March 4: Happier Times, My Daughter, God's Love Fifteen

For her part, in the spirit of the times and not wanting the life of her mother, Caroline [Ives] thought she should see something of the world and signed up for the Peace Corps, which sent her off to Nepal.  One of Ives' happier times took place during a four-month period before she left for the Peace Corps, when she came to work at the agency, in the "international" division (one executive and a clerk).  Regarding his smart daughter with great pride every time he ran into her, which was daily, he would eavesdrop on her speaking her Italian or French or Spanish on the telephone . . . And he loved the fact that Mannis had come into his office one day to say, "Nice job you did  raising your daughter, Ives."  He'd gotten so used to riding the subway with her in the mornings and seeing her on a regular basis that when she gave notice he fell into a deep funk again.

Ives takes great pride in his daughter.  Cherishes the time he shares with her as she waits to ship out to Nepal for her stint in the Peace Corps.  He loves watching her at work, speaking foreign languages, marveling at her intelligence and maturity.  He truly loves the four months that he's a daily part of her life.  It manages to lift him out of the deep depression he's been in since the death of his son, Robert.

I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again:  I'm a lot like Ives.  I'm at my office at the university writing this post.  My daughter is with me.  Pretty soon, I'm going to have to drive her to her dance studio.  I love being with her.  The other night, she had a conversation with my wife about how she sticks up for kids in her class who are teased for being gay.  She hates it when her friends call something "gay" or "retarded."  She's very sensitive to those kinds of slurs and epithets.  She really loves everybody.

I'm looking at her right now, and I'm thinking, "I did something right."  She's a bright, beautiful, intelligent, and empathetic young woman.  I got lucky, considering all the turmoil that's happened in her young life.

That's God's love number fifteen.  My daughter. 

Saint Marty couldn't be any prouder of her, except when she's screaming at him in the morning because she stayed up way too late.

Number fifteen and her little brother