Visit From the Seldens

We had a nice visit with the Seldens on Labor Day—or at least a small percentage of the Seldens. My sister and brother-in-law, Carolyn and Craig were here, along with their son and daughter-in law, Leland and Tammy, and L&T’s children, Brandon, Vincent and Megan. In addition, Matt and Amy, and their children, Quade, Brooke and Noah, were with us. Dawn fixed a wonderful meal and I barbecued the hamburgers. A fun time was had by all.

(L-R) Vincent Selden, Quade Thurston, Noah Thurston, Brandon Selden, Megan Selden, Brooke Thurston

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Quade’s Birthday Party – Garage Photo Studio

Today was my oldest grandson, Quade’s, birthday and we had a party at our home. Tyson had flown out from Chicago to visit for a few days, so I took the opportunity to give my garage photo studio a workout. It was the first time in a long time that we all found ourselves in one picture.

Top Row (l-r): Matt, Morrie, Dawn, Tyson, David. Bottom Row (l-r) Amy, Quade, Brooke, Noah, Ashley.

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Easter

We had a nice Easter with our family. I’m a bit rushed today, but wanted to post some photos. I didn’t get any pictures in church clothes because by the time I got back from teaching my HP lesson, everyone had changed. But I did get some Easter egg hunt pictures. Here’s Quade, Brooke and Noah, just before the hunt. They were so excited to find the eggs that I couldn’t keep them from acting squirrely.

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Saturday Night at the Dance Recital

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog post called “Saturday at the Little League Ballpark.” It focused on my grandsons, Quade and Noah, and their baseball games. Today I get a chance to write about my granddaughter, Brooke, and her dance recital.

Brooke is seven years old. To say she is FABULOUS would be an understatement. It would also be the name of one of the dances her group performed. To say she is a budding SUPERSTAR would be true, and it would also be the name of one of the dances her group performed. To say she is a DANCING LEOPARD might not be literally true, but it is one of the dances her group performed.

Perhaps pictures say it better than words.

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Saturday at the Little League Ballpark

Noah Thurston backThis morning Dawn and I went to a Corona community park to watch our grandsons, Quade and Noah, play Little League baseball. It brought to mind the hours and days we spent watching our own sons, Matt, David and Tyson, play a couple of decades ago.

It was usually great fun, though sometimes it could get long. When your kid is the pitcher you have no problem paying attention, but when he plays one of the other positions (especially right field), you seldom see much action. You just wait patiently until he gets his chance to bat. That happens three or four times a game, if you’re lucky. Whether he actually hits the ball is another matter. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be the father of one of the kids who could crush the ball to deep centerfield, but I never found out.

My oldest son, Matt, was a nifty fielder. He could scoop up ground balls like a vacuum cleaner. I always admired this because I was an awful ground ball fielder. I loved playing the outfield and running down fly balls. There was something about the geometry of the ball, the arc and my running path that intrigued me. I could usually manage to arrive at the proper place when the ball came down and snag it. Ground balls, however, were my bugaboo. You could never be sure what angle the ball would take—there was always the possibility (and on some fields, the likelihood) that the ball would hit a rock on the last bounce and go through your legs or, worse, smack you in the face. I stuck to fly balls whenever possible—there were no rocks in the air. Continue reading

Tragedy in the Twenty-First Century

It started as a typical September morning—the sun had just risen on what promised to be a warm California day. I was dressed in workout clothes—black Above-the-Rim shorts, a charcoal Nike t-shirt, white K-Swiss tennis shoes—almost ready to leave for the gym. I backed my car out of our detached garage, wheeled it around and eased up to the front porch to finish loading my lawyer clothes—suit, white shirt, tie, belt, dress shoes and sox. I was planning to drive to 24-Hour Fitness in Orange and work out. Then I would shower, change, and head down to my office in Center Tower, Costa Mesa and my law practice at Latham & Watkins. I had a federal copyright lawsuit that was occupying large chunks of my time and I needed to review some deposition transcripts.

Suddenly Dawn came running out of the house. Thinking I was leaving, she began waving her arms frantically. My first thought was that something terrible had happened—perhaps an injury to a family member.

I pushed a button and the window slid down. “Matt just called,” she said, the concern apparent in her voice. Instantly the thought flashed through my mind—had something happened to Quade, our five-week old grandson? It had been twenty-three years since we lost our daughter, Elise, to sudden infant death syndrome, but I still carried an anxiety about the safety of children that would surface at the least hint of danger.

“They’ve blown up the World Trade Center in Washington. I’m going to turn on the TV.” With that, Dawn ran back into the house.

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Caribbean Cruise

Today is the final day of our one-week cruise in the Western Caribbean. It is a sea-day, always one of my favorites, and I’m borrowing David’s Apple MacBook to compose this entry. I decided not to bring my computer because I didn’t want to succumb to the temptation of spending too much time in our cabin writing. Since we brought our family with us, I wanted to maximize the time with them. Sort of like emptying the freezer of ice cream when you want to diet, I suppose.

Dawn and I are relative newcomers to cruising. I took my first cruise last year, a fantastic trip on the Celebrity Millennium that began in Barcelona and ended in Venice. This year we sailed on the Caribbean Princess—a shorter and less interesting trip, but nice for family socializing. Our group included our four children, Matt, David, Ashley and Tyson, as well as Matt’s wife, Amy, and David’s wife, Melanie. Also on board were my sister, Mary Kaye Gardner, her husband, Terry, and their children and spouses, whose ages are generally the same as ours. All together we numbered sixteen. (The grandchildren were left behind.)

One good thing about a cruise is that it provides an opportunity to have portraits taken. As those of you who are cruise veterans know, photographers set their gear up at various stations around the ship and click away nearly every evening. The sittings are free—you only pay if you decide to purchase. We took the opportunity to have some family photos taken, as well as several individual photos of our children and their spouses, which are scattered throughout this blog entry.

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The Power of Deadlines

So why am I, an otherwise respectable sixty-something male, engaged in an activity as disreputable as blogging?

One reason is the power of deadlines.

I’ll explain. Dawn and I are constantly urging people to write their life stories—to leave a tangible record of their life’s experiences. The main excuse we hear for not writing is: “I can’t find the time.” (This is my own favorite, by the way.) I suspect the real reason is the absence of a deadline. We all find time to do the things that have to be done. I spent my entire legal career working against deadlines. If there’s a closing date, I’ll get it done.

I’ve resolved to create an every-week deadline to post something here, rain or shine. I’m hoping this won’t end up on the same trash heap as my resolution to lose ten pounds. The fact that I’ve committed publicly, however, may be the spark I need.

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