On September 29, 1990, my wife and I became parents for the first time. Katie arrived three weeks early, and as a result spent ten days in the Intensive Care Nursury at Alexandria Hospital. Oddly, they weren’t days of worry, the hospital staff was wonderful and amazing in keeping us informed on Katie’s status and progress. It was a few days before she was disconnected from a ventilator and other stuff, and we finally got to hold her.
Today, Katie is fifteen years old. The thought of it blows my mind. She’s a beautiful young woman, a freshman in High School, an excellent writer and singer, and a smart/fun/loving person.
Happy Birthday Katie! We love you very much.
Colleen ‘bridged’ today from Brownies to Juniors. Her familiar brown vest was retired in favor of a fancy new green sash. The vest is full of patches commemorating years of memories, activities and achievements so far in scouting. The new green sash is bare, ready for many more yet to come.
My wife Jennifer has been a scout leader for our son and daughters; tigers, cub/wolf/bear, weblos, brownies, juniors and cadets. She’s a natural born scout leader, and the kids and I are lucky to have her.
Congrats Colleen!
After a tough loss on the soccer field (Will scored both of his teams goals) we ran into the Hollands on our way to Philly Tavern in Manassas. Here are the kids at the bar, enjoying some shots.
My grandfather, John Francis Casey, passed away this morning. He was 92 years old. 92 years 157 days to be as precise as my genealogy program allows. I only had infrequent contact with him growing up (my grandparents divorced when my father was a young boy). But from those visits I do remember tales of work on the beat as a police officer in Chicago.
As an adult, I am happy to have taken opportunities to visit him, and to introduce my own children to their great-grandfather. Most recently was in the summer of 2003, when my new interest in genealogy led to a trip to Chicago with my brother. We visited Grandpa Casey, and his sister Margaret, and tracked down many other relatives who we were not fortunate enough to have met when they were still living.
Family trees are a fascinating thing. Genetically speaking, I’m Chris Casey/Dedera/Slovacek/Peter, but that’s way too long to sign on a check, and each of those names could be similarly split. And so the naming rules say I’m a Casey, and I’ve traced my way back to John’s Great-Grandfather Michael, a tenant farmer in County Limerick Ireland, who’s own son Michael came to America and ended up in Chicago. My place on the Casey tree passes back through my Grandfather John, and I hope I can help preserve his memory for my own children and farther down the branch as it grows.
If you have any information about John Casey or believe that you may be connected to my tree in any way, I would be very glad to hear from you! Please send me an email to: chris@casey.com
He was born in Central Illinois, we got him from a friend of my mother-in-law. Our new dog Cody caught a flight home with us to Virginia in 1988.
As a puppy, he once accidentally ripped my nose open, sending me to the emergency room and putting himself under quarantine by animal control officers. We were playing on the floor, Cody fighting me over an old rag (ok, an old pair of underwear), and he accidentally caught my nose with a sharp puppy tooth. We yanked different directions, he yelped, and my nose started spewing blood. So we missed the end of Michael Dukakis’ acceptance speech at the 1988 Democratic National Convention, and headed to the hospital. Maybe it was a bad omen for that Election, but our fun didn’t always end in the hospital.Cody did tricks too. He could shake hands/paws, roll over, stand on his hind legs, or patiently resist the temptation of snatching a dog bone placed right in front of him until given the secret go-ahead code word, “OK”. He understood English, and was fluent in begging for food.
He was our first child, and in many of our oldest photos of him Cody is happily perched on someone’s lap. But soon we had a human baby, and then another, and another. And Cody was a protective big brother to each of them, and a happy floor cleaner beneath their high-chairs.
Outdoors, he had an interesting habit of only snarling at dogs that were many times his size. Perhaps he knew he could outrun them, or maybe if we’d have ever let him try, he really could have kicked their butts. We never had him fixed, though we know we should have, maybe his bravado was in his balls. He knocked up an understanding neighbor’s ugly pug twice, so there are some Cody progeny out there somewhere.
As kids got older, he got a bit slower, but he was still always the first to meet me at the door when returning from work. He hated fleas, but they loved him. And what he lost in sight and hearing ability, he gained in his ability to create new smells.
He saw other pets come and go; lizards, hamsters, a hermit crab. And this year he enjoyed the company of the four kittens one of our cats had. Our two adult cats basically ignored him, but the kittens loved Cody, and he followed them around with a curiosity he hadn’t had in anything for years.
For months we’ve seen signs of his age, especially in his hesitation and difficulty in climbing steps, but he always soldiered on. Until last week, when we found him no longer able to stand up. A vet visit offered small hope for improvement, and when there was none we were left to face the fact that Cody’s time had come. He was an important member of our family for 16 years..
