By Danny's anniversary. Fourteen years. I went to Holy Cross with Tommy. The first time I've brought anyone to the cemetery on Danny's day. Tommy was in the baby carrier on my chest, bundled against the cold, his face pressed against my jacket. He was asleep. He slept through the whole visit. He slept while I sat on the frozen ground and talked to Danny's headstone and told him about the laugh. About the diaper-hat laugh. Danny would have loved that story. Danny would have tried the diaper-hat thing and made Tommy laugh harder. Danny was better with kids than I am. Danny was better at joy.
I said, "He's here, man. Thomas Daniel. He's here and he's perfect and he has your name and he laughed for the first time this week." The cemetery was quiet. The March wind blew. Tommy slept against my chest. Three people at the headstone: a living father, a sleeping son, a dead friend. The math of loss and love.
Megan's note was on the kitchen counter when I got home: "Say hi to Uncle Danny. We love you. Tommy is wearing the number 8 onesie." She dressed Tommy in the onesie with the number 8 on it — the one Patrick bought, Packers green, Danny's number. The baby was wearing the dead boy's number on the dead boy's anniversary and the gesture was so perfectly Megan — tender, specific, without being asked — that I stood in the kitchen and breathed and held Tommy and let the grief and the love coexist, because they always do, because they always will.
Made sauerkraut pierogi. Danny's filling. The ritual. The tradition that shows up whether I'm ready or not. The dough doesn't care about my grief. The filling doesn't care about my tears. The tradition asks only that I show up. I showed up. Tommy watched from the swing. Fourteen years and counting.
The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.
Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.
The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.
Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.
The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.
The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.
Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.
The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.
The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.
After the pierogi were folded and boiled and the kitchen still smelled like Danny’s filling, I didn’t want to stop. That’s the thing about the ritual — once you start, you want to stay inside it a little longer. Babcia Helen used to put up plum jam every fall, the same jar that ended up on the table next to the pierogi every single time, and I had a bag of Italian plums in the freezer I’d been saving without knowing why. Tommy was still in the swing. The March wind was still outside. I kept my hands moving, because that’s what the kitchen asked of me, and that’s what I had left to give.
Plum Jam
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 4 half-pint jars
Ingredients
- 3 lbs Italian plums (fresh or thawed from frozen), pitted and roughly chopped
- 2 cups granulated sugar
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon (optional, but traditional)
- Pinch of salt
Instructions
- Prep the plums. Pit and roughly chop the plums — no need to peel. Add them to a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven.
- Macerate. Add the sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest, and salt. Stir to combine and let sit for 10 minutes until the plums begin to release their juice.
- Cook down. Place the pot over medium heat and bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Once boiling, reduce heat to medium-low and cook uncovered, stirring every few minutes, for 35–45 minutes until the jam thickens and a spoonful dragged across a cold plate holds its shape.
- Add cinnamon. If using, stir in the cinnamon during the last 5 minutes of cooking.
- Test the set. Place a small plate in the freezer before you start cooking. To test, drop a teaspoon of jam on the cold plate — if it wrinkles when you push it with your finger, it’s ready.
- Jar it. Ladle hot jam into clean, sterilized half-pint jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Seal and process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes for shelf stability, or refrigerate for up to 3 weeks without processing.
Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 tablespoons)
Calories: 45 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 0.5g | Sodium: 5mg