Dear Lisa,
Today is the 4th of July.
This is our tenth 4th of July without you, dear sister.
Time for my annual update letter to you. The sky is still green and the grass is still blue without you. The world is still upside down from your loss. And, life keeps life-ing.
What can I tell you about this year?
First Update: Your Nephews
Jackson (18)
Jackson finished high school. He graduated Summa Cum Laude from Loyola High School and didn’t break a sweat. He’s a gamer, up at night late, in his room with his headphones, screaming wildly and waking us up as he conquers the world with his friends. Imagine me in my Dungeons & Dragons days…but with more screaming.
He’s off to college in about six weeks. He chose Loyola University Maryland, in Baltimore. Baltimore!?! Could he choose something farther away? Is this a subtle hint that he needs some space, like 2,655 miles of elbow room?
Oh! And he had his first girlfriend this year! The relationship ended as fast as it began, but it was magnificent. She had dinner with us at least seven or eight times during their relationship. They went to prom. His high school yearbook has a picture of them walking into prom together.
I know I’m a hopeless romantic, but I didn’t know how much. After I met the young girl, I was instantly thinking They should get married, and start a family.
When I put this thought on loudspeaker, Marisa looked at me like I had two heads.
Theirs was a four-month relationship, February to May. Jackson was heart-broken when it ended. But our friend Jen reminded us, the heart is a muscle, not a bone. Bones break. Muscles stretch.
Jackson’s friends rallied around him. He has great friends.
Oh. And also, Jackson grew a beard (way better than my beard!). He sported a full red beard his whole senior year of high school. He’s 6’3″ and a shade under 200 pounds. With the beard, his jawline is even stronger. He makes a big presentation.
Back to Baltimore. Baltimore?! Loyola University Maryland, a Jesuit school with 4,000 undergraduates. Greyhound Nation. Definitely not Texas A&M. No Saturday football. He will have family within a couple of hours, older married cousins and his Uncle Chris and Aunt Lisa, all on Marisa’s side.
I miss him everyday already, even when he wakes me up at night with the screaming.
And, it is time for him to fly.
He is pursuing Mechanical Engineering. His study habits are solid. He’ll do well.
Oh. Last thing. Cigars.
At Loyola High School, the oldest school in Los Angeles county, they have a graduation tradition that the new seniors smoke a celebratory cigar. All these blue-robed new graduates were clipping and lighting and puffing away in the courtyard. Jackson was SO into it. Pure fun.
Grandma Ginny was here with us from Fort Worth for graduation, participating fully and taking it all in. You’d have loved the smile on Mom’s face. Actually, here is a picture of our fully fulfilled mom with her grandson.
Next Nephew Update:
Christian (13)
The Blond Bomber. C-Nation. Double-Dub. These are some of my nicknames for Christian.
Younger brother Christian also had a banner year. He turned 13 this March. We now have a brand-new teenager (13) and a brand-new-adult teenager (18).
Christian enjoyed seventh grade at SM Prep. We have a carpool and my day to drive was Wednesday morning, to get the gang over to Santa Monica from Culver City. I looked forward to those Wednesday drives all year long. Four seventh-grade boys yakking it up was a highlight of my week.
Christian’s sport is basketball. He plays on the school team and also developmental leagues. We’re always taking him somewhere for a practice, or a clinic, or a game. Because of my UCLA role introducing me to Coach John Wooden, I see the life-lessons the Wizard of Westwood wrote about unfolding in Christian’s development as a player and a person.
Be quick, but don’t hurry.
It takes ten hands to score a basket.
It’s amazing what can be achieved when no one is worried about getting credit.
Never mistake activity for accomplishment.
Make today your masterpiece.
John Wooden quotes are even more valuable to me now, as a father, seeing the wisdom of these words helping form and shape Christian.
At the final assembly of seventh grade, Christian was in front of the school as the reader for that morning’s scripture. He ran for 8th grade student council and earned a seat as the Religion and Service officer. He was nervous about running for student government.
“All the student council leaders are girls,” he told Marisa.
“That was last year Christian. If you run, then next year there could be some boys in the government too,” she said to him encouragingly.
Your nephews are doing great Lisa.
Third Update: Writing Daddy Muscles Too
Well Lisa, you former English major, I finished my third book. It’s titled Daddy Muscles Too.
I think you’d approve.
Daddy diaries over a seven-year span, from Jackson’s first birthday (2008) to Christian’s third birthday (2015). Diaper blow-outs. Sick days. Mountaintop moments. Tears and laughter.
My voice is stronger. You’d be proud of me Lisa. I have more to say about marriage and fatherhood now.
Re-reading the daddy diaries written over a decade ago, culling and editing, remembering the energy of having little children, it was all revelatory. And funny, hearing how things I was worried about never came to pass, or worrying about some things the same way all these years later. My love for Marisa deepened. I’m blessed to have a wife and partner. I see that blessing with new eyes every year. I don’t deserve her.
Writing this book has shown me my commitment to the possibility of A) people having a partner for life, and B) when appropriate, raising a family together.
I found my lane!
Fourth Update: Still Sober!
Remember February 28, 2001, Lisa, when you helped me choose sobriety? Well I celebrated 24 continuous years of sobriety, including nights and weekends and trips to Hawaii, this year.
That’s when I remember you most Lisa, when I sit in a twelve-step recovery meeting and we talk about how we found a new spiritual path and a way to live with peace and purpose and service for others.
These last five years since COVID, I have attended a 5:00 a.m. Zoom meeting hosted by 12-step friends from Fort Worth, Texas. The meeting is 7:00 a.m. in Texas, but two hours earlier out here in California.
There are people on that 5:00 a.m. Zoom who remember both you and me from getting sober in 2000 and 2001 respectively.
I mention you often when I get called on to share.
You were my eskimo, as we say. You were the one who led me in from the cold. You held my hand and guided me and your patience with me gave me access to this entire blessing of a life I live today.
IF No sobriety, THEN No Marisa, No Jackson, No Christian, No books, No UCLA, etc.
My life would not have turned out without you and your love dear sister, if you had not shown me how to adopt a new path to be a sober, grateful and calm member of society.
Last Updates: Marisa, Jon, Dad and Mom
Marisa
Your sister-in-law is doing very well. Marisa’s parents are in their upper eighties now. Her mom is slowed physically and has significant cognitive decline. Her dad continues to be the hero, ever-loving his bride and doing all he can. There is a lot of support needed and the family is figuring out how to take care of them. Marisa and Jackson were in North Carolina with her parents last week.
Thanks again Lisa. Because of your help with me, Marisa gets to have a good husband. I’m grateful.
Brother Jon
Our brother is an incredible, optimistic artist. His apartment in Fort Worth is Abbey Road West. He records his own music. He has a customized space, an artist’s dream, especially a musician. He and mom got our childhood piano moved from their old place to his apartment this year. I love that connection.
Jon and I text each other about you, whenever one of us hears a song that reminds us of you.
Songs connect me to you often.
One of my favorite essays in Daddy Muscles Too is “Five Magical Moments” from that day when you and I attended Priscilla and Scott’s wedding, remember?
We were sitting next to each other, you and I, when Priscilla paused in the wedding ceremony, and that hush fell over the room, and then she oh-so-gently sang Adele’s cover of Bob Dylan’s “To Make You Feel My Love.”
You popped a contact lens crying at Priscilla’s moment. I was blubbering too, sitting between you and Joy Jennings, everyone passing me tissues.
The winds of change are blowing wild and free and you ain’t seen nothing yet. Those words still remind me of you sister.
“Five Magical Moments” is one of my favorite essays because of the courage of Priscilla and Scott to create a new family together, and join their children into a new loving bond, that was so moving to me, and to get to witness that day with you and be back with our Denison friends, that is such a blessed time capsule Lisa. And it would not have happened without you.
Dad
Dad’s getting over his medical challenges from last year. He’s going great guns, and has about six-months of follow-up remaining. When the last medicines are complete, he should get a bounce-back in his overall energy.
He splits time between Fort Worth with mom, and SpunkyFlats and the country with his dogs and his cattle. He’s the happiest guy I know.
With my Aggie Buddies from the Corps, we all descended on the ranch last fall for Veterans Day weekend. We had a bonfire and BBQ and a great Aggie reunion. Dad was buttons-bursting proud hosting the Ags at the ranch.
“Lisa left her little prints all over our lives.”
“This too shall be part of our remembered joy.”
Those are two quotes dad shares in relationship to his love and missing of you.
Mom and Dad are both 82. 82!?!
They are mobile, lucid, silly, philosophical and doing great. We all miss you Lisa. We have marathon conference calls now on the weekends, all of us connected by our cell phones. Silly. Sassy. Profound. Pedestrian. All of it. You come up often. We all miss you.
Mom
I miss you most for Mom’s sake.
It’s coming up on a decade for Mom of losing her daughter and losing her best friend. She lost both when she lost you Lisa. You two had that special extra bond, that sisterhood that you shared: talking, confiding, shopping, going to church, eating out, shopping, taking adventures around Texas, shopping. You two had that sacred sister-space where Dad, Jon and I were not allowed. I miss that most for Mom.
Landing the Plane
It’s time to start to end this year’s love letter to Lisa.
It’s the morning of the 4th of July. I’ve been at this a few hours.
This is our tenth 4th of July since you left us in May of 2016, our tenth 4th of July without you Lisa.
Your body has been gone almost a decade.
I miss hugging you. I miss your voice. I miss the sparkle in your eye. I miss your nicknaming everything and your magical connection with animals. I miss your counsel. I miss your sisterhood with mom. I miss you and Jon talking about music. I miss you and dad geeking out on technology. I miss looking up at the stars at the ranch with you on a long cold Thanksgiving weekend.
We all miss you.
You were an angel-sister, an angel-daughter, an angel-friend, here on earth, in your body. Now, you’re an angel-angel, with us in spirit, but departed from this earth.
I sit at my writer’s desk on the back porch. I have a plaque on the wall that reads, “Angels are watching over me” Psalms 91:11 And, on that plaque, I have added a yellow post-it.
Written in red sharpie on that yellow post-it is written:
Look up.
Smile at heaven.
The last two years, completing Daddy Muscles Too, you were part of my inspiration Lisa. Half-asleep, first sips of coffee, early A.M. on the back porch, over and over, I would look up at the ceiling and smile and imagine you and grandmas and grandpas and all our ancestors looking down from heaven and whispering encouragement.
Thank you for the gift and the lift. The gift of sobriety and the lift of art.
Life is short. Art is long.
Thanks for being one of my muses sister Lisa.
We love you.
We miss you.
Your brother, Nunna
July 4, 2025, Culver City, California
thanks for reading