Cut That Meat!

No, it's not "the Nun Bun" (that's an inside Nashville reference if there ever was one) and I'm not sure it's a sign from above or anything like that, but Jude and I couldn't help but notice the shape of this piece of pork tenderloin I cooked on the grill tonight, after I sliced it. The cool (or weird) thing is I didn't slice it that way on purpose - we didn't even notice it until we were fixing our plates.

Jude, James and John Patrick. That's a lot of "J's," come to think of it.

Sweet Baby James

This evening, John Patrick's godfather, James White (Jude's brother), was in town from the Big Apple to get some face time with the big guy. Here they are on our front porch swing.

Working for the Weekend

I think I've probably mentioned this in another post, but one of the interesting things I've noticed since John Patrick was born is that I really, really look forward to the arrival of the weekend. It's so nice to have Friday night, then two full days to spend with him.

Last weekend, actually, was about as good as it gets. Jude's aunt, Peggy Vicknair, was in town from New Orleans to see a British comedian, Eddie Izzard, perform at the Ryman Friday night. A friend dropped her off at our house after the show and she spent the weekend with us, departing early Monday morning. We don't get to see enough of Peggy, so it was great to have an opportunity to spend time with her. Also, she was able to spend some quality time with John Patrick.

Friday evening, my sister, Tracy Hearn, drove up from her country estate in Franklin. We watched Judd Apatow's "Knocked Up," which she hadn't seen, yet. Jude and I had seen it several times and absolutely love it. The funniest part, though, while we were watching it Friday evening was when my sister laughed so hard, at one point, that she startled John Patrick, who had been sleeping in her lap. He immediately started crying and I couldn't stop laughing as Tracy got more and more flustered.

Saturday morning, I got up early and went to Shelby Bottoms for a trail run. It was a beautiful morning on the Cornelia Fort Trail and I thoroughly enjoyed my 8 mile run. I finished at 8:30 a.m., then met Jude at the tennis courts, where we exchanged John Patrick. Jude played tennis with her girlfriends, while John Patrick and I went to Bongo Java for coffee. At home, I put him in his stroller, while I watered our plants in the front yard (especially my giant, enormous, prodigious tomato plants).

Jude's folks were in town for the weekend, as well, and they picked up barbecue and came over at lunch time. We ate lunch together, then Peggy, Jim and "Mammy" Jane White took John Patrick for a walk while Jude took an afternoon nap. About 5:30 p.m., we drove up to Mirror on 12th Avenue and had a wonderful meal on the patio. Jim White and I took turns strolling John Patrick around the sidewalk, when he began to cry, while the others ate dinner. After sharing a refreshing carafe of Chianti, we returned home.

Sunday morning, Jude and I took John Patrick to church with us at St. Patrick's, where joined our parish in celebrating Father Eric Fowlkes' birthday and the anniversary of his ordination as a priest. He gave an absolutely splendid homily, reminding the congregation that God teaches us not to worry, not to be afraid, but to trust and have faith in Him. Father Eric's words really hit home with our congregation, since so much uncertainty surrounds his departure, next week, from St. Patrick's and the arrival of our new priest. Jude and I looked at each other during the homily and it was all we could do to avoid crying. Father Eric will be missed by all of us whose lives he has touched during his tenure at St. Patrick's.

After the service, Jude and I decided to have a look around, in preparation for John Patrick's christening next Sunday. As we walked back through the sanctuary to leave, Father Eric entered through a side door, on his way to the celebration outside. When he saw us, he stopped Jude to say hello, and I walked up to the front of the sanctuary, carrying John Patrick in his car seat. After Jude and I told him how much we are going to miss him, Father Eric knelt down and peered in at John Patrick, bundled up in his car seat. Quietly, he gave him a blessing, then made the sign of the cross on John Patrick's forehead as he slept. It was such an intimate and emotional moment for Jude and for me.

As he rose and prepared to depart, we thanked Father Eric for agreeing to perform John Patrick's christening next Sunday, during his last church service at St. Patrick's. I had been worried, afraid that we were imposing on Father Eric by asking him to christen John Patrick during what was likely to be a difficult Sunday for him. He immediately put my mind at ease, suggesting to us that he could think of no better way to celebrate his last church service at St. Patrick's . . . an end and a beginning. It has a nice symmetry to it, I suppose. We are so appreciative of Father Eric, because it just wouldn't mean as much to us if any priest other than him were to christen our son.

Belmont University

Here's a photograph I took today on the campus of Belmont University, about a half mile from our house. When we stroll to Bongo Java for coffee, like we did this afternoon, John Patrick and I walk across the campus to get there.

Belmont is an outstanding university with a fantastic music business curriculum. And, of course, Rick Byrd has built a hell of a basketball program there, as evidenced by their near upset of Duke in the first round of last season's NCAA Tournament.

Aunt Peggy, Jude and J.P.

Jude's Aunt Peggy, up from New Orleans, stayed with us this weekend. As you can see, she got to spend some quality time with John Patrick!

Aunt Tracy

Tonight, my sister, Tracy Hearn, drove up from Franklin to spend some time with John Patrick, Jude and me. Well, mostly John Patrick. Tracy's husband, Gary, and her children, Kaitlyn and Matthew, were out of town, so tonight was the perfect time for her to slip up to our house to see her nephew.

Somehow, in spite of the fact I spent the better part of my formative years tormenting and teasing Tracy mercilessly, she grew into probably the kindest, most caring human being on the face of the earth. Also, she's an amazing mother to her two children.

One of my fondest memories of Jude's pregnancy is the night, last August, when my mother and I drove over to Tracy's church, to give her the news that Jude was pregnant. We interrupted Tracy's choir practice and when she walked into the hall to talk to us, she was scared to death to see us standing there. When I pulled out the ultrasound pictures and showed them to her, however, she smiled at me and immediately started crying.

This evening, Tracy and I were sitting in the den, watching television, when Jude came down the stairs with John Patrick. Tracy's eyes lit up as Jude handed John Patrick to her, a smile frozen on her face. It was an emotional moment for me to watch my sister holding my son. We spent a nice evening together, the four of us.

The Best Part of My Day

Friends and Family

Father's Day at my mother's house in Brentwood, where John Patrick met our long time friends, Evelyn and Bill Pilkinton, for the first time.

Welcome Aboard

Last night, at 9:22 p.m. EST, the Stork stopped in Atlanta. Jude's cousin, Ann Ferris, and her husband, Chris, welcomed their son, Nicholas Robert Ferris, into the world. Nicholas is 20 inches long and weighed in at 6 pounds, 9 ounces. Congratulations to Ann and Chris!

Jude and I are going to invite the entire family to Neyland Stadium in Knoxville, TN, the first week of October 2026, when John Patrick starts for the Big Orange at tight end, as a true freshman, and lines up across from Nicholas, a linebacker for the Georgia Bulldogs, also starting as a true freshman. Tennessee will undoubtedly win by three touchdowns and Mark Richt, UGA's long time head coach, will be fired immediately after the game.

Father's Day

Until today, Father's Day has never really meant too much to me. My father, Howard Newman, died when I was very young and having never been blessed with a child of my own, I had never had the opportunity to experience Father's Day. It was a long time coming, but well worth the wait, I think.

This morning, after Jude finished feeding John Patrick, we were all laying in bed together, watching Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood on CBS. She was holding him, talking to him and I was reading the Sunday Tennessean. Suddenly, I received my first Father's Day gift of the day, when we heard what sounded like a small explosion and John Patrick looked up at Jude innocently.

If you've been reading the blog, you know I've been a bit concerned the past couple of weeks, because John Patrick has gone several days between bowel movements. Yes, I've read where it's perfectly normal for infants who are breastfeeding to go as long as a week, or even ten days, without having a bowel movement. The nurses at our pediatrician's office have told us the same thing. Still, I've been a little worried about it.

So, sweeter sounds (and smells) haven't been heard in a while than when John Patrick decided to drop a deuce this morning. The best part was, it being Father's Day and all, Jude got to change the dirty diaper. And I mean "dirty." A couple of hours later, John Patrick gave me my second Father's Day gift, a repeat performance of the first. While recognizing it feels a little strange to be so concerned about another human being's common irregularities, if you get my drift, I was still very relieved. More importantly, John Patrick was very relieved.

At church, Father Eric Fowlkes gave a splendid homily. As the service was ending, he asked all of the fathers in the congregation to stand up for a blessing. I felt proud, really proud, to stand up with the other fathers, with my wife and son sitting beside me. It was yet another moment I'll always remember.

After church, Jude, John Patrick and I went to eat lunch at "I Dream of Weenie," a hot dog stand in East Nashville inside a refurbished Volkswagen Bus. Jude and I ate a couple of bratwursts at a picnic table, while John Patrick slept in his stroller. After we finished, we strolled around "Five Points" for a little while, then went home.

Early in the afternoon, John Patrick and I packed up his gear and made a trip to my mother's house. Her long time neighbors, Evelyn and Bill Pilkinton, had made arrangements to come to her house to meet John Patrick for the first time. I've knows Evelyn and Bill for 35 years and they're not like family to me . . . they are family, so it was great to introduce them to my son. Evelyn, who is a pro with infants and children, held him for a long time. We had a nice visit and my mother loaded us up with lots of food to take home, which will come in handy this week as Jude returns to work.

This evening, I went for a quick three mile run and met Jude and John Patrick at Bongo Java on Belmont Boulevard. We picked up a couple of bottled waters and a popsicle for Jude, then strolled back home together in the early evening sunshine, one small, happy family.

After our walk, we arrived home just in time to see Tiger Woods sink a long, twisting putt on the 18th hole of the U.S. Open to force an 18 hole playoff tomorrow with Rocco Mediate. Then, tonight, my Lakers beat the Celtics in game 5 of the NBA Finals.

Not bad for my first Father's Day, huh?

This is one happy boy. I love this photo. Jude took it yesterday, on her last weekday at home with John Patrick, before she returns to work on Monday.

One Giant Leap for Newmankind . . .

When I went upstairs and got into bed with Jude last night a little after midnight, it was really, really strange not to have John Patrick in the room with us. I had checked on him, of course, and he was sleeping soundly in his crib in the nursery. Nonetheless, I nudged Jude, who was almost asleep, and asked her to hand me the handset for the video monitor. I pushed a button and bingo, just like magic, John Patrick appeared on the small screen in black and white, sleeping in his crib. It's a pretty cool upgrade, actually, from the old audio monitors.

Anyway, we slept with the handset between us in the bed, about waist level. Amazingly (and I'm not talking him up, for fear of jinxing our good fortune), he slept through the night for the fourth or fifth night in row. I didn't sleep through the night, though, as I kept waking up and wondering if he was okay. About 6 a.m., we heard him, on the video monitor, start stirring around in his crib. Jude went into the nursery about 6:30 a.m., talked to him for a few minutes, then fed him.

Apparently, our little guy is all grown up.

Milestones

It's late and I'm about to head upstairs to go to bed. It's a big night, because Jude put John Patrick down to sleep in his crib tonight for the first time . . . ever. Up until now, he has slept in a Pack & Play at the side or foot of our bed. From now on, presumably, he will be sleeping in his own room every night. Wow.

Damn, what's next? John Patrick starting kindergarten or maybe getting his driver's license? Leaving for college? This is all going by way too fast.

The over/under on how many times I get up during the night and sneak into the nursery to check on him is three, maybe more.

Jude, J.P. and me at East Park.

My good friend and long-time teammate Benton Patton, meeting John Patrick for the first time. I've played more softball games with Benton over the past fifteen or sixteen years than with anyone else I know. It's kind of crazy, really.

Show and Tell

For more than fifteen years, I have played softball in the Nashville Bar Association softball league. Tuesday evening, I had a softball game at East Park on Woodland Street in East Nashville against one of our traditional rivals, the Independents. Jude brought John Patrick to the game and my friends and teammates got to meet him for the first time.

When Jude wheeled John Patrick up in his stroller, my heart was literally bursting with pride as everyone lined up to get a good look at him. It was another moment I'll always remember.

Parental Guidance is Suggested

One of the most frightening words in the English language is "suppository." Perhaps "enema" is scarier, but not by much. This week, Jude and I got to see a suppository work its magic, up close and personal. John Patrick had gone three days without having a bowel movement, so desperate times called for desperate measures.

After consulting with a nurse in our doctor's office on the telephone Saturday afternoon, Jude and I decided to give John Patrick a suppository Sunday evening. After reading the instructions on the box, we cut the suppository in half, long ways, then had John Patrick "assume the position." We laid him on his stomach, on our bed, with his legs dangling over the side. As I spread his butt cheeks, Jude inserted the suppository.

Wow, I thought, this is easy. Then, the suppository popped right back out. Jude reinserted it, then it popped back out again. We looked at each other and started laughing. Really, it reminded me of one of those times when you insert a dollar bill into a Coke machine and, bam, it pops back out. You push the dollar bill back in, but it pops right back out. Strange.

Finally, we put John Patrick on the changing table and I lifted his legs up with one hand and inserted the suppository with the other hand. I held his butt cheeks together for a minute or two, then put his diaper back on. I'm fairly certain if, say, a year ago, anyone had told me I'd be putting a suppository in someone else's ass, for any reason, I would have said they were crazy. Even still, it didn't work, at least not Sunday evening. No "movement," if you get my drift.

However, after consulting with a nurse in our doctor's office on the telephone again Tuesday morning, Jude tried another suppository. This time, she inserted it a little further and presto, thirty minutes later, an explosion occurred. I'm talking serious "movement." Like 7.5 on the richter scale. Later Tuesday evening, there was an "aftershock," which resulted in more "movement." We've never been so please to change a dirty diaper.

John Patrick, hanging out on a Sunday afternoon.

A Whole New Language

Recently, I've observed that having a baby apparently enables one to develop a whole new set of language skills.

This morning, I was thinking about this, as I listened to Jude talk to John Patrick while she was changing his diaper in the nursery. Now, my wife is a highly educated, ambitious and articulate woman. She has a college degree from Tulane and a law degree from Vanderbilt. And, yet, when I listen to her talk to our son, she's speaks to him in a language I hadn't known existed. I'm pretty sure it's a form of English. As he smiles up at her, she softens the pitch of her voice and quietly tells him how much she loves him and what a special boy he is.

The thing is, it's no different for me. I never realized I could speak in a voice that's kind of a cross between an alto and a soprano. That's what I do when I'm changing his diaper or talking to him as he lays in his crib. Sometimes I think I speak more gibberish than he does and, right now, he just makes noises.

Shelby Park

Apropos of nothing, really, here's a photograph I took at Shelby Park early Saturday morning, after I ran 8 miles on the trails at Shelby Bottoms.

After I finished my run, I met Jude at the tennis courts, in the park, and picked up John Patrick so she could play tennis. He and I went to the farmer's market, then visited my friend, Neal Rice, at his restaurant, Kingfish. It was great to see Neal and I was so proud to introduce him to my son. Neal and I go way back, having played softball together on our city league team for almost a decade before "retiring" a couple of years ago.

John Patrick's Baptism

On Friday, Jude called me at work with some wonderful news. Father Eric Fowlkes, our priest at St. Patricks, had agreed to perform John Patrick's baptism at 11 a.m. on June 29, 2008, at the last church service he will preside over before taking over as priest at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church in Hendersonville, TN.

Jude and I are so pleased and grateful that Father Eric will be able to baptize our son at St. Patrick's, before he leaves. St. Patrick's and Father Eric have played such an important role in our lives the past couple of years that it's only fitting John Patrick will be baptized there.

Random Thoughts

It's an indescribably wonderful feeling to call my wife on her cell phone at the end of the work day, and have her tell me that she is at Centennial Park, taking a walk with our son. On the telephone, she sounds so happy and content.

We are so blessed.

Tears for Fears

Today, was a difficult, difficult day, as John Patrick received his first round of vaccinations at his two month check-up with our pediatrician, Dr. Godfrey.

To begin with, I've been dreading this day because of my fear, irrational perhaps, of the supposed link between infant vaccinations and autism. I realize, of course, that there has yet to be a scientific study positively linking vaccinations and autism. However, when I read or hear statements from parents of children with autism who are absolutely convinced their child didn't have any of the problems associated with the condition until after receiving vaccinations, it causes me concern. In addition, the literature the nurse gave us that warned of possible, albeit unlikely, side effects, only added to my fears.

It was extremely emotional, as Jude and I each held one of arms while the nurse injected him with five different vaccinations, rapid fire, three in one leg and two in the other. As soon as she stuck him with the first needle, he began screaming and crying. It was hard for me to look at him, because I felt like my heart was breaking. After she finished, he was inconsolable and continued to cry as we desperately tried to comfort him. Finally, after we put him in his car seat and I began walking out of the doctor's office, he calmed down.

After we got home, John Patrick slept for a while. About 7:45 p.m., he awoke and was not a happy camper. He began to scream and cry, loudly, and Jude couldn't get him to settle down. She tried to feed him, but he wasn't interested. After crying for forty minutes or so, he fell asleep as she rocked him in the glider chair in the nursery. I left to pick up dinner for us at Carrabbas in Green Hills, as we hadn't eaten, yet. When I returned home, he was sleeping peacefully in the bouncy seat, downstairs.

Fortunately, when I took him upstairs a little after 10 p.m. to change his diaper and put on his pajamas, he seemed to be in a better mood. He actually smiled at me as I changed his diaper, like he normally does, then I took him to Jude, in our bedroom. His appetite appeared to have returned, as he took her breast without any hesitation. That was a big relief.

Sometimes this parenting thing is really hard, huh?

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Sunday afternoon, I lived one of my lifetime dreams, when I took my son to his first professional baseball game.

For the past three years, my friend Tom Church and I have had four season tickets to the Nashville Sounds' games at Greer Stadium. I grew up going to Sounds' games and, since Greer Stadium is less than a mile from my house, I've really enjoyed going to games the past few years. I had been waiting for the Sounds to be home on a Sunday afternoon, when the games start at 2 p.m., as that would allow me to take John Patrick to the game while Jude napped at home.

Sunday, about 2:15 p.m., I loaded John Patrick in his stroller and off we went to the game. It was a 15-20 minute walk on a hot afternoon, so I was tired by the time we rolled into the parking lot. After we entered Greer Stadium, I grabbed a beer and we headed out to the bleachers. There, we sat in the last row, by ourselves, and watched about three or four innings of the Nashville Sounds vs. Iowa Cubs. Actually, I did most of the watching and John Patrick slept. When he began to stir and fuss a little bit, I rolled him in the stroller up and down the walkway in the bleachers, which put him back to sleep.

I saw my friend and fellow lawyer, Scott Holly and his wife, Liz, sitting in the bleachers, enjoying the game. He was nice enough to take a few photos of John Patrick and me, so I could document what I hope will be the first of many father-son baseball games. It was truly one of the highlights of my life, as crazy as that my sound.

Bittersweet Sunday

On at least a couple of occasions, I've written about St. Patrick's Catholic Church, where Jude and I attend, and our priest, Father Eric Fowlkes. It's a special, special place for us, in large part because Father Eric is such an amazing priest. In short, he's the kind of priest that makes you want to get out of bed on Sunday mornings to hear what he is going to have to say in the homily. He's welcoming, kind and always seems to radiate warmth and good humor.

Well, today we took John Patrick to St. Patrick's for his second Sunday church service. Last week, Father Eric was on vacation, but today he had returned. It was with a sense of anticipation that we took our seats in the rear of the church in a small pew, with John Patrick in his car seat, sleeping. We were looking forward to introducing him to Father Eric for the first time.

Near the beginning of the homily, I was looking at John Patrick, to see if he was still sleeping, when Jude elbowed me and nodded toward Father Eric at the front of the church. My heart nearly stopped when he began to talk about the ordination of three new priests in our diocese and how, as part of the ceremony, they took an oath to serve the church and obey Bishop David Choby, as well as his superiors. Father Eric had taken the oath, as well, at his ordination, in July 1989. Next, he told us that Bishop Choby recently had met with him at length and asked him to accept an assignment to Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church in Hendersonville, where he would replace a retiring priest, Father William Bevington.

Jude and I just stared at each other in disbelief as our hearts sank. I felt several different emotions, all at once . . . anger, disbelief, disappointment, sadness, a sense of loss and resignation, to name a few. Truthfully, I'm still trying to process the news that Father Eric is leaving St. Patrick's. Right now, it's difficult to imagine going to church there without him.

All of those emotions were present as I stood in line to receive the Eucharist from Father Eric, especially sadness and disappointment. As my turn came, I made eye contact with him, as I always do, and his penetrating, blue eyes seemed to linger on mine a little longer than normal. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I could see sorrow in his eyes. Perhaps others in our congregation noticed it, as well.

After the service, Jude and I waited in line to speak to Father Eric on the front steps of the church. We shook his his hand and told him how sorry we were to hear he would be leaving St. Patrick's. Then, we introduced him to John Patrick, who was still sleeping quietly in the car seat I had set down at our feet. With the Sunday morning sun shining brightly down on us all, Father Eric leaned over and whispered quietly to John Patrick, giving him a blessing, and making the sign of the cross on his forehead as he lay there, sleeping.

I don't know that I've ever felt so happy and sad at the same time. Bittersweet, indeed.

Bottled Up

What a difference a day can make!

After receiving a pep talk Thursday night from our friends and mentors in all things baby related, Troy and Cyndi Baines, Jude got back on the bottle feeding train Friday afternoon. As I was meeting with a client at his office, my cell phone rang and I answered it when I saw it was Jude calling. Breathless with excitement, she announced that John Patrick had just knocked out two bottles of breast milk, two ounces each, in about 10 minutes. Impressive!

Yesterday, Jude warmed up a bottle in the morning and he took it from me, no problem. Actually, it's kind of a cool for me to be able to feed him for a change. This morning, after church, I fed him another bottle. He drank between four and five ounces of breast milk in 10 or 15 minutes.