We met Micah (pictured left) the same day we met our youngest daughter. We met her in an office on the second floor of a non-descript building. It was an overcast, muggy day in Chongqing, China. She was in a group of 6 baby girls, dressed in colorful outfits, wondering around in their walkers. There they were, oblivious to the fact that they would change our lives forever. It was the end of a long journey that began thousands of miles away.

We had first met Micah's parents at the meeting to plan for our trip, and review all the paperwork we would need to complete while in China. They also had a 3-year old daughter, and we were glad that our girls would have someone to play with. Both of our daughters were enamored with the idea of having a baby sister. And, as with us, one set of grandparents would be traveling to China to help out. All was well, and the stars seemed to be aligning.

The doors to the tiny elevator opened up and we were suddenly face to face with our little girls - angels we had dreamed about for so long. Someone gasped "babies!" There were lumps in our throats, and tears in our eyes. Our hearts pounded. Soon to be Fathers scrambled to place the bags down and break out the cameras. Soon to be Mother's eyes opened wide as they tried to pick out their daughter.

You could tell who Micah's family was going to be - they all wore shirts emblazoned with her referral picture. Such proud, fierce love.

So there we were, strangers who had come together in a foreign land to share this most intimate of moments. For some of us, husband and wife would be transformed into parents. And for the rest of us, our families would become complete. Little girls were suddenly big sisters. It was also a moment of great trepidation. Was there enough love? But those fears were swept away and replaced with tears of joy. Doorways and passageways were suddenly thrown open in our hearts. Emotions and feelings came pouring from places we never knew existed. There was more than enough of love.

It was one of the happiest days of our lives.

Micah wasn't a happy baby - she cried quite a lot. She cried if you put her down, and she cried even if you held her. And it seemed that she had an ear infection. It was a rough start.

Eventually we made it home, and we began the task of figuring out how our daughters worked, and helping them understand that they now had a mommy and daddy, and they belonged to a family.

Two of the families lived up near the Oregon Border, and the rest of us were scattered about the Bay Area. Yet we managed to get together recently at the Bay Area Discovery Museum. The girls had a blast. Micah was smiling. She had been transformed into a happy little girl. The picture you see is from that day. Later on we rejoined at the house of a family that lived nearby. I held out my arms, and Micah came to me with a huge grin. I held her in my arms as she played with my beard, giggling as she tried to pull it out. It was a fantastic day.

It would be the last time I would see her. Micah's mother called us later on in the week and told us that Micah had contracted Chickenpox. We were worried - Micah had been having problems with febrile seizures and she had been in the emergency room a few times.

A few days later, while I was giving our baby a bath, the phone rang. My wife quietly came in and told me the news. Michah was gone. She had gone into seizures again, and then slipped into a coma. She didn't come out of it. The Chickenpox had been too much. I nodded, and quietly kissed my daughter. My mind was filled with the memory of holding a giggling girl tugging on my beard. It had only happened a few days before ...

We said goodbye to Micah on a cold foggy day. All the families were there. It was a Jewish funeral. Her parents buried her, placing the dirt in the grave themselves. There is something very hard and difficult in seeing a casket that small. We were all stunned and heartbroken. It was hard to believe that she was gone ... and I'm quite sure that God himself cried when he held out his hands to welcome her.

It was one of the saddest days of our lives.

Her grandfather remarked that at least she knew what happiness was, at least she experienced a proud fierce love. She had been healed. We had only known her for 7 months, but she had changed us all. We will never be the same.

Goodnight my angel.

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Published: (2006-06-30 17:14:36.0)

We were finishing up dinner, when suddenly the air traffic noise increased dramatically. "What in the heck is going on?" I wondered. I looked out the window and saw smoke. "Oh. The hill is on fire" I told my wife. I grabbed my camera and took some pictures of the action from my front yard. The reponse was amazing, and they quickly had the fire under control.

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Published: (2006-06-21 15:19:03.0)

I've been away on paternity leave (a big thank you to Sun and to the state of California!) A once in a lifetime opportunity to spend time with my daughter and watch her develop and blossom.

I'm trying out the Performancing for Firefox plug-in. It's a blog editor that sits right within Firefox. So far it's pretty neat. We'll see how it goes.

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Published: (2006-06-16 11:27:48.0)

"Elena was surrounded by her four grandparents in the hospital. Grandparents are not supposed to bury a beautiful six year old. Neither are parents."

Such sorrow. And sorry is never enough. And there will never be enough tears.

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Published: (2006-03-09 17:30:36.0)

Well daughter #2 made it home safe and sound from China. The flight home was totally full, and we had 3 seats for the 4 of us. Needless to say it was a long and tiring. When we landed I threw up my hands and cheered. Due to the changes in U.S. law, she was now automatically a citizen.

A major highlight of the trip was that daughter #1 and I were able to head down into a 3 year old female panda's enclosure (she was actually born on the same day as my daughter) and stand right behind her. The trainer distracted the panda by handing her apples while we stood there for a few seconds. Being curious, my daughter reached down (I was holding her in my arms) and started to pet the panda. There was a cheer from the crowd and the panda stopped and looked up at us. Which I wasn't sure was a good or bad thing. The trainer quickly stepped in and handed her another apple, and she went back to munching on her treats. Our encounter was over, and we headed back up the stairs to exit the enclosure and rejoin our group. What an awesome experience!

There was such joy for coming home. We were looking forward to returning to a normal routine, and getting down to business on figuring out how our new daughter worked.

While checking email, I read the tragic news that The Thing That Is Cancer had taken Lillian while we were gone. One minute there was joy and relief, the next minute there was sorrow and pain. Lillian was a part of our first trip to China. I remembered how she cried when she took her daughter in her arms - she had radiated with such happiness and love. She had been the first new mother. And now she was gone. What really hurt was the knowledge that her daughter had now lost two mothers. Such sorrow.

Stumbling from the office and drying my eyes, I relayed the news to my wife. There was an "oh no!" and stunned silence. I then walked over to pick up my daughter, who smiled at me. Which meant she was hungry. Or maybe she needed to be changed. Or ... it really didn't matter what it meant. She had smiled, and it was beautiful. I was looking forward to figuring out how she worked, and to seeing more of those smiles. Such joy.

And life goes on ...

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Published: (2006-01-03 16:38:26.0)

One night about a week or so ago, my oldest daughter asked me at dinner "Daddy, when are the decorations coming out? I have been waiting for a long time for them to come out." I stopped eating and paused to look at her. "Really? You've been waiting a long time?" She nodded. "Where is Gilbert and Sullivan? I have been waiting for them to come out too." Gilbert and Sullivan are stuffed snowmen. I'm really surprised she remembers them, considering she was only two years old last Christmas. "Oh I don't know, somewhere upstairs. Should I go get them?" I asked her smiling. "Yes!" she replied. So I got up from the table and headed out to start hauling all of our Christmas stuff down from the attic. After I finished stacking the boxes in the hallway, I began looking for the two snowmen. Due to my wife's labeling, they were pretty easy to find. My daughter excitedly darted from one box to another asking "where are they Daddy?" "Hmmmm ... maybe you should look in this box" I said pointing to the one that had their names marked on it. "Oh! There they are!" she joyfully exclaimed as she pulled them out. Gilbert and Sullivan had returned! My daughter "gets" Christmas this year, and she's no longer afraid of Santa Claus. Her excitement is contagious, making the holidays very enjoyable for us.

The rest of the my snowmen collection came out this weekend. Well, at least a majority of it. There's just too many now and not enough room. And the Lenox snowmen are just too dainty and fragile to have out now. They'll need to wait until the girls are older.

So, yeah, about the snowmen. Every year I make my own Christmas cards. I create the artwork and also write a story to accompany the image. One year's story contained the phrase " ... but one can never have too many snowmen." Apparently my family and friends took the story to heart, because every year after that I have received all sorts of snowmen. And so now I have a rather large collection, and it grows bigger ever year. And every year my wife tells me that I have enough. But I truly believe you can never have enough snowmen, and I still enjoy receiving them. Just don't tell my wife that.

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Published: (2005-12-12 15:31:18.0)

The next couple of weeks are hazy for me as I was in and out of sleep most of the time. The majority of my time awake was spent in various doctors' offices.

During the exams with Dr. Hetland, I discovered that when I looked up and down, my eyes would not synchronize. There was something preventing my left eye (it felt like a tugging) from moving freely. Dr. Hetland explained that the eye had become trapped in the fracture, which was not good. Surgery would be required to free the eye and repair the fracture. So he recommended a surgeon that specialised in orbital repairs.

Also there was a sudden eruption of flashing lights, again not good. Dr. Hetland did a thorough exam and found a tear in the retina. Another specialist was recommended. He called both doctors and insisted they see me right away.

This was all happening to me in one day.

So it was off to the orbital repair specialist. Along the way I needed to stop at the hospital and pick up a copy of my CT scans.

Dr. Levin, a Ophthalmic Plastic Surgeon, was patient and kind despite being busy as hell. He did some basic tests on me, and noted that my eye had begun to sink in (another sign of an orbital fracture.) Ugh. He explained to me the options which were basically do nothing and live with the results, or undergo surgery to repair the fracture and free the eye. There were all sorts of possible complications from the surgery - one of them being permanent blindness. There were no guarantees.

I was pretty much stunned. This was serious - way more serious than I had ever imagined. Then Dr. Levin then showed me my CT scans and pointed out the fracture. Holy Crap! I had been initially told it was a minor fracture, but there was nothing minor about what I was seeing (see image, the fracture is circled in red). It was an orbital blowout fracture, and it was large. The chilling part was seeing that a large portion of my eye had gone through the fracture. After seeing the scans, I made up mind to have surgery. There was no way I wanted to be like this for the rest of my life.

Next it was off to the retina specialist. It was at the end of the day and I was an add on. I was screened by a technician first. He asked me "so what seems to be the problem?" and I casually responded "you mean besides the bluriness, double vision, problems focusing and the flashing lights?" I expected him to laugh but he was busily writing, telling me "wait, wait ..." Oh well so much for humor. He then proceeded to dialate my eyes for the third time that day.

After about another hour I finally got see Dr. Sanislo. He was young! He conducted a very thorough examination of the eye and spotted the tear. During the examination he would jam the butt end of a wooden q-tip between my eye and the socket. I'm not sure why but it wasn't pleasant. Trust me. He recommended the lasery surgery - and he could do it now. Whoa! So off to another room and I was seated in front of a machine. More eye drops (the amount of eye drops I had received during the day was phenomenal.) He numbed the eye and then placed a lens directly on my eye to hold it steady, and to keep my eye open. He explained I would see flashing light and that I might experience some discomfort. He was wrong. I experienced intense discomfort. It felt like white hot needles jabbing in the back of my eye. I had tears streaming off my face from the pain. It was only a few minutes, but it seemed much much longer. At least the tear was taken care of. After they flushed my eye out, I stumbled back into the lobby. The place was empty - I was the last patient.

I called my wife to come pick me up. I could barely see, so there was no way I was going to drive. It was the end of a long day, and I was exhausted. But I told myself it wasn't over yet - I still had major surgery awaiting me ...

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Published: (2005-12-06 16:18:59.0)

So we're off to China to meet daughter #2. She's in an orphanage in Qianjiang, which is in the Chongqing province. We'll be meeting her in the city of Chongqing. Never heard of Chongqing? Then you would be surprised that the mountanous city has a population of over 3 million people.

We've been busy with preparation for the trip as well as getting the house ready. Daughter #1 is excited as well. She's not quite sure what having a sister will mean to her, but she's got a whole list of things that she's going to teach her. I'm not quite sure what's on the list, but I'm hoping that most of them are good things.

It's a wonderful, crazy chaotic time. I'm not quite sure how to describe what I'm going through, so I've pulled a quote from my journal of our first journey. I think it sums up the moment quite nicely. See you again in a few weeks.

"And there you were, smiling and instantly breaking our hearts. There are those special unforgettable moments when everything stops, the sounds fades, and everything else besides your focal point blurs and recedes. It's a moment when your life changes, and you are aware that your life has changed - different in some unmeasurable way. When I saw that picture for the first time, I had one of those moments. Your name echoed in my head, rattled my world and squeezed my heart. Suddenly, I was a father. And a portion of my heart that I never knew existed sputtered and sparked to life. We had been waiting for you for so long and now you were here - prettier and lovelier then we could have ever imagined."

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Published: (2005-10-26 21:18:22.0)

We arrived at the emergency room and there was no wait. I checked in and struggled to fill out paperwork with one eye. They led me into a room and proceeded to clean me up as best as they can. I was a mess! (warning: graphic picture) The nurse told me to open my eye. I tried. She then told me again, firmly. I replied "to me this is open." She then pried my eye open with her fingers. Lovely. She then told me to sit up. I tried. "Sit up straight!" "You mean I'm not?" I weakly replied. I wasn't getting much sympathy here. She then led me into the hallway so do they could test my vision. I could see - barely. "Well at least you can see." I would hear that statement many, many times in the days to come. She led me back into the room to wait for the doctor.

My wife showed up and peered at me calmly. "Does it hurt?" she asked. "Yes, quite a bit" I replied. The doctor came in and pried my eye open again to examine me. "Well you have a nice cut, but your eye seems ok. I'm going to glue that cut closed. We don't have an opthamologist here, so I'm calling a friend of mine to come in to look at you. It's going to take him awhile to get here though." He then cleaned up around the cut some more. He started to glue the cut, and I was overwhelmed by the stinging sensation. "Ow shit!" I gritted through my teeth. "Oh is it still stinging?" he asked. "Still? You never said it would" I thought bitterly but the thought only came out as a grunt.

They had offered my Vicodin for the pain but I declined - I just don't get along with it. I settled for Tynelol. I spent the next few hours laying there wishing I was somewhere else, and wishing I could sleep. I was miserable.

Dr. Hetland showed up and apologized for the delay. He was a kind older gentleman. He did some basic checks on me, including the "how many fingers am I holding up?" "Ten" I replied. He was silent for a moment then replied "I'm only holding up one hand." It was the first time in my life I had ever gotten that question wrong. I asked him if he thought there was a possibility that I had actually fractured something. He paused to consider this, and said "well it's too bad they anesthized you or I could do another test." "Anesthize me? They didn't anesthized me" I replied. He seemed shocked. "They didn't? Well then I can do the test." He grabbed a tissue and twisted the end into a point. He then ran the point under my eye down along my nose. "Do you feel that?" he asked. Now I was shocked. "No I don't." "Hmmm that's not good. There's a nerve that runs along the bottom of your orbital. When you have an orbital fracture that nerve usually gets damaged. We'll need to get a CT scan done." We then talked about a follow up visit. The problem was that I lived on the other side of the bay. "I want the doctor that has experience" I decided. He smiled, "you mean older." I shrugged. "This is my eye - I want someone who knows what they are doing."

Dr. Hetland returned to his office while I waited for the CT scans. Finally they came to collect me and carted me off in a wheelchair. The scans were much easier than a MRI. Though I did have to hang my head off the end of the table so my chin was pointing at the ceiling for one pass. They finished and I returned to the ER.

I had been in the ER for more that 6 hours. After reviewing the scans, the doctor said it looked like I had a "minor fracture." And then added "you're probably in a lot of pain." Yeah ...

It was the beginning of a long painful odyssey and I would soon discover that there was nothing "minor" about my injury.

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Published: (2005-10-20 15:38:09.0)

So, I've had the Olympus C-3040 for years now. I've taken over 5,000 pictures with it. It's a decent camera, but just too slow to capture the growing up process of my daughter. By the time the I turned the camera on and I zoomed and focused, she was long gone.

With daughter #2 looming on the horizon, I decided I needed to upgrade to a new camera. I decided on my criteria ahead of time:

• zoom factor (greater than 8x)
• manual control for zoom and focus
• fast startup time
• picture color and detail (I wanted to limit time spent on post processing)
• price factor (I didn't want spend over $1,000)

And so commenced my research. I read through reviews and forums and asked friends. I finally decided on the Panasonic DMC-FZ30. I had seriously considered the Fujifilm FinePix S9000 Z, but it's just about impossible to get at the moment. And initial feedback on the picture quality hasn't been that great. People have complained about the Panasonic's noise factor, but I'm used to noise and it's not that big of deal for me.

So I usually order my camera gear through B&H even though they are usually a little more expensive. Their level of service is worth the extra money. But this time they were $100 more on the Panasonic. And on a $650 camera that's quite a bit. So I placed my order with another vendor recommended on the camera forum. I wanted the camera in time for a planned zoo trip, so I paid for the faster shipping. The vendor took two days to process the order, so I wound up paying for Saturday shipping as well. A minor annoyance. So Saturday comes and the camera arrives. Woohoo! But after opening up the box I discovered there was no battery charger! A downside of the Panasonic cameras is that they use proprietary batteries. So I just paid money to have a dead camera shipped to me in a hurry. I called the vendor, and they confirmed that yes, I should have a battery charger. But it wasn't their fault, and I would have to deal with Panasonic. And they wouldn't refund the extra shipping charges since I did indeed receive the camera. "Here's the number for Panasonic. Have a nice day."

I called around to local stores in attempt to find a charger. No luck. "Why do you need a charger? It comes with the camera." By this time all sorts of fantasies of retribution were popping in my head.

I decided to suck it up and call Panasonic , already dreading the experience. But I was suprised. Boy was I suprised. Adrienne answered my call. She was pleasant and understanding. And friendly. She had the camera there on her desk along with the packaging. So she knew what I was talking about. They would ship out the charger to me, along with an extra battery. At no charge. I told them of my shock at being treated so nicely. "Why would want to bite the heads off our customers?" she replied. I told her I had a list of people she needed to talk to then.

So in the end I'm happy with my camera. I'm happy in the knowledge that if I do have any more problems, Panasonic will take care of me. And I've learned that cheaper isn't always better - I'll pay extra for the service. The amount of time I spent on the phone and my level of aggravation just wasn't worth the money.

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Published: (2005-10-05 09:17:37.0)

Phyllis lost her fight to cancer, and died peacefully in her sleep. There is a hole somewhere inside of me that tears rush to fill.

"Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Published: (2005-08-08 13:05:44.0)

Cancer. I'm sure you know about it. And probably, you've had a close encounter - be it a friend or relative that was stricken. It's vicious and frightening, and scares us deeply.

Cancer. It claimed my Aunt rapidly, and we watched her disappear before our eyes in only a few months. It took my friend's husband. It has taken friends. It's taken colleagues at work. It knows only to take, and its hunger is incessant.

And now, it is taking Phyllis. She has two beautiful daughters and is probably one of the nicest ladies I have ever known. A kind soul. So, now cancer is taking her. I can only pray, and reflect on the memories I have of her. I am grateful that I did get to know her, for kind souls are rare indeed, one of life's blessings.

Cancer. It has taken my joy, and the laughter from my lips. And left me only with tears.

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Published: (2005-08-04 11:21:00.0)

This is an amazing article on the Marines that are on their third fighting tour. That's right, their third. It's long but worth the read, and weaves the lyrics of Metallica songs throughout. It's centered on Cpl. James Welter Jr., who is only 22, and has seen and done more things than most of us ever will.

"During their first tour, Welter and his unit were greeted as liberators. During the second, they fought a growing rebellion. Now, on the third, many say they are angry to be back, shaken by the loss of more friends and feeling old beyond their years."

"Talk winds back to the war, and Jimmy Welter echoes a common refrain of third-timers: If death happens, it happens. And the sooner you accept that you are as good as dead, the better you will fight - and the more likely you are to save your sanity."

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Published: (2005-07-29 08:59:59.0)