Why, you ask. Why did we bring this boy into the world? The simple answer is because we could. Also, his mother and I shared the dream of all parents to raise a Perfect Child. We did not succeed at first, so we tried again. We did not succeed at second, so again we tried, for the third time is often the charm. And Voila! Success in the human form of Justin Robert Tyrrell, a child blessed with the best qualities of both of us.

Many believed Justin was an accident. That notion is a false narrative. His birth was well-conceived, literally and figuratively. The decision to have a third offspring was made on a day in late May, 1983. As I recall the dialogue on the screen porch was as follows:

Claudia: I think Chris and his little friends had fun at the birthday party today.

Bob (annoyed by this interruption of his reading of the current Sports Illustrated): Uh-huh.

Claudia: I think it’s important to have little children around. It completes us.

Bob (finishing his Guinness pint): Uh-huh.

Claudia: I’m afraid I’ll be lonely as the boys get older and leave home.

Bob (taking a drag on his Kent One): Uh-huh.

Claudia: I want to have a little girl so I’ll always have mother-daughter bonding.

Bob: (gazing on the sunset over the Rosemont athletic field, reaffirming to himself the location of Walnut Hill): Uh-huh.

Claudia: I’m horny. Let’s make love.

Bob (doing his best Matthew McConaughey impression): Alright, alright, alright!

Well, it could have happened that way.

While February 23, 1984 was a joyful day, it also included disappointment for me. Claudia had a new obstetrician who encouraged us for several months that she could have a normal delivery, which meant I could witness the birth of my child. I was all ready for that, dressed in blue hospital scrubs, when the anesthesiologist came into the holding area. Claudia had not previously met him. He spoke to her briefly and then told her that he would not recommend epidural anesthesia because she had fatty tissue which could make it problematical as to whether the injection will find the right target, commenting with words to the effect “that after all you don’t want to wind up paralyzed”. That put the fear of God in both of us and she was quickly wheeled into the operating room for a C-section. Since that involved surgery and administration of general anesthesia I was not allowed in. Not longer than 20 minutes later, however, the anesthesiologist (who I think noticed my disappointment) reappeared in the holding area room carrying my newborn child. He simply said “it’s a boy” and dropped him in my arms. I was shaken. What am I supposed to do with this thing? I wasn’t equipped to feed him. I was uncomfortable and it was so awkward trying to operate the TV remote while holding an infant. Fortunately, a nurse came to my rescue about 15 minutes later.

We watched with pride and wonder as Justin grew up, marveling at his successes, adventures, and courage. Hiking on perilous mountains in Nepal. Jumping out of an airplane. Starring in a production of “Bye, Bye Birdie” at a young age. Being the only Tyrrell to ever be a starting point guard on an all-star basketball team. Supervising accounting staff in Switzerland when he didn’t know a debit from a credit. Trying his hand at stand-up comedy. Attaining film editing legend status in Vegas. Starting his own podcast.

There were, of course, instances of imperfections. Falling asleep while driving my car on the beltway at 2 a.m. Steering Peter’s van into a ditch, thereby jeopardizing a carload of Maroni’s pizza. Losing to Tommy in the Mr. Gaithersburg High School contest. Taking a shit on poison oak in Boulder, Colorado. And I won’t even disclose the pissing incident on the morning of our trip to Notre Dame, as I promised him I would take that to my grave.

But I believe that Justin has learned from his mistakes and his true destiny still awaits him.

P.S. to the publishers of this book – Please do not ask me to write about Gabe. That subject is taboo.