I hermitted this winter. I burrowed and nestled and slept. I got rid of a lot of stuff. I started learning how to weld and how to take better care of myself. I lost 30 pounds. I started eating well and exercising regularly. I take vitamins and brush my teeth. I shower every day. I read from a book every day, and I wake up at 5:30 am, even on weekends. A lot has changed over the last year, and especially in the last six months.

And I’m sure that next year will look completely different than right now.

So I have out-Jesused Jesus by resurrecting myself (or in other words, getting off my avoiding ass) and finally fired up the ol’ blogging software to let you know (as if you care) what the hell is going on and where I am.

I’m in New Castle, Colorado now. I live here. In a smallish two-bedroom duplex (we have the upstairs). I’m about an hour from Aspen, Colorado. I am fifteen minutes away from snowboarding and 45 miles away from my job.

My job: I am a pipefitter in a welding fabrication shop. Huge career change, but economic downturn and all that. I’ve dragged my family through a lot of changes over the last six months, but we’re still together and still healthy and mostly happy, so I’m trying to stay optimistic.

My new job has opened my eyes to how much I would enjoy being an engineer, so I’m starting to take some online classes and move towards an engineering degree. I finally figured out how to reconcile my lego/computer geek/quick-learner side with my creative side by learning how to design and build stuff. And the biggest reason is because I don’t want to still be living hand-to-mouth ten years from now.

So we wiped the slate clean. New job, new home, new state, new life. That’s the idea, anyway. And since I still get a few hits every day on this here lame old blog, I thought I’d let you know that I’m still here, I’m still fighting, and I’m still um...damn it. I can’t think of a cool third thing for that list.

Hi, kids! I’m back from the dead, but luckily, I took notes while I was there so that I could return and report to you. Back on January 20, I lost my job. Didn’t make any mention of that here, but that’s one of the reasons for the precipitous drop-off of posts here. See, the ol’ depression reared its ugly head, and it was hard to do anything.

I would like to report, however, that I didn’t go off the deep end, all of my important relationships are intact, and I’ve never been in better shape. I’ve lost some weight (just some fat I’ve had laying around for 20 years or so) and I have a new job.

I am a tug driver. And you’re probably thinking, “How is he driving a tugboat in Utah?” I’m not. I’m driving one of these:



No, that’s not me. Unfortunately, I can’t take pictures in the factory, so I don’t have a picture of me driving one of these.

I work at a factory that assembles airbags. I drive around the small assembly lines (called “cells”) and pick up parts cards. I drive to the warehouse, pick up the parts I have cards for, and drive back to the cells to deliver the parts. While there, I pick up the new cards and the cycle repeats. Each cycle takes 23 minutes. I am working four ten-hour days per week(during the crappy swing shift from 4 pm to 2:30 am), which means three-day weekends, which means I don’t go crazy. Yes, the job is repetitive, but it’s also very therapeutic for me, in a way.

I love moving around. I have spent WAY too much time in front of a computer, and this is a way for me to get moving. I have to hustle all day just to keep up with my schedule. I don’t think about work at all when I leave, and there are no politics. I can’t really move up in the company (my boss has been there for 16 years, and his boss has been there for over 20), so I don’t have to try to be upwardly mobile or prove my worth. I show up, deliver the parts, eat some lunch and deliver more parts. Very stress-free. But yes, it’s boring as fuck.

So we’re adjusting our lifestyle, and Banu and I both enjoy me being home for the weekends, and being home every day. And I’m still searching the job board and staying connected to my friends, but the way it looks now, my days in poker are probably over. They need young men with no families who don’t care whether they get paid on time. And that’s not me anymore.

And I’m ok with that.

Leah put her coat on. I asked, “Are you leaving, or just cold?” “Just cold.” Safi turned to me and asked, “Is ‘freaking’ a daddy word?” That’s what we call swear words with her. I said, “No, it’s not a daddy word.” She then asked Leah, “Are you freaking cold, or what?”

Miray came downstairs and said, “The dog pooped in my room again.” Safi said, “Yeah, there’s a lot of dog shit in Miray’s room.” Seth (a family friend) said, “Safi, did you just say ‘shit’”? She said, “NNnnoooo. That’s a daddy word.”

A couple of weeks ago Banu said, “Ginger pooped in Safi’s room again. Grrr!” I shook my head and sighed. Safi said, “Fucking dogs.” I looked at her in surprise, and Miray asked, “What did you say, Safi?” “Stupid dogs.”

I’ve been sitting on this post for awhile now. I guess that’s obvious by the amount of time that has passed since my last post. This post is deeply personal to me and I feel a little vulnerable putting it out there. But the time to take counsel of my fears has passed, and it’s time to not listen to any fear, to paraphrase General George S. Patton.

While visiting Poland, the hotel where I was staying was about two miles away from the casino where the poker tournament I was covering was being held. I decided that walking to work would be a good way to get outside and fight off the winter blues.

Along the way, I noticed on my left a large overgrown area surrounded by a large fence, and inside I could see what looked like a couple of sheds. It looked like an old orchard, with the old farmhouse sitting there. I thought it was some sort of historical reserve and made a note to leave earlier the next day so that I could explore it further.

The next morning, I walked along the fence and found a gate. There was a sign up, but not being able to read Polish would be the excuse I would use if I got in trouble. The gate was open anyway, so I didn’t think I was trespassing.



I walked onto a little road, and on each side of the road was little plots of land with little houses. Some of the yards were overgrown, some were well-kept. Both added to the charm of the place. I wandered around in a daze, wondering if what I was seeing was real.



I noticed a woman working in her yard, and I said, “Hello? Hello?” She was bent over, working with her hands. She paused. Didn’t look up. Then she kept on with her handiwork. That made me fall in love with the place. See, I didn’t fit. I’m just some dumb American standing there with a camera in my hand. And she ignored me, like she should. I was in her space. I was in her country. And I didn’t even have the decency to try to say “hello” in her language.

I kept walking.





As I walked, I kept wondering how a little beautiful secret place like this could be in a metropolitan area like Warsaw, Poland. I felt like Harry Potter, when he went to the train station he had been to over and over again, and his friends said, “You have to run at that column as fast as you can, and you’ll go right through.” He ran and found a whole hidden world he didn’t even know existed, even though it had been under his nose the entire time.



I think the place is where Warsaw workers go to get away on the weekends. Just a little cottage, with a bed and a sink and a small stove and maybe an old record player and a few books. And they go there and putz around and don’t do much of anything for a weekend. And I would love to have a place like that. But it wouldn’t be my weekend getaway.



After the kids grow up and leave our home to go out and take on the world, Banu and I are going to buy a little piece of land hidden away in some secret place, and we’re going to build our little cottage. I’ll go out and prune the tree. Banu will make a little loaf of bread and some stew for dinner. She’ll plant some daffodils and I’ll replace the little rubber washer in the hot-water spout that’s been leaking lately.

I’ll put some Dean Martin vinyl on the record player and we’ll sit down at the little table and start to eat that stew Banu made. And there’s a knock at the door. I open the door and it’s you. I couldn’t be happier to see you. I grab the only other chair we have and put it at the table. Here’s a bowl of stew for you and you have to try Banu’s bread. It’s the best.

And we’ll eat our meal together and you tell me about what you’ve been doing lately, and I tell you I haven’t been doing much of anything lately. And I’ll put another record on. Banu pours more coffee, with a little brandy mixed in to relax. And the conversation will go on, the night will get darker, colder. And I’m not sure if I’m alive or dead, but it doesn’t really matter.

Three years ago today, Sapphira Anne Firth was born. I was lucky enough to be there when Banu went into labor all the way until Sapphira came home and we all slept together like a new little pack. After Sapphira was born, Banu was completely exhausted and needed a few minutes to compose herself, so I got to hold Safi while the doctors weighed and measured and wiped and probed and swabbed her. Then they wrapped her up and I took her to Banu. I can't remember ever feeling as happy as I did that day. We spent some time in that room, then they moved us to a regular room, where Banu and Safi quickly went to sleep. The nurses soon came in to get Safi, and Banu said, "Don't let her out of your sight!" but she didn't need to say it.

While walking with Safi to get Safi's ears and eyes checked, and to get some shots, I could smell her on my hands. Now, I don't really have a very good sense of smell because of a serious car accident when I was 13, but I could definitely smell Safi all day that day walking around the hospital.

Ever since that day, my life has gotten better and better. Safi woke me from years of depression and anxiety. When we found out that Banu was pregnant, I started exercising and taking care of myself, because I wanted to grow old with Banu and Safi. I didn't want to leave them stranded. So because of Safi, I am healthier and happier than I've been in many, many years.

Safi's sense of humor frequently catches me by surprise. The other day she and I were in the basement. I think she had just learned the word "belong" and she was trying it out with me. She said, "Dad, we're in the basement." "Yep." "The cats belong in the basement." "Yeah, the cats spend a lot of time down here." "And the boys belong in the basement." "Yeah, Aaron, Ryan and Brig live down here." "But WE don't belong down here, Daddy. Let's get out of here." I'm still laughing about that as I type it.

Safi is so ahead of those "two-year-old milestone" websites. Because of she's in the preschool with the 3-, 4- and 5-year-olds, she does a lot of things that most newly-turned 3-year-olds haven't even thought of yet. She can count to about 18 (sometimes 16, sometimes 19), she's known her abc's forever. She can identify all the letters and knows the sounds of many of the letters. Just the other day, we were all in the car and she was saying each of our names, then saying what letter our names start with. No one had ever told her. I was blown away. She can hop on one foot, she loves sledding and snow, she loves the cats and the dogs and she also loves Tink. She's got a beautiful smile and there is no more delightful sound in the world than the sound of her laughter.

I miss her terribly when I'm on the road, and I'm sad I can't be with her on her birthday this year. Safi, I know you can't read this, but I still want to say happy birthday! I'm so honored and lucky to be your daddy.

Jeremy, Banu, Brigham, Aaron, Ryan, Miray, Leah, Sapphira and Supi all enjoy Christmas moring--in time lapse!

• More disposable income
• You learn that there aren't very many real emergencies in life.
• You learn that your kids grow out of almost everything on their own, so you don't freak out so much over every little thing they do.
• You can afford top-shelf alcohol, and you find out that alcohol is one area where higher-priced stuff is always better than cheaper stuff. Except wine.
• Cheap wine is better than expensive wine.
• You learn that most good music doesn't get played on the radio.
• You learn that you're not missing anything if you go to bed before midnight.
• You realize that going 9 mph over the speed limit isn't as important as you and your family arriving, albeit it a little later, safely.
• You realize that social games are just that: games.
• You learn that sometimes paying more for a higher-quality item is worth every penny.
• You realize that you're not going to live forever. And it's ok.
• Sex is better.

Today on the plane I was thinking about things I used to think were true when I was a kid, but later realized were way off. Here are a few that I thought of:

I was watching Barney Miller (an old cop/detective show with no "enhance/enhance/enhance" scenes) with my dad one day. I think I was eight or nine years old. So in the show, they arrested a prostitute. I asked my dad, "Dad, what's a prostitute?" Long pause. "It's a woman who sells her potty on the street." Now, rather than thinking of the word "potty" was referring to her vagina (which is the way my dad was using it), I thought he meant "It's a woman who sells her urine on the street." This completely baffled me, because all I could think of was some lady dressed up all crazy with a little t.v. tray selling plastic cups filled with urine for 25 cents each, like a lemonade stand. It made no sense to me because I kept thinking, "Why would people buy her potty when they make their own?"

I thought waves in a lake were caused by fish swimming with their noses close to the surface of the water.

I thought the alphabet was M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L for a long time because I had a toy box with half the alphabet on one section of the lid and half on the other section. I didn't know they were in the wrong order, so I just memorized them the way they were lined up.

I used to think that the minute hand on the clock would only move when I wasn’t looking. I’d look at the clock, leave the room for a while, then come back in and it had moved! I would watch it and couldn’t see it move. So I’d leave again, come back, and it moved again! I finally climbed up on a chair, took the clock down, and watched it very closely before I figured out it was just moving really slowly.

I used to be afraid of washing my hands while the toilet was running. I thought the water going down the toilet was coming out of the sink.

I used to think that kids were dumb and that adults were all really, really smart, and that if I wanted to be an adult, I had to learn as much as I could as quickly as possible. I definitely thought that in order to be a parent you had to know just about everything, so I saw it as my duty to learn everything so that I could be a good parent.

Got any funny misconceptions from your childhood?