09.08.2016

I thought about titling this blog “The Year that Didn’t Happen,” because, well…it didn’t–at least not as it was supposed to.  I was going to be juggling a job, a newly burgeoning film career, being a husband, and being a father to not one, but two boys.  But a year ago today I held my second son for the first, and last time.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.

Like all babies, he was lighter than he looked.  But this one…Isaac looked like me.  It was nice to see.  I love T3, but he certainly looks more like a Cooper than he does a Brown.  Isaac had my nose, which up until his mid-fifties would have been a good thing.  (It goes downhill from there.)

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not okay, and that that’s all right.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be “OK.”  I have an Isaac shaped hole in my heart that couldn’t possibly be filled.  But I don’t want that.

I still laugh.  I still dream.  And if you ask Isaac’s older brother what the meaning of life is, he will answer loud and clear: “Bacon!”  I’ve done well.

But Isaac, I miss you, boy.  And I always will.

Not many people ask me how I’m doing.  This, I believe, is mainly due to the fact that, as a Gemini, I’m quite good at keeping my cards hidden.  And I don’t take offense to it.  I’m usually more concerned about what is going on in others lives than to worry them with my own.  I am fine.  Just a little more sad than usual.

I’ve started (again) to write a novel.  I don’t have much written but the first page says the following:

To my boys, Thomas D. Brown III and Isaac Joel Brown.

I don’t know when exactly you became my compass on this adventure, but I can’t imagine life without you.  And so I dedicate this adventure to you.  

Love,
Your Father

Maybe I should have titled the blog “Meandering with Isaac.”  #LOL

You have never stopped being an inspiration my boy, and though the idea of waiting any longer to hold you again tears me apart, I’ll do us all a favor, and keep on kickin’ until I’m old and gray.  (Don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to go gray already.)

Cheers.

Dad

PS: Your headstone / marker thing is pretty nice.  I liked that it had a tree on it.  A bringer of life. -T2

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2015

I moved across the country.
I lost weight, and gained it back.
I read twenty-three books.  Not one of them was the one I promised to read.
I literally, “leaped for joy,” upon learning of my wife’s pregnancy.
I starred in a movie and made several.
My son taught me how to be a triceratops.  I taught him about bacon.
I was unemployed. “Sorry, we’re going in a cheaper direction.”
But, then I got a job.
I wore a tuxedo, and cried at a wedding.
But then my baby died.  I held him in my arms, only once, for fear I wouldn’t let him go again.
We put him in the ground, and I held my wife.
And, then I went to work.
I made new friends.
I tried new food.
I cried a lot. 
I began working on my novel again.  We’ll see how it works out.
I have not visited his grave.
Christmas is supposed to be a happy time of year.
All I want is for it to be September 8th, and for him to still be here.
But time is a constant.
Thanksgiving was good.
I’ve whispered “I love you” into my son’s ear, on a consistent basis.
I’ve watched Star Wars twice.
I’ll see it again, soon.
I don’t like resolutions.
But I will promise myself, this:

I will not stop.  I will continue.  I will learn how to breathe again.
I will make him proud.
I love you, Isaac.

Beef Wellington: Dr Who vs. Santa Claus

I don’t know when this years Christmas became a uniquely British one, but it did.  As per tradition, I will be cooking Christmas dinner.  This year I’ve decided to conduct an experiment by way of making my first ever Beef Wellington, first Creamy Whiskey Peppercorn Sauce, first Carrot Purée, and the staple Mashed Potatoes.

Don’t worry, I’m serving an “Endless Summer Salad” with the whole thing too.  Because, #veggies.

And as much as I love food, and as much as I love cooking and trying new things…I’m really just counting the minutes until Nick Frost’s Santa Claus joins forces with Peter Capaldi’s Doctor to save Christmas from evil aliens–though, they’ll probably end up not being evil and just being horribly misunderstood–but should, in the end, bring me a load of happiness.

This is my son’s third Christmas and at 2 ½ he’s finally starting to “get it,” which is awesome, despite the fact that we’ve watched nothing but Mickey Mouse, Curious George and Thomas the Train Christmas specials for the last two months.  He knows who Santa is, though he’s not quite sure what Santa means, other than that he say’s “Ho, Ho, Ho,” and that he means Christmas…on one level or another.

I began shooting the pilot episode of a web-series, “Cooking with T3,” I’m making with my son, and should be streaming it via Youtube by the New Year.  He’s a little young still, so the first episode may be the last for a while.  Maybe shoot the next one closer to his third birthday.

Anywho, I guess this really isn’t a blog post as much as it is a rambling, but I’ll be sure to take pictures of my food–something I’ve done my whole life, yes, even before digital photography–and will be posting them to my Instagram, no doubt.

Merry Christmas everyone, be safe, and remember to enjoy yourself.