373 Days, 12,749 visitors , and 91 posts later PinF chugs on. A journey or sorts; destination unknown. What began as a modest little space to arrange my daily observations and to keep those from whom I am seperated informed, has become somewhat of a personal juggernaut. Part therapy, part soapbox, PinF has survived a year's worth of triumphs, upsets, losses and awakenings. The fact that a year anniversary even passed is further proof of how much a part of my life these postings have become...almost second nature. Most likely I wouldn't have even given this fact much thought except for the fact that I remembered last year at this time Sophia's beloved Bo Bice lost AI4, and that I had commented on this fact.
So much has occurred in 373 days in the life of PinF. Readjusting to life alone, defining my own routines, continuing Sophia's, and coming to terms with the constant change that time deals to all of us. Most importantly, and equally painful-- I miss my dad. I have good days and bad; still I think of him everyday and wonder if I always will or is it just the fact that his passing is still fresh in my mind. The inevitability of knowing you're not going to see someone ever again on this earth slowly creeps in when all the tears have dried. The realization that you've laughed your last laugh together, BS'd on the phone, and have shared your last meal together all come to the forefront of your consciousness. The longer I myself am a parent the more I come to realize the lessons I need to impart, the things I need to do, and the times that really matter with my own child. Because for all the "big" moments of my life, I would ask for a few of the smaller ones back if I could. As if I feel a need to savor the small details a bit more and drink in the nuances of the moment a bit more reflectively.
Something I've noticed as a father is just how much of your own childhood is remembered through your own children. So often I'll recall a moment, a feeling, or a specific time with my own dad through time spent with my daughter Sophie. The other day we went and shot some hoops at the local court; she loves basketball. And though my father loved basketball, and me and my brothers did as well, I've never encouraged nor pushed Sophia towards the court and yet she shows passion for hoops. Yet there she was, her new ball, shorts and sneakers asking me to go to the court. And so we went. The distraction of shared sport encourages funny anecdotal conversations about nothing an everything all at once; we chatted for an hour, laughing, goofing and learning- from each other.
In many ways it's kind of silly to think that 12,000 people could, or even would read PinF in a year. I'm not sure if I stumbled onto this blog if I would give a rat's ass about the life of some guy in Florida. But then again- it isn't why I wrote any of it. It matters little if anyone likes, reads, or comments on anything. Still there remains a feeling of semi-responsibility to continue, as If I got people hooked on my daily "ho-hum" life, and now I owe them something for their loyality. So I write on. Certainly I neither expect nor need a comment back on anything yet so many people, some known and many more anonymous have made very real and often times touching remarks on something I've written that either touched a nerve or evoked an emotion. For all of these comments, encouragements, and words of support PinF remains very grateful and humbled. If nothing else loving travel as much as I do, this forum allows me to send a small part of me off into the tiniest corners of the world to be read by the many faceless friends and regular readers of PinF.
2005-2006 has proved to be a very emotionally and physically draining period due in large part to hurricanes, personal losses and often times events that have either clouded or obscured the lessons and truths that lurk behind the pain. Still, PinF is ever optimistic and always mindful that his next joy or new bliss is waiting just around the next corner. And as sad as the past years' posts have been at times, they have allowed for greater appreciation of the "good" times, good friends, and special moments I've been blessed to know and enjoy. So PinF chugs on towards another Memorial Day week-end, something that has become a signal of the anniversary of this blog. I'll treat myself to a nice ride this weekend down south to Key Biscayne National Park for it's in the tranquility of nature's splendor where you can really unburden from the stresses and effects of life's challenges. I've not checked in at the office for a while so this visit will do me some good.
Surely a humble thanks to the many regular and faithful readers of this blog is in order. Let's see where we are in another year shall we?
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The Right Path
PinF was richly rewarded and parentally humbled this past weekend. Sophia's two year journey towards spiritual awareness and education culminated in her making her 1st Holy Communion this past Sunday. For her devotion and commitment, she was chosen to lead the procession into the church and to step up to the altar and crown the Virgin Mary before the start of the mass, and honor indeed, one she took quite seriously. Surrounded by members of both her mami's and papi's families, Sophia piously took her next step forward along the path of her religious education.
Truth be told PinF wasn't always as good a Catholic as he could have been, preferring to remain "spiritual" as opposed to religious during his single pre-fatherhood days. During the year leading up to once again being single, PinF found himself drawn to the church again. The solitude, reflection, and peace it offered were a chance to re-assess events and directions, and unload inner burdens and worries. A re-charging of sorts, on a weekly basis where the music, the message, even the sunlight streaming throught the stained glass windows would offer an almost serene like calm to collect myself for the challenges ahead.
Unbeknownst to me at the time I was reconnecting with long lost values, and beliefs. Some of which had been lost in my laziness as a bachelor, others that had been lost in my doubtful, agnostic, and at times angry whiplash to religion in general. Always I had asked what God or religion had done for me? Never questioning what I had given, or done to contribute to my own spirituality or peace. Around the time of such personal upheaval in PinF's life, I recognized the value of quiet reflection; more importantly I recognized the value of moral and spiritual direction in any child's life, especially my own daughter's as she watched her parents' going through divorce. To my surprise, Sophia loved church. This in turn made it even more satisfying and easy to become regularly involved. Sophia is truly a child of many facets, predisposed to traditions and the reverance found in church.
Two years ago while sitting in mass I read in the bulletin that 1st grade communion prep classes were beginning the following week, I ran it by Sophia and she was down for it. Sophia was in the "I love school phase" anyway, so it was an easy sell. Her maturity towards mass was quite astounding, reading along, singing the songs, she loved it all. I in turn became more involved just seeing her exhuberant participation. So for two years of Sunday's, Sophia and I have built yet another traditon, one that I know will be remembered by her for many years to come. We would attend 9am mass then she would go to religious class from 10:15 to 11:45, while Papi would attend his classes at Starbucks reading the NY Times. My mother once told me that raising children is all about routines; children need them, parents need them too. It gives a child comfort, direction, and discipline to know where they'll be, what they'll be doing and with whom and when. I've incorporated many aspects of raising my own child based on the tried and true methods of my own mother. Yes my dad was involved, but of course he was "old school", so the bulk of lessons, rituals, and traditions fell to the mothers of PinF's childhood generation.
This of course was to PinF's benefit. So often in the course of reminding yourself that you are indeed someone's "papi", (yes, it's hard to believe sometimes still), I find myself drawing on my own memories and remembering how I was raised or taught by my own mother. In this sense too I know it gave my mother great pride to see Sophia this past weekend; maybe in a strange way MORE pride than PinF himself. Because in a way only a parent who has walked this emotionally, spiritually, and religiously charged path can understand-- she had the double satisfaction of seeing that all her work paid off--through two generations. PinF was passing the torch of sorts. He had come to learn the lessons taught so many years before, despite the protests and difficulties in getting five boys to mass every Sunday to sit, behave, and listen. Here now was her adult son, basking in the glory of her granddaughter's spirtual accomplishment. These are important values to my mother, and her willingness to be there no matter where speak volumes to that effect and will obviously one day speak of their importance to my daughter when she looks back at photos and videos and sees this. Six years ago on the last day of 1999, the eve of a new millenium we were gathered together in a 300 year old Spanish church on a tiny Island off the coast of Venezuela for Sophia's baptism, my mom was there too.
My mother had mentioned that most childhood accomplishments carry more emotional weight for the parent than the child the night before, how right she was. I was proud of Sophia, and my mother in turn was proud of Sophia and me. In a sense it's almost a feeling of mission accomplished. Having walked my own path of spirtuality, I will understand if at some point Sophia needs to take time away from organized, regimented religion when she's older. The important thing is to plant the wisdom, the inner compass, and the moral direction. This knowledge acts like a seed, and when provided the right enviroment in which to nuture it is awakened and will take root; as in the case of myself this may take a while-- but it will eventually take root all the same. I now see why my parents valued religious education, as it really does offer an emotional and spiritual core in a child's life, a core to always fall back on when many events of your life will not make sense.
There was a small party for Sophia afterwards, though for me, my mother, and my brother Chris, the party was in the joyful accomplishment of Sophia's day. The party was in the mass for me. To see her standing at the altar in her white dress and veil with her little hands folded in prayful reverance waiting to accept Jesus--this was the party. Last Monday she and I attended rehearsal where she was to receive her first taste of unblessed bread and wine so that the children would know what to expect on Sunday. Of course after watching in church for seven years, the children are naturally curious what it tastes like. I explained that what she would try tonight was not what she would accept on Sunday, in that on Sunday the host and the wine would be blessed, and that she would be accepting Jesus then. She looked at me and said "what does it feel like"? I told her that it's different for everyone. She stepped up to the altar received her practice round, scoffed at the taste of wine and took her seat next to me in the pew. On the ride home from rehearsal she said "...papi, I know that the bread was unblessed, but I think I felt something..." "Funny", I told her "so did I". I felt a surge of pride and love that are found in moments such as this. And in that moment I felt a connection to all who had guided me through the same path-my mom and my dad especially.
Truth be told PinF wasn't always as good a Catholic as he could have been, preferring to remain "spiritual" as opposed to religious during his single pre-fatherhood days. During the year leading up to once again being single, PinF found himself drawn to the church again. The solitude, reflection, and peace it offered were a chance to re-assess events and directions, and unload inner burdens and worries. A re-charging of sorts, on a weekly basis where the music, the message, even the sunlight streaming throught the stained glass windows would offer an almost serene like calm to collect myself for the challenges ahead.
Unbeknownst to me at the time I was reconnecting with long lost values, and beliefs. Some of which had been lost in my laziness as a bachelor, others that had been lost in my doubtful, agnostic, and at times angry whiplash to religion in general. Always I had asked what God or religion had done for me? Never questioning what I had given, or done to contribute to my own spirituality or peace. Around the time of such personal upheaval in PinF's life, I recognized the value of quiet reflection; more importantly I recognized the value of moral and spiritual direction in any child's life, especially my own daughter's as she watched her parents' going through divorce. To my surprise, Sophia loved church. This in turn made it even more satisfying and easy to become regularly involved. Sophia is truly a child of many facets, predisposed to traditions and the reverance found in church.
Two years ago while sitting in mass I read in the bulletin that 1st grade communion prep classes were beginning the following week, I ran it by Sophia and she was down for it. Sophia was in the "I love school phase" anyway, so it was an easy sell. Her maturity towards mass was quite astounding, reading along, singing the songs, she loved it all. I in turn became more involved just seeing her exhuberant participation. So for two years of Sunday's, Sophia and I have built yet another traditon, one that I know will be remembered by her for many years to come. We would attend 9am mass then she would go to religious class from 10:15 to 11:45, while Papi would attend his classes at Starbucks reading the NY Times. My mother once told me that raising children is all about routines; children need them, parents need them too. It gives a child comfort, direction, and discipline to know where they'll be, what they'll be doing and with whom and when. I've incorporated many aspects of raising my own child based on the tried and true methods of my own mother. Yes my dad was involved, but of course he was "old school", so the bulk of lessons, rituals, and traditions fell to the mothers of PinF's childhood generation.
This of course was to PinF's benefit. So often in the course of reminding yourself that you are indeed someone's "papi", (yes, it's hard to believe sometimes still), I find myself drawing on my own memories and remembering how I was raised or taught by my own mother. In this sense too I know it gave my mother great pride to see Sophia this past weekend; maybe in a strange way MORE pride than PinF himself. Because in a way only a parent who has walked this emotionally, spiritually, and religiously charged path can understand-- she had the double satisfaction of seeing that all her work paid off--through two generations. PinF was passing the torch of sorts. He had come to learn the lessons taught so many years before, despite the protests and difficulties in getting five boys to mass every Sunday to sit, behave, and listen. Here now was her adult son, basking in the glory of her granddaughter's spirtual accomplishment. These are important values to my mother, and her willingness to be there no matter where speak volumes to that effect and will obviously one day speak of their importance to my daughter when she looks back at photos and videos and sees this. Six years ago on the last day of 1999, the eve of a new millenium we were gathered together in a 300 year old Spanish church on a tiny Island off the coast of Venezuela for Sophia's baptism, my mom was there too.
My mother had mentioned that most childhood accomplishments carry more emotional weight for the parent than the child the night before, how right she was. I was proud of Sophia, and my mother in turn was proud of Sophia and me. In a sense it's almost a feeling of mission accomplished. Having walked my own path of spirtuality, I will understand if at some point Sophia needs to take time away from organized, regimented religion when she's older. The important thing is to plant the wisdom, the inner compass, and the moral direction. This knowledge acts like a seed, and when provided the right enviroment in which to nuture it is awakened and will take root; as in the case of myself this may take a while-- but it will eventually take root all the same. I now see why my parents valued religious education, as it really does offer an emotional and spiritual core in a child's life, a core to always fall back on when many events of your life will not make sense.
There was a small party for Sophia afterwards, though for me, my mother, and my brother Chris, the party was in the joyful accomplishment of Sophia's day. The party was in the mass for me. To see her standing at the altar in her white dress and veil with her little hands folded in prayful reverance waiting to accept Jesus--this was the party. Last Monday she and I attended rehearsal where she was to receive her first taste of unblessed bread and wine so that the children would know what to expect on Sunday. Of course after watching in church for seven years, the children are naturally curious what it tastes like. I explained that what she would try tonight was not what she would accept on Sunday, in that on Sunday the host and the wine would be blessed, and that she would be accepting Jesus then. She looked at me and said "what does it feel like"? I told her that it's different for everyone. She stepped up to the altar received her practice round, scoffed at the taste of wine and took her seat next to me in the pew. On the ride home from rehearsal she said "...papi, I know that the bread was unblessed, but I think I felt something..." "Funny", I told her "so did I". I felt a surge of pride and love that are found in moments such as this. And in that moment I felt a connection to all who had guided me through the same path-my mom and my dad especially.
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