Disintegration

Isn't there an expression: No news is good news? I guess I get lulled into thinking that when I don't get news about Pedro for a while. Actually, I've just assumed that since he hasn't been living at my parents' house for the past 6 months, things can't be too bad. In my conversation with Mom last night, I realized that might not be the case anymore. Granted, Mom and I are similar in always fearing the worst, but truly, just the details I know sound rather grim.

So, here's a summary of what I know of this kid now: he's gained a lot of weight at the Children's Home b/c his eating is not restricted; he was caught shoplifting two bracelets a few weeks ago and refuses to talk to my parents about it; he "bought" an iPhone from one of the kids in his house, but tried to say Cely gave it to him (b/c of course 10 year olds are able to get iPhones); he choked a kid in the Children's Home a couple of weeks ago b/c the kid talked about him with someone else; he has told my parents that he isn't coming back to their house, but tells other kids that they kicked him and didn't want him anymore; and most recently, his counselor told my parents that he doesn't want any more contact with them at all. In fact, it sounds like he told his counselor that Mom and Dad did all kinds of terrible things to him while he lived there.

My mom was pretty sure any court of law would believe him over the hundreds of people who could be character witnesses for her and my dad should that be necessary. I tried to tell her that surely that couldn't be true; surely no one with any sense would ever think my mom and dad could hurt a kid, even though this particular kid has caused little but pain since they've known him. They are the gentlest, holiest people I've ever known. Maybe I just say that because they're my parents, but I truly believe, after spending time with many other families, that my parents are about as committed to love as a couple can be. It does make me wonder at the purpose for Pedro's presence in my parents' lives. They prayed for 1 1/2 years for the right kids to come their way to adopt, and Pedro and Cely were brought in their lives. And while I think they have some hope with Cely, Pedro has brought nothing but a steady slam of hurt. On the one hand, I know that he no doubt has been through far too much, but my parents were very misled as to the nature of this kid's problems. They didn't even know that he had been adopted previously!

I do believe in adoption, but I'm very concerned about how CPS handled this one. To the bottom of my heart, I believe kids deserve to be loved and cared for and to have a family who provides that, but what if there are cases where the kid is just too damaged? I think we have found one. I don't wish ill to Pedro, but damn it, if a court truly believes him over my parents should it come to that, there is something seriously wrong in our world.

Playing mom

The weird thing, among several, about having new siblings who range between the ages of 10 and 13 when you're in your late twenties is that you often feel very "mom-like". Case-in-point, today. Today, August 2, marked my parents' 30th wedding anniversary. A year ago I started thinking out some fantastic things for us to do to celebrate. A year later, I did none of those. But plans and circumstances are quite different than I anticipated a year ago, so that stands to reason, I suppose.

For one my mom and dad and Cely have come to OH rather than the other way around this summer. It's really great to have them here; it makes me wonder how I will deal with it when they leave. I hate the emptiness that occurs when guests leave. But we still have a few days together. I'm rambling and not meaning to. What I'm actually trying to get at is that today was my parents' big day, and rather than getting to spend the whole day with them and celebrating, Cely and I spent the day with each other. Mom and Dad took a little trip for themselves. It was the first time I've ever spent so much time with just Cely. She can be so quiet and share so little that it's hard to hold a conversation with her, yet she can also be so sweet and lovable. We played games like Battleship and Connect Four together. I took her to see Toy Story 3, which was in 3-D. I didn't know I'd have to pay for 3-D, but her pleasure in watching the movie that way did make it more bearable to shell out the extra dollars.

We also went swimming at the condo's community pool. Of course the regular tanning women were there. Some of them remind me of toasted pita chips they are so thoroughly baked. Personally, I don't find that much tan attractive, but then it's not my call. Anyway, there's this one well-baked woman with nice abs who seems to have three or four daughters who frequent the pool side with her. After I left Cely to play in the pool a little more by herself, the youngest of the those other girls, I think her name is Ella, invited Cely to play tag in the pool. Hearing that strident, pushy voice boss my little sister around made me feel both protective and concerned. Cely, I think, was glad to have someone to play with, but this little girl obviously liked to do things her way and her way only. Cely just kind of went along with it, and I attempted to intervene a little--in as pleasant a way as I know how.

Eventually, another sister joined the game and seemed to balance things out a little. I think Cely liked playing with that other girl better. And finally I called Cely from the pool so that we could get ready to go see our movie.

I guess what struck me was wondering how on earth anyone ever survives parenting. Cely isn't my daughter, adopted or by birth, but my age and hers makes me feel very parental towards her. Watching that little girl boss Cely around made me so angry and then disgusted. I can't help but wonder how any parent can get through the worry about how other kids will treat yours. I love Cely, but I can't make others love her. I can't protect her from the hideous pains that the world can strike her with. And so I only marvel that so many people seem able to function with the fear that must be inside at times.

When love and the best of intentions aren't enough

Isn't it funny how when you don't hear bad news for a while, you start to assume that things must be fine now? I just made that mistake.

Yesterday I was attempting to start on cleaning out my classroom (really I was being entertained by two students who just graduated.) I flipped out my phone and noticed I had four missed messages. How I didn't hear those little trills from my phone that indicate a new text, I have no idea, but there they were sitting. All were from KC. She sounded panicked and/or very stressed. "Pedro is leaving our house today" one said, and "They're moving him to the children's home where I work" said another. "Please call me if you can," ended the last.

What? What? I thought things were ok now. I thought they were ok! I skim through the messages again. Yes, it was all still there. Pedro was leaving. I text KC back b/c I couldn't really call right then. "What happened? Is everyone ok?"

Sometime later, KC responds. "Yes, we're fine. Call me when you can." I work out that I'll try to call her after her flight to OKC lands. In the meantime, after my former students leave, I see that my dad has called, and I return his call. He fills me in on a lot of details. I guess Pedro has been continuing to obsess about this idea of being Mexican. He had a dream where Dad was trying to take out his (Pedro's) blood and fill it with our (white) blood. Apparently, Pedro was sitting on Dad's lap and telling my dad how even if he was dying, Pedro would never want a blood transfusion from anyone other than a Mexican, even if it were from our family. My mom tried to explain to him how there is really nothing different about blood from person to person. Everyone is either A, B, O, or AB. He didn't care. He refused to listen. I guess he got pretty forceful about it, and the scene became really ugly and hurtful. Pedro said things like, "If my real dad dies, are you going to tell me? Or if my real mom dies? If they die, there's no point in living. I'm just going to walk in front of a car." My parents tried to assure him that they don't even know where his biological parents are. Dad didn't go into too many other details, but I can imagine. I've seen how words can fill up a whole room and seep into the hearts of everyone in that room till all you can think and feel are those words. Those words become so heavy, so scarring. They sap your energy and control your focus, and even when everything around you is fine, you're sure nothing is really ok. Everything is really a ruse, and you know the bottom is soon to drop out from under you again. It's just a matter of time.

In her pain and uncertainty, my mom calls the counselor who's been working with Pedro for several years. LeeAnn takes action. She wants to know if Pedro is suicidal because if he is, he has to be admitted to the Pavilian (Amarillo's mental hospital). Mom and Dad have to make Pedro sign an agreement that he won't hurt himself, and if he does want to, he has to first contact these certain people. Then, when Pedro said he wasn't going to hurt himself, LeeAnn said he had to move out of our house. He had to go to a children's home and stay there for a year. Or, I guess the program requires that he stay there for a year. He will have no privileges until he earns them through a point system. Dad said Pedro was leaving that day (Friday). My dad had to take him to the home. Although my mom offered, they were afraid Pedro would turn violent against her. He has no respect for female authority. My dad sounded so sad. I couldn't tell if he felt like he had failed or not; I hope not. I know he and my mom tried so hard to bond with Pedro, but all Pedro wanted to do was play violent video games and watch movies with gangs in them. He wanted to be "Mexican" like his biological family was. He couldn't and didn't want to understand that being Mexican has nothing to do with being in a gang. He refused to do anything with my parents, and I guess things got harder for him because now KC has a job that keeps her away from home a lot.

What I can't decide, and what I guess I won't get to know for a long time, is whether or not this will help or hurt Pedro more. At the end of this year, Pedro will be able to make a choice as to whether he wants to come back to our family and try to live with us, or if he wants to stay in the children's home until he becomes an adult. Should my parents have stuck it out longer and said, "You can stay with us even though you don't want us as family," or is it better for Pedro to get out of the home and be in a different environment? Will that just make him feel more abandoned? My parents didn't really get to choose to send Pedro to this home; they were told he had to go because he hadn't improved in the year he lived with them. I know how hard my parents tried, how they completely changed their lives around to accommodate the arrival of these two children. Cely seems to be able to give and receive at least some love, but Pedro can't.
So I'm left with three questions: one, how can anyone have children and then destroy them the way Pedro has been destroyed? How can the idiotic, selfish choices of people still consume the generations to follow? Two, how will this affect Aracely? Will she be able to stay with our family? Or will she too be trapped in the cycle of violence that has enveloped her family? And three, if the love and commitment of two absolutely unselfish, giving people like my parents aren't enough to heal the brokenness of kids like Pedro and Cely, will anything ever be?

the early morning texts

dontcha just know when you flip open your phone first thing in the morning and find 4 unread texts that they're probably not about something good? that was my first hunch this morning as it reminded me of three years ago when i had 6 missed phone calls first thing in the morning, all from my parents, who were trying to reach me to say that my mom had shattered her knee. well, my mom didn't shatter her knee this time. no, this time it was kc's oldest friend who had the crisis. erin, kc's oldest friend, is almost like an extension of our family. she's always been sweet to me-in fact, i was in her wedding a few summers ago. she's also been so faithful a friend to kc, despite dozens of moves as a small child. well, unfortunately, she's also struggled with varying drug addictions and enormous personal tragedies, including the death of her younger brother 5 years ago in a motorcycle accident. and now, i guess, she ODed on some sort of prescription meds and went off driving. someone found her in a parking lot, i think. kc spent last night in the ER with her as she got her stomach pumped.

i've known erin since she was a year old. i don't think i've ever seen anyone so bent on self-destruction as she is, and yet, she is a lovely person. so much goodness and beauty in her. but no peace. and i just ache thinking about it all.

filling in the blanks

for those of you curious about my upcoming trip to israel, please read! this post is for you!

early last fall, my friend and vp janet told me that our school principal, brenda, attended a meeting that discussed sending teachers from the archdiocese of cincinnati to israel. she and brenda both thought of me when hearing about this trip. now, most people probably don't know this, but i've wanted to go to israel since sometime in high school. actually, i wanted to go there for easter of 2000, but i had no concept of how to go about doing something like that, so i didn't really even attempt it. sometimes my dreams are bigger than my abilities. however, it felt fortuitous to hear about this potential trip.

i was very unclear about what i needed to do to be considered for this trip for a long time. the only thing i knew for certain was that i needed to register for a workshop in november. did that. attended the workshop, where i learned that what we see in our media isn't very accurate of what goes on in israel for real. probably because our government is so pro-israel, we only hear about palestinians as people who threaten the security of israelis. at least, that's what i understood. however, i have been learning that there are a lot of distortions and information left out. for instance, most palestinians are very non-violent and have actually been forced off land that their families have owned for centuries by the israeli gov't. our gov't pays the israeli gov't about $10 million a day to use for whatever israel wants--no strings attached and no accountability required. what that comes down to is that we the american people are funding some of the injustice that occurs in israel. and the worst part is how children and innocent people are suffering. i just can't stand that.

so what i shall be doing is working with a group of educators from cincinnati and maybe a couple from cleveland. we are each raising some money at our schools to take with us to help palestinians schools, some of which are Christian, to get computers in those schools. then we will communicate with different staff from the school for a year to help them get resources to deal with the post traumatic stress disorder that the kids suffer from after being exposed to so much violence. of course, we will also be touring some holy places in israel.

i love the idea of being a part of something that is not only beneficial to me but also to someone else. it just breaks my heart to think that there are people treated so unfairly. i know our group won't change the problem, but maybe we can help alleviate it a little. so that's part of how i will spend my summer vacation;)

waxing nostalgic

ever have one of those days (or weeks) when you really can't find any purpose for being where you are when you are there? when i was home visiting my family, i felt rather purposeless and thus wanted to be back in oh. now i'm in oh, and all i can think about is how much i miss my family. and it's not like i miss them because we do so many exciting things together, or i have the best time of my life with them. (not that i have bad times, but you know). it's more that i'm craving that connectedness that family gives you. for me, truly, they are the people i count on 100% of the time. they've disappointed and hurt me sometimes--whose family hasn't? but they have never, ever not been there for me or not loved me when i needed them to. they're the people i can assume with. what i mean by that is, think about holidays. don't we all just assume that we'll be with our families? or if something goes bad in our lives, like a job loss or a tragedy of some sort. it is our family that we turn to. you know, i love my friends. i truly do. i know i have been blessed with some truly exceptional people as friends. but i have to say, friends have never, ever been there for me the way my family has. and that is why i think family will always mean more to me than friendship in so many ways. it seems like everytime i've found a friend who feels like family, i move or that person moves, or so and so gets married, or some other normal life event. and i know those are normal life events, and they need to happen. i don't wish to stop life from occurring. but every time a major event occurs, something in that friendship is lost or changed forever. and i'll be honest, sometimes i grieve for what was lost. because then i have to go back and find a new friend until something comes along and changes that, too. so in my life, it seems that friendship is in so many ways something i can't count on forever in the same way i can count on my family. and i guess i'm just feeling the lack of that constancy in my life because my family is so very far away from me. it's been my choice to stay here, in oh, so far from them. i do love so much about living here. i feel strong and confident in a way i've never felt in tx. but i don't feel the same love here, the same sense of absolute trust that no matter what, i can always rely on that same person or few people to just be there. is this what all single people feel? that lack of an anchor? how does one not just curl up with grief and give up? and is this all a sign that i should move back to tx? is that the way to resolve this sorrow i feel? this lack of rootedness? i just really don't know. i just don't know.

and any dear friends who might read this, please don't interpret my words as a slam against you, because that's not what i'm trying to say. anyone who still reads this thing is obviously a friend close to my heart (or voyeuristic!). this is just my way of working through my own shadows.

hanging on to those good times

well, i had a very surefire awakening to what my next teaching year is going to be like. i've had inklings since last year, but this past week has been increasingly intense in revealing the truth of what will be.

it began with those sneaky, devious, catty girls. you know the kind i mean. the kind you can just tell are talking about you and everyone else in the room. one group decides to hate the other group, and suddenly all kinds of hideous names are being bandied about like a cat bats a mouse in its paws.

and today began with a fight on the way to mass. that's a good way to begin some time with Jesus. another kid got in trouble for making inappropriate noises in class but wouldn't admit to it, which then caused the whole class to receive a negative consequence. and the day finally finished out with the principal making all the 7th grade meet in one room so she could lambast them.

boy i can't wait till next year.

so what i must do is document the treasurable moments of this year so that next year when my class is either hating me because i'm doing my job well or running me over because i'm not, i can remember that not all years are that awful. not that my class this year is perfect. but dang, they've been the nicest class i've had since my first year of teaching.

for instance, this class (at least a lot of its members) and i share an appreciation for the hangover. yes, that naughty movie. but so funny. based on a comment a speaker made to our school last week (he referenced being a member of a "lone wolf club"), a student and i decided that we should start our own lone wolf club; however, ours is more based on a love of alan of the hangover. it was a pretty great bonding moment in the bus room today as our class "signed up" to join on our club. then another kid started his own club--the "penal club"-- based on the vocabulary word we had this year. (isn't that evil, to design a vocabulary unit with the word "penal" in it?)

i had to record those moments b/c i don't think they can happen next year.

btw: don't be alarmed about the hangover interest. it's all clean. i wouldn't have it any other way.

family updates

I'll admit it: sometimes I'm pretty cowardly. After spending over two weeks in unrelenting anxiety for the state of my parents, sister, and the kids, it was really hard to want to call and find out how everyone was really doing.

Today, at last, I had a real conversation with my mother where she shared with me some "status updates" on how Pedro and Cely are. I guess my dad is taking Pedro to get his anger and depression medication upped. Mom said that if KC's not home, Pedro just goes straight to his room and "goes to bed." She also said again how very much Pedro seems to want to join a gang; he wanted to get little teardrops tattooed by his eye like his cousins used to have. KC had to inform my mom and maybe Pedro too that the teardrops indicate the number of people killed by that person. Pedro's response when my mom (or KC) asked him if he really wanted kill people was a mumbled, "Oh. Not really." How comforting.

Apparently Pedro lies about everything, especially school work, and now Cely has really jumped on that bandwagon, too. Mom's going to try some sort of honesty/trust chart with Cely to try to convince Cely to be honest. They're both going to get some special testing done in about a month. And Cely seems to be suffering from unrelenting nightmares. Poor baby. I wish I could hug her, and honestly, Pedro too, and just try to give them some relief from the struggles they must have. When I'm not worrying about the mental health and energy of my parents and KC, I do feel compassion for the torment P and C must experience. I can only say they are so scarred by the weaknesses of their family. How horrible!

Mom did tell me that apparently Pedro had been adopted before, and it hadn't worked out. It sounded like she (and my dad??) have had a conversation with P about how they don't want to keep him with them if he can't be happy--or something like that. And she said P himself said to her recently that he felt like things were going a little better. But the part that eases my worry the most is definitely my mother's tone of voice. She seems . . . more together, less battered and broken than she did a few weeks ago, more accepting, maybe?? I know I will worry less if I can feel like she and my dad are hanging in there by more than a thread, if they can just have some positive news about their lives right now.

Now if KC can just feel like her life has improved somehow. And if the kids can just feel like it's ok to have a family and WANT to have one. I understand like never before the statement "pray without ceasing."

What it could have been

I had a potentially scary incident today.

Imagine the scene: my students are chatting in homeroom or doing their homework in the morning. I'm at my computer organizing info for the day. Suddenly a 30-something man, dressed in khakis and a pullover Notre Dame jacket appears at my door.
"Hey, I need a volunteer to come be in a video for me."
My head pops up in surprise. What? Um, can we start with, "Hi, my name is ____"?
Before I can even get words formed, Ellie, a bubbly eighth grade girl bounces out of her chair and over to the still-unidentified man.
They proceed down the hall as I dart after them.
"Um, excuse me! Where are you going?" No response. I monitor Ellie's movement down the stairs outside the 7th grade homerooms, her ponytail bopping back and forth merrily.
What if I just let her slip through my fingers and into the hands of some deranged criminal? I could never forgive myself.
In a panic, I call down to the office.
A moment passes.
Hurry! I think.
Finally, Peggy answers my buzz.
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Fairbanks," I begin. "Is there a man supposed to be taking videos of the kids right now?"
"No," she responded, startled. "Let me check into that."
Just as I'm about to send several boys down to follow Ellie on the path where I last saw her go, I realize she has returned safely to her seat.
"Ellie! Where did you go? What did he have you do?"
In her breezily confident manner, she says, "Oh, he just stood me by a wall and had me say, 'We are . . .we are . . .we are' a few times."
"Did he say what this was for?"
"Just a video for the marketing committee."
"But no one in the school knows that he is here!"
The other kids around Ellie have been chattering nonstop since she left and chime in occasion with exclamations of alarm at the random appearance of the man and his unclear intentions.
"Ellie! How could you just go with him? Did you know him?" The questions flutter around in the air, asking what I myself wonder.
Ellie's smile twinges nervously. "I'm starting to get a little scared. My heart is beating so fast!"
All I can think is what kind of video was he going to use her little quote for, and I know I am certainly not the only one thinking this.
Knowing I still need to carry on with my day, I invoke the buddy system. "I need two people to take my attendance downstairs today, and if someone tries to do something to you, kick them!"
"Oh, that's scary," one boy mocks me teasingly.
A few minutes later, Corey and Lucas reappear in class, mission accomplished.
Corey says, "We saw the guy. He saw Mrs. Fairbanks coming, and he ran out the door. She's chasing him."
Lucas continues, "Yeah, Mrs. Bender is helping her."
I narrow my eyes at them, knowing this is incredibly unlikely but not willing to completely rule out the possibility of truth since I'm a little shaken by the man coming at all.
Suddenly the wail of a police siren pierces the air.
My students jerk their heads toward me, eyes wide with shock. The girls twitter like magpies in their nervousness; the boys exclaim excitedly.
"I think we're going to have to have a lock down drill," one says.
"Would you please lock our door? I'd feel safer," Lucas says. It's hard to tell if he really means it, or if he's playing into the feelings of others since that's what he often does.
Finally, Peggy calls back to my room.
"Ms. Sullivan? It's ok. That was a parent on the school board; he just didn't sign in with the office."
Feeling mildly better, I respond, "Good, but tell him next time he needs to identify himself. I had no idea who he was."
I suppose this is a case of "alls well that ends well," but geez, what if it hadn't been?

new obsession

oh, i really should be getting ready to go hang out with friends. i need that--some time away from my new obsession.

i have found when i worry about something, i seek to understand it. so i look up articles, i seek out books, i call and/or email people who might be able to help. such is the case right now, as i seek to understand how to help my family with these post-adoption struggles.

oh, pedro. you kill us, kid. so angry, and we just want to help. my poor mother, who sounds like pedro has pretty much rejected her; my stressed father, trying to be the strong one; my darling sister, the buffer zone; our precious cely, no doubt hurting in her own way; and me, the distant one, wanting to help, wondering if i have to move back to texas, hoping all the pain will quickly recede into a memory everyone is glad to have made it through.

but who really knows? pedro may be going back to foster care a few months if his attitude doesn't change. yesterday i was ok with that. today, i want to think that maybe his anger can be worked through. but i'm still afraid to call home, afraid to hear what i'll hear about the pain since yesterday, afraid to talk to my mom and dad to hear their sides of the story--knowing that that will make my fear for them grow astronomically. i guess that makes me a coward.

i'm not ignoring them, though. i've thought about little else in the last 36 hours. i bought two books today, spent hours on amazon looking up book titles, and emailed a counselor from catholic social services in cincy. i need reinforcements. and my parents need support. i don't know how they make it from day to day.

Glimmers of Hope

It's a new year. I'll be honest--with the tension enveloping me due to Pedro's mood swings, I've been somewhat eager to head on back to OH. Then, of course, today was awesome. Like Christmas day--there was so much joy and laughter and happiness flowing from everyone that it hurts like hell to know I'm leaving these people I love more than anything or anyone. Yes, I include Pedro in that love.

Last evening we had a somewhat quiet start to a New Year's Eve party at a friend of KC's house. Pedro hadn't spoken to KC in almost three days (since the last time I wrote here), and everyone seemed rather subdued. But then Cely and Kaidence, daughter of KC's best friend, pulled out Twister. Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, Pedro joined the three of us playing Twister in the kitchen. And then I went and sat down, and KC took my place. And then Pedro was talking to KC again. I don't know if a lot of preteen boys are that moody and hard to understand, or if Pedro is extra special in this area, but what the hell? He was an ass for three days, and now he's fine. Granted, I felt a million times better after that; I can't seem to relax when people don't get along.

The evening improved greatly after that, no doubt somewhat aided by my consumption of alcohol and an amusing game of Uno. And today, even though we all had to drag ourselves up to go to Mass this morning, no one was too grouchy (even me, I don't think). My parents invited over their friend Suzette and the three boys she's caring for right now. It was so fun. We laughed so much as we played Apple to Apples Junior and ate queso and then played "Hot Potato" at Pedro's request. He thought that game was hilarious and giggled his high pitched squeal. I quickly grew bored with the game, but it was fun to watch my parents and Suzette, KC, myself, and all those kids play.

Later Pedro, KC, and I watched "Grease" and hung out a bit while I packed my things. Cely went to a friend's house to play for a few hours; she went to bed right when she got back. I gave her a huge hug and asked if she were getting up before I left tomorrow; she said she wasn't sure. I think I saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes, so I squeezed her tight and told her I loved her because I do. I don't want her to be sad because I'm leaving for a while. I'll be back, but that's hard to convince a 9 year old whose real family abandoned her.

Two things recently that made me just love these kids. One, last night on the way to the NYE party, we played a game called "Would you rather?" Cely had to answer whether she would prefer to have 10 kids or no kids. At first she was like "none." Then she reconsidered and said "10 because I want to foster kids." Isn't that beautiful?

And then today when some of us were still playing Apples to Apples, and Pedro got restless, he asked if he could take the three younger boys out to play basketball for a bit. Although they weren't out there long, I was really proud to see him step up and be kind to them. They were once foster kids, too, and were adopted by their grandmother b/c their parents abandoned them. He does so much better with younger boys than he does with boys his own age, and I can't help but wonder if that's because he always talks about wanting to be a thug basically and shoot people and run from the cops. It's hard to reconcile my two images of Pedro: the thug and the kind person. Maybe he's at war with himself. But it gives me a little hope to see him be kind and happy. Maybe someday, that will be who he is all the time.