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April 12, 2002 - Friday
This evening the boys' mother, her father, Judy (both in town for the event), Aunt Alison, Uncle Ben, Aunt Lisa, and I attended a tribute concert for the grandmother Harry and Jeremy never knew. She was a poet and songwriter among other things and the concert was given by a fairly well-known folksinger who has, by himself as a solo performer and as a member of a group, recorded several of her songs. He played many through the course of the evening and paused occasionally to read some of her poems in what, for our row of seats anyway, was a reminiscent and moving tribute. I've often thought that leaving artistic glimpses of oneself as she did makes a wonderful legacy. There's a hint of conversation with the past when an artist, who onced figuratively listened to the world around them, responds with thoughtful and insightful words. Tonight will not have been the first time I've wishfully mused about Harry and Jeremy inheriting a hint of the artistic drive from their grandmother.

Harry and Jeremy did not go to the concert. I'd like to try that sometime, but perhaps not yet and not with this emotional event. Instead, they stayed with my parents, who heard the same concert last night. It's the second time they've watched Jeremy for an evening and tonight was similar, if a little better, to the last. Jeremy went to sleep without all that much difficult, but woke a few times and kept them active into the evening. It strikes me that we rarely left Harry at this age. After all, it was a lot easier to tote one infant around than two. Still, on those rare occasions we did leave Harry, it was a little easier in that he was a little more sound a sleeper than young Jeremy or most other babies of the same age.

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