A poem
My 16 year old daughter Alyssa wrote a poem that I wanted to share. Simple but elegant.
What happens to a girl that can’t be with the boy she loves ?
Is it like a mirror that shatters ,
and becomes a broken matter .
Will it be like a fire with a terrible flame,
that cannot be tame
Or will it be like a sun shining day ,
with a stormy night that comes by to stay
A poem
My 16 year old daughter Alyssa wrote a poem that I wanted to share. Simple but elegant.
What happens to a girl that can’t be with the boy she loves ?
Is it like a mirror that shatters ,
and becomes a broken matter .
Will it be like a fire with a terrible flame,
that cannot be tame
Or will it be like a sun shining day ,
with a stormy night that comes by to stay
My son, friend of Smitty
It’s the little things that he does. Some will drive you crazy and others will have you laughing hysterically. Facial expressions add to the comedic value, but it’s a “you had to be there” thing. He’s always done it and even when you think he’s being dead serious, he’s likely pulling your leg.
The routines go back as far as I can remember but there are quite a few that stick out in my mind. The first of which is Denny’s…
Those of you who have seen Pulp Fiction would easily remember this scene with John Travolta and Uma Thurman. My son, who was but 4 at the time, had not. That didn’t stop him from busting out in a dance routine of The Swim while seated at our table in Denny’s while we waited for our food. No prompting, no key word mentioned and no music. Just Josh bustin’ a move.
A few months later I would be getting married to my beautiful fiance’. As I’m dressing my son in his little dress shirt and vest, he’s fussing with me as most boys do when wearing dress clothes. After a few minutes, we finally get him situated and I let out a heavy sigh. He looks at me, pulls down his vest to straighten it out and says very matter of factly, “Dad, you know the difference between you and me? I make this look good”.
Josh is not one to have attention drawn to him, unless it’s at your expense. For the longest time, Josh and his friend Jordan went everywhere with us. Having the two of them together was a blast, but by the end of the weekend, you were ready to commit them to speacial care facilities. For the longest time, my wife and I thought they had a friend named Smitty. We stopped believing in Smitty a long time ago as he never was around when the boys said he was. We could be in a movie, at a restaurant or smack dab in the middle of a hot tourist crowd in one of Florida’s many theme parks and “Smitty” would just pop up. At first it was a lot of coincidences.
Josh: “Jordan, there’s Smitty!” as loud as he could.
Jordan: “No way where?”
Josh: “Right there! HEY SMITTY!”
When we’d all look at the two of them, Josh would just say “Dad, it’s my friend Smitty” and point in some random direction. Later, we learned that we were the butt of a long, never ending joke. There really is a Smitty and my son does know the kid. He was just never anywhere we were and thus began a long line of deception and pranks. While it was fun for Jordan, it sometimes took a different turn when he became the butt of the jokes.
Josh: “Dad, Jordan says you’re going bald.”
Jordan: “Wait, what?!? No I didn’t!”
Josh: “Dad, he did. I don’t think that’s very nice of you Jordan.”
Or even worse, just yelling out at random, “Jordan! Stop hitting my sister! She’s smaller than you. I know she can be a brat but…” And all Jordan could do was look at me like “please, you really don’t believe this do you?”
Part of the fun is his randomness. He torments his grandfather with obscure comments, quotes movies he’s fond of and swears you are off your rocker when you try to recall a conversation with him just moments before. It can drive you insane.
Some of his favorite quotes:
“LT. DAN! You got legs!”
“I hid this uncomfortable piece of metal up my ass for two years.”
“Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”
In all fairness, he comes by it honest. I’ve always been the one to make up wild stories when the kids asked me a question about something like “Why is the sky blue?” or make them apologize to the wall when they run into it. After all, the poor wall didn’t do anything to them. Tina isn’t much better and I blame a lot of my own sarcasm on her. After all, I was this shy, reclusive guy who never would say much of a peep much less give off any sarcastic remark. She’s made us all unbearable (kidding babe).
Josh is much older now, drives his own car, works a lot after school and we see much less of him than we’d like too. But that little boy is still there and apparently, so is Smitty. Josh has been dating a wonderful young lady and she’s perfect for him and this crazy family. She has been known to hack into his Facebook account and post wild messages professing his undying love for her. He deserves every bit of it. I only hope that he one day experiences the same joy I’ve had watching him grow into the young man he’s become. More importantly, I can’t wait for the opportunity to spend my time with his children so I can share my knowledge in the art of pranks and sarcasm. It’s only fair to them right?
My son, friend of Smitty
It’s the little things that he does. Some will drive you crazy and others will have you laughing hysterically. Facial expressions add to the comedic value, but it’s a “you had to be there” thing. He’s always done it and even when you think he’s being dead serious, he’s likely pulling your leg.
The routines go back as far as I can remember but there are quite a few that stick out in my mind. The first of which is Denny’s…
Those of you who have seen Pulp Fiction would easily remember this scene with John Travolta and Uma Thurman. My son, who was but 4 at the time, had not. That didn’t stop him from busting out in a dance routine of The Swim while seated at our table in Denny’s while we waited for our food. No prompting, no key word mentioned and no music. Just Josh bustin’ a move.
A few months later I would be getting married to my beautiful fiance’. As I’m dressing my son in his little dress shirt and vest, he’s fussing with me as most boys do when wearing dress clothes. After a few minutes, we finally get him situated and I let out a heavy sigh. He looks at me, pulls down his vest to straighten it out and says very matter of factly, “Dad, you know the difference between you and me? I make this look good”.
Josh is not one to have attention drawn to him, unless it’s at your expense. For the longest time, Josh and his friend Jordan went everywhere with us. Having the two of them together was a blast, but by the end of the weekend, you were ready to commit them to speacial care facilities. For the longest time, my wife and I thought they had a friend named Smitty. We stopped believing in Smitty a long time ago as he never was around when the boys said he was. We could be in a movie, at a restaurant or smack dab in the middle of a hot tourist crowd in one of Florida’s many theme parks and “Smitty” would just pop up. At first it was a lot of coincidences.
Josh: “Jordan, there’s Smitty!” as loud as he could.
Jordan: “No way where?”
Josh: “Right there! HEY SMITTY!”
When we’d all look at the two of them, Josh would just say “Dad, it’s my friend Smitty” and point in some random direction. Later, we learned that we were the butt of a long, never ending joke. There really is a Smitty and my son does know the kid. He was just never anywhere we were and thus began a long line of deception and pranks. While it was fun for Jordan, it sometimes took a different turn when he became the butt of the jokes.
Josh: “Dad, Jordan says you’re going bald.”
Jordan: “Wait, what?!? No I didn’t!”
Josh: “Dad, he did. I don’t think that’s very nice of you Jordan.”
Or even worse, just yelling out at random, “Jordan! Stop hitting my sister! She’s smaller than you. I know she can be a brat but…” And all Jordan could do was look at me like “please, you really don’t believe this do you?”
Part of the fun is his randomness. He torments his grandfather with obscure comments, quotes movies he’s fond of and swears you are off your rocker when you try to recall a conversation with him just moments before. It can drive you insane.
Some of his favorite quotes:
“LT. DAN! You got legs!”
“I hid this uncomfortable piece of metal up my ass for two years.”
“Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”
In all fairness, he comes by it honest. I’ve always been the one to make up wild stories when the kids asked me a question about something like “Why is the sky blue?” or make them apologize to the wall when they run into it. After all, the poor wall didn’t do anything to them. Tina isn’t much better and I blame a lot of my own sarcasm on her. After all, I was this shy, reclusive guy who never would say much of a peep much less give off any sarcastic remark. She’s made us all unbearable (kidding babe).
Josh is much older now, drives his own car, works a lot after school and we see much less of him than we’d like too. But that little boy is still there and apparently, so is Smitty. Josh has been dating a wonderful young lady and she’s perfect for him and this crazy family. She has been known to hack into his Facebook account and post wild messages professing his undying love for her. He deserves every bit of it. I only hope that he one day experiences the same joy I’ve had watching him grow into the young man he’s become. More importantly, I can’t wait for the opportunity to spend my time with his children so I can share my knowledge in the art of pranks and sarcasm. It’s only fair to them right?
S&!t my kid says
Today will be short and sweet. Lots to do.
Last night before dinner, my youngest daughter Drew asks me if I can change her assorted coin into some dollar bills. I gave it to her but told her to give mom the change because she looks for coins that are rare and she’d have a fit if we didn’t let her look through them.
After dinner, the discussion turned to boobs. Long story, but basically we started teasing Drew about me going to a strip club. She gets adamant and says “You can’t go there. And mom is sitting right beside you and you’re talking about other womens boobs.”
“But I like the boobs”, I said. “And besides, I wouldn’t go without mom.”
“EWWWWWW!! Gross! Well, you can’t put any dollar bills in their g-strings.”
To which I reply, “I’d let mom do that.”, which leads to another rousing chorus of “ewwws” and “gross”. I then add, “Did you ever wonder if those dollar bills you have came out of a stripper’s butt crack?”
“Disgusting dad. And now I won’t touch any dollars again”.
“Awesome! That means I don’t have to pay you any allowance any more!”
“Uh, no. You’ll just have to pay me in coin.”
ZING! And the kid gets another comeback. Tina is of course, laughing through the whole exchange. And you guys wonder where I come up with this stuff for Facebook….
S&!t my kid says
Today will be short and sweet. Lots to do.
Last night before dinner, my youngest daughter Drew asks me if I can change her assorted coin into some dollar bills. I gave it to her but told her to give mom the change because she looks for coins that are rare and she’d have a fit if we didn’t let her look through them.
After dinner, the discussion turned to boobs. Long story, but basically we started teasing Drew about me going to a strip club. She gets adamant and says “You can’t go there. And mom is sitting right beside you and you’re talking about other womens boobs.”
“But I like the boobs”, I said. “And besides, I wouldn’t go without mom.”
“EWWWWWW!! Gross! Well, you can’t put any dollar bills in their g-strings.”
To which I reply, “I’d let mom do that.”, which leads to another rousing chorus of “ewwws” and “gross”. I then add, “Did you ever wonder if those dollar bills you have came out of a stripper’s butt crack?”
“Disgusting dad. And now I won’t touch any dollars again”.
“Awesome! That means I don’t have to pay you any allowance any more!”
“Uh, no. You’ll just have to pay me in coin.”
ZING! And the kid gets another comeback. Tina is of course, laughing through the whole exchange. And you guys wonder where I come up with this stuff for Facebook….
All you need is love…well that and a lot of great communication.
The first time I saw her, really truly saw her for the first time, she stepped off the elevator at the office we both worked at. She had recently cut her hair short and I was devastated, but I couldn’t explain why. There was just something about this girl that struck me deeply and as cliché as it sounds; there was a little voice in my head that said “she’s the one”. But as quickly as it all came to me, I let it pass. I was married, had kids and at the time, and was clueless to the things going on outside my marriage.
It wouldn’t be until several years later, after separation from my wife that she and I would start hanging out together with friends. It wasn’t too long before those old feelings came back to the surface and I told her how I felt. She took her time deciding. After all, she would be inheriting a readymade family of 3 kids and I wasn’t her typical love interest. For whatever reason, she came around and decided to give things a try, even amidst all the talk about us behind our backs.
She and the kids took to each other really well, but that’s not to say that through the years we’ve not all had our differences and struggles. What family doesn’t? Still, some of the struggles were enough to make a sane person climb the wall and yet she stuck it out, helped me pull through the difficult times and kept the family going, despite the insurrection from outside our home. It still amazes me today, what we’ve come through and how strong we’ve become.
I proposed to her on March 15th 1999 and we married a few short months later on May 22nd at a small ceremony in my parents’ home. We spent our honeymoon in New Orleans and took our time coming back home, making stops along the way to drag out our time together as much as possible. I think we both knew just how soon a new life was coming at us and the adjustments married life would bring.
Through all the rough times there have been exceptional times together as well. Even through the rough times, the best of us comes out and we help each other pull through. I guess that’s the point I felt compelled to put all this into words. I sometimes can’t tell her enough what she means to me and even writing about all this, I can’t bring it out in words. There really just is no way to explain how she affects me even after 10 wonderful years of marriage.
Even so, we’ve both had a really rough time lately. I think a lot of it is monetary, as we are so much like many others, struggling to make ends meet in this poor economy, but there were some underlying issues we couldn’t touch because the communication was there, but we were really talking about different things. She’s gone through one of the biggest changes in her life, emotionally and physically, which hit me hard. Our intimacy has reached new heights, but it came so fast I couldn’t handle it on an emotional level. That’s right guys, beyond all the sex, there really is an emotional attachment and I freaked out. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say I wasn’t used to all the new attention and I started getting the wrong ideas about why.
We’ve both since started talking, even more than we have in the past. We’re seeing a counselor, not for the reasons most people though. We were even warned that these counselors could turn our marriage against us by bringing up truths and issues that were not really there. All I can say is, on the contrary, our counselor has done nothing but good for us both. The communication is better, the intimacy is better and we’re falling in love all over again. So to all of you out there, troubled or not, a counselor can definitely make changes in your life; you just have to be willing to listen and work together. Then again, isn’t that what successful marriages are? It’s not just communication, but listening, understanding one another’s wants and needs, being a friend and above all us, loving that person unconditionally.
So, in my traditional long winded way, I’ve come full circle just to say what I started out to say;
Tina, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I love you with everything I am. I am falling in love with you all over again like we’ve just started dating. It’s the giddy feeling you have when you first start out in love. It’s the butterflies in your stomach when we’re together, like the first time you ride a roller coaster and you’re not sure what’s coming next. It’s the tenderness of your touch, the warmth of your kiss. The way your eyes see me when I look into them. The way my heart longs for you when we’re apart. It’s all those things wrapped up together inside of me, ready to burst and be free. You are truly my soul mate, my best friend and my whole world.
Love you babe!
All you need is love…well that and a lot of great communication.
The first time I saw her, really truly saw her for the first time, she stepped off the elevator at the office we both worked at. She had recently cut her hair short and I was devastated, but I couldn’t explain why. There was just something about this girl that struck me deeply and as cliché as it sounds; there was a little voice in my head that said “she’s the one”. But as quickly as it all came to me, I let it pass. I was married, had kids and at the time, and was clueless to the things going on outside my marriage.
It wouldn’t be until several years later, after separation from my wife that she and I would start hanging out together with friends. It wasn’t too long before those old feelings came back to the surface and I told her how I felt. She took her time deciding. After all, she would be inheriting a readymade family of 3 kids and I wasn’t her typical love interest. For whatever reason, she came around and decided to give things a try, even amidst all the talk about us behind our backs.
She and the kids took to each other really well, but that’s not to say that through the years we’ve not all had our differences and struggles. What family doesn’t? Still, some of the struggles were enough to make a sane person climb the wall and yet she stuck it out, helped me pull through the difficult times and kept the family going, despite the insurrection from outside our home. It still amazes me today, what we’ve come through and how strong we’ve become.
I proposed to her on March 15th 1999 and we married a few short months later on May 22nd at a small ceremony in my parents’ home. We spent our honeymoon in New Orleans and took our time coming back home, making stops along the way to drag out our time together as much as possible. I think we both knew just how soon a new life was coming at us and the adjustments married life would bring.
Through all the rough times there have been exceptional times together as well. Even through the rough times, the best of us comes out and we help each other pull through. I guess that’s the point I felt compelled to put all this into words. I sometimes can’t tell her enough what she means to me and even writing about all this, I can’t bring it out in words. There really just is no way to explain how she affects me even after 10 wonderful years of marriage.
Even so, we’ve both had a really rough time lately. I think a lot of it is monetary, as we are so much like many others, struggling to make ends meet in this poor economy, but there were some underlying issues we couldn’t touch because the communication was there, but we were really talking about different things. She’s gone through one of the biggest changes in her life, emotionally and physically, which hit me hard. Our intimacy has reached new heights, but it came so fast I couldn’t handle it on an emotional level. That’s right guys, beyond all the sex, there really is an emotional attachment and I freaked out. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say I wasn’t used to all the new attention and I started getting the wrong ideas about why.
We’ve both since started talking, even more than we have in the past. We’re seeing a counselor, not for the reasons most people though. We were even warned that these counselors could turn our marriage against us by bringing up truths and issues that were not really there. All I can say is, on the contrary, our counselor has done nothing but good for us both. The communication is better, the intimacy is better and we’re falling in love all over again. So to all of you out there, troubled or not, a counselor can definitely make changes in your life; you just have to be willing to listen and work together. Then again, isn’t that what successful marriages are? It’s not just communication, but listening, understanding one another’s wants and needs, being a friend and above all us, loving that person unconditionally.
So, in my traditional long winded way, I’ve come full circle just to say what I started out to say;
Tina, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I love you with everything I am. I am falling in love with you all over again like we’ve just started dating. It’s the giddy feeling you have when you first start out in love. It’s the butterflies in your stomach when we’re together, like the first time you ride a roller coaster and you’re not sure what’s coming next. It’s the tenderness of your touch, the warmth of your kiss. The way your eyes see me when I look into them. The way my heart longs for you when we’re apart. It’s all those things wrapped up together inside of me, ready to burst and be free. You are truly my soul mate, my best friend and my whole world.
Love you babe!
Repartee of my Progeny
It goes without saying that your child will definitely pick up your mannerisms, characteristics, traits and values as they grow in your home. After all they are surrounded by your incessant nagging about cleaning their rooms, picking up after themselves and feeding the zoo in your living room. What we may not be aware of, is the same child’s ability to produce certain quick witted responses and out of the blue versions of their own design. Needless to say, Tina and I have realized from a long time ago that our daughter Drew would be a handful later in life; she has both her mother’s quick wit and good looks, and keeps up with her father’s sarcasm and false explanations of “why the sky is blue” better than any one of her older siblings.
Some of the events that take place in our meager lives have to be seen to be believed, but others are so clear cut and funny, we can’t wait to share with our family and friends. Case in point, a few of Drew’s more memorable moments of late:
Example the first
After picking Drew up after work, we are in a rush to meet her mom for her dinner break. Tina has asked that we provide her with a certain frozen confection en route so we stop to pick one up. I ask Drew if she’s hungry for dinner and she says “McDonald’s” like it’s a pre-programmed response put in all our kids. As we’re finishing up the order for said frozen confection, this is the dialog that ensues;
Me: Are you hungry too baby girl?
Drew: I could eat. McDonald’s.
Me: MMM’kay. I will have to get some cash from mom when we get to her work. I’ve only got a few bucks on me.
Drew: What if mom doesn’t have any money?
Me: Then I will have to kick her butt.
Drew: Great!! Dinner, Ice Cream AND a show…
Example the second
Not too long after that little bit of wit, we were on our way to meet mom for yet another dinner break rendezvous. This time, I nearly get my butt handed to me by Conan the Destroyer. As we get out of the car in the parking lot, a well endowed young lady with a halter top to her midriff and a very, very short skirt come bouncing (literally) out of the store. Without missing a beat, Drew whistles a fox call at the girl who politely smiles in our direction.
The whistle alone was embarrassing enough, especially as it echoed off the surrounding walls and cars in the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity. What came next was one of the most horrifying moments of my life. The massive hulking 300+ pound meat bag that followed the young lady was also looking in our general direction, but he definitely was not smiling. He grimaced and flexed all 1000 bicep muscles in his two arms as if to tell me, “You’re pressing your luck dude”, if he could have actually formed a whole coherent sentence that is. I held my breath as we rushed into the store behind them and never looked back. I tried explaining to Drew that she nearly got me killed, but what she thought was a nice complement wasn’t sinking in as a life threatening issue for her dad.
We finally came to an understanding that while it’s a compliment to some, others find it offensive and it could appear as if it were I who did the whistling, not my innocent 7 year old daughter. After all, what could I do, blame on her?
“No really mister, it was my kid! Honest!!!”
Right.
Example the last
Drew likes to be funny. She does it sometimes intentionally and other times it just comes by her honestly. She’s been reading Captain Underpants and has gotten a silly streak in her recent activities around the house. While talking to someone on the phone the other day, she walks up and pats me on the back with “I love you dad” whispered in my ear. Awwwww! How cute, right?
Taped to my back is a paper that says:
Dad is stinky and needs a diaper change. Dad will henceforth be called Captain Underpants.
When I found it 20 minutes later in the bathroom mirror I tickled her, told her how silly she was and put her to bed while Tina was in the shower. I commenced cleaning dishes in the kitchen, finished and walked back to our bedroom to find the same note taped to the bathroom door. This time, the word Dad had been scribbled out and replaced with the word Mom, written in a scrawling obvious attempt to disguise penmanship. At the bottom of the paper it was signed simply, Love Dad.
My daughter was in bed faking the worst snore I’ve ever heard as I tried explaining to Tina that I had absolutely nothing to do with the note and that Drew must have slipped back into the room and done the deed.
Raising children is such fun.
Repartee of my Progeny
It goes without saying that your child will definitely pick up your mannerisms, characteristics, traits and values as they grow in your home. After all they are surrounded by your incessant nagging about cleaning their rooms, picking up after themselves and feeding the zoo in your living room. What we may not be aware of, is the same child’s ability to produce certain quick witted responses and out of the blue versions of their own design. Needless to say, Tina and I have realized from a long time ago that our daughter Drew would be a handful later in life; she has both her mother’s quick wit and good looks, and keeps up with her father’s sarcasm and false explanations of “why the sky is blue” better than any one of her older siblings.
Some of the events that take place in our meager lives have to be seen to be believed, but others are so clear cut and funny, we can’t wait to share with our family and friends. Case in point, a few of Drew’s more memorable moments of late:
Example the first
After picking Drew up after work, we are in a rush to meet her mom for her dinner break. Tina has asked that we provide her with a certain frozen confection en route so we stop to pick one up. I ask Drew if she’s hungry for dinner and she says “McDonald’s” like it’s a pre-programmed response put in all our kids. As we’re finishing up the order for said frozen confection, this is the dialog that ensues;
Me: Are you hungry too baby girl?
Drew: I could eat. McDonald’s.
Me: MMM’kay. I will have to get some cash from mom when we get to her work. I’ve only got a few bucks on me.
Drew: What if mom doesn’t have any money?
Me: Then I will have to kick her butt.
Drew: Great!! Dinner, Ice Cream AND a show…
Example the second
Not too long after that little bit of wit, we were on our way to meet mom for yet another dinner break rendezvous. This time, I nearly get my butt handed to me by Conan the Destroyer. As we get out of the car in the parking lot, a well endowed young lady with a halter top to her midriff and a very, very short skirt come bouncing (literally) out of the store. Without missing a beat, Drew whistles a fox call at the girl who politely smiles in our direction.
The whistle alone was embarrassing enough, especially as it echoed off the surrounding walls and cars in the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity. What came next was one of the most horrifying moments of my life. The massive hulking 300+ pound meat bag that followed the young lady was also looking in our general direction, but he definitely was not smiling. He grimaced and flexed all 1000 bicep muscles in his two arms as if to tell me, “You’re pressing your luck dude”, if he could have actually formed a whole coherent sentence that is. I held my breath as we rushed into the store behind them and never looked back. I tried explaining to Drew that she nearly got me killed, but what she thought was a nice complement wasn’t sinking in as a life threatening issue for her dad.
We finally came to an understanding that while it’s a compliment to some, others find it offensive and it could appear as if it were I who did the whistling, not my innocent 7 year old daughter. After all, what could I do, blame on her?
“No really mister, it was my kid! Honest!!!”
Right.
Example the last
Drew likes to be funny. She does it sometimes intentionally and other times it just comes by her honestly. She’s been reading Captain Underpants and has gotten a silly streak in her recent activities around the house. While talking to someone on the phone the other day, she walks up and pats me on the back with “I love you dad” whispered in my ear. Awwwww! How cute, right?
Taped to my back is a paper that says:
Dad is stinky and needs a diaper change. Dad will henceforth be called Captain Underpants.
When I found it 20 minutes later in the bathroom mirror I tickled her, told her how silly she was and put her to bed while Tina was in the shower. I commenced cleaning dishes in the kitchen, finished and walked back to our bedroom to find the same note taped to the bathroom door. This time, the word Dad had been scribbled out and replaced with the word Mom, written in a scrawling obvious attempt to disguise penmanship. At the bottom of the paper it was signed simply, Love Dad.
My daughter was in bed faking the worst snore I’ve ever heard as I tried explaining to Tina that I had absolutely nothing to do with the note and that Drew must have slipped back into the room and done the deed.
Raising children is such fun.
Rock and Roll and Jesus
During a long late night drive last night, my 7 year old started pondering life, the universe and everything. We talked about meteors, stars, and black holes before the conversation turned to God, creation and the Bible. This isn’t your typical father daughter talk, but she clearly has an interest in history, science and other things that most seven year olds would never think about. She’s daddy’s girl in those regards at least.
Enter my dilemma. Smart as she is, Drew is still very impressionable. I don’t want to push any of my kids to make decisions based on what I want, or what I believe. I’m a firm believer that my role here is to steer their minds in the right directions and allow them to come to decisions on their own, based on what they’ve learned or how they feel. I don’t force them to church; they go because they want to learn and because I can’t give them all the answers they need. I don’t force them to listen to my music, but I do expose them to the different sounds and rhythms so that they can find what they like in the huge mix of crap circulating on the airwaves today.
So more to my point. I’m not atheist, but I’m not what you call a religious man either. I believe in the existence of something greater than myself; not because I feel it or that I’ve seen it, but because when I look around at the things I’ve seen in this world, I cannot accept that all of this happened by some accident or huge cosmic H-bomb. There was some kind of design or intervention there someplace. In addition to that, I’m not the person I am because I fear a hell in the afterlife, but rather, I believe that it’s right to do good by others. To treat your fellow man, environment, and animals with the same respect just comes naturally to me and may be a result of my upbringing.
I decided to tell Drew the truth and explain to her that it in no way means that I don’t believe in God or Jesus or any of the things that she’s learning in Sunday school. Rather, it means I have questions that so far, no one has been able to answer. Things like; where are the missing 25+ years of Jesus’ life? How was it possible for one man to build a boat that could hold pairs of the world’s species? Where are the dinosaurs in the Bible? There’s more, but they all come back to the same thing; no one knows. Surprisingly, Drew said she had questions too and many of them were the same as my own. One in particular; who created God? My only response to her now was that we need to just continue asking. Sometimes we may never get the answer we’re looking for, but we keep asking until we do.
I take some comfort in knowing that I’m not the only one that feels this way. I spent a nice afternoon a week ago, with Bill Maher as he went around asking the same questions to the people I wouldn’t have had the balls to ask. While I don’t agree with everything, the film was entertaining and lighthearted, but still left me (and Bill apparently) with the same questions.
In the meantime, I’ll still be here listening to my rock and roll and asking questions about Jesus.
Rock and Roll and Jesus
During a long late night drive last night, my 7 year old started pondering life, the universe and everything. We talked about meteors, stars, and black holes before the conversation turned to God, creation and the Bible. This isn’t your typical father daughter talk, but she clearly has an interest in history, science and other things that most seven year olds would never think about. She’s daddy’s girl in those regards at least.
Enter my dilemma. Smart as she is, Drew is still very impressionable. I don’t want to push any of my kids to make decisions based on what I want, or what I believe. I’m a firm believer that my role here is to steer their minds in the right directions and allow them to come to decisions on their own, based on what they’ve learned or how they feel. I don’t force them to church; they go because they want to learn and because I can’t give them all the answers they need. I don’t force them to listen to my music, but I do expose them to the different sounds and rhythms so that they can find what they like in the huge mix of crap circulating on the airwaves today.
So more to my point. I’m not atheist, but I’m not what you call a religious man either. I believe in the existence of something greater than myself; not because I feel it or that I’ve seen it, but because when I look around at the things I’ve seen in this world, I cannot accept that all of this happened by some accident or huge cosmic H-bomb. There was some kind of design or intervention there someplace. In addition to that, I’m not the person I am because I fear a hell in the afterlife, but rather, I believe that it’s right to do good by others. To treat your fellow man, environment, and animals with the same respect just comes naturally to me and may be a result of my upbringing.
I decided to tell Drew the truth and explain to her that it in no way means that I don’t believe in God or Jesus or any of the things that she’s learning in Sunday school. Rather, it means I have questions that so far, no one has been able to answer. Things like; where are the missing 25+ years of Jesus’ life? How was it possible for one man to build a boat that could hold pairs of the world’s species? Where are the dinosaurs in the Bible? There’s more, but they all come back to the same thing; no one knows. Surprisingly, Drew said she had questions too and many of them were the same as my own. One in particular; who created God? My only response to her now was that we need to just continue asking. Sometimes we may never get the answer we’re looking for, but we keep asking until we do.
I take some comfort in knowing that I’m not the only one that feels this way. I spent a nice afternoon a week ago, with Bill Maher as he went around asking the same questions to the people I wouldn’t have had the balls to ask. While I don’t agree with everything, the film was entertaining and lighthearted, but still left me (and Bill apparently) with the same questions.
In the meantime, I’ll still be here listening to my rock and roll and asking questions about Jesus.
Out of hiatus
Hello blog, old friend. I’ve been away for awhile. Not really sure why, probably just life getting in the way. The family and I have been through a lot the past couple of years so the writing came to a stand still, but I can’t stay away any longer. I need to get my thoughts out there again so here we go.
Today is St. Patrick’s Day to most of the world. I’ve never been a partier, so this is one holiday I can easily overlook since the enjoyment of going out to drink green beer and my loathing of corned beef and cabbage really kills it all for me. As for the wearing of the green, most people can’t tell you why green is associated with St. Patrick’s Day so here’s your history lesson for the week. St. Patrick, who may or may not have chased all the snakes out of Ireland, used the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity to non-Christian Irish. “Wearing of the green” was indicating a shamrock worn on your person to show Irish Nationalism or loyalty to the Roman Catholic Church. Since around the 1700’s, the shamrock or shamrock like designs have become a ubiquitous feature of the Saint’s holiday.
Before the 1700’s, however, St. Patrick’s Day was celebrated in blue. The Saint was most depicted wearing blue and is the color of the Irish coat of arms, Presidents Standard, and many other flags of Ireland are Blue and Gold. But I digress…
The real reason for my writing today was because of a little story about my daughter Drew. We all know that the absence of green on this particular day leads to pinching from our fellow friends and others we’d like to knock the living crap out of because they see fit to pinch us, friends or not. So, without hesitation, my wife instructed me to dress our daughter in green today and I set out to find the appropriate attire. When I woke Drew up this morning, she immediately looked at the chosen outfit and announced, “I’m not wearing green”. I started to explain the reason for the choice and she promptly stated, “Dad, I WANT to be pinched”.
After picking my mouth up off the floor, I stammered around trying to make sure I clearly heard what she said. As if to answer my dumbfound look, she quickly added, “Maki, David and…well, they are all pretty cute so they can pinch me and I don’t mind. So, no green today, OK?”
No, it’s not OK; who are you and where is my 7 year old daughter? We fought over this subject most of the morning. I won of course, because I’m dad and no one is pinching my girls until 25, maybe 30 if they push it. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t be writing this now. I’m sure my wife will get an earful tonight when she picks her up from school, but that’s OK. It was her decision to do green today anyway.
Anyway, happy St. Patrick’s day everyone.
May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been,
The foresight to know where you are going,
And the insight to know when you have gone too far.
Out of hiatus
Hello blog, old friend. I’ve been away for awhile. Not really sure why, probably just life getting in the way. The family and I have been through a lot the past couple of years so the writing came to a stand still, but I can’t stay away any longer. I need to get my thoughts out there again so here we go.
Today is St. Patrick’s Day to most of the world. I’ve never been a partier, so this is one holiday I can easily overlook since the enjoyment of going out to drink green beer and my loathing of corned beef and cabbage really kills it all for me. As for the wearing of the green, most people can’t tell you why green is associated with St. Patrick’s Day so here’s your history lesson for the week. St. Patrick, who may or may not have chased all the snakes out of Ireland, used the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity to non-Christian Irish. “Wearing of the green” was indicating a shamrock worn on your person to show Irish Nationalism or loyalty to the Roman Catholic Church. Since around the 1700’s, the shamrock or shamrock like designs have become a ubiquitous feature of the Saint’s holiday.
Before the 1700’s, however, St. Patrick’s Day was celebrated in blue. The Saint was most depicted wearing blue and is the color of the Irish coat of arms, Presidents Standard, and many other flags of Ireland are Blue and Gold. But I digress…
The real reason for my writing today was because of a little story about my daughter Drew. We all know that the absence of green on this particular day leads to pinching from our fellow friends and others we’d like to knock the living crap out of because they see fit to pinch us, friends or not. So, without hesitation, my wife instructed me to dress our daughter in green today and I set out to find the appropriate attire. When I woke Drew up this morning, she immediately looked at the chosen outfit and announced, “I’m not wearing green”. I started to explain the reason for the choice and she promptly stated, “Dad, I WANT to be pinched”.
After picking my mouth up off the floor, I stammered around trying to make sure I clearly heard what she said. As if to answer my dumbfound look, she quickly added, “Maki, David and…well, they are all pretty cute so they can pinch me and I don’t mind. So, no green today, OK?”
No, it’s not OK; who are you and where is my 7 year old daughter? We fought over this subject most of the morning. I won of course, because I’m dad and no one is pinching my girls until 25, maybe 30 if they push it. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t be writing this now. I’m sure my wife will get an earful tonight when she picks her up from school, but that’s OK. It was her decision to do green today anyway.
Anyway, happy St. Patrick’s day everyone.
May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been,
The foresight to know where you are going,
And the insight to know when you have gone too far.
Kitty Basket of Torture
Each morning we have a routine; let the dogs out to water the yard, feed the dogs, water the dogs, rinse, lather, repeat.
The entrance to our back porch has a sliding glass door from the dining room. We installed a Kitty door, to allow the cats the ability to “escape” from their tormentors whenever necessary. Little did we know that door would someday become an instument of torment itself.
Drew keeps her excess toys on the back porch. We’ve been going through said toys to build piles of donation acceptable, trash bin ready and keepers. It just so happens that an old Easter Basket, henceforth referred to as “Easter Basket of Terror” or “Kitty Basket of Torture”, got placed in the right position just outside of the kitty door. And that is where our story begins.
To set up the scene, I have to introduce you to our oldest and most corpulent cat, O’Malley. He’s a grey tabby with a penchant for dry cat food and licking toes. He dislikes our newest addition to the family, Belle, who is a Golden Retriver pup with a fondness for chasing kitty to play. He also remains the only cat in our home with a full set of claws which Belle has learned very quickly.
I get up for our morning routine and take the dogs out for the first stage. No big deal. We feed them and I round up all the animals to make sure they are out of the rooms prior to our leaving for the day. The dogs are pretty wound up at this point and ready for another gardening session. As I approach the sliding glass door, Belle sees O’Malley and makes a run for it. O’Malley, being the smart cat that he is, realizes that, rather than deal with the issue, he’ll just duck out the cat door and be done with the whole thing. After all, dad is going to lock her up for the day and he won’t have to deal with her for another 8 hours.
As planned, O’Malley makes a clean getaway and Belle is left with nothing but a slap in the face from the returning kitty door. I open the sliding glass door and hear a commotion coming from my left. What I see there nearly makes me pee myself.
It’s not the fact that O’Malley was IN the Easter Basket, but rather that he was too Large for it. He couldn’t stand up because of the handle, couldn’t get a leg out because of the high ridges and couldn’t think clearly enough to calm down and assess the situation with the big Yellow beast approaching him.
So imagine a big grey ball of fur twisting and writhing in a bright, cheery pink and yellow basket, hissing and growling, fliping and flopping but going no where. He finally got a leg out and managed to scoot himself a few inches before I was able to help him out. He hid in what I’m sure was utter shame and horror for the remainder of the morning.
As I turned to let the dogs out into the back yard, I could swear I saw a smile on Belle’s mouth. Was the basket strategically placed? Belle’s never been too bright, but this time, I’m not so sure…
Kitty Basket of Torture
Each morning we have a routine; let the dogs out to water the yard, feed the dogs, water the dogs, rinse, lather, repeat.
The entrance to our back porch has a sliding glass door from the dining room. We installed a Kitty door, to allow the cats the ability to “escape” from their tormentors whenever necessary. Little did we know that door would someday become an instument of torment itself.
Drew keeps her excess toys on the back porch. We’ve been going through said toys to build piles of donation acceptable, trash bin ready and keepers. It just so happens that an old Easter Basket, henceforth referred to as “Easter Basket of Terror” or “Kitty Basket of Torture”, got placed in the right position just outside of the kitty door. And that is where our story begins.
To set up the scene, I have to introduce you to our oldest and most corpulent cat, O’Malley. He’s a grey tabby with a penchant for dry cat food and licking toes. He dislikes our newest addition to the family, Belle, who is a Golden Retriver pup with a fondness for chasing kitty to play. He also remains the only cat in our home with a full set of claws which Belle has learned very quickly.
I get up for our morning routine and take the dogs out for the first stage. No big deal. We feed them and I round up all the animals to make sure they are out of the rooms prior to our leaving for the day. The dogs are pretty wound up at this point and ready for another gardening session. As I approach the sliding glass door, Belle sees O’Malley and makes a run for it. O’Malley, being the smart cat that he is, realizes that, rather than deal with the issue, he’ll just duck out the cat door and be done with the whole thing. After all, dad is going to lock her up for the day and he won’t have to deal with her for another 8 hours.
As planned, O’Malley makes a clean getaway and Belle is left with nothing but a slap in the face from the returning kitty door. I open the sliding glass door and hear a commotion coming from my left. What I see there nearly makes me pee myself.
It’s not the fact that O’Malley was IN the Easter Basket, but rather that he was too Large for it. He couldn’t stand up because of the handle, couldn’t get a leg out because of the high ridges and couldn’t think clearly enough to calm down and assess the situation with the big Yellow beast approaching him.
So imagine a big grey ball of fur twisting and writhing in a bright, cheery pink and yellow basket, hissing and growling, fliping and flopping but going no where. He finally got a leg out and managed to scoot himself a few inches before I was able to help him out. He hid in what I’m sure was utter shame and horror for the remainder of the morning.
As I turned to let the dogs out into the back yard, I could swear I saw a smile on Belle’s mouth. Was the basket strategically placed? Belle’s never been too bright, but this time, I’m not so sure…
I like your Shooooooes
I was taking Drew to school today and we pulled up behind one of her classmates. His mom was getting out of her truck to get him and his little sister out of the passenger side and Drew says to me “That’s Nick’s mom.”
As I’m getting out of the car and proceed to get Drew unbuckled from the car seat she says, “Come on Dad!!! We gotta go!”
“Really?”, I asked. What’s the rush?
“Just come on.”, she says.
We are now walking at a fast pace AROUND Nick, his mom and his sister.
“I can run”, Drew says. “I’m feeling much better today.”
“No, I think we’ll walk.” But we walk very briskly to the back of the school for her class. Drew points out several other classmates along the way, but we seem to be in a race to get to the door.
I manage to get a hug AND a kiss out of her today. A feat that is no small miracle, when normally she usually runs right for the sign in board and then for the tables with her friends. But today, we seem to be lingering by the classroom door.
I sign her in and she says goodbye and heads off for her day.
On my way out, I pass Nick, his mom and his little sister. Mom is saying something about how Drew has already made it to class because little sister is taking her time. She’s cute as a button with little curls and singing to herself and taking in the scenery without a care in the world.
As I pass by I tell her that I like her shoes and she says to me “And I like your Shooooooooooes!”, with a big old grin and without missing a beat to her little tune. Her mom and I crack up and I head back to the car.
I call Tina to tell her that our “Package” has been delivered as I do every morning after dropping Drew off at school and tell her my story. As I do, I remember the previous night’s conversation with our daughter about her friends in class. Not one girls name was mentioned. All boys.
Tina turned to me and said, “We’re gonna have our hands full with this one”.
To which Drew replied, “You sure are.”
This Sunday, I’m going shopping for that shotgun and I’m signing Mooch up for Teenage Boy Chew-toy Training.
I like your Shooooooes
I was taking Drew to school today and we pulled up behind one of her classmates. His mom was getting out of her truck to get him and his little sister out of the passenger side and Drew says to me “That’s Nick’s mom.”
As I’m getting out of the car and proceed to get Drew unbuckled from the car seat she says, “Come on Dad!!! We gotta go!”
“Really?”, I asked. What’s the rush?
“Just come on.”, she says.
We are now walking at a fast pace AROUND Nick, his mom and his sister.
“I can run”, Drew says. “I’m feeling much better today.”
“No, I think we’ll walk.” But we walk very briskly to the back of the school for her class. Drew points out several other classmates along the way, but we seem to be in a race to get to the door.
I manage to get a hug AND a kiss out of her today. A feat that is no small miracle, when normally she usually runs right for the sign in board and then for the tables with her friends. But today, we seem to be lingering by the classroom door.
I sign her in and she says goodbye and heads off for her day.
On my way out, I pass Nick, his mom and his little sister. Mom is saying something about how Drew has already made it to class because little sister is taking her time. She’s cute as a button with little curls and singing to herself and taking in the scenery without a care in the world.
As I pass by I tell her that I like her shoes and she says to me “And I like your Shooooooooooes!”, with a big old grin and without missing a beat to her little tune. Her mom and I crack up and I head back to the car.
I call Tina to tell her that our “Package” has been delivered as I do every morning after dropping Drew off at school and tell her my story. As I do, I remember the previous night’s conversation with our daughter about her friends in class. Not one girls name was mentioned. All boys.
Tina turned to me and said, “We’re gonna have our hands full with this one”.
To which Drew replied, “You sure are.”
This Sunday, I’m going shopping for that shotgun and I’m signing Mooch up for Teenage Boy Chew-toy Training.
Mission: Impoochable
Cue the Peter Gunn theme music. Exterior: Night.
We had our Chocolate Lab Mooch for about 2 years now. He’s always been pretty normal, but we recently adopted a sister for him, Belle, who is a Yellow Lab about 6 months old. Since then, he’s changed.
Not in a bad way. He’s become more playful. Like a puppy I guess you could say. He plays with Belle constantly and looks like a lost pup himself when it’s time for her to go back into her crate for awhile. The most significant change though, has been recently when we let them out in the backyard.
Belle is just a puppy. She’s in a hurry to get everywhere and everything is interesting. She darts out the back door and flies through the yard like a kid with a sugar rush on Mountain Dew and Red Bull mixers. Her tongue hangs out the side of her mouth, ears pulled back for “aerodynamic styling” and she chases and barks at the neighborhood cats, or the grass if no cats are around.
Mooch however, has gone from being his simple humdrum self to Mr. Lab. Mr. Mooch Lab, K-9 Special Ops. We’ve established that his coat is chocolate, so it goes without saying that in the black of night, he’s no where to be found. But even during the daylight hours, the dog pulls off some amazing “stealth” ability. Mooch walks the perimeter of the house, never the middle of the yard. That would give away his position. Instead of just walking on the outside of the bushes, he weaves his way in and out of them. Presumably to throw off anyone following him.
Much to my dismay, we must also be at war with whatever “threat” is out there, because he and Belle have dug trenches to hunker down in when weaving through the bushes just isn’t enough. I keep filling them in and he keeps digging them out.
All I can picture in my head during working hours is him and Belle in some sort of covert ops meetings during the day, running CAT scans on my computer while I’m at work.
Mission: Impoochable
Cue the Peter Gunn theme music. Exterior: Night.
We had our Chocolate Lab Mooch for about 2 years now. He’s always been pretty normal, but we recently adopted a sister for him, Belle, who is a Yellow Lab about 6 months old. Since then, he’s changed.
Not in a bad way. He’s become more playful. Like a puppy I guess you could say. He plays with Belle constantly and looks like a lost pup himself when it’s time for her to go back into her crate for awhile. The most significant change though, has been recently when we let them out in the backyard.
Belle is just a puppy. She’s in a hurry to get everywhere and everything is interesting. She darts out the back door and flies through the yard like a kid with a sugar rush on Mountain Dew and Red Bull mixers. Her tongue hangs out the side of her mouth, ears pulled back for “aerodynamic styling” and she chases and barks at the neighborhood cats, or the grass if no cats are around.
Mooch however, has gone from being his simple humdrum self to Mr. Lab. Mr. Mooch Lab, K-9 Special Ops. We’ve established that his coat is chocolate, so it goes without saying that in the black of night, he’s no where to be found. But even during the daylight hours, the dog pulls off some amazing “stealth” ability. Mooch walks the perimeter of the house, never the middle of the yard. That would give away his position. Instead of just walking on the outside of the bushes, he weaves his way in and out of them. Presumably to throw off anyone following him.
Much to my dismay, we must also be at war with whatever “threat” is out there, because he and Belle have dug trenches to hunker down in when weaving through the bushes just isn’t enough. I keep filling them in and he keeps digging them out.
All I can picture in my head during working hours is him and Belle in some sort of covert ops meetings during the day, running CAT scans on my computer while I’m at work.
Perfect Weather
This past weekend, the weather was just perfect. We’re closing in on my favorite time of year; fall. Even though Florida sucks at showing any kind of sesonal change, the weather around here couldn’t be better from late September through November and sometimes December.
It was still a little hot on Saturday, but there was a constant breeze blowing. We attended my son’s football game, which ran over by about 2 hours. Even though it was warm, the breeze took the edge off. The sky’s were blue and the evening was phenomenal.
I don’t know what it is about fall, but I get this calmness over me. From now until after New Year’s, life takes on a brighter view. The weather, I’m sure, has a great deal to do with it. I also think the memories of past Fall seasons, Thanksgiving and Christmas help place the mood. I know that the holidays are coming and I get pumped about it.
I can’t put my finger on my feelings and describe it the way it comes across to me, but it’s just a warm and light hearted feeling. It’s a feeling you had as a kid when Christmas morning came rolling in. The feeling of being out with good friends and being carefree. The feeling of seeing the one person who always takes your breath away. Catching fireflies in the early evening or watching the sun set on the beach.
Got the idea?
Perfect Weather
This past weekend, the weather was just perfect. We’re closing in on my favorite time of year; fall. Even though Florida sucks at showing any kind of sesonal change, the weather around here couldn’t be better from late September through November and sometimes December.
It was still a little hot on Saturday, but there was a constant breeze blowing. We attended my son’s football game, which ran over by about 2 hours. Even though it was warm, the breeze took the edge off. The sky’s were blue and the evening was phenomenal.
I don’t know what it is about fall, but I get this calmness over me. From now until after New Year’s, life takes on a brighter view. The weather, I’m sure, has a great deal to do with it. I also think the memories of past Fall seasons, Thanksgiving and Christmas help place the mood. I know that the holidays are coming and I get pumped about it.
I can’t put my finger on my feelings and describe it the way it comes across to me, but it’s just a warm and light hearted feeling. It’s a feeling you had as a kid when Christmas morning came rolling in. The feeling of being out with good friends and being carefree. The feeling of seeing the one person who always takes your breath away. Catching fireflies in the early evening or watching the sun set on the beach.
Got the idea?
Tribute to Walt
I’ve been more fortunate than most kids in the simple fact that I lived within minutes of Walt’s dream. I remember my first time going through those gates with my family and seeing that castle at the end of Main Street, USA. I can still here the sounds of the penny arcade. I can still see the people everywhere smiling, laughing. I can still smell the sweet shop and the hot dogs on the corner.
Fast forward 6 years. I’m 11 and I’m at the end of Main Street USA looking at Cinderella’s castle. It’s about 8:45 in the morning. My best friend and I are on our first day of summer vacation. We’re standing behind a rope, which is the only thing between us and a full day of excitement. The rope drops and we’re off! Screaming at the top of our lungs – “Pirates!!!”, and racing for our favorite ride.
Fast forward again, 12 years. I’m in Crystal Palace, just off Main Street USA. Eeyore is at our table tapping my girlfriend on her shoulder. She turns to see him holding a small box in his hands. Eeyore slowly opens the box and she begins to cry. She turns back to me and I’m down on one knee, asking her to spend the rest of her life with me. She says yes…
Today, I’m 31 years old. I’m still that kid I was on that hot summer day I walked into the park for the first time. Even now when I walk through those gates with my family, I get misty eyed. There are so many memories for me here. So many good times. The best part is that I get to see the Disney as Walt intended it, through my children’s eyes, all over again.
I’ve studied the man that made all these dreams come true, for myself and so many others. So much in fact, that I feel like I knew him. He was an inspiration to those around him and he continues to be an inspiration to this very day. He’s been a role model for me in both life and in business, but most of all, he helped me to stay a kid.
Thanks Walt. For everything.
"Or heritage and ideals, our code and standards – the things we live by and teach our children – are preserved or diminished by how freely we exchange ideas and feelings." – Walt Disney
Contemporary Tiles
My wife Tina and I took the baby to dinner Sat. night at Chef Mickey’s in the Contemporary Resort. When we got there, Drew had to "potty" so we headed for the bathrooms. Tina took her in to do her thing and I went to sit on the bench near the tower with the tiles.
A little nostalgia came drifting back to me as I sat looking at the mosaic of tiles on the walls near the monorail. Most everyone who knows me, knows that my grandfather help set those tiles that have been there long before any cast member or family ever set foot in the hotel. A lot of people had family who worked on these parks, I’m sure, but it fills me with pride to look at them. Not just the things my grandfather did, but the whole world of Disney. The time and detail that is taken to make these things look and feel like a part of the world is just amazing to me. Other parks try to reproduce it, but in my opinion, fall really short.
The tiles are outdated. They don’t fit the theme of the "Contemporary"
hotel anymore. Still, they are beautiful in their own right and should not be removed. It’s history to me. A part of the park from yesteryear that remains untouched and still perfectly intact. I know that things need to change. I would love to visit the old "Tomorrowland" with "If you had wings" and "Mission to Mars", but I know in my heart that if it were not for the new attractions, people would stop coming. Walt knew this too and so did the countless guests that passed by and commented on how wonderful or beautiful the tiles were.
Still, it brings to mind my time as a child. Walking those parks with my best friend Jim during those hot summer months, standing at the rope drop and racing to our favorite ride to be the first one on. Times that I will forever remember, but never get back. I know everyone feels this way at some point in life, but why at 31 am I so concerned with time passing me by? I still feel like that kid. Maybe a few more aches and a little more winded, but still the 10 year old I remember.
And those feelings get more deep as the holidays approach. Jim asked what was my favorite Christmas gift as a child and as an adult. My fondest memory of Christmas is the year I received the snowspeeder from Star Wars and a Space Invader hand held game. I woke up at 3AM that year and couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I remember my Grandmother and Grandfather coming over every Christmas morning with gifts piled so high, my Grandfather had to make 2 trips. I remember my Grandmother wrapping them so tightly, the tape showing signs of stress and to further complicate the removal of the paper, she tied ribbons of colored yarn around the boxes that needed a hacksaw to remove.
I remember my Grandfather raking leaves in the yard and waving to us as my Mom and I went shopping for Christmas just weeks before. That same day, the temperature got so cold, the door locks froze and we couldn’t get back in the car. The smell of cookies from the kitchen. The delivery of fudge from the Delaports across the street. The sounds of Burl Ives on the TV while I curled up to watch Rudolph for the millionth time in my life. The lights on our tree, which sometimes included the bubble lights from my mom’s childhood Christmas trees. My Grandfathers laugh.
But I have good recent memories too. My first trip with my wife to Tennessee, also during Christmas. My fourth child 2 years ago and everyday she calls me "Da" when I come home. Winning the battle for my kids. Our first family trip to North Carolina. Our first cruise, dressing up like famous people and going to dinner and a play. Passing my certification tests. And the few precious days with just my loving wife, riding roller coasters or browsing the stores.
It’s just nostalgia, but for me it’s more than that too. It’s a part of me that I take with me everywhere. Memories are like home movies in your mind. The ones you play back when you’re feeling down or hear that song on the radio. The ones that remind you why life is worth living and why some things should never change.
And to think I got all of this from looking at some tile.
Random Thoughts 