Second Son, Second Stint

I left you last with Brendan talking Haiti.

Here’s what I’ve not told you: That Brendan went to Haiti. Started a blog. First link all about almost being kidnapped. Accosted by a car, guns bristling from windows.

Almost, happily enough, was the operative word.

Still, this, in an e-mail, was his first mention of his blog, as in, Brendan, this couldn’t wait until the ride home to Iowa from O’Hare?

O’Hare came. Went.

And a few months more. And back again to Haiti. This time only for weeks, not months.

Still…

As the father who loves him, I can only admire, even as I worry. This, my beloved son, in whom I, echoing an even more paternal father, am well pleased.

Brendan is now home again, home for him, back in New Orleans, and safely so, back where he has been almost since completing college, only a year or so after Katrina, ever since doing what he could do to undo what Katrina did.

And Brendan has done what I’ve not done.

I am a doctor, but…

Brendan, newly graduated from Beloit College, went to New Orleans, built homes, dozens of them, his mother, at one time, for a week helping to hammer nails.

I am a doctor, but…

Brendan left New Orleans for Haiti. And I, doctor that I am, hoped to join him there, but didn’t.

And Brendan went back to Haiti, and I am still doing what I do in Cedar Rapids.

And what I do, in light of what Brendan has done…