Random Snapshots From A Summer Day In The Life Of Us

Today is one of the days that has felt like a normal summer day. It felt normal. It's summer. For a few minutes every hour, I felt like maybe I'd just dreamt that my son had cancer. Every couple hours I'd call home to check in. Each time I was reminded that, in fact, it was not a dream. We are 12 or 11 days away from the most important day of Pablo's life. A week from this Monday, and again on the following Monday, a sizeable medical team will take our little boy away from us for many hours. We will hold Pablo's hand as he is wheeled down the hallway in a bed. A red stripe will appear on the floor, and the bed will stop rolling. That red stripe is exactly what you think it is: a 'do not cross' line. Standing on the non-sterile side of that line, we will wish, once again, that it was one of us, and not him, staring up at tear-filled eyes and ceiling panels. But all we will be able to do, once again, is kiss him, one more time before he rolls away down a long hallway and gets injected and cut open and separated from that nasty mass of tumor that has sent his young life on a collision course with all that is unknown in this world on one side, and faith, destiny and serenity on the other.

We are on a first name basis with the key members of this medical team. We have had countless meetings with them. They have given us their word again and again that the plan they have devised is the best plan currently available for Pablo. All we can do is believe. Since May 17, we have had nothing but opportunities to access–then exercise–faith.

I am not talking about dogmatic on-high religiosity. I am talking about loosening one's grip on the steering wheel of life. If I didn't I'd shatter. Sometimes I do. Letting go, de-energizing, exhaling just to hear myself exhale, destroying myself on the bike–all those things lower the shatter factor. A few times a week, I wonder if throwing my computer off the balcony of my office, or at the brick wall in our bathroom here at home, would make me feel better. You know and I know it would not. That's why I haven't done it. If and when I do, it will be video'd and posted here.

I titled this post 'Random Snapshots From A Summer Day In The Life Of Us' and now I will get into those snapshots:

• Grady and Pablo built a ship out of pre-cut cardboard chips. It was a gift from one of our wonderful friends, sent at some point along the way (if it was you, please post a comment). As they were piecing this giant ship together out of 1" x 1" squares, Pablo told Grady 'I'm your business manager!'

Let me repeat that: Pablo told Grady 'I'm your business manager!'

Grady is recounting this to me now, as I write. We are on the verge of vomiting we're laughing so hard.

Can someone call David Byrne and get him to drop that into some forgotten Talking Heads demo from 1978? That could be a hit song!

• Grady and his dad, Jimmy, took his dirt bike to Velo Pasadena to get it tuned up for their annual week-long camping trip at Dinkey Creek in the High Sierras of California. They leave on Sunday.

• Last night, Pablo and Grady watched the movie 'Hook' in G's bed. Instead of downloading the flick off iTunes (too easy), Grady found a way to stream it on some pirate video site from Taiwan (much cooler). Pablo slept in G's bed overnight. A big deal for him for two reasons: One, Grady has been away at his dad's a lot this summer (Jimmy has been great about helping out in ANY way); two, because of the need to keep Pablo free from germy stuff, we've tried to keep him in our bed, or his own bed, and not too close to his teenage big brother, who hangs out with a lot of other cootie-fied kids. We can't take any chances with cooties at this point.

• Tonight, Peter and I went out for sushi at Nozawa (a/k/a the 'Sushi Nazi'). It was delicous. It can only ever be that way when the master sushi chef of America feeds you. From there we got some fro yo, and headed back to Silverlake to check out the construction progress on our new office. As we were searching for a way to turn the lights on, Polly texted me and told me I better get home (Jo Ann was out). Pablo was complaining of pain on and around his right tumor, and was spiking a fever out of nowhere.

Peter and I closed up the building and jetted up to my house. It's a 60 second drive. P was asleep by the time we got home. Polly gave me the downlow, and went home, as worried as I've ever seen her. He is lucky, and we are lucky, to have her in our lives. She truly and deeply loves that boy. It's not just a job for her.

• Here are a few pictures I should have posted a while ago:

For my Father's Day gift, Jo Ann commissioned this gorgeous painting of the boys by the artist Katherine Chiu. We discovered Katherine from her show at our friend Cris McColl's Tinklark Gallery in Hollywood.

My buddy Michael Patterson (one of the best producers and mixers around) is friends with Mr. Lance Armstrong. One day a month or so ago, the Fed Ex driver brought a package from Austin, TX. Inside the box was a book (cover below) of Lance pics from his Tours de France. Inside the book was a note to Pablo from Lance (above), with this simple, powerful message from a cancer survivor to a future cancer survivor.

Good night.