slippers for david
by bam
at our house today our hearts are skipping. if you hear a thump in my typing today it’s because my heart it is thumping.
david is coming home. david is coming to our house. david is, pretty much, christmas and new years and birthday and fourth of july, all rolled into one.
david is uncle everything.
he’s the big box under the tree, the confetti, the cake with the candles, the fireworks that light up the night.
he is, to my boys and to me, essential. if oxygen is 02, david is 01. david is the stuff that we breathe. david is life.
and he’s coming home. coming back from his new life in maine, where chairs are the thing that he builds. but a new life is the thing that he’s carving, he and his love, sweet rebecca.
this is the longest he’s been away, and for my boys it’s felt like a lifetime. since he’s been gone, one broke a neck and had a bar mitzvah. the other went off to kindergarten, and learned to pick up a pencil.
we keep in touch, close touch, through the incredible phalanx of options that define ’007.
but still the absence is aching. you can’t feel the rough of his fingers through an email. can’t watch the light dance in his eyes over the phone. can’t inhale how he fills up a room with his remarkable mix of genius and joy. not when you’re 1000-some miles away.
and so, we put out the slippers.
david asked for a day that is given form by the slippers. a day of no strictures, no schedules, no plans, no great expectations.
a day just to be. to be with the boys. to cook. and to eat. to pull up to the table. a day to lie on the floor and stare up at the ceiling. together. a day to tell stories. to laugh. to make silly noises. a day to look for the moon. to marvel at stars. a day to pull out the pillows, make a camp on the floor.
a day for just slippers.
so, of course, we put out our very best slippers. the ones you see up above, waiting just by the door. nothing but the best for our beloved sweet david.
for two weeks now, the little one has been counting as close to backwards as he is able. he asks, fifteen times a day, mama, how long ’til uncle david?
at long last the answer is zero. today is the day that david is coming.
and, boy oh boy, will we ever be ready.
soon as the little one rubs the sleep from his eyes, he’ll be right by the door. waiting. with the slippers.
you see, david was here from the get-go for that little guy. came to the hospital just hours after he was born, and he was born in the middle of night. but david came anyway. david held him. baptized him in a cascade of quiet tears. that little baby was not just a dream come true for me, but testament to many that you can, in the end, cradle your longest-held dream. and my little one came when david needed a dose of that truth. needed to press it close to his heart.
they’ve been joined at the heart ever since.
and my other one, the one i now call the man-child, well, david jumped in six months after delivery day. wasn’t in town ’til the midpoint of year no. 1 for boy no. 1. but when david jumps, stand back for the splashing.
from day numero uno of the days they locked eyes on each other, david gave the now-man-child the absolute whole of his heart.
the litany is long, the litany is rich. here are a few of the highlights: the night he stayed up ’til the dawn, making a life-size aquarium out of a refrigerator box, a work of art, of pastels and passion, if ever there was. the saturn cake he baked for his birthday, the ring of spun sugar, a forest of sparklers scaring the behoozies out of the 5-year-old boy. who loved it, after the sparklers went pfft. the day he showed up at the door with fare for the train, a compass, a map and a grease pencil. the two, uncle david, little man-child (then maybe 6 or 7), spent the day riding the rails, learning the city, but learning forever that you can get wherever you want in this world, and the path uncharted is the one that brings joy you never expected.
the curriculum according to david includes african drumming, purple heart wood, and sushi. victor wooten, the great jazz guitarist. riding a scooter six long blocks to the place that sells extra-choice hot dogs. stopping midway to lie on the grass, and look for shapes in the clouds. a larger-than-life papier-mache elephant head named omar, crafted by david and becca, inspired by a trip to the zoo.
and that’s just the beginning.
the list, i’m sure, will go on as long as there’s air in their lungs. the lessons more lasting the older they grow.
and that’s just the boys.
what he’s taught me is immense.
what he’s taught me the best is that a day rich in slippers is a day to be treasured for life.
may you all have a someone for whom the slippers are waiting. someone you love who fills your heart and your home. we are blessed and we know it. here’s to hearts who come home, and fill every inch of the slippers….
pull up a chair 
So incredibly rich is this love and so incredibly blessed we are. Thank you.
If we put a pair of slippers by our door front door, will Uncle David stop by our house too? And, can you add photos of the chairs that he makes?
Every child (and grown-up!) needs an ‘Uncle David’. He sounds like a treasure with ideas, creativity and a spirit that inspires…Enjoy!MLH
I love the slippers and they remind me of the shrine that you wrote about. The slippers aren’t spiritual or profound, but they are a token of love and fun and family. That’s why some things are important — because they remind us of what’s important.Have a wonderful weekend.
EVERYONE should have an uncle david!!! EVERYONE should have such a soul bless them…(no bias) for he is gentle, unconditional with his love, brilliant, and need I say more??? I’ve honestly never met anyone like him. Will and Tedd…and Simone and Isabelle…are the next generation to share the gifts “uncle david” has passed onto them…be they family, friends, community…who knows?? how DID we get so blessed??? That’s what I want to know.
It sounds beautiful. I am wishing you a whole lot of slipper days together. After he stops by Carol’s do you think he could make a side trip to NJ? I’m sure we would make him feel welcome, but I suspect part of the reason Uncle David is so special is because he shares your DNA!!!!!
Here’s another idea: Uncle David, can you pass on some of your wisdom of “being there” for your nieces and nephews? You must have some abilities that just come naturally that you could share with us at the table. I don’t know you (and you haven’t stopped by yet–the slippers are waiting!) Since you are a craftsman in wood, I bet your special skill could be “presence in the moment” and/or “going with the flow” and/or “noticing and guiding”–all these skills allow you to see where the wood grain and knots take you within the boundary of becoming a chair , or seeing where the child takes you within boundaries to become a beautiful, sturdy, useful and loved adult. Hope you all have a great time together during your visit.
i love uncle david! and i don’t even know him. just found this site–i’m a friend of kd in nj–will tell her how much i enjoyed my first visit. and thank you barbara for inviting me–i had a wonderful time.
OK BAM – this comment is rather profane but I am still compelled to ask, “Is that Ronald Reagan on top of the slipper toes you left waiting for beloved David’s arrival” ??
ahhh, eagle-eye mbw, yes yes it’s ron and nancy in their sleeping caps. no political commentary there, certainly none intended for david. just slippers that came to me long long ago, and i thought them a hoot then, and i do now. they are so funny. it’s quite something to have ol’ ronny and nanc asleep on your toes as you shuffle about through the house. i do believe this might be about the only time we talk reagan here at the table. but there it is. maybe bill and monica would have been more apt, at least from a political perspective. but, alas, no one i know ever sold such slippers. market anyone? there’s a business, stange bedfellows ala beddy-bye slippers.
home now and warm. basking in the glow of such kindness set forth above, and of radiators that clank here behind me. the heat was out every day of my absence – i mean that literally, not as metaphor – we were livid, and my wife, alone at home, suffering frigid. but that is past. and we are glad. and cautious.the trip to chicago was a treat, and the homecoming like a fireplace mantle ablaze with birch bark logs wrapped in flames. you want to be there.as it turned out i brought my own slippers, LL Bean from the outlet, red wool uppers with leather soles. my nephew, the littlest one, told me to, and also to pack pajamas. which i did. my littlest nephew, he put on the yankee doodle slippers and ran into the kitchen with a grin as wide as the mantle, then slipped and fell backwards, all the while grinning and laughing. silence. a cautious look around. what happened? who me? but i broke out aloud, how could i not? and he too joined into the chorus. and then tried it again.so it went: stories at bed time; pancakes and ice cream, whichever, whenever; a rabbit and a possum in the snow; cardinals, junkos, red breasted woodpeckers flocking to the back porch for suet; time to talk and play games. we watched the world and fed the soul.Roger Angell, in his memoir “Let Me Finish,” writes of his stepfather E.B. White and observes, “Dogs and children were easy for him because he approached them as a participant instead of a winner.” Old EBW was onto something.