“Peter, where are you? What are you doing?”
“Don’t come in here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s something you’re not going to like!”

Another example: Coming home from playing at a friend’s house, as soon as we got in the car, Peter announced, “When we get home, I’m heading straight upstairs to play, because I’ve got something COOL in my pocket!” He had “borrowed” (without permission) a tiny lego piece to replace one he’d lost at home. I’m not even sure he considered it stealing, and I’m definitely sure his friend would never have noticed it was gone. But we had a little talk, nonetheless, and he returned the piece the next day, with apologies.

Funny stuff. And I know he’ll figure all that deception stuff out soon enough, so I’m appreciating the innocence while it lasts!

Speaking of comedy … Peter’s been working on Knock-Knock jokes lately. (His favorites: “Awtch. Awtch who? Bless you!” “Boo. Boo who? Oh, you don’t have to cry!” “Tank. Tank who? You’re welcome!”) So, he’s starting to get the format, but one of the classics tripped him up. I’ll spare you the whole routine, but his version of the punch line was, “Banana you glad I didn’t say flower again?”

This next one isn’t so much classic comedy as it is a classic parenting situation. We were talking over lunch. Peter started to tell me about someone he’d seen earlier who was, well, as he put it, “really fat … and short!” (Oh dear.) Summoning up my best, Happy Inclusive Parent voice, I said, “Well, I guess people come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?” To which, after a short pause, he replied, “But there’s no triangle people.”

Boy’s got a point there.

Finally, this isn’t from Peter, but it is actual conversations overheard recently during a visit to Santa. First, a little boy, probably 7 or 8, asked for a wide-screen plasma TV. Santa, who seemed to know how to stand up for himself, replied, with a smile, “Well, I don’t know. That’s a pretty tall order!” Then, a little girl about the same age got up and said, “I want infinity money, and …” at which point Santa interjected, “Okay, no, you have to get down now. You can’t ask for anything more after ‘infinity money.’ ”

Infinity money. That’s quite a concept.

Whatever you wish for this Christmas, may all your wishes come true! And if, by chance, you actually get infinity money, please visit our web store! :-)

Merry Christmas!

The point is, when Margret first introduced me to her folks, I can’t imagine they were too thrilled. I mean, I’m sure I was nice and upbeat and all that. But still, a musician? For their little girl? (Margret is the youngest of seven.) Honestly, it must have sent shivers down their spines. But if it did, they never let me know. From the very first day, Joyce and Jim welcomed me into their family, and have shown me nothing but kindness and respect ever since.

In recent years, Joyce has taken to referring to her children and grandchildren as “Wonderful, beautiful.” She’ll write in birthday cards, “To wonderful, beautiful Peter!” And tell them in person: “Hello, you wonderful, beautiful child!” I must confess that it seems a little over-the-top to me at times, but I can be something of a party-pooper, too, so pay me no mind. The truth is, it’s sweet and sincere, and the kids love her, as does everyone in her life. Or, to be technically correct, I should say, “as did everyone in her life.” Joyce passed away this last weekend.

Joyce Lenarz was 86 years old, the mother of seven children, and had just celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary. She died at home after a hospice period in which her family was able to provide round-the-clock care right up to the end.

I’m thankful to Joyce for many things, number one being welcoming me into the family in the first place. And what a family it is! As I first got to know the them, I used to joke that they were the Von Trapp’s from The Sound of Music—and the joke wasn’t that far off. Two strong, supportive parents; seven genuinely nice and loving children who got along with and cared about each other. The family would even sing together—in three-part harmony—as they cleaned up after meals. (See what I mean?)

Now, no family is without its tensions and conflicts. And my Von Trapp jokes used to irritate Margret, I think for that very reason. But still, one of the greatest good fortunes in my life has been to find myself a member of Jim and Joyce’s family. I’ll be forever grateful to them for making it so effortless.

The second thing I’m thankful to Joyce for came as something of a surprise to me: The chance to experience the beauty of a dignified death. You hear about it, but to see it for yourself is an inspiration. Which is not to say it wasn’t difficult, because of course it was. But so is birth, as well as much of life itself. Joyce’s process, as well as the way the family embraced and supported the process, was truly beautiful to me—and important. I’m sure the rest of my life will be better for having been a part of it.

Finally, I was reminded of the importance of having conversations while we still can. As well as Joyce’s passing went, I also imagine it left some unresolved issues and regrets. How could it not? Can every problem we have with others be resolved before we go? I don’t suppose so. But it seems to me much better to have tried and come up short than to have avoided it until it’s truly too late. In any case, the reminder gives me a new opportunity to test the theory—and I will.

So, for that, and all the rest, thank you, wonderful, beautiful Joyce. You’ve made a real difference in my life. You will be missed.

How about you? Any conversations you would regret not having if it got to be too late? As you head into the holidays and find yourself passing the peas to Uncle Hank, who’s always busting your chops, or cousin Cindy, who just can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business, take a breath and think about it. If so, lighten up, open up, and find a way to have the conversation. It doesn’t have to be today, but do try to do it while you still can.