Riff-raff? Street rat? I don't buy that.

A lot of good stories are about orphans. Think about it. Superman - planet destroyed, orphan. Batman - parents killed, orphan. Spiderman - parents (and uncle) killed, orphan. It's that great American heroic archetype that I learned about in 7th grade and couldn't forget to save my life. Most heroes in the most popular stories are either fatherless or orphans.

Well, here's another.

This is Fievel. (Yes, as in "An American Tail: Fievel Goes West")

Those are bathroom Dixie cups he is sitting next to.

I found him in the subway station going home from work one day in early July. He was all alone, huddled next to the wall. He was hungry, thirsty, dirty and alone. There was a lady taking pictures of him, because he was so sweet and little. So, naturally, I went over and picked him up. He didn't even try to run away.

He rode in my hand the entire subway ride home. I found an empty Starbucks water cup and put him in there so I could text the boyfriend and ask him if he would be terribly opposed to adopting an orphan in need; who was probably going to be the next great hero. Well, I didn't tell him that part.

The boyfriend is a good person, and let Fievel stay. The only condition was that I take Fievel to the vet to see if he was the disease ridden, plague monster that all mice are.

Fievel passed the vet test with flying colors. the vet was taken by Fievel's adorableness, as all who meet him are, and said he hadn't seen such a young mouse on his own. I asked how old my dear Fievel was, the answer was 3 weeks. Mice don't even get fur until around 10 days, so he was far too young to be away from his family. Orphan = good story = future hero.

The first time the boyfriend held Fievel, he said, "I was not prepared for how cute he is." A co-worker went from "Ew, you TOUCHED it?" to "He's sitting in my hand! He's so cute!" in 24 hours. Fievel, the hero of all that is cute. The only problem, was he was small enough to fit through the bars of the first mouse house the boyfriend got him. So we had to get a house without bars. He's happy now, and cannot escape. Yet.

Fievel celebrated his 2 month birthday last week and he has about doubled in size. He's the fastest thing on four legs, and if he gets away from you his favorite game is "try and get me out from behind the bookshelves". He is the only one who likes that game.

So that is the origin story of Fievel. I'm not sure, other than Hero of all that is Cute, what Fievel's legendary destiny is, but I'm very glad that the boyfriend and I are his Ma and Pa Kent. (Superman reference, if you missed that one)

Born in the dirty tunnels of the LA Subway system, lost from his family, alone, dirty and hopeless. It was looking dire until he was rescued by a kind soul and her handsome boyfriend. From the streets to the penthouse. This, is the story of Fievel: A Mouse Among Mice. Hero to the cute underdog, savior to all the cute fluffy things. Coming to a theater near you Summer 2012.

Re: My Letter

This is my dad's letter back to me. I can't think of anyone better to be my dad.

(my letter)

and now the letter from my dad.

Dear Elayna,

I tried to respond to your letter..i suck at the computer.

Tears filled my eyes as I read it, I remember the day too, it took so long to let go of the fear that you would hate me...I thought if I didn't tell you...you wouldn't think I cared about you..or to let you know and then to find out from someone else...anyway I see now that I have a beautiful compassionate daughter...I knew it before but more so now. These secrets we hide in out selves eat at us and cause us to question how "normal" we are. Leaving you was the saddest part of the divorce...who would I ride bike with? or spin in the "again" swing? Towards the end of your mom and my relationship was a lot of sadness, and through the gifts of counseling...depression and Zoloft., Moving back into the bedroom I had when I was 16, not seeing you was a very low part of my life, I ended up going to Toronto for an escape and met Ken, he's Canadian...eh? Both of us were needing something ....a change, we saved each other, when he met you and loved you as another ...dad...meant so much. You are my life...of my life.

Fear is a power that controls us and if we let it....years fly by and we don't tell the other person...or even ourselves what we need to. Elayna..you have courage...that's the absence of fear..sometimes I think we are so much alike...in hiding our feelings.thoughts and protecting our heart. I know I broke your heart when I had to leave...it broke mine too...when I see you...my eyes well up and overflow..when I run..I cry for you...for me...for the time lost...it means so much to me to have your acceptance in my life, you are brave....my spirit warrior. The world is a kinder place because you're in it.

I love you...Dad

My Letter.

So, in the past couple days this letter went viral for being sad and terrible. Then, the blogger from Ask Your Dad wrote this letter in response. It has inspired others to write their own letters.

When I was 13, my dad came out to me as gay. It has taken me all of these years to realize what an amazing and brave thing that was for him to do. Especially living in a small, rural town of 3000 people in South Eastern Minnesota.

This is mine. It's not to my future children, I'll write that letter when the time comes. This letter is to my dad.

Dear Dad.

I'm sorry that I didn't respond like you maybe hoped I would, when you told me that day. I can still remember it. I had spent the weekend with you and Ken, you drove me home, and we parked in front of my house. You turned to me, I remember it being very quiet. Then you said, "Elayna, I'm gay and I'm dating Ken."

In all honesty, it wasn't a complete shock. Mom told me, about two weeks before. I tried to brush it off like she was mad at you for something, but it wasn't her style to make you out to be the bad guy when I was around. So I kept thinking about how it might be true, but it was completely different when you told me.

I said something along the lines of "Okay. It was good seeing you. See you next weekend." And then hugged you goodbye and got out of the car. I didn't ask you any questions, I didn't even really acknowledge the gravity of what you had told me.

I now understand how hard that must have been for you to tell me. You didn't know how I would react, what I would say, if I would still want you in my life. You needn't have worried, because you raised me to be a thoughtful and kind person. It never even crossed my mind to cut all ties with you.

I'm sorry that we never really spoke about it again. I was trying so hard to figure out what it all meant. I was afraid of someone hurting you and I was afraid of someone hurting me if anyone found out. I didn't know of anyone else with a family like mine, so I just kept it a secret.

I want you to know, I never loved you any less. There were so many things I wanted to ask you and was afraid. There was brief time that I was afraid mom and I were simply props for you to hide behind. I was afraid that you never loved my mom, briefly wondered if you regretted having me.

Now I realize how brave you were in that moment and how strong you had to be. I love you more for that, and I want to be brave and strong like you. I want to be comfortable with who I am and I want to say it without hesitation. I want to always be myself and not hide into a mold that society tries to place on me. I want to be like you.

Because of you and your relationship with Ken, I have become so much better. I am kinder, wiser, more open-minded, passionate about what is right and strong enough to face whatever trials will come.

That day, thirteen years ago in that car, when you told me the most important thing about yourself, I want to answer differently. Now, I will open my arms to you, I will smile, I will tell you how proud I am of you. I will let you go with me to the mall and we can talk about which guys are attractive. I will embrace your bravery and tell you how much I love you.

Dad, I love you. Thank you for helping me grow into someone I can be proud of, but more importantly, thank you for being my dad. I am so proud of you. I will happily point you out in a crowd to my friends. I will always love you. Someday, I hope to be as brave and strong as you are.

I love you forever and ever and always.

Elayna

That is my letter. That is my story. That is my dad and he is strong and brave and the best dad in the world.

Invocation.

I have this terrible habit of starting a blog, being super interested in it for a couple weeks...and then never posting again. My internet history is littered with blogs that I have abandoned over a year ago. Poor, lost blogs, left to their own in the vast internets.

I'm going to try something different with this one. I'm not going to quit it in a month. I'm not going to abandon it. I'm going to keep writing.

So, what am I going to write about?

Everything.

Whatever thought was bouncing around in my head all day, whatever I'm feeling particularly passionate about, something amusing that happened, a memory from my childhood...and if none of that gets me to tell you a story, then I'll challenge myself by telling you a 100 word story. I'll try and be funny, I'll try and be sincere, I'll try and be honest (unless I'm writing you fiction), I'll try and be myself. I'll try not to censor myself or hold back.

Think of it as brain potpourri. Fun fact: for the longest time in my childhood, I thought it was called pot potpourri - reflexively, I wondered why nobody else called it that.

So, here we go. Not sure where this will all end up, but hopefully it won't end up with the other abandoned blogs. Poor things.