Yesterdays Wedding Toast

      I said I would post the toast for my son and daughter-in-law.  I offered this toast in the hopes of confronting the nagging fear that the relationship was doomed.  I was heart sick over what that might mean to the little girl that had already taken ownership of a large part of my heart.  While the relationship did die (and in truth, my little grand baby is probably healthier in not having to have endured any further damage to her soul caused by exposure to the cancerous nature of her parents continuous bickering), upon rereading what I offered back then, I find the sentiments to reflect what I still would consider the priorities of having a relationship.....

     With that in mind, I offer the toast from "yesterday":

 

 

       I’ve given some small amount of thought as to just what I aught, or need to say in this toast.  It’s been a long time since I stood as anyone’s “best man”.  Back then, I would never have written anything down (perhaps a greater confidence in my memory or more accurately I have learned I forget the things I most wanted to share).  (One way or the other the glasses add something don’t you think).  It was back in 1978.   I’ve seen the very picture of me holding up the glass to toast.  A much younger man with the beginnings of a double chin, I was less than one week away from the Marine DI’s and their weight loss program.  Jenny Graig eat your heart out!!  I look in the mirror and wonder where that younger me went….. Given the chance, I think there are a few things I wish I could  have shared with him….. about life, and what it had in store for him……… and maybe that is exactly the same stuff I need to share with our newly weds…….

        

          I think I would start with, perspective….

          I wish someone had convinced me of the waste of emotional energy that is worrying.  In five years everything you are worried about today will be insignificant.  In ten you will not be able to recall that you ever had a problem…… in twenty this will have been the best time of your life.  Worry and stress are wasted emotions.  Have faith things will work out,  because….. they will.   Live in that faith.  Be kind to yourselves.  Little eyes are looking to you for reference and guidance as to how to handle the challenges of life.  Be a good example.  Just a simple reminder…….. it is way to easy to forget how much you are loved.

         Much along those same lines, I would wish that someone had shared with me the fallacy of “being alone”.   Andy yesterday made the statement “I could almost feel Norma…”.  Why not.  Look around.  Each and every person in this room has brought those they love with them, even if only in spirit…… what do you see, a little grouping of people……  However, fill your heart with love…….think of those who mean the most to you…… now,  how many do you feel?  I feel the eyes of any number of generations standing with us today.  I feel my grandfathers, and my parents can probably feel theirs.  I feel the presence of a cousin that is preparing to go into harms way in the Middle East, of other family members doing missionary work in Haiti.  Some are home tending their families…… some with new family soon to join us in this family circle.  I especially feel my brother and sister close…. and their families….. all wishing they were here, and giving all their best wishes to be centered on us here in this room.  I feel aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters, spouses, friends, and comrades in arms that live still in the hearts and memories of different ones of us gathered here today.  Andy and Tabby just joined 2 families.  My children, look around.   See all the souls wishing blessings on your future.  Mark well the faces…..You will take the best of these people with you everywhere you go……….. to the grave, and beyond. 

         It’s great to have strong convictions, maybe even imperative, but do not presume to judge others when their convictions are not the same as yours.  God may well have revealed certain truths to you….. and entirely different truths to someone else.  Be humbly grateful for yours, and most respectful of someone else’s. 

     It is great to be right, but better to be right hearted.  People tend toward not remembering whether you were factually right after any disagreement, but they will remember you forever if they thought you listened, and shared ideas rather than told them what to believe.  So learn to listen…….practice listening.   Listen with your whole heart, and share your truths without any great expectation.  Most peoples minds are already set……. At best, you can hope to plant a seed.  Remember, most people, and especially your children may remember many of your stories…. But the moments together that they will always treasure most are those minutes you spent listening to them and giving value and credence to their ideas.

    We hear “When you get married you become one”….. one team.  You remain two individuals, just now you share a common path.  You are not going to be of one mind on lots of things.  (in some cases it may feel like you agree on virtually nothing)  You are still a team.  It is you against the world.  This is not in any way the usual win loose situation.  It is an entirely new concept.  If one of ya’ll loose, you both loose.  That is why you can NEVER win an argument. You CAN SHARE ideas, but if it is an argument…….. you’ve already lost.  To argue means your team lost.  Disagree with love in your heart. Do not ever use hurt.  It is not playing fair, and  you only succeed in hurting the one you love …….  Minimize your reliance on “hurting”.  No matter the provocation, it is never the best way to respond.  Strange game huh?……….

         I think of all the preconceptions I had going into marriage  the one I’d suggest you  loose the quickest ….. “my spouse will change……. “  Forget it.  It aint happening. I look to the best and strongest of marriages in this room…. I see the families that I have admired most, and I assure you no one has ever “changed”.  They may accommodate, they may overlook, they may forgive…… but they never changed.   A very wise and all loving woman once told me you “like because of, you love in spite of……”.    Get used to loving.  Love is everything. One of my most treasured truths…….The universe stands in awe of love……and, all of creation bows down in reverence in the presence of love.

    Look for the best in one another,  Cherish it.  Use that insight as a weapon to minimize the “warts” you can always find in one another. 

     Never presume to judge your partner.  They will surprise you.  I know I had no idea as to the strength, and nobility of my Jeni’s soul………..  When the truth of your partners character is revealed, it probably should not come as a shock……

    Try to be “perfect” in your relationship.  I was deeply moved in a recent movie when a coach asked his undersized and discouraged players…… “can you be perfect?   For just this instance, can you be perfect.”  He goes on to say that what he is talking about has nothing to do with the final results, but everything to do with what is in your heart and how you approach the situation.  Can you act in such a way as to ensure you will never have to apologize for your actions, or your motivations.  Being perfect means filling your heart with love, and proceeding on that premise.  Being perfect means that when you stand in front of your maker at the end of your days you can say “I could not have done that any better.”  It takes total devotion and dedication.  100%.  You give that and you can not loose……….  In all that you do, strive to be perfect.

    Be careful how you keep score….. I mean how you judge your success.  If you judge success by business or monetary rewards you set yourself up for failure.  There will always be those with more….. which can lead you to being bitter.   Then there are untold millions with less.  If you compare your gifts with theirs and think you are worth it, then you will  find yourself vain.  Maybe, it would be better to judge your success by the hearts you touch. 

           Find time for just yourselves.  Katelynn is important, but her happiness requires you must be happy first.  That goes for you as individuals.  You are the two posts upon which your family will rest….. if one post is not at it’s best at the expense of the other, then the entire family falls.  If you forget to nurture that part of the relationship that is just you, then the total relationship will pay.

     Laugh.  Especially at yourself.  Never take yourself too seriously.  Find humor wherever you can.  God has a wonderful sense of humor……. Otherwise you explain the platypus. 

     Forgive.  Forgive yours spouse for their failings……. And have the insight to recognize your own.  Forgive yourself as well……. And you may find that to be the hardest thing of all.

    Love.  Love more than you think is safe. Care more than is prudent.  Commit yourselves to better.  Each day, to make life better.  When in doubt, love.  Love life.  Embrace it.  Drink it in.  Live each moment to it’s utmost.  There will come a time when you will have it pressed home that everything you cherish will eventually be lost.  Life is transitory.  Please, do not wait until it is in fact gone to cherish what you have been blessed with.   When you love life so much it hurts, you probably got it just about right.  Be a puss,……..  Let ‘em see you cry.   Wear your heart on your sleeve.  Cry whenever your heart aches.   It is amazing how many times that will be because of something wonderful……  In the words of the song…….  “Live like you were dieing”.

      Lastly, to quote Sir Winston Churchill………Who gave one his best (if unusual) speeches  (and I will quote the speech in it’s entirety)………..Imagine if you will, this short, “bulldog” of a man, whose personal courage carried his country through it’s darkest hour, entering a hall, setting down his coat and umbrella, and stepping to the podium and offering………. “Never give up.  Never give up……………………..       Never, give up.”……….. and then him turning to gather his things and leaves.                         Great advice.

 

         Here’s to a “perfect” life together…………….

 

 

 

 

Todays Toast

     I am again far from home, and this particular series of trips have been more taxing than most.  At every turn it seems we have had minimal rest (consisting of no more than 12 hours off) and then back at it again.  Most of this on the back side of whatever biological clock I might be trying to follow.  We have been away from home just less than a week, and have been to Europe twice, to Africa twice, and once to the good old USA.  Can you say exhausted?  I knew you could.  I am currently in Brugge Belgium, again.  I am enjoying the first day off in a week.  I do leave at midnight tomorrow night for a quick down and back evening/day to Africa, but I am currently enjoying an evening with little weighing on my mind. 
  
      In filling the spare time I decided to actually get out the old spare hard drive I bought years ago.  On it I have copied the contents of several old computers that have gone the way of the carrier pigeon.  Somehow before they were committed to computer oblivion I managed to copy their contents onto a portable drive.  I have not really checked the contents of said drive in years.  In doing so this evening I discovered several things that I have saved over the years.  Some are pictures, some little snippets of something I found worth saving, and some things I composed and saved thinking they might offer insight as to what was in my heart at that time.  I think they will provide fodder for any number of future postings.

     One of the first I will address is the toast I made at my son and daughter-in-laws wedding.  This was several years ago.  The relationship between them has died, and my concerns as to their being prepared for a life together were proven to be valid.  I will share that toast in the next blog.  Tonight, I will share what I offered at our recent wedding.  At least you will see that I have become a little less long winded.  For the latest nuptials I offered the following:

     "The last time I stood up to offer a toast I talked at some length as to what I thought was vital in a marriage.  It seemed important as it seemed that the individuals involved might need some guidance in what they needed to accomplish to find success in one an others company.  To Olon and Heather I have almost nothing to offer in advice.  They are two of the smartest and well adjusted people I know.  Matter of fact, they and my cousin who performed the ceremony are a large grouping of the smartest people I know.  So, the only advice I can offer is a silly little observation that is still something of significance, and can have disastrous results if ignored.  NEVER, and I can not emphasize this enough, never ever take a sleeping pill and a laxative at the same time.....

    That observation aside, as I look into the young faces of two people I adore, I am reminded of a conversation from the not to distant past.  The beautiful young bride of tonight was calling home to discuss with Dad her concerns over how her life was unfolding.  So many of her friends were getting married, and in her heart was a longing for someone to share the treasure of her love.  She wanted some assurance as to what life was going to produce.  I was at a loss as to how to respond.

     As Heathers primary dragon slayer, I am always ready to do battle with whatever causes her alarm.  In this case, I was at a loss.  I ached in wanting to offer effective solace.  What to say to one who wants assurances of results conforming to her designs?  I have no crystal ball, and would never offer promises that I was not absolutely sure to be fact.  Oh how at that moment I lamented the passing of the time when I could set my Princess heart to dancing with an ice cream and a hug.  Still, even one as simple as I can occasionally find a "gem", and wisdom can come from individuals not especially known for higher thought.  I have often marveled at the wisdom in my response to her in her moment of despair.  I offered "My love, I can not promise any specifics for you to grasp.  No solid words of comfort are available, just the observation and conviction that God loves you more than I do (and that is beyond my comprehension).  While I do not know what is in store for you, I believe whatever comes your way, it will be glorious and you will perceive perfection."  We had that conversation in the months immediately preceding her initial conversations with Olon.

     Standing here tonight, I see in the faces of the two of you............. perfection. 

      Friends and family........... to perfection.
      

The couple at the other table

  Again, out of order.  I started this back in October......  just never posted it.  Not sure why I waited.

     I arrived home Sunday after almost 19 days away from home.  A period of solitary banishment required by my job.  On occasions I find I experience "love withdrawal" symptoms.  My wife and I proceeded to run an errand or two, and then (without passing GO) headed direct to the place where my Granddaughter resides with her Mom and Step Dad.  As it was dinner time we went straight to a restaurant to have dinner.  It was there I saw them (at first it was just an awareness of "her" sitting at the corner table next to the buffet).  The vision of them haunts me still.

    She was an elderly frail black woman.  She sat on the bench of the table in almost a slump.  Her back was bent as if it carried some unseen incredible load.  She was "hunkered" over, with her hands in her lap, and her gaze never wavered from the table top.  She was in her Sunday finest, with a black hat with black feathers.  She looked ancient and frail.  Her hands were folded in her lap.  They were old hands, the skin looking mummified and stretched across bones without much muscle left.  Her skin was wrinkled, and reminded me of parchment paper.  The veins and tendons stuck out from the back of her hands and ran up her arm only to disappear under the sleeve of her dress.  Those hands had seen hard work.

   She never moved.  It was only with intense scrutiny that I saw her chest rise and fall, and she did occasionally blink, but her eyes never left that spot on the table.  She was not engaging her surroundings.  In that room full of people I could see she was alone.  It was only when I saw that there was two glasses of tea on the table that I gathered that she must have some company.  Where was her dining guest?  It seemed an eternity before an elderly man, in a sport coat and slacks laid a plate down in front of her.  He was equally old, and also a little "stooped", but he moved with some confidence, and unlike his female companion, his eyes did sweep the room and he seemed more aware of his surroundings.

     He stood next to her, and taking her silver ware he cut the meat and associated items on her plate.  He placed the plate before her, and without looking up she took her fork and started to pick small mouthfuls of food and raised them to her mouth.  It was a small mouth, and she chewed silently without her head moving nor her gaze shifting beyond her plate.

    He moved to the opposite side of the table, and started to eat his own meal.  I did not see her raise her head, nor did I see them engage in any conversation.  They sat there on opposite sides of the table, together and yet separated by an invisible wall.  I could not help myself, I glanced their way throughout our own meal.  My Granddaughter had much to recount, and shared the accumulated experiences of a fourth grader.  Who bullied who, who she felt the need to threaten, and why....  Her excitement over her as yet unborn baby brother.....  She had much to share and she dominated the conversation at our table. 

     At the table across the dining area, they sat silently sharing their small plates without seeming to notice one another.  The meager pickings they allowed themselves finally consumed, they shared the quiet time together, and still her gaze did not shift.  Eventually he reached across the table and laid his hands on hers.  She did not shift her gaze, but her hands eventually shifted to grasp his.  There was much passed between them in that contact, but the message was from one soul to another, and not something communicated to anyone else.  I wonder at the contents of that message.

    Not sure why, but the experience of sharing a moment observing them alone in a room full of people haunts me.  No other word for it.  I feel haunted.  It troubles me on levels that I am not able to understand.  Watching them somehow connected to something in my soul, but I am not sure what it is I am feeling................... only that it is intense.  There is something noble, and  terribly sad (beyond nostalgic) in what I think I observed.  It has been a long time since I held up strangers in prayer, but I pray God blesses those two.

Being aware

    


     I want to share an experience that has only happened a hand full of times in my life.  That rare occasion where the veil of the physical is somehow set aside and I have had the privilege of seeing someone I Love's soul.  Seems some description as to how those "visions" were to be differentiated from the normal day to day experiences one has when looking at another and being swept up in your shared love should be offered.  There is a profound difference in what is experienced from the day to day sharing of time with a loved one.  A most profound difference, a difference that I am just not sure I can find a way to verbalize. 

     You can look into the eyes of those you love and be carried away with the emotion, and only reinforce the existing knowledge of who you "know" them to be. But (at least in my experience), on some very rare occasions one can look and suddenly see those one loves with a clarity that I can only describe as something ethereal.  I have looked into the face of some of those I love and seen them................ well, I am kinda at a loss for words.  They were suddenly stunningly beautiful (and that is not always something I would observe as an everyday experience), and they transcended just what my eyes could perceive.  It was as if I had never "seen" them before.  They were all lit from within, or they glowed, or maybe it was as if they were their own source of light.... simply put, I think maybe I saw them as God sees them.  A perfection that is not evident in normal day to day existence.  It is as different a way of seeing as comparing being outside in the sun versus being in the darkest of dark. 

    When my daughter walked into the old mariners supply building where we were to have the wedding reception, she walked over to me and I looked into her face............. God, after all the time I have spent looking at, even studying, that face...... It was like for the first time I "saw" her.  It was like I was looking at a stranger.............. a beautiful stranger who was looking at me with the most intense concentration and love.  Maybe that was the key?  When experiencing each "vision" I knew I was loved.  Deeply loved.  I will admit to being prejudiced and have always thought my Daughter to be a loving gift from God to the world........ but in that instance she was different....  She was "greater", and  she was glorious to behold.  Again, I thought I should kick off my shoes as it was obvious I was experiencing something holy.  The love and splendor of her soul showed through.  My heart was smitten (even more than I was when the nurse first put her in my arms almost three decades ago).  That is simply saying a lot.

   I find it significant that on my own wedding day years ago that while the preacher was pronouncing what we had asked him to say, I could hear nothing as I gazed into the face of the one who would be the mother of today's bride.  I was gifted with that same vision of one I loved.  God she was beautiful.  When the times get rough, I hold to that vision.  It has never faded.  Oh, if there was any gift I could give to these two women who hold such a purchase in my soul, it would be to just for a moment glimpse that reflection that they so powerfully imprinted in my heart.

    I remember being a boy (in cub scouts even), and my younger brother stepping forward and offering sentiments so loving that he totally destroyed the oblivious way I was proceeding through life.  It was an interruption that has never stopped having powerful repercussions.  It changed my life.  It was my first experience at seeing such love in another's eyes.  My brother impressed me with an almost angelic appearance.  His was the first face, and the first experience whereby I saw into the heart of another.  I have seen my brothers soul more than any other....  He has always managed to find that way into my awareness.  We usually joke and are irreverent.....  but occasionally he feels free to open his heart.  I am always humbled.  We make fun of the fact that my brother is one of the most irreverent people I know.  He is certainly the most brutally honest.  Maybe all brothers are close, but I am not at all sure that all brothers know the contents of the others soul.  I have seen his.  He is beautiful........... (not sure that "beautiful" is a word most men would use when describing another male, but there is no other word that comes close). 

    I saw Dads soul, and as always is the case, was humbled to be in its presence.  As his illness progressed we spent more time together than usual.  When we realized that we might not have the time we wanted, I shared I was not ready to say goodbye.  We embraced, and I saw him differently than ever before.  He was still Daddy, always bigger than life, but suddenly in his face was reflected love and in his countenance I saw "peace".  He was beautiful.  Beautiful?  Mom might have seen him in that light..... maybe even his own Momma,.  But me?  Not till that moment would I have called Dad beautiful (maybe ruggedly handsome).  In that moment Dad transcended just being my Father and friend.  He was greatness personified.  In his countenance I felt peace (and that was a rare commodity at that time). 

    I wish I could go through life seeing everyone in that light.  I am of the opinion that each life is blessed with a glorious part of themselves that they, and even most of those they love, live without ever experiencing.  I wish I could stay in that loving level of existence..... maybe that is what heaven is.

    I have never seen my own soul.  I suspect it must be there or I would never have "seen" the beauty in the souls I love.  I pray that if you find your way here, your life will be filled with friends and family that you can see with the eyes of your soul.  You will never look at them the same again..............

Something Wonderful This Way Comes

                                                This entry is out of order, I started this several weeks ago and never finished till now.......










     It is early of the Thursday morning before the Sunday wedding.  I mean it is 5 in the morning, the house is dark, and excepting the sounds of the air being cycled by the central air unit, the occasional pops, creaks, and groans that all houses make, and the click of the keys on the keyboard, there is silence.  Across the way I see my reflection in a mirror, my face illuminated by the glow from the screen.  It is a little haunting, as in the glow I can see my father. 

     Maybe, that is as it should be.  He should be the first to arrive.  Today, and on into tomorrow friends and family are making the journey to be together to mark the beginning............. or the continuation of something "greater".  When at last we gather to join my Daughter and her intended the room will be full.  Many of those who will be present will be there in spirit only, but they will be there none the less.  They were there when I was wed, and when my Father before me wed.  I suspect, some time in the distant future (I hope) I will join them in celebrating the more momentous moments in the life's of my children and grandchildren.  I suspect they are always a part of our lives, but maybe we are more aware on those "special" occasions when family draws together.  It is then that I am most aware of them anyway.

    Maybe, like the biblical promise "....whenever two or more of you are gathered in my name...." they come together whenever love is present.  I am not sure it is universal, but for me whenever "family" is together there is certainly love.  This get together will be no different.  I can already feel the warmth and satisfaction that comes in being in their company.  Their company makes my heart dance and my soul soar.  I am the best man I ever am in the presence of those who are coming.  Like Moses before the burning bush I am aware that I am approaching "holy ground". 

    There is a little song they used to sing in church that went:

  
        This is holy ground,
        You're standing on holy ground,
        For wherever Love is, God is, and it is holy
    

    I wonder if I followed the biblical admonition and took off my shoes to walk Heather down the isle whether anyone would think I was crazy? 

Hate

     Seems to me we use certain words rather freely, and sometimes without a full comprehension of what it is we really mean to convey.  I have been more than a little troubled with the current unrest in the Muslim world over some jackass making a "made for the Internet" movie insulting the prophet Mohamed.  Seems like every semi-devout Muslim is somehow now required to defend violently a prophet that at the core of his message preached love.  I know for many that last statement is a bit of a surprise, but it is true none the less.  The individual who is at the center of Islam preached love.  The fact that almost all our exposure to Islam is centered around individuals that are making international news because of some act of hatred might well lead one to believe otherwise.  Historically, under scrutiny I am not sure any other religion would present itself any better. 

    Truth is, all of the great prophets/teachers universally teach love as their primary message.  How many acts of aggression have been, are still, and are yet to be carried out in the name of God?  Do Muslims have the market cornered on bending a great message into something justifying the most repugnant of actions?  History suggests that as a species we are just not adept at accepting the simple loving instructions God has, and continues, to send.  Over and over the message to love and cherish is commanded/requested, and is seemingly repetitively ignored.  Why is that? 

     History is full of examples of atrocity after atrocity being committed in "Gods name".  How much blood before it is enough?  Currently a large portion of us (last I checked Muslims are people too) feel the need to defend "their faith".  Does any man of God need defending?  If someone says something off color about whomever is at the center of your belief system would you feel a need to protect your faith?  In your heart do you believe the Christ would support someone causing hurt to another in his name?  Nahhh...... me either. 

      I think truth is like science.... it is what it is whether you believe and accept it or not.  Does it matter if someone else sees God differently, or hears a different message?  If God loved them so much as to give them life, are they any less worthy of Gods love (or Gods message to them) than you or me?  Do you not have a right to expect respect as much as anyone else?

    This whole idea that to somehow protect God or his messengers from any perceived insult with violence is an even greater insult to God and his messengers........ perhaps even the greatest of insults.  Well, at least in my humble opinion.

    I will admit that my first visceral response to such behavior is to want to lash out.  Violence does in fact cause violence.  Hate is all to often the cause of only more hate.  I suspect hate is a cancer to ones soul.  To hate another does nothing to the object of our hatred, but slowly diminishes us.  I imagine besides any number of religious texts, there is more than a little medical proof of just such a proposition. 

    What about the things we all agree we should hate?  Should we not all hate the ideas and practices of the Nazi's?  Is there not some things that should be condemned so strongly that we can comfortably say "I hate that...."?  Maybe we should "hate" the hatred, but love the hater?

    I guess I am just a little wary of the term "hate".  It seems to carry a conviction that goes further than just "I am against this".  To "abhor" something is even a lesser position than to "hate".  To hate seems to carry a conviction that something should be destroyed.  To hate someone or something is to say it is beyond worthless, it is vile and in need of destruction by most any means.  I am especially wary of using the word hate when referring to people.....  I am of the opinion the first step in justifying genocide is to make someone else "less". 

    When we say we "hate" something, do we really mean it should be destroyed?  I can comfortably say that there are people I love that regularly demonstrate behavior that I wish could be illuminated.  I truly despise, and can not in anyway support those actions................  but I do not desire the smallest ill thing to befall them.  I guess I can say I "hate" the actions, but deeply love the perpetrator. 

     After all, it is the things we are against, as much as the things we support that define who we are.  Still, it seems a backward way of giving thanks for the "buttheads" in life. 

Dragon Slayer

     Like I said in my last entry, I went to visit the Dentist with a Chicken Soup for the Soul book.  In reading it in the lobby there was one entry that certainly struck a chord.  In it a middle aged balding and out of shape Father shares his regular battles against the "Dragons" that are tormenting his Daughters sleep. 

    With some regularity the Father in our story hears a scream from down the hall, and in the middle of the night he stumbles out of bed and rushes (as best as one can "rush" in the dark and still half asleep) to her rescue.  Dressed in his finest Dragon fighting armor (an old tshirt and pajama bottoms) he stumbles into her room to ascertain just what demon has invaded his castle to vex his Princess.  Armed with the age old weapons gifted to those willing to undertake such challenges, he goes forth to do battle with the unseen.  His daughter tells him it is the Dragon from Sleeping Beauty.  Our intrepid Father hates this one more than almost all the rest.  It does not immediately run and hide at his approach, it always stays and offers battle. 

    With practiced elan our Dragon Slayer leaps to action and hugs his Princess (Dragons despise this), and then as she relaxes down into the bed, our Dragon Slayer slowly starts to rub his charges back.  First with small circles, the circles growing consistently larger.  The Dragon is wounded and screaming with rage.  To quiet the Dragon, our Slayer offers sweet memories and expected moments planned to hopefully create more Dragon repellent.  The Dragon limps away, wounded, but not dead.  Killing a Dragon is not easy.  He will be back.  He has come back before. 

     The record for returns for this Dragon is four life threatening battles in one night.  Between battle three and four the Defender of all things innocent found himself on the floor.  Whether from exhaustion, or a shattering blow from the Dragon he is uncertain, but when he becomes aware of a whimper from his Princess he is again prepared for battle.  He is ever vigilant.

    The author added:  And if, while dragging yourself out of bed after a night deprived of sleep, you should become discouraged, repeat the refrain of the Dragon Slayer: When the Sleepless night seems endless, and you are exhausted and irritable, remember that your sacrifice is worth more than sleep.  The tender care you give your charge is not simply to help them rest in slumber.  Your actions teach them to raise their own children--- with unlimited patience and selfless love.  You are raising the next generation of Dragon Slayers. 

    I find I am part of a long lineage of just such unsung heroes.

    I remember falling asleep as a young boy with the caress of my Grandmothers hand on my back.  There must have been special strength in that caress as it comforts me still.  Oh, how I wonder how many generations of Dragons this gallant and knightly warrior faced.  What Dragons did she fight in defense of my Father (before he became a Slayer whose battles are legendary..... if only in mine and my siblings memories), or of my Aunts?  I wonder if maybe she did not in her way do battle with Dragons who might have worked their way into my Grandfather's dreams.  She was a Dragon Slayer that should have special honors.  Maybe there is a hall somewhere in the hereafter dedicated to noteworthy Slayers?  I suspect all of us has our own special nominees.

     It is like that with Dragons, they do not just attack us when we are young. I am 57 years old, and although he is no longer physically present, my Daddy still shows up to fight the Dragons that come along to trouble my world.  To him, I was a prince worthy of his greatest sacrifices.  A dedication like that is not limited by mere mortal existence.  It's eternal.

    I have gotten to play the roll of Dragon Slayer occasionally for my "Princess".  To some extent I still do.  The Dragons have changed shape, but they still vex my charges.  On occasion there has been that contact that starts off with "Daddy....".  I know immediately that the Dragons of the waking world are again attempting to render one I love weak and afraid.   Someone needs her Slayer to once again step forward and bring peace and solace to her world.  I do my best to again "suit up" for battle.  I have always remembered the Dragon Slayers refrain (I knew it even before I had seen it presented in a written format).

    In a week, I will walk my primary charge down the isle (fear not, I have younger charges to keep this old Slayer at war for some time).  Oh, I am most excited.  I know in my "Princess" lies the heart of a Dragon Slayer.   There is something noble and courageous there.  What is even more exciting is that in the heart of her chosen beats that same warrior spirit.  I have seen him in action battling the dragons attacking my grandson.  He is a knight of the first order.  It is that way with Dragon Slayers.....  with just a little observation you know when you are in the presence of something.................. noble.

A visit to the dentist

      I had a dental appointment today.  As I was getting ready to leave the bedroom I grabbed something to read (expecting that I would sit in the waiting room long enough that the story of Rip Van Winkle might start to be a shared experience).  The book I picked up was "Chicken Soup for the Father and Daughters soul.  Perhaps a book overly directed at creating emotional response (to be read as "sappy"), but I am an easy target.

      Later, while the dentist and her assistant were rooting around in my mouth (I think they were looking for some lost treasure map with information leading to an Incan pyramid lost to the world for centuries.... or, it might have been just general conversation over office gossip).  It did not matter as, with something the size of a medium kitchen appliance stuffed in my mouth, I was not in a position to respond in any way to whatever they were discussing. 

     It was then that they commented on the muzak playing over the office speakers.  It was playing Adele's single "Rumor Has It".  They both commented on the song, and then began to discuss the cute young woman/girl that was in yesterday for a cleaning.  She was blond, and just sang along with the song.  As they continued to move the small fridge (or maybe a stove) around in my mouth I could not help wondering...... could it be?

    Eventually, after at least a week of enduring their combined renovation of my mouth, they removed any restrictions on my being able to speak (without risking chipping a tooth, or biting the Dentist finger), and I asked the question that they had initiated in my mind....  "Was the cute blond girl by any chance named Katelynn?"  I asked.  They both thought, and with a beaming smile they both responded in the affirmative.  They were both a little surprised when I offered "I think you are talking about my Granddaughter....." 

      As the Dentist reinserted a slightly larger appliance to ensure my part in the conversation was terminated, the assistant left the room for just a moment, and came back assuring me that I shared the same last name with the young woman in question.  They then again proceeded to tell me what a pleasure she was to have visit, and that she had either sang or hummed the same song just yesterday while getting her teeth cleaned.  I found the reflections on the way Katelynn presented herself wonderfully comforting.  Basking in the reflected positive glow of one we love is never a bad thing.  It is so satisfying to see your love and caring bearing fruit. 

     It made enduring the rest of the procedure almost worth it..............

   

Why?

           Memory is the Diary that we all carry around with us.
                                                                                         Oscar Wilde             


                              

   Why?

   I have spent an inordinate amount of my life in pursuit of that very question.  I am well on my way to my 57th year on this earth, and my Father once offered that my first words were "Why Daddy?"  Guess nothing has changed..............

     I started this blogging exercise as a response to the realization that I was garnering great insight into the beautiful woman that is my Daughter through her blogging.  She enjoyed sharing her thoughts, I enjoyed the insights, and so long as I did not embarrass her by making drippy Daddy comments (I guess there are some things you just never outgrow), we reached a happy medium.  As my own Father got sick, I discovered that my offering thoughts gave him access to my own thoughts.  It just helped intensify an already profound and deep relationship.  Maybe blogging can be a multigenerational tool to more profound soul connections? 

     So, today I became aware of a thought that this might provide some further and deeper tool....  one for me personally to eventually rely on.  Ever read or hear of the book/movie "The Notebook"?  It is a very moving story of a man sharing with his memory challenged elderly life partner the events that defined their life together (of which she no longer has access.... her "diary" is being erased by age and it's ravages).  He reads to her daily, and relates what has been her life.... and most of the time she does not make the connection.  Only occasionally does a moment strike a chord that it is her life she is hearing of..... but those moments are holy and blessed.

     I have two grandmothers that suffered from adult onset dementia.  My Mother is in an assisted living facility today with rapidly diminishing mental capacity.  Just today the realization came that maybe the real person I do this for might be the future me.  This might be my only way to reconnect with who I was................. or who it was that became me. 

    Amazing what a simple altering of perspective offers.

Happy Anniversary

    It is almost 5 in the AM here in Brugge, Belgium. In the USA, in the region I call home it is almost 10 pm, or 2149 military time. My staying up late is not unusual, nor is there much of anything about today that I would offer as noteworthy. It rained (or sprinkled) all day long. That seems to be the normal weather here. In Florida today it is sunny and in the high 90's. Here it is cold and wet. Really miserable weather does make for some amazing gardens. Brugge is a World Wide Heritage place, and if you get the chance to visit, I would certainly recommend the experience.

     So, I have spent most of the day trying to fill/kill time. Only time I left the room today was to journey all the way across the square to the local swarma/donner store for some sustenance. I do like Mediterranean pita sandwiches.

    I hope I have come close to conveying just how mundane this day was. It is a deliberate attempt to demonstrate just how ordinary this day was................ till just about 30 minutes ago.
  
    A confession: I am simply lousy with dates. I can remember at most a handful of birthdays..... less anniversaries, and unless it is a historical date (which I have some luck at retaining), I just do not seem to have much retention. Not to worry, I am equally as bad with names.

     What changed?

     A simple glance at the calendar.

     Tonight is the one year anniversary of a day of great significance in my life. One year ago this night, my cousin and I stayed up all night to provide company for my father. Dad's health was failing, and we knew the end was near.  Early on the 17th, with my cousin and I by his side, Dad died. 

    Is it not just a little amazing how just the focus on a date can take us to a place and time?  The events of a date so ingrained into the fabric of our life that just the notice of the date causes memories to come............. and take us back to what was.  All the events of the day, the conversations with family and friends throughout the day.  My Brother setting a new land speed record (Chuck Yeager in the Glamorous Glennis made no greater speed records and did not have to worry about speeding tickets) to get to the lake to be there to mark the occasion. 

    What I remember most is an overwhelming surrounding feeling of love.  I am surprised by that.  It seems like I should have said "loss" instead of "love".  Truth is, even after some great reflection, it was love I felt and love I remember.  From Dad?  Always.  I have felt that as assuredly as I did all my life, and still do to this minute.  I felt Dad loving me, but not just him alone.  So many friends and family;  and the collective love being focused through Dad and the occasion of the ending of his life. 

    Damn, I thought I would share something poignant, and maybe something along the lines of a tribute..... but what I feel when remembering the overall experience of the day is....................... JOY. 

    Can there be any other word to describe being enfolded in love? 

    Damn Dad, I don't want to suggest I don't miss you, but the memory of your passing is one of the most profoundly life affirming experiences of my life.  Tell God I said "Thank You".

     And,

     Happy Anniversary in honor of a life worthy of notice.

Parenting

    
    During my meandering about the web today I again reviewed my lovely Daughters blog site.  She is a rather gifted wordsmith, and while I will admit to a small amount of parental bias, I think she is hilarious. 

     Her latest offering covered the difficulties in being the new acting stepmother for a young boy who is absolutely all "boy".  Up till now she has had more than a little success being the adult playmate to any number of children.  She plays that particular roll well.  Playmate and buddy are fun rolls.  She had never had to play that other roll of parent....... that of disciplinarian. 

    Ahhhh, how easy is the roll of buddy, and just how damned difficult it is to be both playmate and compassionate supervisor.  Loving discipline is a damned difficult knife edge to navigate....... even with children you have had several years to bond with.  Friendship with your children is not hardly possible when you have to play the roll of disciplinarian.  But always, and I mean always, is there that hope and desire that eventually............... you and they might reach a point where you might be involved in one an others life's.  Not controlling anymore, just involved.  You know, ............ friends.

      After that first initial bonding (which covers the period from birth to when the children learn to walk and talk) there are several years of challenges.  There are all the usual stages of the children defining themselves.  The child hears "NO" enough that they spend, at a minimum,  most of a year when that is their primary response to whatever is suggested or demanded.  They need to find their way, and keeping them from serious damage (whether physical or emotional) while they muddle their way to adulthood makes the lunar program look like a walk in the park. 

     There is a period of youth where the ability to be still is an impossibility.  I suspect that crack cocaine causes the same kind of endless energy in adults.  So.............. imagine a midget crack addict in your house and you have some idea as to what a certain amount of child rearing entails.

     I suspect that is why children are so damned cute when they first come into the world.  They are relatively easy to take care of, they are lovable, and they engage in almost no behavior that might drive one to consider offing ones offspring (well, if you discount the loss of sleep).  You need that memory to carry you through the next 18 or so years.  People with short memmories should not attempt to raise children.  Maybe that is why most of the really successful child rearing households I know have lots of baby pictures in constant view.  In any of an endless parade of instances that make you wish that your offspring had come into the world as 23 year olds with a college education and a job, at the moment of utmost stress, a quick glance at their baby picture (when you looked at them and melted) will keep you from going into the gun case.

     So, my loving Daughter discovered she does not have endless patience.  I think she was surprised by the challenges that come with parenting.  She has seen (and I hope enjoyed) the rewards of making it through to a place and time you can call a parent "my friend".  She comes from a family that has several examples of just such relationships.  She also comes from a family that confirms the ugly truth that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there are some individuals that no amount of concerned and loving parenting is able to help.  Sometimes, despite all your love and dedicated hard work there is a child who becomes an adult that you will never have a relationship with. 

     No guarantees, but the rewards are perhaps some of the greatest returns on investment life offers.

     Oh, my daughter did not cause any permanent damage to my grandson.  No, she just discovered that frustration and a child coming down off of a sugar high (or any of a million other possible causes for a child to suddenly loose the ability to "listen") can cause you to momentarily loose your ability to control your temper, or what comes out of your mouth.  She smacked a little boys butt....... maybe to firmly, and I think the realization that sometimes there might be satisfaction in that action hurt her.  A terrible but essential lesson.  Never discipline when it is even a little about your anger.  Only to modify a little ones behavior should you discipline..... and trust me, the little one will guide you into finding just what is the best way to do that.  Often it is not a swat on the butt.  For those going through the "endless energy" stage, a few minutes sitting quietly can seem like years in purgutory.  For others (if you have had any success in garnering their respect), a simple statement of "You dissappointed me" can be a fate worse than the worst the inquisition ever had in its arsenal of torture. 

     If there is any solace, I seem to remember from a college anatomy class that there are no life governing organs in the vicinity of the butt.  It is not hardly possible to do any damage smacking a little ones buttocks (excepting to your own heart).  Again, I am reminded of a very wise and loving father saying to me "This hurts me more than it does you....".

     It should.

Fathers Day

     It is early in the AM on Fathers Day for 2012.  This marks my 57th visitation of this day.  Of course I have not always been cognizant of the day, nor near so understanding of what it might signify.  This years coming is momentous...... or at least significant.  It marks the first year that I do not have a Father to call and offer recognition for all that we have shared. 

    I am not sure I am at all fully aware of all that is significant in Dad's contributions to who I am.  It is not even a year since his passing.  The Fathers Day card from last year is still sitting on the snack table in what was his office.  A year ago today marks the real acceleration of his decline in health.  He was still cognizant, but the usual mental acuity was beginning to slip.  I remember the shock and disorientation that came with the realization that my father could actually begin to fail.  Honestly, on some visceral level I guess I just thought he would always be there.

    He died in July.  I/we miss him still.  It is not an active grieving, and at times life seems to somehow have returned to normal......... at least for awhile.  Then certain events come along and the fact that I can not just call to share a thought or two is once again immediate.  It does not hurt like before, but the emptiness is again manifest.  I walked through the card section in a local outlet store  just before I left on this trip.  They had the Fathers Day cards out, and I wanted/needed to make contact with something that was gone.  There is no way to send Dad a card...... but somehow just reading them and enjoying the humorous ones made me feel closer.  In retrospect I think I should have sent a card to my Brother.  Not because he is my parent, but because he is so much like Dad, and that may be the most complimentary thing I have ever offered about my brother. 

     Dad had several successes in his life.  One of the most noteworthy (at least from a standpoint that it was recognized by a large group of people) was his being a participant in the High School All American football game.  I do not know if they have such a thing anymore.  Living in the Pensacola region (where high school football is just a little beneath religion on most peoples priority list) I can only wonder just what the best and most promising seniors today would look like.  Dad played offensive center, and I do not think he weighed even 200 lbs.  I guess we grow them bigger today.

     He grew up in a small town that lived football.  He was a standout in the one universal interest of his community.  I will tell you it shaped a lot of his life.  It offered a certain amount of fame, an easy identity, and more than a little glory.  They talk about it still in Haywood county Tennessee.  I will also offer the opinion that if his accolades were the summation of his life it would have been a largely wasted life.  Imagine a life complete before college.  As he lived into his 70's, that would have constituted a lot of wasted time.

    No, There was no wasted time in Dad's life.  Dad was involved.  Whether professional, or personal Dad did nothing without his full dedication and attention.  His first job before going into school administration was as a coach.  When he was a football coach (a profession that did not offer the compensation or possible career opportunities evident today) Dad was heavily involved in the lives of the young people he coached.  Skills on the field were just part of what he imparted.  Just a few years before he died several of the young men he coached (now grown men) went to some trouble to find their old "Coach".  Dad was humbled by their efforts, and I think more than a little surprised when they relayed the impact he had had on their lives.  Each individual had differing experiences, but they all shared that it was something beyond the game that they had taken with them and treasured.  It may have surprised Dad, but it was not a surprise to myself or my brother.  Dad cared. 

     Above all else (save perhaps working at a relationship with my Mother), I think my Dad's highest priorities were always in being a good Father.  Now, I am not talking about being a consistent maker and enforcer of rules (which he was), or a great example as to how one should conduct oneself (again, he was that in spades), but it was in the dedication and willingness to express his involvement in our lives where Dad was superlative.  It is easy to make and enforce rules.  It is even relatively easy to conduct oneself in a manner that anyone observing can emulate.  It is not easy to be involved.  A review of any and all significant days in my life reveal that Dad was always there.  I think he missed at most 2 events.  He was just always there. Dad always took the time to recognize and make personal whatever was going on in our life.  He shared in our successes, and suffered with us whenever life conspired to challenge us.  That, is not easy.  If nothing else, it takes time.  It is (in my humble opinion) worthy of recognition. 


     I know my brother and I are who we are as a consequence of his being involved.  My Daughter, and my nieces are all beneficiaries of his examples.
      So, in honor of the day, and to the man I want to grow up and be like......  Happy Fathers Day.


      Daddy, I love you.

Being Dad

     There is a wedding in our future.  Now, I have suspected this to be the truth for about 27 years.  From the first time the nurse passed the little bundle into my arms I "knew" there was a wedding in our future.  It was not to recently that I might have reached the point that I might supply a date.  It is a time of great excitement, and some anxiety (there is much to do).  Still, in any extremity there are those moments.....

     I was sitting in a bridal shop (not one of my usual haunts I assure you), looking at an enormous wall of mirrors.  I mean, lots of mirrors.  Young brides were bustling into and out of the dressing rooms.  There were bright smiles, and facial expressions reserved for tasting something that was recently inside something else's intestinal track.  You really have to be involved to make that disgusted a look over a dress..... A man in a wedding dress store is individual in an unknown and unfamiliar environment.

     There at the far end of the room, with her style of dress hanging on the hook (so that we might offer the appropriate words of support for her selection) was my daughter.  Her mother was there by her side as they tried on any of the dozens of veils available.  Suddenly over the overhead speaker came Ben E Kings song "Stand By Me".  Almost 30 years ago, before the life that has become so central to my existence was even contemplated, we danced to that song at the ceremony that cemented the partnership that would bring our young bride into existence.  Suddenly, in response to the music I saw my wife looking my way.  For just a minute she acknowledged my presence, and was then back to the task at hand.  They tried several veils, and I guess finally reached a decision.  I could not hear the conversation, nor would I have intruded for any reason that I can conceive.  They were enjoying one of those moments....... and I was just a witness. 

     Still, a witness to love is never a bad thing.

Memorial Day

      I manage to get somehow reflective each memorial day.  The difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day is relatively small, but noteworthy.  Veterans Day is for all military people, living and dead, Memorial Day is just in memory of the departed.  Now for the individuals involved I would imagine this distinction would be enormously important, but in truth as we all are mortal, all veterans will eventually be qualified to be celebrated and remembered on Memorial Day. 

      Why might that distinction matter?  Well, I qualify as a veteran.  I sometimes wonder if my 10 years of time in the military are worthy of any notice come some future Veterans Day.  My personal experiences means I do have at least a more accurate view of just who we honor on Veterans Day. 

     Are all military members worthy of being honored?  Living or dead, does just being a member of an armed service somehow make you worthy of any extra notice?  Well, at the risk of being a little controversial, I am of the opinion that it does not.  Anyone forget the old practice of a judge saying to some young scofflaw "Son, you have a choice, the Army or jail."  Not exactly the dedicated and highly moral individual we build monuments to.  Or, during draft times someone "inducted" because of some government legislated lottery just does not speak to all military members being of superior character.

     Truth is, history tells us that US service members have at times behaved in ways that do not speak to the higher ideals of humanity.  Being involved in an organized activity that is reflective of mankind at its worst is not exactly refective of humanity at its best.  The members of our armed services are in fact a reflection of all humanity.  You can certainly find examples of nobility, or some opposite extreme in everything humans do.  Dieing in the performance of something noble is always noteworthy, dieing while practicing some private genocide is not.  I knew the full gamut of individuals while in uniform.  Some with a deeply ingrained sense of honor and service.   I knew others who were collecting a paycheck till they could move on.  In truth, I suspect it is less about what we do, than how we do it that constitutes true service.  There are self centered jerks working in hospitals, just as there are real angels to be found in the same profession.  It is the individual and what motivates them that makes all the difference..

      I have known many true warriors.  Some even served in a uniform.  The line from the movie "A Few Good Men" speaks to this truth......  "... You do not need a patch on your arm to understand honor....".  So true.  Still, there is another aspect to military service that is unique to individuals who regularly deal with death and destruction...... either the dealing of death, or just having to continuously deal with it's collateral damages. 

      I have known two men that were veterans of Vietnam.  Both of them are men I consider worthy of respect.  They understand those mystical terms like "honor", "code of conduct", "responsibility", and "duty".  That said, they are both scarred.  Deeply scarred.  A cursory investigation of even the exposed body parts reveal scars.  A more detailed investigation leaves one wondering how they survived.  That is just the physical evidence of violence.  Both of these dear friends carry emotional wounds that are not visible.  The old adage about whenever you go to bury another you should dig two graves (one for the victim, and one for yourself) is most obvious.  The fact that both of these men have to live with the knowledge that they took another life weighs on them.  It is a ponderous burden.  I love them, and I grieve for the hurt evidenced in all they do.

    Our nations cemeteries are full of markers for men like my two friends.  Both of them speak of lost comrades with a soulful awareness.  Each loss is still immediate for them.  Those of us who love them, albeit vicariously, share in the loss.  I want/need to honor my friends, and the brothers in arms that they still grieve. 

      That should sum up this entry..... but it does not.  For each of the stone markers in all the nations cemeteries, and each of the flags placed there this weekend, there is not just a soldier who was hurt.  That little flag marks a loss for parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, spouses and offspring.  Each flag marks the center for the ripple of hurt for a much larger and expanding group.  When considering the overall loss it becomes just more than I can comprehend.

      That became more obvious to me this year.  My loving wife of almost 30 years, the mother of my children, and "Gopper" to my grand babies shared with me the story of a young man I never knew.  An Army CWO helicopter pilot named Russel Rowe.  He graduated from High School a year before my wife.  They eventually started dating, and I am sure he "owned" her heart.  He had stated his intentions clearly before he left for his second tour in Vietnam. 

     He never made it back.  I have learned of the effect on his family, and how the loss essentially destroyed that very family.  My lovely wife was not destroyed, but there is a deep hurt somewhere in her that she carries always.  The subject does not come up often, and is not the topic of frequent discussion.  Still, occasionally she is forced to revisit the pain..  This year I am keenly aware of another Vietnam War victim, and I honor her sacrifice.  A shame there is no monument to mark her loss.

Witness to Gods Grace

     I am away from home again.  I think it become easier to be reflective when isolated from loved ones for two or more weeks at a time.  I know that with the free time I find myself more aware of things that under other circumstances I might not "see".  OK, literally I would see them, but would I be aware?  Maybe not.

      I was just transiting Equatorial Quinea.  An airport called Malabo.  On the airport, just next to the transcient line, there is a small stream.  In years past I have witnessed young mothers doing laundry in that stream.  From the ramp you can see enormous trees.  This is a stretch of rain forest that has been cleared.  The majority here are poor.  The country has a great deal of new oil wealth, but whether that will ever "trickle down" is questionable.  The airport has seen much improvement, but the poverty is still evident.  Just across the creek, and still within the airport boundary is a garden.  It is well tended, but the clothing of the persons doing the tending leads one to suspect that the garden is critical to their continued existance.  Just beyond the garden are the rusting remains of old aircraft left to decompose.  Sitting at weird angles, and body parts stacked atop one another, it looks like a junkyard for aircraft.  Just past them, the roofs of what can best be described as shantys.   

    In the creek bed where I saw the youg mothers doing  laundry, this day we watched as four young barefoot boys (not more than 8 years old and younger) came running across the end of the runway (makes one wonder about airport security) and approaching the creek stripped naked and ran down the embankment and launched themselves into the water.  This was pure unabounded enthusiasm.  They were no more concerned about anything (especially that an entire airport might see them naked) than most of us are about the possibility of us being invaded by martians.  They were happy, and watching them made anyone with a heart happy.

    It was then that I noticed our Operations and Maintenance representatives walking toward the boys.  They had no responsibilities for this stop as we were not loading or unloading any cargo, and the airplane was performing perfectly.  They had spent the last 15 or 20 minutes out in front of the airplane satisfying nicotine cravings.  I wondered why they would be walking toward the boys.  My initial responce was  one where I hoped they were not in anyway going to scold them (as this would have somehow been somehow sinful).  I should not have worried.  They carried cans of soda from the airplane.  In Africa, it is surprising what one can accomplish with what we take for granted in our cooler.  The airplane is always stocked full of soft drinks.  If it is required that we expidite loading or unloading, or fueling..... whatever, a simple offering of cold soft drinks almost always gets things done.  There is always enough.

       Watching the boys run from the water and accepting the offered drinks was a gift.  They danced naked, holding up the cans.  They celebrated their bounty.  They shook their butts, they jumped for joy.  They were joyful, and we who watched were blessed.  A simple reminder that it is not that difficult to make a difference.

    I do not remember the names of the representatives of my company that walked over and shared a little joy with those boys.  I am not good at names.  I did not tell them I had observed their actions, nor did I ever share the gift I got from seeing the joy they created.  I will not remember much from that day, nor this months flying............. but I will always remember the simple and total joy they caused.  I would wish them special Gods blessings........ but I suspect they are already aware.

Another Perfect Day Catfishing with Katelynn

     Life is full of precious moments.  Most such moments seem to slip by without remark till later, when reflection brings forth the deeper more profound nature of the treasured experience.  I believe all moments are holy, that each moment is a gift.   Maybe just some are more precious than others?  I imagine we can all reflect on special moments in our lives.  We all have lots of them, those memories we store in secure vaults in the Fort Knox of our minds.  The ones that we use to define our  very existence. 

    I wonder how often we take the time to relate them to others.  I wrote once about "My Favorite Things."  I like to revisit that thought often.  It reminds me of the things for which I am most thankful.  Since I started this on line version of a diary, I am thinking that when some new such treasure should come along I should write it down in hopes that some other might find some vicarious pleasure in the sharing.  That is after all the purpose of this whole exercise.

    I recently had another such day.  Spring time in the Florida panhandle.  A glorious day.  Bright blue sky with just enough clouds to blunt the overwhelming blue.  A light breeze out of the north that always kept you cool, even when the sun beating on your skin warmed you deep to the core of your being.  In the shade you might get a chill, but in the sun was the perfect balance.  The birds were singing, the trees past the initial flush of blooms were now just starting to leaf out.  The smell of spring fresh in the air.  Freshly plowed fields were everywhere, many with just the beginnings of this new crop just starting to become apparent in the fields.  The panhandle is flat, and I am sure I was looking at clouds at least a state away.  Simply put, a glorious day.

     School was out, and we had promised to do something special with our granddaughter.  It was going to be another attempt at making special memories.  Sometimes it works, sometimes the events of the day conspire to make the day something out of a Steven King novel.  Just like Forest Gump's box of chocolates, You just never know what you are going to get.  Today we got chocolate covered truffles.

     It was Jeni's idea to take Katelynn to a catfish farm she saw in an advertisement.  This seemed a little silly to me as we have a pond in the front yard that I have stocked with catfish.  We fish there often.  Why go somewhere else to fish when you have your own pond?  Still, this is forwarded as an adventure, and adventure means going someplace new.  Lord above am I glad I kept my reservations to myself. 

    The owners of the place we were going to visit are Mennonites.  Very friendly, and especially easy to identify from their dress.  It was obvious early on that they had a special family, and a special connection with life and their place in it.  Genuine.  Sincere.  These words come to mind on reflection with our contact with the owners of the catfish farms we were visiting.  Before we ever made it out to the ponds, we were already feeling "connected".  They provided everything.  Poles, bait, and extra hooks and bobbers if we should break the line.  Perfect.  They sent us down the dirt road and off we went.  They have three large ponds (the neighbors have another two).  The ponds are roughly two acres in size (maybe a little larger), square, mud bottom, and are well stocked.  The pond has several large aerators working at one end of the pond.  Around the pond you could see other families involved in the same pursuit.  Clearly visible, but not so close that you felt them as intrusions.  You could here their laughter, but never make out exactly what it was they were saying.  You could see and enjoy the excitement whenever anyone caught a fish.  The perfect balance of seclusion and inclusion.  The catfish were jumping all around the pond (especially out in the middle).  There had to be some whoppers in there (the owner told me that just the week before a man had caught one close to thirty pounds).  It was................. perfect.

     We found an open area, got the fishing gear, cooler, and folding chairs out of the car.  The smell, that fresh slightly fishy smell of water was like a drink of cool water after working all morning outside.   Birds were dipping over the pond to get a drink, the sun was reflecting off of the water.......   again, perfect.  It took little to no time to get the poles baited and out into the water.  My granddaughter has fished.  She does not like to deal with worms (most little girls don't), and her casting skills needed a little practice.  The bait was not worms so she could do her own bait.  This was the perfect place.  No trees to get caught in, lots of shoreline, and no one close to hit with a miscast bait.  By the end of the day she was a pro.  We had gone back and forth as to who would catch the first, and of course the biggest fish.  I think sometimes it is in the simplest of moments we might find proof of a loving providence.  Katelynn caught the first fish.  The fact she did not pee herself is a minor miracle.  She was something to behold.  First, the fashion statement she was making had to be seen to be appreciated.  She had on one of her grandmothers gardening hats, a bright tee shirt, shorts, and a pair of pink gator skinned cowboy boots (a prize she and her grandmother had acquired during one of their shared yard sale excursions).  The boots used to be to big, now I think they might just fit.  No matter, she got one hooked and rather than using the fishing reel to bring the fish to shore, she simply backed up till a beautiful catfish found itself on the clay bank instead of in the water. 

      If there is any sensation or satisfaction better than seeing joy in the face of someone you love, I wonder what it might be.  Her small round face just beamed.  I guess the question as to who would catch the first fish was answered.  I can not tell you how thankful I am that she not only caught a fish, but that she caught the first fish.  Maybe life is all about the small moments.  She followed that one up with a relative monster.  It was a little over 6 pounds.  This one she tried to reel in, but resorted to her strategy of backing up and dragging.  Who am I to argue with results?  Especially since the next couple of fish caught were hers.  Her grandmother (who is an avid fisherman) was not having any luck.  Lots of hits, but no success at setting the hook.  It was then that I noticed my granddaughter actively watching her grandmother, and the look of anguish at each missed attempt was obvious on her face.  She was suffering in concern for someone she loves.  Heaven knows, is there any more profound demonstration of ones love?

    Eventually Jeni caught some fish.  I am not sure who treasured the experience more, Jeni or Katelynn.  With that burden off her chest, Katelynn relaxed and just enjoyed the day.  We eventually caught over thirty pounds of fish.  Everyone caught enough to relish the experience.  The service cleaned and cut the fillets.  Now I understood the real value of coming here.  I did not have to clean the fish.  Again........... perfect.

    We had the fish for dinner, and they were excellent.  One of the better meals I ever remember eating.  It was especially satisfying to see my granddaughter present the dinner she had helped prepare.  She even had a small burn from where the grease had splattered on her thumb.  A sore I imagine she suffered with some measure of pride. 

   The picture of her standing on the shoreline in her boots will be another of those moments I will lay before my maker as humble thanks for the gift of my life.

     Perfection.

Latest and Greatest

“The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create."

                                                                                      Chuck Palahniak

    Here lately there has been much on my mind. You know, the day to day drama of life. I am borderline ashamed to admit I have bought into things beyond my control and perhaps lost focus on the things that I should focus on. Why ashamed? Well, I guess because it involves worrying and stewing about things over which I have no control. Yep, I have invested entirely to much energy in focusing on stuff over which I have no control, and worrying about shit that hasn't happened yet. Two things I have often chastised those I love for manifesting. Yep, call me any names that come to mind.



I would like to blame others for this flawed character trait., but that would be total BS. Of all the personality disorders I might manifest, I find this one my most distasteful. Why? Because it seems to represent a lack of faith. Yes, simple enough. Worrying implies that God fails. It implies that God is not trustworthy. In all the most stressful times in my life eventually I could see that there was an underlying perfection. Eventually. To stew and fret is to doubt results. Not exactly the vision of an almighty I hold. If I practice what I profess, I should be able to accept that whatever happens is for the best (even if I can not see it at the time). As I think all life is a continuing effort to redefine ourselves as something better, I am working on it. Always striving for that balance.



In that desire to find balance, I think I need to share a portion of a remembered conversation with Dad. In the course of sharing things that we were reading, I mentioned that I was again revisiting the books of J R R Tolkien. Dad asked me why anyone would read a book of just basic fantasy. I have thought about that often, and finally, after his life has ended, I think I have an answer.



I knew when we were having the initial discussion that there was something deeper than just my enjoyment of the world and characters Tolkien created that I wanted/needed to relate. There was something profound in what they meant to me. Something far beyond just a good story. I never found the words to continue that discussion, but I think now I might be better able to share my thoughts (if for no reason other than I think that now I understand them). It is also important because, in finding the words to answer Dad's question, I have found something that I think is important as to who I think I might be as a person. Yep, something that important.



I recently started collecting quotes. It started after watching the movie about the Navy SEALs. There was a quote from Tecumseh that I thought was profound. I of course set about recording it. In the course of doing research I found several other quotes that I thought were worthy of more reflection. One in particular as it answered Dad's question of so long ago. It is at the top of the page.



     There you go Dad. Everything physical fades. That is the nature of all that mankind will ever create. It is all finite. It's temporary nature does not make it any less wonderful, just limited. To find the unlimited, it is to the intangible that we must look. It is in what you yourself believed in.  It is in that which was bigger than you that you shared and somehow got your children to accept as their own.  It is there that I can find a glimpse of eternity. We all share personal beliefs with those we love. They are our nonphysical treasures. Our friends carry those intangibles and make them their own. Dad, it takes little effort to see your beliefs manifest in your granddaughters. It is a legacy that I assume was instilled in you by your parents. Those ideals are bigger than life. In Tolkien's stories, just as in life shared with you, I found things to believe in. Ideals I have tried to share with those I love. I hope I am as successful in sharing my truths as I suspect you were with me........................

By the way, I found a few other quotes by this author rather interesting.  Including:

We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.

The only difference between suicide and martyrdom is press coverage.

If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character, would you slow down? Or speed up?

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.