We almost lost IP-2 in Japan when we forgot to wake him and nearly left him behind in our guest house one early morning. We almost lost DC when he took a nasty fall and smashed the lens of his eye on a rock in the northern Thai jungle. And so we swore to ourselves never again would we let moments pass without putting our babies' utmost care, protection, and safety first. It was love they deserved and so love is what we gave them. And they reciprocated that love, demonstrating their devotion, each one it its own unique way: IP-1 dictated every word of The History of Love to my girlfriend, Shulamit, while she worked on her tan on the poster-like Philippine and Thai beaches, IP-2 read me The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy as we rode the Shinkansen Bullet train through the towns of rural Japan, and Crime and Punishment on the railways and seas of Thailand, and DC captured 
with deep focus and great pixilated detail many of the remarkable and unforgettable images that we encountered in these faraway lands. Grateful cannot even begin to express the feelings we have had for their accompaniment on this occasionally bumpy road. But on a sunny Mid-March day we submitted to our egos and let the altruistic side of ourselves slip away. It wasn’t our faults. It was the ridiculous god forsaken place we had chosen to visit. It was the relentless and astounding beauty of the Northern Palawan Islands, with its fancy magnificent limestone cliffs rising out of the ocean in every direction, its elegant sandy beaches, great multi colored and shaped vivacious coral, water more turquoise than the color itself, and hidden treasures like the beach 
we found directly on a mangrove, crawling with cute Filipino children who laughed and followed our strange, white skinned selves, as we engaged them in performances of slapstick comedy. It was the promise of a new day here in the town of El Nido after finding a boat ride home from a fishing villager during an unforgettable sunset at the close of our first day. The awesome potential of this absolute p
aradise was what caused Noah, myself, and Shula to forget that despite the picturesque landscape, nature is never merciful. There are still hazards, horrible and fatal perils that must be heeded.
with deep focus and great pixilated detail many of the remarkable and unforgettable images that we encountered in these faraway lands. Grateful cannot even begin to express the feelings we have had for their accompaniment on this occasionally bumpy road. But on a sunny Mid-March day we submitted to our egos and let the altruistic side of ourselves slip away. It wasn’t our faults. It was the ridiculous god forsaken place we had chosen to visit. It was the relentless and astounding beauty of the Northern Palawan Islands, with its fancy magnificent limestone cliffs rising out of the ocean in every direction, its elegant sandy beaches, great multi colored and shaped vivacious coral, water more turquoise than the color itself, and hidden treasures like the beach 
we found directly on a mangrove, crawling with cute Filipino children who laughed and followed our strange, white skinned selves, as we engaged them in performances of slapstick comedy. It was the promise of a new day here in the town of El Nido after finding a boat ride home from a fishing villager during an unforgettable sunset at the close of our first day. The awesome potential of this absolute p
aradise was what caused Noah, myself, and Shula to forget that despite the picturesque landscape, nature is never merciful. There are still hazards, horrible and fatal perils that must be heeded. On our second day in El Nido rather than hire a boat provided by the guesthouses, the three of us opted to rent a small paddleboat off a native in order to save some Filipino pes
o. We were attempting to get to an island a few clicks offshore, a supposed magical snorkeling area with a desolate palm tree lined beach. Upon our arrival to the take-off point, the beach at the foot of our tree-house-like guesthouse “The Alternative”, we saw that the bamboo boat appeared small and fragile. But what could possibly stop us? We were armed with excitement, adventure, and above all smiles. That obvious answer came almost immediately in a peninsular town. As soon as the three of us were settled and paddle-armed, the boat began to take in water. I knew our children were hopeless swimmers so like a good protective parent I quickly and instinctively reached with all the might I could muster for the REI backpack that housed them. I knew that if I got to them in that instant their lives could be spared. But my efforts proved futile. The bag was hung up on a nail. As the ship went under my eyes filled with salt water as I watched IP-1, IP-2, and DC sink, along with my hopes and dreams for their once so bright futures.
With nothing left to do but sulk, Noah, Shula, and I took to the paradise beach on a much bigger bamboo boat. Upon our arrival we looked up to the heavens and toasted our deceased friends with a big lachayim of packages of individually plastic wrapped crackers that survived the day's tragedy. Man, the makers of Skyflakes Crackers are all geniuses.
.
o. We were attempting to get to an island a few clicks offshore, a supposed magical snorkeling area with a desolate palm tree lined beach. Upon our arrival to the take-off point, the beach at the foot of our tree-house-like guesthouse “The Alternative”, we saw that the bamboo boat appeared small and fragile. But what could possibly stop us? We were armed with excitement, adventure, and above all smiles. That obvious answer came almost immediately in a peninsular town. As soon as the three of us were settled and paddle-armed, the boat began to take in water. I knew our children were hopeless swimmers so like a good protective parent I quickly and instinctively reached with all the might I could muster for the REI backpack that housed them. I knew that if I got to them in that instant their lives could be spared. But my efforts proved futile. The bag was hung up on a nail. As the ship went under my eyes filled with salt water as I watched IP-1, IP-2, and DC sink, along with my hopes and dreams for their once so bright futures. Shula frantically grabbed our babies and brought them ashore. She checked their digital vitals, but there was no hiding the truth, their power had gone out. The three of them together had expired. A sea of guilt engulfed us survivors. How could we have done this to them? How could we have chosen our own selfish desire of one day's worth of digital accompaniment over safety? Was nature in all its glory not good enough for us? Did the crash of the waves and the chirps of rare and exotic birds really need to be accompanied and flushed out by the sound of George Winston’s piano? Was it worth risking the possibility of many marathon music-less and audio book-less bus rides we had yet to make? Was it that important to better our face book profiles and Iphoto Libraries? Was it worth risking the physical proof that we ever even left Boston? And was it worth possibly losing three of our most cherished companions? We couldn't go one measly fucking day without our digital babies?
With nothing left to do but sulk, Noah, Shula, and I took to the paradise beach on a much bigger bamboo boat. Upon our arrival we looked up to the heavens and toasted our deceased friends with a big lachayim of packages of individually plastic wrapped crackers that survived the day's tragedy. Man, the makers of Skyflakes Crackers are all geniuses..
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