A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 22, 2002 || 10:51 pm

A certain post (see 20 May entry) by a certain Dane got me to thinking about the parade of Seths in this, the latter third of my life.

I never knew any Seths until I hit my twenties. The first one came wrapped as a sweet-faced little blonde baby. I was the mother of two young children, ages 7 months and nearly two years. I wanted to stay at home with my kids, but I still wanted some pocket money and I wanted my children to have the social skills necessary to make the eventual transition into school easier. The natural decision was to take in other people’s children and care for them, as well. A myriad of children came and went, as most people who utilize home care are not too stable in many different ways. They’re ultimately not doing it for their child(ren)’s benefit, but to cut some corners financially.

Susan was an exception. On my third month as a childcare provider, she came to me, little towheaded monkey-boy on her hip, and filled out an application. We hung out together for the most of one afternoon, and I couldn’t get over how much I liked her and her child, how well our parenting and life philosophies seemed to mesh. She took the rest of the paperwork with her, promising to call me the next day with her decision.

It didn’t even take that long. She called me that evening and asked if I was interested in having Seth on a full-time basis. I readily agreed, and it turned out to be a very fine decision on both of our parts. Susan and Seth, along with the rest of their family (Jim and Jake and Allyson) proved to be a great blessing to me and my children over the next two-and-a-half years, in more ways than I can (or even care to) recount here.

Susan and Jim came to refer to me as Seth’s ’stepmom’, Sam would drag Seth around by his hand and announce to people, “This is my liddle bruv-ver Seffy.” Scout and Seth’s birthdays were two weeks apart, they both had big sky-blue eyes and white-blonde hair and chubby cheeks; when I’d place them together in the basket at the grocer’s or drug store, little old ladies would declare, “Myyyyy, what a beautiful little set of twins, honeeeey!” After a while explanations became tedious, so I would just smile and nod.

They all entered a preparatory pre-school together when Scout and Seth were 3 and Sam was 4. The summer before that, though, brought me my second Seth.

Every Tuesday and Thursday morning that summer I would round the kids up and we’d attend pre-school swim lessons at the local pool. My kids quickly made themselves known as a fearless bunch, so much so that Seth and Scout would have to be watched with hawk eyes every time they were there. The two of them would have a tendency to grasp one another’s hands and leap willy-nilly into the pool if not caught in time, floaties or no floaties. The lifeguard-instructors really adored them.

Second Seth happened to be one of those lifeguard-instructors. That summer he sported Coolio braids (a definite anomaly in our neck of the woods), an unbelievable tan, and the sweet, easy grin that I came to know and love. That Seth taught my Seth, as well as Scout and Sam, to swim.

I came to know him as a fellow blues lover and a mighty fine musician. You may remember me mentioning him here before. He was a good soul, one of the best people I have ever known and I had the great privelege of making music with him before he died. When I think of him, I find that I don’t have the words to adequately frame what kind of wonderful person he was and what kind of impact he had on those whose paths he crossed. He was, simply and far-too-patly put, good people. Gooooood people.

My third Seth, I don’t even remember how or exactly when I came across. He popped up on my monitor one day (after some random -maybe even indiscriminate- clicking) and my first thought was, “Heyyyyyy, this is one smart cat.” I began visiting him on a regular basis, appreciating his humor, intelligence and insight, and eventually I left a comment here, a comment there.

One day he disappeared. DRAT. He stopped posting on his blog (something to do with ‘retard sandwiches’ or ’stupid sandwiches’, I dunno….) and there was just stillness there. Dead air.

Then some two weeks later, out of the blue, I received a pat message from him with URL attached. w00t! This made me happy.

He linked me and attached silly comments to my posts. He never said, “Girl, stop swearing so dang much. Your language disgusts me.” He’s never put forth any kind of negative vibe, really. He has opinions and views that he’s firmly grounded in, and speaks on them with the utmost conviction, but I can honestly say that he’s not contemptuous or chiding in the way that so many ‘educated Christians’ are.

In subtle ways, Seth has been a remarkable blessing to me, although he may not even know it. I’ve never had the privelege of meeting the man face-to-face, but I can tell that he’s special and I begrudge the fact -however smilingly- that I don’t get to hang out with him and shoot the shit from time to time. I make do with the occasional e-mail (and I do mean occasional, because we all know I suck at the whole e-mail thang) and random rollicking AIM session….like me, he has bouts of insomnia and a retarded, skewed sense of humor, so we are excellent 2 ay emm (woozy) electronic companions.

Seth is magnanimous in spirit and generous to a fault…he built the kingdom that is the Decablog and cobbled each of it’s inhabitants their own little castle within the boundaries of the kingdom….to include the one on which your browser now sits perched. He did it all for free and with a smile. How swell is that??

He has repeatedly made me smile, and I’m sure others can boast the same. When you get right down to it, Danester, that’s what it’s all about. You give of yourself in kind gestures and deeds with no thought of remuneration. You are thought of more highly and more frequently than you might ever, ever know.

I’ve said it before, and here I am to say it again: “You make me SMILE! Your joy and exuberance are OVERWHELMING!”

I’m really fortunate that God keeps on sending me Seths!

4 worked it out »

  1. Johnny T 5.23.2002

    Dang, I never heard Seth (the Dane) praised so much. But I think the little big-guy deserves it. I think he should get a plaque for being the greatest make-you-smile-guy this side of the Mississippi.

     
  2. the olive 5.23.2002

    Ditto here!

    I know the Dane has been one of my longest and dearest friends. He deserves the acclaim (even though there has been a time or two that I wanted to slap him silly!)

     
  3. trouble 5.29.2002

    yeah yeah, the dane is one great man, but i wanted to say i felt privileged to be the random recipient of the first highlight. ill take this as a sign from the heavens that i should start blogging again.

     
  4. The Dane 5.31.2002

    awwww…. *supah blush* you are the sweetheart of sweethearts! Oh yeah, and some advice: Girl, stop swearing so dang much. Your language disgusts me. :-D

     

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