A Prayer for August 15th, Little Joe’s Birthday
By Belleruth Naparstek from Prayers for Healing
Read by Susie for Joe
Just give me this:
A rinsing out, a cleansing free of all my smaller strivings
So I can be the class act God intended,
True to my purpose,
All my energy aligned behind my deepest intention.
And just this:
A quieting down, a clearing away of internal ruckus,
So I can hear the huge stillness in my heart
And feel
How I pulse with all creation,
Part and parcel of your great singing ocean.
And this too:
A willingness to notice and forgive the myriad times
I fall short,
Forgetting who I really am,
What I really belong to.
So I can start over,
Fresh and clean
Like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun,
My heart pierced with gratitude.
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Comments by Susie
Our family is very grateful for all the outpouring of love and support we
have received from everyone who loved Currie and Little Joe. You have
traveled great distances to support us and as you leave this place, please
remember why you loved Currie and try to live in her spirit.
Through Currie’s eyes:
* The glass is always half full.
* Everyone has potential.
* Life is too short to move slowly; opportunities might be missed.
* You should extend a hand and offer a smile spontaneously!
* If something can’t be done, it probably can, and stubbornness helps!
* A child can have more than one mother.
* The devotion of a sister should be cherished and honored.
Dear Heart:
You were simply an amazing human being who was sent to us to show us how
to live. Although it is inconceivable to me that your strong nurturing
arms will never hug me again, in time your happy spirit will fill my
broken heart. You were a precious gift to the world and touched
innumerable lives in such positive ways.
You always had a need to make things ‘right” which I’m sure was both an
emotional and physical burden at times. Everyone else’s needs came first.
Being a wife and mother made you so happy and you felt grownup and proud.
Two people who loved you more than life itself, Jen and Joe, will honor
you by continuing to live in your spirit, thereby giving the rest of us
the strength to follow their lead.
You were a bright, beautiful shining star in life, as you are in death,
and I will watch for you and listen for you forever.
Mom
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All is Well
Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral, England
by Henry Scott Holland b. 1847 d. 1918
Read by Susie
Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am
I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you
always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of
solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we
enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be
ever the household
word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the
trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same
as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well.
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Comments by Bry
How does a father mourn for his daughter …
With thankfulness for her joyful life that was full of happy energy,
outreach to others, a willingness to try just about anything that life
offered … She had the glowing beauty of motherhood that shone for all who
knew her.
She loved her husband, her son, and her family.
She loved her husband, her son, and her family. And we loved her.
How does a father mourn for his daughter …
With bewildered grief. Currie’s and Little Joe’s murders are beyond
understanding. Their precious lives have been snatched away … for no
reason.
How does a father mourn for his daughter …
Unendingly.
My consolation is the Word of Jesus. Matthew chapter 11 verses 28 through
30: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble
in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and
my burden is light.”
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Comments by Marisol
Read by Debbie
Who was Currie? If you could pick the finest qualities of your favorite
people and put them into one, that one would still not measure the
goodness that made Currie who she was. I will remember her with great
admiration and I’m sure that after the service, I will learn of more
reasons to love her. If only love could bring her back, she would be with
us, but instead I try and settle my own sadness by thinking that she must
be in a better place.
I told her sister Jen, “I guess Currie just needed to get there first, so
she could get everything ready for the rest of us.” If I’m right, she’ll
be standing there with boys in tow, wearing her usual infectious smile and
at the ready to make the rest of us feel welcome – cocktails, baked brie
and the best seat in the house. She was the epitome of selflessness and
never seemed to tire from any laborious activity. So strong. She made
pregnancy look fun and easy. And at Rad shows, she was like a wind-up toy
that wouldn’t stop dancing until she knew the show was really over.
I was telling her mom that for me, the one word that keeps popping into
my head as I remember Currie is BEAUTIFUL. I do not mean just on the
surface. It goes way beyond that – like beautiful fragrance, a beautiful,
touch, a beautiful laugh, a beautiful human being. My heart is broken for
all the times we will not have her in our lives, but especially for her
husband Joe. Today his heartache alone seems bigger than the combined
heartaches of all the people who were lucky enough to have known Currie. I
will pray that the love that so many of us have for him (and for her and
his sons) will help him build the stepping stones that will need to
slowly, ever so slowly, move forward.
Good-bye, Currie. I will do my best not to think about why you and your
boys were taken from us. Instead, I will count my blessings that I was
privileged to be considered your friend and make a point of noticing the
BEAUTIFUL in others. May you rest in peace.
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Comments by Ricky
Read by Phyllis
Hi everyone.
Thank you to everyone for your support, generosity, love and kindness. I
am going to read first today for Ricky Minnis. Ricky is a dear friend and
employee of ESP Events. I met Ricky for the first time last week: I wish
you all could have the opportunity to meet him someday. He gave me an
instant feeling of comfort and I could see why he, Joe, Jen and Currie and
Little Joe developed an instant bond. The following are Ricky’s words.
Good afternoon. First of all I want to thank God for allowing us this
day. My name is Rick, and I am the on-site supervisor. I’m also the guy
that runs the company when Currie and Joe is out on business or just
vacationing.
I met Currie and Joe about nine years ago when they came to Miami to
take over the Ocean Drive Association, a company that was in desperate
need of a change. I was the first employee they met. It took me only two
hours to know that we had the right people for the job, and a change is
going to come.
A change came soon thereafter. Currie and Joe started their own
company. They told me to be there for them and they will be there for me.
They never let me down. No job was too difficult for Currie. She would
make the big strong guys look weak when she comes to help out sometimes.
Currie was my best friend. She was like a sister to me, indeed she was
the best boss I ever had. She was the type of boss who cared for everyone.
Words such as generous, kind, forgiving, helpful, caring, etc. are very
small words when it comes to describing Currie. No words could describe
what a beautiful person she was. She was “simply the best”.
I know Miami is still in mourning and will be for a long, long time
because the city of Miami and Miami Beach has lost their leader, our
desire. We have lost our hero, I have lost my best friend, and indeed, we
have lost an angel. Church, I want you to know that God has found our
angel and has taken her back to her home in the heavens above.
I must tell you that in my thirty-six years of living, this is the
saddest and most difficult time in my life. However, I do believe that the
Lord will pick me up. Psalms chapter 121 verse 1 says “I will lift up mine
eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help, my help cometh from the
Lord.”
Joe, I want to thank God for sending you and Currie into my life. I
want to thank him for sending two angels to watch over me, and until the
day I leave this earth, Currie and Joe will always be in my heart.
We would like to thank Ricky for his heartfelt words.
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Comments by Phyllis
When Joe and Currie first moved to my home in Miami, I have to say that
I thought they wouldn’t stay. Fairfield County and Dade County are about
as different as two places can be. Well, boy was I wrong – they stayed.
And they stayed and created a dream life. After meeting Ricky and reading
his words, they clearly changed forever the city of Miami. A friend said
to me, “Most, not some, more than likely the majority of human beings on
this earth search their entire lives for what Joe and his family had
together, and most never, never find it.” I know that does not change what
has happened, but knowing the depth of what they had, will hopefully give
us all some strength.
There is no answer to why, only to how – how we can help each other
heal. I feel we are on our way to doing that through the incredible circle
of friends and love and bonds we all share.
Currie, I was always thrilled that Joe married a low maintenance chick,
hanging out with the guys like his sister. Please know that I will always
look after and care for and love Joe and Jen, with your eternal love and
guidance. I can only hope that you, Little Joe, and Jack are with our Dad,
watching over us, guiding us, and giving us the continued strength we need
here on this earth.
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Comments by John
Hello. I’m John Wendt, an old friend of Currie and Joe’s. I was asked
to speak today which I consider a great honor. It’s difficult though
because there are so many wonderful stories I could tell about Angie and
my times with Joe and Currie and Little Joe.
I remember back in junior high and high school when Currie had her own
line of Grateful Dead clothing – or so it seemed. You would bring her
clothing and she would put a dancing bear or a steal your face silkscreen
on it. She was a great artist. Also in high school, I had a project due
for Law and Government class. Of course, I was sitting in the cafeteria
with one period left and no project done. So Currie took me to the art
room and whipped up a beautiful poster. It was about Reagan … I got an A.
I think it was the only A that I’ve ever gotten. Thanks, Currie.
She was selfless, always doing for others. Throughout the last seven
years, Ang and Joe and Currie and I have been going to the Jazz Festival
in New Orleans. Currie really loved her music. We had so much fun! WE also
visited them in Florida – a lot. I was so proud of their business, their
home, and their family. Joe and Currie were incredible parents to Little
Joe and were so excited about the arrival of Jack. Little Joe was the
sweetest, cutest kid. Times with them will never be forgotten and will be
cherished.
But now, I want to say: Currie, you would be astounded at all the love
and support shown in Florida, as well as here, as you were always so
unassuming while accomplishing so much. Your quiet power has been shining
through in the last two weeks. And now I pledge to you that that power
will flow into Joe through me and your countless other friends, to sustain
him and move him forward as you want him to move. With your abiding love
ever present, God Bless.
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A Prayer for July 19th, Currie’s birthday
From the Ute of North America from Prayers for Healing
Read by Bonnie
Earth teach me stillness
as the grasses are stilled with light.
Earth teach me suffering
as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility
as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring
as the mother who secures her young.
Earth teach me courage
as the tree which stands all alone.
Earth teach me limitation
as the ant which crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom
as the eagle which soars in the sky.
Earth teach me resignation
as the leaves which die in the fall.
Earth teach me regeneration
as the seed which rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself
as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness
as dry fields weep with rain.
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Comments by Dianalee
There is an ancient Sufi saying that states: There are four levels of
existence above our world and four levels below. In our dreams and in our
creations we are allowed passage there to roam.
In my vision, My Beloved Daughter-in-law, Currie-Hill, My Beloved
Grandson, Little Joe, and My Beloved Unborn Grandson, Jack, God kneels
before the three of you humbly with tears and praise. Assuming the guise
of a huge white winged stallion, he willingly carries the three of you
upon his back. Your sons hugged to your heart, you gallop across galaxies
with the freedom to fly to my son, and to all of us who love you.
Seated astride the master, the three of you command the moon and the stars
to light our paths through this darkness, enabling us to be with you
forever. The three of you command the sun to fill our hearts with your
collective love.
We know the three of you are there, always just beyond the horizon,
filling our world with the beautiful energy of your unconditional love.
Currie-Hill, Little Joe and Jack, Popi loves you with every cell in his
body, with every measure of his soul; Nona loves you from the depth of her
very being. Everyone you ever touched loves you and will keep your love
alive as you guide us in your phenomenal fashion, encouraging us along
this long hard path home.
Currie-Hill, Little Joe and Jack, I raised a remarkable son; the three of
you made him an incredible man.
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Comments by Christi
For Currie and Little Joe
It has been my pleasure and privilege to be a friend and neighbor of
Currie and Joe for several years. It is a privilege for me to have the
opportunity to speak here today and share some of the thoughts that have
been going through my head the past few days.
Currie and I were learning to be moms together, one day at a time. We
helped each other through the rough spots and shared joy in the many
simple pleasures that come your way when you hang around with toddlers.
What you might not know about Currie is that she never actually thought of
herself as a grown-up. She saw herself as the girl who always hung out
with the guys – she often said “it’s not like I’m a girly girl”. So
pregnancy and motherhood really rocked her world. I will never forget the
day I spent with Currie and Jen shopping for baby stuff. Currie spent the
whole day laughing and pointing and asking what everything was for …
somehow being pregnant and having a baby was not something she really
thought she would actually be doing. She found it surreal and hysterically
funny … we spent four hours in the store, and Currie had to have one of
everything, regardless of whether she understood what it was for. Even
before little Joe was born, she was determined to have all the tools, all
the equipment – to do this thing right.
Currie believed that anything worth doing is worth doing right. But she
thought of “mothering” as a girly thing, and she felt somewhat out of her
league. She had a great deal of anxiety about being a mother and doing
things the right way. What Currie did not realize is that she was a
natural at being a mom. Her entire life, she put the needs of others ahead
of her own and took care of people and taught by example. Whether she was
--paying monthly bills for her husband’s elderly grandparents or
--masterminding a street festival for thousands of people or
--climbing up on her roof to fix a leak in the middle of July (six months
pregnant) …
Currie was capable of succeeding at anything she put her mind to. And
being a mom was no exception.
She was magnificent at motherhood. And you didn’t have to look very far to
see proof of that. Currie was dedicated fully to nurturing her son’s
intelligence and sensitivity, and the success of her efforts was right
before our eyes.
It’s important to me that everyone leave here today knowing little Joe a
bit better. He was Currie’s work in progress, and he was a delight. While
he was just beginning to get the hang of the sharing thing, at the age of
two Joe was already an artist, a strong swimmer, a lover of books, and a
surprisingly good dancer.
Joe and my son Eli were best pals. This mostly means they liked to hit
each other with sticks, throw sand at one another, and fight over the big
wheel, but their social skills were progressing. Joe had read the manual
on what behavior is expected of two-year-olds, and was following it to the
letter. He spent most of the summer with a lopsided Beatles-style hair,
because he refused to allow anyone to come near his hair to cut it. Currie
would sneak in his room at night and cut one side while he slept, then
wait for him to sleep the other way later in the week to finish the job.
Joe turned two on August 15th, surrounded by balloons and the people he
loved most at the pond in New Hampshire. He had the best summer any kid
could dream of, and racked up more frequent flyer miles than anyone else
in this church. In the past few months, little Joe learned to swim like a
fish in my backyard pool, got the hang of kayaking and catching fish in a
net in New Hampshire, and delighted in seeing whales and purple starfish
in Washington State on the family vacation to the Orcas Islands.
When summer came to an end, Currie took him for his first real haircut at
Larry’s Barber Shop. Joe didn’t enjoy it very much, but he finally had a
big boy haircut – even all around -- and he was ready to start school.
Currie and Joe were so excited (big Joe, that is – little Joe was not
exactly thrilled with the being left alone at school idea).
Joe was going to be attending school two mornings a week at Plymouth
Preschool. Currie was so thorough with the questionnaire she filled out
about him that one of his teachers said when she read it she felt
intimidated and wondered if she was qualified to teach this mom’s child.
Currie told the teachers at Plymouth that Joe was expecting a baby brother
in a few weeks, that he knew all of his colors except green, that he could
count to eight.
She told them he loved music and dancing, I Spy books, climbing, jumping,
cars and trains, painting, playdough, his chalkboard, marbles, grapes,
chicken nuggets, yogurt, cookies, and when he got lucky, M & Ms.
Oh, and that he loved Buzz Lightyear and Stuart Little and Wilbur the Pig
from Charlotte’s Web and his beloved Aunt Jen. And all of this information
– and more -- was contained in a one-page form.
The only person who doubted Currie’s potential as a mom was Currie.
Plymouth Preschool certainly knew she was the real thing. Almost eight
months pregnant when she signed Joe up for school last week, and gearing
up for a busy events season with ESP Events … guess who signed up to be
the Room 11 room mother. Guess who signed up to provide snack for the
class on the first full day of school. And guess who volunteered to help
with both the bake sale and the book fair in October, notwithstanding the
fact that she was scheduled to deliver baby Jack on October 21st.
Currie Velie. She was the real thing. I can’t tell you how many times in
the past year she answered her phone to hear me say “Just one small
favor?” And she never failed to say “no problem – I’ll take care of it.”
You see, Currie was my “go-to” person. The person you go to when you need
something. Capable, competent, resourceful.
Leaky roof... a ride to the airport at 6 a.m. … emergency babysitting…
help with a birthday party on a blustery April day in the park. You name
it … Currie had the tools to do just about anything and she knew how to
use them.
It showed in the son she was raising. Joe was a bright and happy little
boy, secure in the knowledge that he was loved completely and without
reservation. Currie was delighted to learn that the baby she was expecting
would be another boy (“I’m not a girly girl”, she said, “I wouldn’t know
what to do with a girl!”)
Currie was capable and confident at everything she did, but I believe she
truly found herself as a mother. She was beginning to learn who and what
she was, and who and what she was meant to be. She was a woman – a
grown-up woman -- who needed more than anything else to love, and to be
loved, by a family that was hers. Currie loved her husband Joe, little
Joe, the baby she was carrying in her womb, and her beloved sister
Jennifer, with unbridled passion and commitment. And they loved her back
with equal fervor.
With apologies to Pastor John, I’ll close by saying this. Currie, as a mom
– indeed, as a person -- you kicked ass. I wish I had told you that. I
hope you are listening now.
I love you.
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A Letter to Currie from Jen
Hi Sweetpea:
You are and will always be my best friend. I miss you so much. We’ve been
such good friends for thirty-five years and I’m grateful that we saw each
other practically every day over the last five years. Even though you were
my younger sister, I looked up to you, was very proud of you, and I told
you how I felt. We said “love you” after every single phone call. You went
out of your way for me and I for you, so that we would be happy and live
quality days – which we did. Thank you for that. You’ve made me a better
person. I’m grateful that you and Little Joe were my whole world.
I have a thousand pictures, and a head and heart, full of incredible
memories and joy. These memories and pictures give me the strength to get
through this. I’ll remember our trip to England and Greece; visiting you
in St. John. The catamaran trip to the Dry Tortugas. The helicopter ride
over Mount St. Helens. The month-long camping trip on the West Coast that
we took one summer while in high school and how your horse bit mine and I
almost fell off the five-inch path into the canyon. I’ll remember your
calls to me, when Little Joe was three, four, five months old when you’d
say “Hi! I’m bizzing around with my pal getting things done!” You loved
going to the movies, getting pedicures and massages. You had FUN doing
everything. While at the gold tournament on Key Biscayne, you made us stop
and fill out entry cards to win free Lasik surgery. Thanks to you, I now
have 20/20 vision. What a gift that is! I’ll remember your energy and
optimism. But most of all, I will remember your smile and your beautiful
soul.
I want to thank you, Currie, today, for giving me strength, for bringing
Detective Tamayo to us, for keeping the very-closest parking spot to South
Beach open for me the other day, for all the signs you and Little Joe send
every day that calm my grief and make me smile.
You and Little Joe have not changed at all. God needed more angels and you
and Little Joe were truly angels. You were always moving, going, doing,
seeing, learning, experiencing. You are doing all that now, with your
boys, somewhere up there. Currie, you were an extraordinary sister,
friend, mother, and wife, and I will strive to mirror your greatness in my
life.
I am not surprised at the outpouring of love from the hundreds and
hundreds of people both here and in Miami. You mattered. I feel your
presence every day and I am glad our connection will never be broken.
I love you, beanhead!
A friend of mine gave me a book last week entitled “The Next Place”
by Warren Hanson. The following comes from that book:
There will be no room for darkness in that place of living light
Where an ever-dawning morning pushes back the dying night
The very air will fill with brilliance, as the brightly shining sun
And the moon and half a million stars are married into one
The love of those who loved me
And the warmth of those who cared
The happiness and memories and magic that we shared
I’ll be embraced by all the family and friends I’ve ever known
Although I might not see their faces, all our hearts will beat as one
And the circle of all spirits will shine brighter than the sun.
I will cherish all the friendships I was fortunate to find,
all the love and all the laughter in the place I leave behind.
All these good things go with me
They will make my spirit glow
And that light will shine forever in the next place that I go.
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A Letter to Little Joe from Nin-Nin (Jen)
Thanks for all the signs you are sending me! It’s great – keep it up!
Let me share with you all some of these signs I talk about.
The other day I found a green marble in the back seat of my car. There is
absolutely no reason that marble should be there, but we had played with
ten marbles of varying colors at the house where I was house-sitting every
day for the previous week and somehow, one of those ten green ones found
its way into my car. Last week I went to Currie’s house and on the
doorstep was a baby orange. Little Joe and I collected baby oranges from
the yard and we’d leave them in a small pile for the frogs or the geckos
to eat for dinner. A friend brought me three of Little Joe’s matchbox
cars, “wees”. In the morning, there were only two (he wanted to take one
with him). I was walking the other morning and I noticed something out of
the corner of my eye. As I walked, I saw a feather bouncing along next to
my right foot. It had been “following” me for about fifteen seconds. I
stopped walking. The feather stopped floating and rested gently in the
grass so I could pick it up. I was at the beach in Darien this morning and
was looking out over the water when I spotted, in the reeds, a Big Bird
balloon, just gently bobbing there, as if to say “Hi, I’m here!” There are
many more signs, but the best one yet is this. Last week, Big Joe, Mom,
Diana and I went to a park on the water in Coconut Grove. We had three
balloons that we wanted to release out over the water. There was an
onshore breeze and I feared that as soon as we let go of the three
balloons, they would fly into the trees and pop. That would be too
depressing, but hey, we can’t control the wind. We all held on to the
balloons, let go, and watched. The wind took them up into the air, they
cleared the tops of the trees by about a foot (thanks, Currie) and
continued on their way. We started to walk back to the car, rounded the
corner, and Mom said “Look!” The balloons were off in the distance,
floating safely and swiftly toward “the North”, toward Connecticut and New
Hampshire. One balloon, Currie the highest, the Jack balloon just below
her to the left, and Little Joe’s balloon slightly separated and off to
the left, as if her were lagging behind, discovering something new.
Little Joe: You and I had a special connection that I will cherish for the
rest of my life. I loved you as if you were mine and I smile as I remember
when you were younger and you called me “Mommi”. I’ll remember your words:
brock, water, doctor, boops, pool, marple, orca. You liked Buzz Lightyear
cereal and “emmys”. I’ll remember your unbridled enthusiasm “Nin Nin Loook!”
I’ll remember this past Fourth of July, watching fireworks from the back
of the pickup truck. We set our chairs and lit sparklers and saw the show
without the crowds. I’ll remember you standing on the side of the pool
saying “Go!” and swimming to us. Swimming from one of us to the other were
saying “Mor! Mor!” You were a fantastic swimmer and dancer. You were never
a baby to us, even at three months, you acted like one-year old. And at
two, you acted like a four-year old. You were curious and brilliant,
always happy. I’d come over after work and you’d run to the door, give me
a HUGE smile, grab my hand and pull me through the house, out to the back
porch where we’d trace our hands, or play in the sandbox, or look for
geckos. You knew my favorite color was blue. You loved hiding. You’d crawl
under a chair or whatever and be perfectly still. You learned quickly not
to answer, when I’d ask “Where is Joe? Is Joe in here?” Even if your legs
were sticking out, you thought we could not see you. The jig was up only
when we looked into your eyes – that’s when you knew we had found you. You
loved edamame, asparagus, salmon, sausage, broccoli rabe. You were
Superman last Halloween, complete with a red cape your Mommi made. You had
your first sip of Corona with lime that night. You’ve been on more boat
rides and trips in the past two years than I have in the past five. You
had a passport and your own frequent flyer account. You’ve been whale
watching. You’ve been to the Jazz Fest in New Orleans twice, to the Rose
Bowl parade in Pasadena, to Jackson Hole, just to name a few.
I was your only babysitter in Miami. I loved being with you. I’d even lie
next to you and watch you during naptime. You loved music, books, trucks,
wees. You were kind and smart. You’ve ridden a camel. We went to your
first carnival at your new school and stood in line for your first ride.
You didn’t know any of the other kids, but you climbed up into the seat,
held on to the bar real tight, and waited for the ride to begin. You
didn’t cry, you didn’t whine, you were a champ. You went around and around
in a circle and every time you passed us, you gave us a big smile, and
then went back to serious face until the next pass. Such a good boy!
Doosi, Bry, Mimi, Nona, Poppi and Nin Nin all love you so much and we are
grateful to have known you! Take care of Mommi and Jack and have fun up
there!
Keep those signs coming. I love you from the bottom of my heart, with all
my heart, Little Man! Cheers!
I’d like to end Little Joe’s letter with the first few lines of a
Schoolhouse Rock song that he loved:
Three is a magic number, yes it is, it’s a magic number.
Somewhere in the ancient mystic trinity, you get three as a magic number.
The past and the present and the future,
Faith and hope and charity,
The heart and the brain and the body give you three as a magic number.
We love you Currie, Joe and Jack!
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