Trying to Survive

7 days ago, my wife of almost 13 years, Melody, left me... For many reasons.

I dont blame her for going... She told me she couldnt take what our life had become a long time ago, and I just thought... a lot of things... and I was wrong. I put her through hell, just trying my best to live through this cancer and everything else... and I screwed up a lot ifnthings...  and I dont blame her for leaving at all... and now, I just want her to be safe and happy.

We were about to lose our home... we've lost it now... again for various reasons.

I know that she is safe, and she has the dogs and cats and they're OK and safe and good... and I hope Mel can have a better, happier life without me, and without the problems that have dragged us down for years.

The boy is safe and healthy and doing well, and has been since November when the state of New Hampshire decided that Mel couldnt take care of both our autistic son, and my crippled, dying, damn near bedridden ass... I am physically unable to take care of him, and he is doing very well with my aunt so he's the best off he can be right now.

At this point, I have no home, very little money, I'm just trying to survive.... For my son.

I have no home. I am currently in a hotel, and looking for a place to live that friends and family can help me pay for until I recover from the cancer surgery and can start working again.

I have cancer surgery scheduled for July 23rd, but I'm going to lose my insurance at the end of June unless I can pay $1900 before the 30th. I have applied for Medicaid and disability and every other thing... but my surgeon and hospital are in another state, and wont pay for them without a special exception, which I dont know if I will be able to get before I lose my surgical date. My cancer is advancing and will become inoperable soon. They also recently found a large mass in my skull, but the neurologist thinks its benign and can be dealt with later.

Thank you to everyone who has helped support our family... if you want to help me survive and recover, so I can be with my son, and help raise him and give him the best life possible... I'm accepting donations via PayPal, at chris@chrisbyrne.com

Ten Years Gone

Honestly... I don't even know how it's possible this day has come... I should have been dead before I ever met her... 100 times over...

I've had almost everyone I've ever been with tell me that I was incredibly easy to fall in love with, and incredibly hard to stay with... to keep up with, to put up with... I've always been "too much" for everyone.

But here we are... 10 years later... Through hell and back, and through it again... and on our way back out again...

10 years...

Happy Anniversary to my wonderful wife, Melody Byrne.

Proof and Motivation

Almost everyone I love or care about, suffers from depression, anxiety, addiction or substance abuse, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, or some combination thereof.

So, whether I would otherwise or not... I do too... It's different for me of course, but I do too.

And if you are in the same boat, so do you.

And if you are a primary sufferer, remember... those who love you are suffering through it too.

You may not see it, they may be hiding it from you, they may show it in different ways... and they most likely will not tell you, because they know you will just use it as ammunition against yourself.

And when you feel like you're alone, and nobody loves you... the fact that they are their suffering with you, is the most tangible proof you will ever have that you are loved and you aren't alone.

Tattoo it on your forehead if you have to, so every time you look in the mirror you'll be reminded.

Don't use it as an excuse to feed your depression and anxiety and pain even more... Don't use it as an excuse to justify the evil thought "they would be better off without me". Use it as proof that you're loved, and not alone, and motivation to drive on and live your life as best you can.

When you love someone... their pain, is your pain... And their "not wanting to hurt you" or minimizing or "leaving for your benefit" or anything else... I doesn't stop the pain, it makes it worse.

Use it as proof, and motivation.... it's the best that you can do.

Lucky Man Blues

There are many ways that I was lucky growing up.

My house was always full of music, as was my grandparents house (where I lived from 2 to 5, and then summers until I was 16).

My mother and grandfather both prefered to work with music on when they could, and my aunts and uncles were all music nuts.

Papa loved music from classical, to 30s through 60s swing and jazz and pop standards, to Elvis, to show tunes (he and my grandmother both loved the classic musicals), to classic country, and even outlaw country (I first heard Waylon Jennings in my grandfathers home office). Of course, he also liked "beautiful music"... but nobody's perfect.

My mother loved classic rock, jazz vocals, R&B and soul. I heard Nina Simone, and Santana, and 70's Michael Jackson from my mother. She would play tapes of her favorites over and over, learning the vocals.

My dad was a guitar player and singer too, still is... Classic rock and blues. He even played at their wedding. Though I didn't see him from the age of 5 'til I was 20... the influence was still there (and he and I sing a lot a like).

Growing up, my mothers sisters and brothers were more like my older sisters and brothers. From them I learned to love hard rock, and punk, and folk, and "alternative" before it was labeled alternative. Husker Du, the Afghan Whigs, the Hoodoo Gurus, Stiff Little Fingers, Leonard Cohen, Bruce Cockburn, the Lemonheads, the Pixies, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones...

We had family friends who were in the music business, concert promoters, managers, music producers. My grandfather's law firm had a lot of musicians and bands as clients.

I started vocal instruction at age 5. Was in a childrens performing chorus at age 8, and in choral competitions from age 13 through high school. I started music theory and appreciation classes at 12, learning piano and drums. I got my first guitar at 13, and my first bass a couple years later.

I have had a life completely full of music. I can't really imagine being otherwise. I've been a very lucky man.

Sons, and Fathers, and Bleeding Fingers

As I was finishing college, my father, whom I hadn't seen or heard from for 15 years (most of which time he was in prison) contacted me.

He had been out of prison a couple years, and was now off of parole and a free man... And he wanted to know... Would I please come and visit him, because he loved me, and missed me, and wanted to be a part of my life again.

So that Christmas, I packed up and flew back to Boston... And  suddenly, I had a father again.

That was... Well... I can't exactly put it into words... I can just tell you that family is extremely important to me.

After reconnecting, one of the first things my father and I bonded over.. and very deeply so... was our love of music. In particular our mutual love of the blues, soul, classic and hard rock, and great guitar work. After all, we both played guitar and sang (he even played and sang at my parents wedding).

At that point though, I didn't have any guitars (my guitars had all burned in my mothers house, when my brother burned the top two floors down, on my 19th birthday).

He did though...

One particular guitar, and amp, that he had wanted since they'd been introduced.

It was a 1994 Fender Stratocaster Ultra (40th anniversary). It had a maple neck, ebony fingerboard, lace sensors, and a custom fit gold tweed hard case, which matched the tweed of the Blues Deluxe amp wanted to go with it.

So he searched, and called in favors, and pestered friends and shopkeepers, and drove a couple hundred miles... and finally he found them, and bought them as a present to himself.

The one he found was in a special color, a deep metallic pearl blue (they had to stop using it because of changes in environmental regulation. They only ever made 400 guitars in that color), that looked great with the Ultra neck, pickguard, and hardware.

Unfortunately this isn't the guitar, I don't have any pics, but it's similar:

He loved that guitar, and he played the hell out of it...His fingers bled on that guitar... It was the guitar he wanted to keep for the rest of his life; his single most prized possession.

Until his guitar playing son came back to him... and didn't have a guitar to play.

So... to celebrate our first Christmas together since I was a little kid, he gave me a special Christmas gift:  His guitar.

His fingers had bled on that guitar... the guitar he wanted more than any other... and he wanted me to have it.

It was the best Christmas present I'd ever had... Both the guitar, and the meaning of it.. Having a father again... getting my family back...

Again... I can't put into words...

I truly loved that guitar. It was one of the few possessions I actually gave a damn about. My fingers bled on that guitar.

Unfortunately, I left it in storage in the U.S. (along with most of what I owned) when I moved to Ireland (originally I was going to send for them later, but my first marriage split, and I decided to leave the stuff in storage a while... which ended up being 3 years). I say unfortunately, because while I was in Ireland, even though I prepaid a year at a time; the storage company was purchased, and the new owners mistakenly auctioned all of my possessions, without notifying me.

It was the second time I'd lost all my guitars. I was so devastated, that it was actually years before I picked up a guitar again. Not until my wife bought me one in fact, for our first Christmas together as a family.

Fast forward...

15 years later... 15 years with my father, after 15 years without him; I was looking to get my father a rather special Christmas present, to celebrate that.

I knew what it had to be of course: A guitar... But not just any guitar, it had to be exactly the right guitar.

I wasn't just trying to be cute and clever... It was important.

So, I spent that entire year searching for exactly the right guitar. Late in the year, I found it.

Oh boy did I find it... 

What I found, was an extremely rare, very limited production, 100% perfect mint unplayed condition, vintage, masterbuilt select (meaning hand built, from hand selected special woods), Strat Ultra... but something even more rare... it was a full custom shop Ultra, built outside the normal production run... and it was another 1994, 40th anniversary guitar.

Now... from here until the last bit, I'm gonna get all guitar crazy for a bit, and obsess over the tiny details of wood and metal and electricity and the like, that go into making a guitar. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip ahead to "it was a beautiful thing".

The Ultra was a limited production model to begin with, as the absolute top of Fenders Stratocaster line from 1988 to 1997. On top of that, this was a custom shop masterbuilt select guitar; hand built by one of their master luthiers (who signs the heel of neck, the underside of the pickguard, and in the trem cavity; so you know it's all the original parts as they built them).

Basically, with a masterbuilt select guitar, the luthiers see an interesting piece of wood, or they have a special idea for what might make an interesting guitar. Then they hand pick the special wood and parts (or they modify or custom fabricate parts if they need to), and hand build and finish, one or more guitars from it (usually from one to four, sometimes as much as ten, but that's very rare).

The guitar has a AAA+ flamed and quilted maple body (not just a top and back plate, the whole body), in a special hand tinted and finished custom sunburst on both top and back. It's kinda like the antique sunburst, but with a bit of dark reddish brown blending into the brown and amber, and the amber has a more neutral darker maple tone, rather than a more yellow tone. Also, it goes dark but not black or opaque on the sides. All of which is specifically to show off the figured body better (you can see the figure on the sides straight through the wood to the back).

The chatoyance of this wood, in this finish, with this figure, is just gorgeous. The guitar looks like it's on fire, and the flames are coming out at you out of the depths of the wood.

The neck is a special extra thin, compound contoured profile, in AAA+ flame figured maple, with AAA+ figured headstock plate matching the body, an inlaid abalone Fender logo, a compound radius ebony fretboard with superjumbo frets, abalone inlays and sidemarkers, roller bearing string nut, and locking tuners. The neck also has a special truss rod system (to prevent both twist and bow, and to bias the relief from bass to treble without warping the neck), and the Fender neck angle adjustment system.

The guitar has a special shielded pickguard with four special lace sensors (two of them wired together as a humbucker in the bridge position, and two different tonal spec in the neck and center), special shielded wiring and control options including the Fender super switch with S1 system (meaning you can select any combination of pickups, including any single, two, three, or all four at once,; or wiring the neck and middle together as humbuckers to get double humbucker output), built in 3 band EQ (cut and boost for bass, mid, and treble are hidden in the original tone controls), phasing, coil tapping, and midboost, It also has a special stabilized two point tremolo, with graphite impregnated saddles. It even has special strap pins (for a straplock system). Finally, there's additional matching abalone inlay in the pickguard and control knobs (nothing gaudy, just picking out the text and a couple little accents).

Oh and it has it's own custom fit special hard case, lined in blue velvet, covered in black tolex; with real leather ends, straps, and handles; and chrome hardware and fittings.

Basically, this was the finest Stratocaster Fender could make in their custom shop that year, with every possible option.

As near as I can tell, it is the only guitar Fender ever built in that exact configuration, one of only 4 in that select series, and one of only 10 guitars hand built by that master luthier that year.

A standard Strat Ultra, runs $1100 to $3500, depending on the year, finish, the options, whether the case was with it etc...

This guitar, originally would have cost about $9,500 (about $15,000 today).

Today, it's probably, conservatively, worth about $8500; priced for a quick sale to a knowledgable buyer.

The guitar would be worth a LOT more, except that the lace sensor pickups have an undeserved, and undesirable, reputation.

An aside... a rant about pickups... 

For some strange reason, many people don't like how clean and "quiet" lace sensors are... 

...or at least they THINK they don't, based on what they've read. Most folks have no idea what lace sensors sound like. Even when they try a guitar with them, they don't know how to get the sound they want out of them. The "collective wisdom" says they're "cold", so people think they're cold. 

Lace sensors are very high output, and get very loud, with ultraclear and even response across the entire dynamic range and sweep of bass, mid, and treble frequencies, and almost no noise, distortion, or hum (unlike conventional pickups, which do have noise, distortion, hum -- even humbuckers -- and very uneven frequency response). 

Critically, lace sensors don't get dirty, hum, or distort (or spike impedance, or have weird inductance or microphonic issues, or many of the other normal problems of conventional pickups), through a clean amp, even at very high volume. 

You also get better sustain, better overall tonal clarity and definition (clearer chording and soloing, less "mud"), higher overall dynamic range, and higher clean output  (for a given volume and tone setting, and given force on the strings) out of a lace sensor, than a conventional pickup. 

This is a GOOD thing, because now YOU have total control over your tone. You decide how you want to sound, the limitations of your pickups or amplifier don't decide for you. 

But... Some people think they sound "cold" or "flat", and want a "dirtier" or "crunchier" tone by default.

Lace sensors don't actually sound cold, or dead, or flat, at all by the way. How they sound, is neutral, by default. In fact, they can sound however you want them to, depending on which one you choose (there are several different versions with different base tonal qualities), which ones you switch in, how you set your tone EQ, and how you set your amp (and your effects if any). 

You can get warmth, you can get heat, you can get jangle, you can get burble, you can get scream, you can get growl... But you'll never get dirty, or noisy,or distorted in way you don't want to, at times you don't want.

Of course, being able to get any tone you want from them, means that you actually have to know how to get the tone you want from them. To be aware of how your tone is created and shaped and changed, as part of your playing. Most don't want to bother. 

If the guitar had been originally built with the custom shop hand wound pickups instead of the custom shop special lace sensors, it would be worth north of $12,500... between $15,000 and $20,000 to the right buyer, looking for the work of that particular master luthier (who has now retired).

I paid $1150, plus shipping.

On ebay...

The guy had NO CLUE what he had. He knew it was an Ultra, but he had no idea about the rest. He was the guitar guy for a pawnbroker who had bought out the inventory of a high end music store when the owner died.

I recognized what it was from the pictures and the posted details, and bid, fervently hoping that no-one else would know what they were bidding on. They didn't. There were other bidders, but no-one else bid over the reserve. I sweated it out until the auction was up, and no-one outbid me.

Now... normally, I would tell the seller if they had a much more valuable item than they knew they had, just as a matter of ethics... But this wasn't another player, this was a professional guitar seller, clearing out an estate sale. My conscience was clear.

After I got the guitar, it was clear it had never been played, or at least not enough to leave the slightest mark. It was perfect, and I was pretty sure it was as special as I was hoping.

I checked the signatures under the tremolo plate and pickguard (don't take a neck off unless you have to; too much potential for damage), and confirmed the provenance with Fender (as well as I could anyway. Fender doesn't provide a complete detailed history or build sheet for non-original purchasers. I was able to get more by internet research and the websites of some Fender fanatics).

It was what I thought it was from the description... and more. The level of detail and workmanship on this guitar is just staggering, and only half was in the auction description).

Unfortunately this isn't the guitar, I don't have any pics, but it's similar:

It was a beautiful thing...

More importantly, it PLAYED. I played it through my Fender 2x12, and it was a beautiful thing. Weight, balance, action, tone, feel... It's an amazing instrument.

I played it, and I loved it, and my fingers bled on that guitar.

Most importantly, I was able to give my dad the best Christmas present I could ever have given him.

I managed to make my father cry with happiness.

I am in no way joking, when I say I consider that a major achievement in my life, and one of the best things I have ever done.

It's not just the guitar... It's what it meant.

My dad played that guitar... that special guitar that we both spent so much time wanting, and searching for... He played it, and he loved it, and his fingers bled on it.

So here we are today... 

A little while ago, I was sitting on my bed, playing my six string bass guitar, when my almost two year old son came into the room because he heard me playing.

I should mention at this point, that my father is Chris the Third, I'm Chris the fourth, and the boy is Chris the fifth. 

The boy smiled and ran straight over and climbed up to me, then climbed up and over my arm and wormed his way in between me and the instrument... Then reached down and started trying to play it with daddy.

And I thought about all of this... this... and I cried with happiness.

My father and I agree: The guitar stays in the family. My father played it... His blood is in it. I played it... My blood is in it. I hope to God that some day my son will play it, and his blood will be in it, and his son...

S'cuse me... It's a bit dusty in here at the moment. I think I have something in my eye.. s'a little blurry.

I think I'll go play some guitar with my son.

Yes... it's the owner not the dog... BUT...

This, is a Cane Corso:

Cane Corsos are some of the biggest, strongest, and by their very genetic nature, most territorial and protective dogs. They are bred to hunt large game, and to catch and herd straying swine and cattle.

Like other large "catch dogs", they can literally catch a large livestock animal, and either kill them, or hold them on the ground waiting for their handler to come and retrieve the caught prey.

This, is a Presa Canario:

Presa Canarios are a very different breed in many ways, but they descend from the same basic genetic foundation (molosser) and are also large catch dogs. They have the same size, strength, and drives as the Cane Corso. They are big, strong, highly territorial, and highly protective.

How big is "big"? 

Those chains and big heavy collars aren't for show. Males of either breed can easily exceed 150lbs, and standing on their hind legs can easily look a 6'2" man like myself directly in the eyes.

Corsos and Presas can be great dogs. Loyal, affectionate, loving, fun...

...For the right people, in the right environment...

A few days ago, a couple of Cane Corsos killed a jogger in Michigan. It came out that those same dogs had attacked other people in the neighborhood over the course of two years, but nothing had been done.

A few years ago, actor Ving Rhames had a pair of Presa Canarios, that killed his gardener.

This Michigan incident is the latest in a long series of reports from the last few years where Cane Corsos, or Presa Canarios have killed pedestrians, joggers, yard or service workers etc...

No, it's not the dogs fault. Yes, it is their owners fault.

But... not for the reasons some "dog people" like to champion.

Yes, there is no such thing as inherently bad or dangerous dog, or an inherently bad or dangerous breed...

...except that isn't ENTIRELY true.

As is usually the case, the truth is more complicated.

All dogs, no matter the breed, are potentially dangerous, because they are DOGS. YOU may consider them a member of your family, but they are not children, they are DOGS.

They are little... or not so little... balls of muscle and instincts with teeth and claws; and under the right... or wrong... circumstances, they can be dangerous.

Of course, abuse or ill treatment can make any dog MORE dangerous...

...but it doesn't take abuse to make a dog dangerous. It just takes the wrong situation, or the wrong environment, or the wrong owner who doesn't know how to handle their dog.

Some breeds of dogs need special handling or they will be dangerous, simply because of their natures. Their size, their strength, their basic breed characteristics, and their instincts.

Big, strong, territorial dogs with high prey drive or high protective drive, ARE dangerous; if not kept in the right environments, and trained, socialized, and exercised and handled properly; by the right sort of people who can properly manage these types of dogs.

Cane Corsos and Presa Canarios are working dogs. They NEED to work. They need to work off their energy, and they NEED to follow their "mission" instinct.

In military parlance, they are extremely motivated and mission oriented, and their mission is to PROTECT THE HERD AND THE FIELDS AND THE PACK AT ALL COSTS.

They're very good at it. It's what they're bred for.

They are NOT dogs that you can have in a busy urban or suburban area. They'll be miserable, and they'll make you miserable. They'll literally be driven crazy by the constant influx of strangers and "threats".

Dogs like this need room to run. More importantly, they need defensive depth. They need a big buffer zone for "their" territory. They need room to back off if they feel threatened.

If they don't have room, unless they are properly trained and handled, and their handler is present and managing the situation properly; in close quarters they WILL feel threatened, and they WILL get aggressively protective.

These are SERIOUS working dogs.

However, for a certain class of asshole, they have become "fashionable" over the past few years, because they're so big, so strong, and so "dangerous". Rottweilers and "pit bulls" are becoming more common, and certain types of assholes just want to have the biggest, baddest dog on the block.

Another type of asshole doesn't recognize that dogs are actually animals, rather than just furry people. Or that the dog that is so cuddly and great with them, is an entirely different beast when it comes to strangers and their "mission" or their territory.

Dogs are NOT fashion accessories. Nor are they furry children. They are living beings, with their own needs and drives, not simply extensions or projections of their owners.

Most people are simply not mentally and emotionally prepared to, or even physically able to, properly handle Cane Corsos and Presa Canarios (or for that matter most other large dogs); nor do most people have the proper environment to keep them.

I have been handling and training large dogs since I was a child, and I'm a VERY large, strong, and dominant man..  I've also made a habit of rehabilitating troubled and abused large breed dogs, particularly rottweilers and other molosser variants. My family and I love "politically incorrect" dogs, and have had great experiences with our wonderful rescued dogs, that others had considered "dangerous" or "unstable" because of prior abuse.

Even given all that however, unless I raised them myself, or knew the person who raised them, I would not accept a Presa or a Corso into my pack. Not a chance in hell in fact.

Even if I'd raised one from a pup, if I didn't have a big, FULLY FENCED and secure property, with neighbors who also knew how to handle and deal with big, protective dogs, I wouldn't even consider having a Corso or a Presa.

 For people who like and want "big dogs", and can deal with a confident, physical, and protective dog, I'm always a fan of rotties.

Jayne, my rott/amstaff male, is 130lbs of muscle, teeth, and love. He's the worlds largest lap dog when I let him get away with it.

We like to joke that he might be "dangerous" or "aggressive" if he weren't too busy looking for comfort and cuddles, and too lazy to chase after trouble.

My other rott mix is a 65lb rott/redbone coonhound bitch, and her coonhound side sometimes causes her to follow her nose into trouble, but she's still a total affection slut.

No matter what though, you still need to be prepared and able to handle large dogs.

What do I mean when I say "prepared and able to handle large dogs" ?

Well, let me use myself as an example. Yes, I'm a big strong man, but that's not the most important thing. The most important things are emotional and mental preparedness.

You MUST be the alpha, and you must be prepared to do what is necessary to deal with your dog.

I can make Jayne cower and roll with a strong look... and he loves and respects me, and I love and respect him, enough that I rarely have to.

When he does get upset, or over excited, I can usually calm him down with a word or a touch, or at worst a strong tone of command and a physical reminder.

USUALLY... but not always...

Jayne is well trained, and well socialized, with an even... in fact a laid back and lazy... demeanor and temperament; but like all dogs, he can get excited, or anxious, or agitated. Very rarely, again like any other dog, he can get excited or agitated enough that he can be difficult to handle.

If he gets so excited or scared that his instincts overwhelm his pack conditioning, I'm big enough, strong enough, and mean enough to back him down, and hold him down if necessary.

And he knows it...

If as an absolute last resort he is driven mad by something, and I am unable to back him down, calm him down, get him back under control or otherwise safely restrain or isolate him from those he could harm... I am prepared to kill him.

And he knows it...

It may sound silly to you, but anyone who works with dogs will understand this... A properly socialized dog knows when you are bigger and stronger and meaner than he is... he especially knows whether you're willing to kill him if you have to. That's how their world works.

Understand, I have raised Jayne from first separation, and love this dog as a member of my own family... but I also recognize a dog is a dog, not a child; and 130lbs of out of control and maddened muscle and teeth is a danger that must be brought under control or stopped, by whatever means necessary.

When you own big dogs... that's what you MUST understand, and be prepared for. If you are not, you have NO DAMN BUSINESS owning a big dog.

I don't want to set the world on fire...

Overheard in my household... 

ME: 

Thus far, the boy has seen fire, but has not yet created it for himself.  

At some point he will discover the means to create fire for himself.  

From that point forward, the entire world is at risk.

EVERYONE within earshot:

Facebook that quote NOW!

He is just like Daddy

Chris's grandmother passed away early this morning

Theresa Byrne passed away at 3:15 am EST after a series of major strokes.

Please keep the family in your prayers.

My experience with an important question

This is going to be about religion... I'm not proseltyzing, I'm trying to explain something important about me. Do with it what you will.

A few days ago on Facebook, I posted something about Catholic doctrine, and as I expected with my rather diverse group of friends, there were a few comments about how they believe in God but not organized religion, or how the church was corrupt and abusive etc...

I get that... that's where I was for a long time. I am still in schism with my church over several major issues, and thus I can't take communion or resolution.

I left my church young. I grew up in Boston in the 80s. I had friends (and possibly family, though that's never been clear) who were molested, and the church (and others, much to their shame) covered it up. I saw a lot of the negative that a church can do.

For most of my life, the last time I attended a catholic service as a communicant (vs. being a wedding guest etc..) had been my confirmation mass at age 13.

For a while, I thought I was agnostic. I've seen, and felt, and done too much to be atheist. I'm a rationalist, and a trained engineer, but with what I've been through in my life, I simply cannot deny the existence of the spiritual and the divine. To do so would be irrational...

Anyway, I knew I wasn't and couldn't be an atheist; but at that time, I rejected Christianity, along with my rejection of my church.

After some years (and a rather intense spiritual experience in which I felt the presence of the divine directly. God pretty much smacked me upside the head and told me to stop screwing up), I finally understood that I had not lost my faith in god... just my faith in my church.

Unfortunately,  for years, I really I wasn't really sure how to deal with that.

I tried other churches, and none of them ever felt right. I tried other "spiritual communities", both Christian and otherwise. I've studied other religions, other philosophies. I've taken instruction in them, and even practiced in them some.

None of them were ever right for me. They just didn't feel right. I was not expressing my relationship with the divine and the spiritual in a way that worked for me.

A few years ago... I guess it's about 10 years ago now actually; I got the exact same piece of advice, almost word for word, from several different people, none of them connected with each other, without prompting, and all at the same time (within a few weeks of each other) :

Why let the stupidity, venality, and corruption of men; interfere with the way you wish to express your relationship with God?

That struck me... almost literally... The idea had a near physical force... Simply put, it was "right". Entirely and absolutely RIGHT.

So, 13 years after having left, I went back to the Catholic church. I've been happier, and felt better spiritually since.

My wife was raised evangelical, and by the time she reached her teens; because of the extreme bigotry, arrogance, hypocrisy, and flat out emotional abuse, of the group she was raised in; she had rejected Christianity entirely.

When I met her (8 years ago) she had  basically drifted into being a neo-pagan of sorts, but that was never really "right" for her either.

I never set out to convert her, but it was important to me that she understand my faith and how I expressed it.

At first, she was very much against the idea of any kind of Christianity, because she had had such a negative experience growing up. I certainly understood that, given my own experience.

The thing is... most people... even, unfortunately most of those who profess to be devout Christians... don't know very much about their faith. Very few know anything at all about the history, theology, and doctrines of their professed faith. Or frankly, much of anything beyond what they're own minister has told them.

Even many who believe themselves to be extremely knowledgeable, are in fact totally ignorant; because they have been taught a version of Christianity that reflects their pastors personal preferences and prejudices, rather than the teachings of God through Christ.

Worse, many are taught that theirs is the only possible understanding, that one must accept the word of their leaders as if it was the word of God, and that any who believe otherwise, even the slightest bit, are not truly Christians (and of course, all who are not true Christians are damned to hell).

They are taught that unquestioning and unthinking obedience is required of them; and that to question or disobey their leaders, is to act against God.

Many are taught that God has a very specific and detailed set of rules, behaviors, and expectations that cover every little bit of their lives. That differing from these in any way means that you are a bad person, not a true Christian; that unless you repent and follow the rules exactly as their leaders dictate, you will go to hell.

Christianity isn't necessarily easy; there are some absolute moral and ethical precepts and standards, and they can be hard. Christianity isn't feel good, everything goes, do whatever you want to and it's all ok...

...but it isn't... that...

The only more vigorous bigotry than antisemitism, is the bigotry of some who call themselves Christians, against other Christians.

Anyway, once I talked with her about my faith, and my understanding of God, and how my church fit into that.... and once I corrected the rather deeply ingrained misconceptions, deliberate disinformation, flat out lies and vicious prejudice etc... about catholicism that she had been taught since childhood, she decided she wanted to try attending a Catholic service.

We went together, with our young children (at the time our daughters were 4, almost 5, and 3).

In that first service, at a wonderful parish that we remained members of until we moved to Idaho (St. Theresa's in Phoenix) she felt what she had been missing in church, and in Christianity, her entire life... and she decided that she fit best as a catholic as well.

As I said, I am... actually we are... in schism with the church over a few pretty major issues (issues of politics, policy, and doctrine; not of theology)... but the Catholic church is where we feel at home spiritually.

No, my church isn't perfect. Like any other, it is an institution composed of men, and men are imperfect. Frankly a lot of what they say and do, I disagree with. But this the Catholic church is where I feel best in expressing my relationship with God.

So... if any of that sounds familiar to you... I've got the same question for you as my friends had for me...

If you believe in God, and in Christ... No matter what your differences or issues with any particular church may be... Why are you allowing the venality, corruption, and stupidity of men and their institutions, interfere with how you want to express your relationship with God?

He's a Biter

And he's already got that smile... that look in his eyes... We are in SUCH big trouble.

57...

Today would have been my mothers 57th birthday, had we not lost her in February 2012. 

http://anarchangel.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-mother-is-gone.html

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Theater

Something came up in conversation today... and then again, a few hours later, with an entirely different person, who doesn't even know the other.

I figure that might be a sign I should share this.

The last time I was supposed to go to a concert, was the night my brother died (back in 2011).

I was driving down to see Joe Satriani at the Bing Crosby Theater in Spokane when I got the news.

My uncle David called me on the phone and said "Chris I'm so sorry"... and I had no idea what happened... I told him "What? Is it my mother?" (she had been very ill for a long time) and he said "Oh... no-one called you... You need to call your mother. Now".

Ok... So I called my mother... And found out my brother had died.

I was... stunned.

I pulled into the nearest bar, which happened to be Capones in Post Falls. I actually walked in, told the guy:

"My brother just died. I was driving and they called me and I pulled into the first place I could… I need a whiskey to toast my brother". 

The bartender ended up joining my wife and I, raising a glass for my brother.

Jack Daniels, Robs favorite, in his honor.

Never did go to the concert.

Oh, but he is a precocious one...

Yes, despite all reports to the contrary, I am still alive.

I've just been... occupied. Occupied with recovery, and occupied with precious baby boy.

Turns out in many ways mini-Chris is, well, mini-Chris. Almost a carbon copy from head to toe, and in many ways in personality as well.

Baby boy is very, very precocious. We knew he'd be more physically mature than normal (early ultrasounds showed more bone development earlier than normal, and he was VERY physically active in the womb) and we knew he'd have a higher metabolism than normal due to how much I had to eat just to stop losing weight.

We didn't expect him to come out with far more head control than normal. We didn't expect him to almost be able to support his weight on his legs already. We didn't expect him to almost be able to roll over from birth. He's very physically precocious.

He's also mentally precocious; when he's awake he's fully awake and alert and he spends all of his time focused on what's going on around him. And make no mistake, he is focused and taking it all in. He's also extremely calm while he's doing it.

He's an extremely calm baby overall. He only cries when there's a reason; he's either hungry or there's some other easy-to-determine discomfort.

He also fusses and cries when he's not being suitably engaged. He wants to look around, he wants to move around, he wants to examine everything in and out of his field of view.

Therein lies the problem. He knows for a fact there's a lot of stuff in the world that he can't see or interact with, and he can't keep his head upright and still, sit, stand, crawl, or walk yet. He needs someone to hold him upright while he looks at the world and make sure he doesn't hurt his neck. If he's awake and not being fed, he wants to be upright, moving, and taking in the world. He can stand the bouncy seat for about 20 minutes, the swing for a little longer, but they don't move and he wants to be moving.

This would be mostly fine and manageable, if it weren't for another trait he inherited from his father: baby boy doesn't seem to believe in sleep.

Most 1-month-olds sleep for 15-16 hours a day. He sleeps for 11. Blessedly 8 of those hours are in 2 4-hour intervals at night. However, the other 3 hours consist of very short daytime naps.

It's not that he doesn't need the sleep. He's overtired and cranky by the end of the day. The problem is that he's intentionally keeping himself awake. If he's being held or cuddled he'll stay asleep longer but if we keep that up too long that causes its own issues.

So we're working on sleep training, and getting him into a sleep and nap schedule of sorts. Right now he's fussing and letting me know I had no right to put him down for a nap instead of either cuddling him or keeping him occupied. He's a bit opinionated and stubborn.

Just like someone else we know.

And we shall call him mini-Chris...

Mel

Patriots Day

No... this isn't about the bombing.

The bombing wasn't actually ON Patriots day, it was on Patriots Day "Observed".

Patriots day is April 19th.

The first was on April 19th 1775, the day of the battles at Lexington and Concord, and the true commencement of the American Revolutionary war (NOT July 4th 1776 as so many historically ignorant public school children... and the adults they grow up to be... think).

My younger brother Rob... Robert Emmet Dinsmore... was born on the 204th Patriots Day, April 19th, 1979.

He would have been 34 last Friday. He died two years ago, January 9th, 2011.

I didn't post this last week, because of the bombings. Out of respect for those who died and were injured (some of whom I knew, or were friends of friends... It's a big city... but it's a small town, especially when you've got a lot of friends and family in law enforcement).

Really... I've had a bad week... and I was just thinking about family, and loved ones... and it's been a few days... I figured now was the time to post this.

I love him... I miss him... no matter how many problems we had... and we DEFINITELY had... but he was still my brother.

Baby Boy Picture Update

Thinking... Thinking... hmmm... I think I want... how about... Boobs... yes, definitely boobs.

A great family friend made BabyBoy this beautiful blanket. He loves it... and that's one of my old t-shirts that he loves sleeping on as well.

Alright, so, good news has settled in, now the bad news.

So... I didn't want this to "compete for the headline" with our happy news, our son...

But now that he's home, and healthy, and things are going OK... it's time to say there's some bad news too.

So... the first bad news is kinda old news...

It turns out, that when I fell on the ice back in February, I broke my wrist (multiple stress fractures in the bone ends surrounding the joint), ruptured a tendon, and had some additional nerve damage.

... and it isn't healing right.

Lotta pain here. Has been since that night... should have been healing... isn't... probably because I've been sick, and the aftereffects of the endocrine cancer and... all that stuff...

I might be able to get it fixed, with proper orthopedic care, which we can't afford right now... And it might just get better on it's own. I'm doing what I can to help and support that, the right exercises etc... This isn't exactly my first severe musculoskeletal injury. I have a history of "crippling" injuries, that I've come back from... not perfectly fine, but still capable.

We'll see...


Second bad news... also kinda old news... we're in serious trouble moneywise... that's life... I've got some great prospects, but nobody is pulling the trigger. I've interviewed for a bunch of jobs, and they either went to internal candidates, or they just held off hiring... I could get another consulting gig today if I wanted 100% travel, but I've got a newborn, and I've been sick... that's not gonna work. Now, with the baby coming early, all the baby stuff, all the medical bills... Yeah...

I dunno... there's still some great prospects, I've got a very promising interview on Thursday... We'll see...

The really painful stuff though... the hardest stuff...

Wash is gone... he's been gone a couple months now, we've had to accept, he's just gone... and that's... A member of our family has disappeared... is gone.

And then... just as we were bringing the newest member of our family home...

Eva jumped the fence, and ran out into the road... and under the wheels of a truck.

She died instantly...

So, we lost another member of our family...

And yeah... that REALLY hurts...

But, at least we've got a new member of the family to have some joy over... A LOT of joy... Thank God for that.

Baby Boy Byrne - First Day, First Week

Baby Boy Byrne is 7 days old now... and settling in reasonably well. He's still a bit jaundiced, but nowhere near as bad as a few days ago.

We finally had a day without visiting docs today. We're going back in to the docs on Tuesday, but for now everything seems OK.

 I've got a lot of pics from his first few days, most of which I'm not going to bother posting, but I thought I'd post some pics from the delivery and recovery room, and from today. 

This one is just for my dad... he knows why:

 

I'm so damned big, and he's so damned small...



Though actually, they mismeasured him as 18" on birth, we remeasured him at the pediatrician the next day, and he was 19.25" (he's a squirmy little guy, and there was just one nurse trying to measure him. The next day we held him in fully extended position and didn't let him move).

And he's got a hell of a grasp on him (and DAMN big hands for a newborn):

 

Big Fingers, Little Fingers:

We're thinking his nickname is going to be CV (Charlie Victor), since I'm Chris, my dad is Christy, and he's Chris the Fifth... but we might as well nickname him bigfoot:

And now some pics from today.

He seems to like being in daddies arms... I calm him down pretty well:

Though he is probably the least fussy, quietest baby I've ever seen. He doesn't even bug the cat (and yes, before you warn us about cats and babies, we know, and are taking appropriate precautions):

The cat seems to like him... So do the dogs. Zoe is sleeping next to him on the couch here:

And although I know he can't focus well yet... I tell you he's a curious little guy, constantly looking around with those big eyes:

Oh and yeah... he's a redhead. Right now he's got a mix of red, brown, and blonde hair; and it looks like he's probably going to settle down to a slightly lighter and redder hair than me (more the color of my beard, which is a lighter red mixed with blonde and brown; than the color on my head, which is dark brown red).

I'll be honest... I'm worried. We're in a bad situation financially... I'm heading into middle age with a newborn, and I've got a pretty sketchy medical history.

Yeah, we've got two other kids, but they're 9 and 11... I guess at least I'll still be in prime earning years when he hits college... God knows how much college will cost at that point.

Back to nicer thoughts, I'm still getting questions about how to help us out, send us money to help with expenses, or get us baby stuff.

Coming three weeks early, we had to spend a few hundred dollars in money we really couldn't afford on stuff people had said they would be giving us (and never came through with), just to take him home.

Honestly, right now what we need most is money. We're paying for everything out of pocket... and you wouldn't believe how expensive that is... But in terms of baby stuff, we've kept the registries reasonably updated.

Baby boy Byrne has three registries established for him:

Babies 'r' Us registry number 48762442

Target Baby Registry

Amazon Baby Registry

However, as we are paying all costs out of pocket, donations would also be much appreciated:

 PayPal Donation Link

I will say again, to everyone, thank you all for your kindness and support and... everything you all do for us... I can't tell you how important it has been.

More pictures and updates later... for right now, our baby is sick

We woke up this morning and he looked damn near dyed in yellow. Ayup, jaundice. Unfortunately, it happens in something like 60% of premature babies. He's in the Docs with Mel right now. I'm at home because the infection I've been fighting for weeks now (and last week seemed almost completely better) seems to have relapsed... either that, or it's just stress, or exhaustion... Bills are killing us right now... God DAMN this is expensive (and paying out of pocket entirely... sucks...). Thanks to everyone who has helped out, really it's been great... We're already supplementing the breast feeding with formula and vitamin D drops, so we may need to take him in for daily phototherapy for a few days. He's going to be fine I'm sure... but it's never great being in this situation.

Welcome to the world, Christopher Byrne the Fifth

At 1935 pacific, March 28th 2013, Christopher Byrne the fifth was born to Christopher Jason Byrne IV and Melody Judith Byrne (nee Stern).

 He came into this world three weeks early... At .2oz under 7lbs and just over 18 inches long; healthy, reactive, good breathing, and a strong sucker.

 Mother and child are resting comfortably. Father is doing his best to tell everyone who needs to know, and fend off photo requests until he can get them off his camera.

 Grandfather Chris the third, has completely lost his mind over his first grandson.

 Baby boy Byrne has three registries established for him: 

Babies 'r' Us registry number 48762442

Target Baby Registry

Amazon Baby Registry

However, as the family is paying all medical costs out of pocket, donations would also be much appreciated:

PayPal Donation Link

Thank you all for your kindness and support and... everything you all do for us... I can't tell you how important it has been.