The best 13 and 1/2 months of my life

One week from today, on April 30, Sarah and I will go into St. Vincent’s Hospital in Worcester and come out with our second child, Desmond Harold Kane. Unless the little guy decides to come out of his mother’s womb early, this is the last week Sarah, Maggie and I will spend as a family of three. While I have no doubts that Desmond’s birth will be a joyous occasion in the history of our family, allow me to take the time to reflect on how our first child has impacted my life.

The first 13 and a half months of Maggie’s life has been, by far, the best 13 and a half months of my life. There was the slow disillusionment with my reporting job in Naples, the instability of moving to Boston without a steady job, the loss of my role with the Boston Globe, the many ups and downs of our extended family, and one needlessly long December road trip. But watching that child come into this world; learn to move, talk and walk; and develop into the joy of my life has made me feel like the luckiest man alive.

Looking back on my pre-child, pre-married life, I wonder what it all was for. I never was searching to settle down, to find a wife and raise a family. My entire life consisted of going to work, partying, drinking and spending as little time as possible investing myself emotionally in anything. Like any modern guy, I resisted commitment and the idea of children before I was 30, although I couldn’t tell you why, except maybe it’s some sort of cultural fear that is ingrained in all of us from when we are young.

Then, along came Sarah, and it was just so easy and effortless to say yes to committment, then to children and marriage. There was no fear, just a love that radiated between both of us and burns bright to this day. It was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

Then, along came Maggie, who I loved wholly and deeply from the second I saw her. Throughout 27 years of my life, there’s nothing that came close to comparing how completely having a child changed my life. No one can be prepared for the awesome responsibility of raising a child. But, again, it was so easy and effortless. There was no more partying or drinking or burying myself in my career, and it was a change I would gladly accept 1,000 times over. Holding Maggie in my arms or playing with her around the house is far better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Forget drinking, random sex and professional accomplishment, I was put on this Earth to raise that child, and I can’t believe it took me 27 years to make it happen.

As great as the rewards were during the first few months, the stresses were very high as well. Maggie has colic, so she screamed bloody murder four hours a day. Sarah and I had only known each other for about a year, so we were still very much adjusting to each other and our new lives. Having never raised a child or even babysat before, I was finding my way through the dark when it came to diaper changes, feedings, sleep times and everything else. When she would cry and I didn’t know what to do, it was the most frustrating thing in the world.

What made it worse was that all I wanted was to be home with my new family, all the time. Yet, I had to work. Before marriage and baby, I had no problem working late and going the extra mile. But suddenly, my mind was always at home, and lasting at the office until 5 p.m. was torture. It caused a crisis in my career and at home, and it remains tough for me to find the synergy between the two.

As many rough spots as there were, there were countless more bright spots. Maggie’s first smile; her first trip to Disney World; family walks and family trips. The first time I changed a diaper without getting poop on my hands. The first time I realized I could care for my child just as good as my wife. The first time Maggie said Da-da.

When we moved to Massachusetts as Maggie turned six months old, the Great Boston Experiment unwittingly made the next eight months were better than the 28 years that preceeded them, even though I worried about paying bills more than I should have. Sarah, Maggie and I were at home together all the time, and we were making it work. Enough money was coming in, and I was there for every event in my young daughter’s life. Doctor’s visits, the first time she crawled, the first time she walked, everything and anything.

It’s strange to watch your child grow, because it happens so gradually and so quickly at the same time. While I remember momentous occassions in her life (first steps, smiles, words, etc.) I can’t point to one single day or week where she seemed significantly more developed than the time before it. Yet, I’m astounded at how much she has grown. Looking back at pictures from her birth, baptism, first airplane trip, she still seems very much like the same baby but much, much bigger.

Right after Maggie was born, I remember the time when Sarah was exhausted from doing all the heavy lifting with our child and hadn’t slept really since she left the hospital. I told my wife to go to sleep while I watched the baby. I cradled that child in my arms for hours as I watched Into the Wild. Afterward, we fell asleep on the couch together; Sarah got plenty of sleep, and I felt more like a child care provider than I had ever had.

I remember the time right after we moved to Massachusetts, and I showed Maggie how she could pull herself up on furniture. She had crawled over to the coffee table, and I lifted her so she could hold onto the edge while steadying her legs. It was a brave new world after that day.

I remember our first swim together; her first Christmas; games of Blast-off; hours of crying; nights without sleep; and marveling at her laugh. The first and only time we went to the movies as a family; the day she cut her tongue; our first baseball game.

Large or small, the last 13 and a half months have been filled with the story of my daughter’s life, my relationship with my wife, and all in a way that is forever intertwined. It’s impossible to separate one of us from the other because we are so bonded together by love, happiness, sadness, memories and future.

Without me knowing or putting forth any intentional effort, we’ve created the perfect situation for Desmond Harold Kane to be born into.

A Great Boston Experience

Times have been tough, lately. Of course, they’ve been tough on everyone, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks for us. A big fight with my family over Maggie’s birthday; the loss of my role at the Boston Globe; an uncertain financial future; my going back to work for menial pay; bills piling up and little money to pay them. Before our tax return came in on Wednesday, I was near certain we weren’t going to make this month. On top of it all, Sarah, Maggie and I hadn’t been into the city since January when we dropped my cousin off at the bus station. A big reason we moved to New England was for the Boston experience, and we had only been once since early January. The one time we did go was two weeks ago when Sarah and I decided the stress of our situation was starting to be too much on our family, and we needed a day to just relax altogether. We took Maggie to the zoo and ate at Fire & Ice.

That trip to the zoo was a great experience in itself, but this past Thursday, we had the most amazing time in the city; one of the best since moving here. Sarah’s mom Debbie flew up from Florida a week ago Friday for her spring break to spend some time with us before Desmond is born. It has been great to have her around as well, as it gives Sarah someone different to talk to and interact with, and Debbie is fun to have around the house, especially to play with Maggie. On top of it all, Debbie seems to be a mission to buy out every grocery store in the area, stocking us up on food so we don’t have to worry about it after the baby is born.

Everything has been great with her here, but the kicker of the trip so far was that Debbie scored Red Sox tickets for the last game of their home opening series against Tampa Bay, in a repeat of last year’s American League Championship Series. She and Sarah’s grandmother run the press box for the Red Sox spring training and have all sorts of connections with the organization. So, this Thursday, not only did Debbie get us tickets for free, but we met up with her friend Dennis, who runs the luxury suites at Fenway. Apparently, one of the suites was not in use on Thursday, and he let us stay in there the entire game.

Picture this for my and Sarah’s first Fenway experience and Maggie’s first baseball experience. Great seats in the upper deck along the third base line. A luxury box with leather seats and  a flatscreen TV in case Maggie needed to get away from all the crowd noise. All the beer and soda we could drink. Free Fenway Franks. Free pizza. Free pretzels and popcorn. Free access to the dessert cart that most luxury box folks must pay top dollar for. To top it off, the Red Sox even had a ninth inning rally after they played sluggishly all game. They ended up losing by one run, but we couldn’t have asked for a better baseball experience.

Tax Day=Christmas Come Early

Sarah and I no longer have to worry about coming up with rent money this month; probably next month, too.

On Wednesday, we finally got around to filing our taxes; and despite not having paid an income taxes since I became a freelance writer in September, we received a $5,000 return from the federal government and a $100 return from the Massachusetts government. I’m not too sure how that happened (since I was expecting we would actually be cutting the government a check) but I think it had something to do with the child credits for Maggie and the write-offs for running a business out of the house.

Either way, since December, Sarah, Maggie and I basically have been getting by on the bare minimum, sometimes having only $20 for an entire week worth of groceries. We’ve been dodging some medical bills that were due from Maggie’s birth already. Since the Boston Globe stopped publishing its Northwest edition at the end of March, it’s been extremely tough and the small tips from my waitering job at the Picadilly Pub have been our only source of income and probably wouldn’t have been enough for next month’s rent. So, going from having next to nothing to now having enough money that will cover about two and a half months worth of expenses was quite the shock to Sarah and I.

As the shock wears off, the realization comes of what to do with the money. Our first reaction was not to do anything brash, and I’m still living at the Picadilly Pub trying to come up with enough tip money for our family. Our second child is coming in three weeks, so it’s important we don’t do anything that can’t be undone. However, having money opens up so many more possibilities. We could use it as seed money to start a new business (restaurant, child care, home brewery, something). I could quit Picadilly and really try for the next two months to make the freelancing thing work (although the last seven months had limited success); I could take the time to write that book I should have finished long ago. It could guarantee that Sarah doesn’t have to go back to work right away after Desmond is born. We could pay down the credit cards. We could invest it in retirement, the stock market or the kids’ college fund. The only limit to the possibilities is in the amount of money we have.

One thing we did decide was to take Maggie and Desmond to Disney World. Back in November and December, Sarah and I made a commitment to take a vacation to Orlando for Christmas 2009, since Maggie will be 21 months and Desmond will be 7 months, which means they still fly and get into the park for free but are old enough to take something away from it. As we began to plan the trip, our money and our credit ran out, so the only way we were going to make it was if we had a large influx of money, such as from the tax return. With the money, we’ve reaffirmed that commitment and will head down to Orlando over the holidays. It may not be the most sensible thing to do with our newly found money, but since when is the most sensible thing also the best thing?

Of course, in the good news/bad news category, one of the Globe editors called shortly after we filed our tax return to say that the newspaper could no longer afford to accept articles from me. Given the problems of the industry in general and the Globe specifically, I was hardly surprised; but for all intents and purposes, The Dream of me living and working from home is basically dead. However, there’s still plenty of good news to go around. I’m getting a paycheck from Picadilly on Friday; the Patriot Ledger is closer to offering me a job in the summer and is sending a check for some freelance work I did; and Boston Parents’ Paper also will be cutting me a check for freelance work by the end of the month. Also, Sarah’s mom has been in town since Friday and seems to be on a mission to empty out all the grocery stores for us, stocking us up with all imaginable food and sundries. We won’t have to buy groceries or diapers for at least a month.

Of course, the best news is our family is growing by one more on April 30 (or sooner). Desmond Harold Kane will be here soon enough, and we couldn’t be happier.

Back to the point, though; it’s strange going from having no money to suddenly having plenty. Not that I’m complaining (because I’M NOT!) but life is very simple when you’re broke. You pay your bills (at least those you can afford) drive the car only when necessary and buy spaghetti and bread at the grocery store. Now, with money, you have all the possibilities to consider. Although that might had a tinge of stress, it’s a stress certainly worth having.

$35

Phooey on this whole working for a living thing.

As a freelance reporter, I spent the majority of my workweek in my pajamas or comfortable jeans; sat in a leather chair or played with my daughter; and was free to make my own schedule. Now that I’ve had to supplement my income by becoming a waiter, I have to wear a specific uniform with specific shoes; stand all day long; and must conform to rigid, pointless rules that only a corporate-owned restaurant chain could generate.

In a subpar week writing freelance for the Boston Globe, I would only have one story run in the paper and get $325. On an average week, it was usually $525. That was with me “working” from home four to nine hours a day, typically four or five days a week. On Sunday evening, I had my first solo waiter shift since I started working at Picadilly Pub. For four and a half hours, I took orders, ran food, chatted with customers, helped my co-workers, cleaned my section and a section of the kitchen, and folded napkins. Do you want to know how much I walked away with?

A whopping $35.

That was just my tips, so if you factored in my $2.63 per hour wage, that’s $46. I worked a host shift earlier in the day, which netted me about the same amount. So, if I work seven shifts per week (essentially every day with no breaks) and average $40 per shift, each week I’m pulling in $280. That is, of course, before taxes.

How do people make a living off of this? That amount working every day won’t even cover a month’s rent. More importantly, how do people stand this? All the other workers at Picadilly Pub talk about this as just one of their many jobs. Nearly all the workers, from what I can tell, have a second and maybe a third job, meaning they are working 10 or more shifts per week. To be frank with you, I don’t mind the work; it’s rather easy and I could work 60 hours a week no problem if they let me.

Still, I can’t tell you the frustration from where I worked from home, had all the comforts of my house and family and made $25 just for writing one paragraph; to working a full restaurant shift and walking out the door with $35. I don’t know where to go from here; but I have to go somewhere.

Well, I’m a waiter

Four years of college. Thousands of dollars of my dad’s money. Two years at the Sandusky Register. Three years at the Naples Daily News. Risking it all and writing for the Boston Globe, one of the most read newspapers in the country, for the past seven months.

All that now to be back where I was before entering journalism.

I took a job yesterday as a waiter/host at Piccadilly Pub, working only four shifts a week for a total of about 20 hours. First off, sigh. Second off, I’m a little bit excited to head back into the service industry. I feel a little bit like Larry David in the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where he tries to sell cars for a day. Only he did it for fun. I’m doing it for the money.

As a freelancer for the past seven months, we’re been living on the edge of a knife, financially. With the bottom falling out when Globe Northwest closed down today, we need money right away. We don’t have the savings for me to go job hunting for a month or two to find a job more in line with my education and experience. I’m not eligible for unemployment, since I was not an employee of the Globe, just a consultant. Sarah’s Saturday job at Gymboree pays some bills, but there’s still some large expenses looming. So, I needed a job that would start generating money right away (and more than minimum wage). Thus, I’m a waiter.

I’m not terribly worried about being a waiter forever. My only big worry right now is generating enough money to pay some expenses and rent through the end of April. I’m pretty sure the hours I’m getting at Piccadilly Pub won’t cover that, so this will not be the only entry-level, no college degree required job I’m getting. I fully expect to have another waiter job within a week or two (or a similar job).

I’m sure (and I pray) that this is temporary. The Patriot Ledger in southern Boston already has me in line for a job opening in July, although it pays less than my first reporting job. The Boston Globe is still talking about reassigning me to a different regional section. Although reporters are in less demand these days, other newspapers are hiring as well. There’s also other options to consider. Law school pops up in my mind more and more lately. There’s several other career tracts to consider.

But for now, I’m a waiter. Starting Tuesday, I’ll be slinging food at the Piccadilly Pub. May I take your order?

Does money exist in a vacuum, too?

Today, I began my first major move away from The Dream, actively trying to get a job that would take me away from the house. I’ve done some work before today applying to a few jobs, but today the reality is definitely settling that in a week or less, I will no longer be working from home with my wife and child. I will be back in the working world.

Of course, on this darkest of days, I had to get glimmers of hope. For the first time since moving to Boston, I’m working on a story that’s not for the Boston Globe. I’m working on a stay-at-home dad piece for the Father’s Day edition of the Boston Parents’ Paper. Also, after interviewing at the Patriot Ledger on Thursday the editor there says I should submit freelance articles before a job opens up in July. To top it all off, I got a solid lead on a story for either Boston Magazine or the Improper Bostonian.

So, basically, after seven months of trying to branch out beyond the Boston Globe, I’m actually branching out beyond the Boston Globe. Of course, it comes at a time when my role with the Globe is either being eliminated or significantly reduced, so it may be too little too late.  Still, all this got me thinking that I may not have to give up on The Dream at all. Maybe I could stick with an even more unstable financial lifestyle just to stay home with my daughter, my wife and my soon-to-be-born son.

When I worked in Florida, a city official and I joked all the time that time existed in a vacuum: that no matter how long a City Council agenda was, the City Councilmen would find a way to drag it out for at least five hours. Time existed in a vacuum because no matter what, the hours came and went.

After scratching a living in the Great Boston Experiment for seven months, I’ve started to suspect that money exists in a vacuum, too. We need roughly $2,000 a month to survive, and no matter what, the money would come in. Whether I got enough articles published in a given month, family members sent us money for holidays, birthdays and our anniversary, or our expenses suddenly dropped for that month, we’ve managed to pay our expenses for seven months without me having to leave our family paradise for the working world.

However, this certainly feels like the end of The Dream. I can no longer count on the Globe for anything, and I doubt I can make up the difference with a couple of other publications (as awesome as they might be). I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t want to give up on this family paradise, so maybe this whole Money Exists in a Vacuum theory is just my last little bit of hope.

Or maybe there is something to it.

Great Boston Experiment passes 3,000 hits

OK, I’m likely going to stop with the hit updates after this. The first 1,000 was a milestone and was cool to me the blog was read that many times. The second 1,000 was cool as well since it meant the blog had sustainability beyond a few popular posts, even if the Google gods helped get the last few hundred. This latest 1,000 –achieved in less than a month — is cool, although it comes almost exclusively from the Great Boston Experiment being the No. 1 Google Image search for “Boston map.” Having this many views is nice, although I’d prefer it be for the articles rather than the one map.

End of The Dream?

You can expect a similarly titled entry in a week or two, only without the question mark. The Dream of combining my work life and my family life into one powerful force to benefit both will soon be at an end.

The Boston Globe is shutting down its Northwest edition at the end of this month, doing away with the section where nearly all my Globe articles have been published. As a correspondent getting paid by the article, my payments from the Globe will be seriously reduced or outright eliminated.  I’m not a full-time employee, so there’s no responsibility on their part to keep giving me articles. No expectations that they have to help me land on my feet. No reason to keep paying me for stories when there is no place to publish them.

There is one small hope. My coverage areas are being folded into the paper’s North edition, so it’s conceivable the editors there could avail themselves of my services. However, the North edition doesn’t have much more space than the Northwest edition to run articles, so it’s hard to believe I would get the same number of articles in the paper each month, making it nearly impossible to live on my Globe payments alone. Some other manna could come down from heaven to keep the Great Boston Experiment going, but at this point, it’s not much more than hope.

It should be official in a week or two what will become of all us Northwest editors, staff writers and correspondents. I have no expectations of anything but a serious reduction or the outright elimination of the need for my services from the Globe. When we began this Great Boston Experiment more than six months ago, my plan was to use the Globe as a steady source of income while I started contributing articles to other publications: Improper Bostonian, Boston Magazine, hell, Sports Illustrated and Time while I was at it. Unfortunately, I never was able to break into another publication, leaving me with just the Globe, which should soon be gone. I have already started reviewing my other career options to see what our next step might be.

I have no doubt that Sarah, Maggie, Desmond and I will come through this thing to the other side. We have enough money coming in to carry us for bills through the next couple of weeks. After that, I should have no trouble getting a temporary gig to pay the bills while we finalize our next step. Although I am apprehensive about being stuck in a rut, I’m not above going back to work as a waiter for a little while just to keep us afloat. Beyond that, I’m confident that given enough time and perseverance I can get another job in the journalism field, or a starter job in another field should I choose to abandon my chosen profession. To be honest, I’m a little excited about what all this change might bring.

What I’m heartbroken about, though, is the loss of The Dream, the reason we started this Great Boston Experiment. Right now, I get to spend all day and night with my beautiful wife and my growing daughter. I’m there for all the doctor’s appointments, the playtimes, every meal. I’m not stuck in some 9-5 listening to a boss I don’t respect drone on and on about something that really doesn’t matter and doesn’t relate to the reason  I was hired. We’re together, every step of the way. Sure, we’re poor, and we’ve long abandoned life’s little luxuries; but it was all worth it because we’re happy spending all our time together (I think our grocery shopping trips have gotten a lot better, actually, now that we only have $25 a week for food). It’s scraping by, but it’s scraping by with a purpose. We’re doing it for each other. Not like in Florida where we went out to eat more but were distraught twice a day as I had to leave for a job I didn’t like. With the loss of The Dream could come a new job and new possibilities (and maybe more money, too), but it also means that I’ll be around less for Maggie’s second year and Desmond’s first year.

It’s a lot to lose.

But we press onward. For some time now, I’ve felt like I was flying too close to the sun; that life couldn’t really get this good. I worked, I stayed at home, I watched my daughter blossom and held my wife’s hand through this second pregnancy. Sure, there were some bumps in the road (homesickness over Florida, the long winter, the inconsistency of the Globe’s need for my services) but this weekend I dared to say this was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I had this feeling like it all had to come crashing down. Maybe it’s not possible to combine your work life and your family life to the benefit of both. Maybe it’s just not possible for me. Or not possible in this economy. Or not possible in journalism, as the field is in an uproar.

Whatever the reason, if this truly is the end (and I expect it is) I can still take the spirit of the Great Boston Experiment with me. I can work hard, I can dedicate myself to a career, and I always will have my family. I love them more than life itself, and I can do no wrong by not compromising that love for anything.

Spring, Thanks God!

I’m not saying it’s not going to get below freezing again, or that it’s not going to snow again; but our long Massachusetts winter finally seems over. It was warm this Sunday, the sun was shining, we opened the windows, shut off the heat and took a long walk on the beautiful day. Most importantly, we put on our sandals.

Wearing sandals creates such a wonderful, carefree, unrestricted existence. Sarah has worn sandals and other open footwear for 80 percent of her life; and my last three years in Florida were dominated by sandals or bare feet, except when at work. After being forced into socks and shoes since October, life has not been the same. The constraints on your feet are more than just symbolic of winter trapping you to indoor heating and large coats. There’s a widespread relaxation that comes from having warm bare feet.

In moving from Florida, we knew our first winter would be rough, and it has been. Stuck inside, fearing the cold, dealing with overheated restaurants, bracing against the New England winds and wearing multiple layers of clothing; it all just got to be too much. While the first snow looks cool and feels cozy, ultimately snow is just cold and wet and turns to sludge when mixed with dirt and mud. And we had a lot of snow this year. Plus, in an effort to cut down on heating costs, we would only heat one or two rooms at a time, making the rest of the house unbearably cold. Having natural warmth and sunshine in your life just makes life all the much easier to live.

To top it off, Sunday was Spring Ahead day; the day where we all lose an hour of sleep but gain six months of extra sunshine. It’s the most underrated day of the year.

Spring, it’s finally here, and I couldn’t be happier.

Great Boston Experiment passes 2,000 hits

This morning, this Great Boston Experiment blog got its 2,000th hit. The first 1,000 hits came from interest in our articles, especially the Wage Slave post; but most of the second 1,000 has come from good luck and the gods of Google.

While there has been plenty of interest in our articles, most of the reason we went from 1,000 hits to 2,000 hits in less than two months is we’ve become the top search on Google Images for a Boston map.  The map in question was used for our Twenty Reasons Boston is unique to this planet post in December, and apparently for the last two weeks has worked its way up to the top Google Image search. The only thing I did was take the time to pick a suitable map (which originally came from a Google Image search) and the rest appears to be dumb luck. I have no idea how long this will last, but it was strange going from 10 page views a day to 50.