
I have more to post about the wedding, but I am still collecting my thoughts and fighting off a cold. It was a very happy, joyus occasion, and I want to pass on as much of it as I can for those who couldn’t make it.
Present Tense 