Belle of the Ball

As I suspected, my date was most likely the prettiest of the night. Stop with the emails already, I'll be posting my photos later today and then you all can judge for yourselves.

Suffice to say the Ball was quite fun.

Gonna Have A Ball

The invitation sounds formal. The venue certainly is. The Marriot PGA Ballroom, 6PM sharp. And so it went, I rather nonchalantly accepted my pretty lady friend’s invitation after making her wait a day or so while “checked to see if my calendar was clear.

Truth be told it’s been a while since I’ve been to a semi-formal dance, so I’m a tad nervous. I spoke with my date last night and she was nervous too, although for different reasons. Like members of the opposite persuasion she was concerned with what I was wearing, color of suit, etc. I assured I would be looking smart, and that she had no worries.

As usual I have a myriad of affairs to tend to before picking up my date for tonight’s function. First a quick stop at the hospital to check on my neighbor Don and smuggle in some contraband food. Then it’s off to the dry cleaner to pick up my suit. Last stop will be at the florist to pick up small corsage I guess…..just thinking out loud here. Not really sure of “Ball” etiquette. I’m going to have to make a call on that one.

So that’s one day in the life of PinF. There are cobalt blue and cloudless skies here today, and a nice breezy cold front blew in last night. Temperature plummeted to 40 this morning with an afternoon high not expected to reach 60! Love it. Of course it’ll be 85 by Saturday so the spring like weather is short lived.

So anyway back to my date. A real stunner if I may say so. She’s a brown haired, brown eyed beauty with an olive complexion of Latin roots. She’s also fore warned me about dance etiquette; claims she doesn’t do “slow dances”. Interesting, looks like the PinF is going to have to bring his salsa/mambo “A” game tonight. Roger that.

Ok, gotta run, lots to do. I’ll post an update either late tonight, or early tomorrow, including photos, because I know you’re all dying to check PinF’s Latin stunner of a date to the Ball!

Watching Over Me

So I said I'd blog shorter more succinct blogs. Not sure if I can. I went to visit my neighbor Don after work today. Having watched my dear old dad fade over the course of six months, I was both prepared and scared for what I'd see. The hallways of hospitals have always for me seemed kind of familiar. The smells, the cleanliness, the busy nature of its inhabitants. The rooms are always a different story as you amble down foreign hallways and see glimpses of once vibrant people either
in the final chapters of their lives, or fighting the greatest fight.

I walked in on Don gently napping and was taken back by the sunken look in his eyes, the loose dentures in his mouth, and the 8 day growth of snowy white hair on his face. I recognized the familar machines and monitors around his bedside. The sight of him brought everything I knew it would-- right back. I could feel the emotion rising in my throat. we made some small talk, and I could tell Don was "all there" mentally. I told him I'd be right back and went out to speak with a rather portly, sour faced nurse, one I could sense immediately was going to be semi-confrontational. I introduced myself as Tim, and asked if she would get me a razor, a pan, and some shave cream. She asked me in an indignant tone, who was I? I told her I was Don's friend and I was going to shave that beard off his face. I then asked for her name, just to let her know I was not intimidated whatsoever.

Don looked closer to death than he did to walking out that door. 30 minutes and a shave later, the color ofpink was in cheeks, a smile on his face and his teary eyes of gratitude were looking for the right words to thank me. I told him he could thank me by eating, and in believing that he could, and would walk out of this room. I told Don that his survival now hinges on his attitude. Dinner arrived when I was there and I made sure he ate half of it---all this while he has no desire for food whatsoever. It was tough. I then went out and got a nurse and told her Don needed his bed cleaned, she again brushed me off. I went over her this time, and went to the nurse's station and I made it clear Don needed his bed cleaned. It was.

I stayed with Don for 90 minutes. He has no visitors. His wife Doris is sick with flu and cannot visit, making my visit even more fortuitous. I told him that he HAD to eat. He said he felt like a slice a pizza. I went and got him one and came back and spent another hour until visiting was over.

Now here's where I think there's something more to life and in fact someone watching......I walk out of the hospital, half broken with sadness, half filled with anger that Don wasn't getting the attention I thought he should. My phone began ringing, it was a 484 area code. I suspected maybe a brother? I think it was my father working in strange way. It was his old nurse from Delaware County Memorial, Donna Casey. A true angel, one who who treated my father like her own father. She brought him back from the abyss with patient love, nurturing and an excellent bedsie manner. She shaved him, joked with him, and even visited him in Media once my father made it out. I hadn't spoken to her in 18 months, and of all times, she calls me when I've just seen my father's past.

I told her what I had just left and how incredible it was that she should call me. Don has a little more hope, and a little more reason to fight tonight. He's still in trouble, but I bet he sleeps a little better with a smooth shave, and in the knowledge that he isn't alone.

Neither am I.

The sunset.

Haven’t blogged much lately, much to the disappointment of regular readers. Apologies are probably in order. Strange thing about a blog is that it’s your’s, but after a certain amount of time, not to mention accumulation of readers, you become beholden—to it, and them. So in an effort to be more “regular” I’m toying with the idea of trying to blog more frequently, with shorter more succinct blogs. Mind you, I’ve never been too brief with my blogs so let’s see how it goes.

My neighbor Don is dying. Not exactly happy news I know, but the news all the same. I had written some months ago about my ex-Philadelphian neighbor and friend Don relating to me one morning as I checked my mail that he had tested positive for cancer of the esophagus. He was apparently fighting the good fight—and quite hopeful indeed when all of a sudden things took a turn. Don was with me all through my own father’s demise, and in some ways acted as a surrogate as we would pass in the parking lot or meet over fetching the trash cans. He loved talking Eagles and Phillies---just like my old man.

He’s in the hospital right next to my house. I saw his incredibly nice and friendly wife Doris yesterday. She looks beside herself with worry, and is having trouble getting the information she needs, telling me there are as many Doctor’s for each of Don’s maladies and that she hasn’t been able to get the “plan” from any one Doctor. Meanwhile Don is steadily sliding on her. I know this story all too well. I’m going over there to see old grumpy Don and to help Doris try to sort out the chain of command the best I can as a non-family member. This of course is quite sad, as they only have each other and an adult daughter in Philly. They each were so hopeful after starting chemo a month ago.

From what I’ve heard it does not sound good, feeding tube, catheters, etc. Don has lost 30 lbs in 8 days going from 220 to 190. He is 80 years-old. He’s tough, and was by my estimation in quite good shape. Funny how time in the hospital can result in as many factors against a patient as it can for him. His will sounds weak, his strength dwindling. I remember all too well witnessing this in my father. Not sure what good I can do other than to be supportive of Doris, and assure Don that I’ll be helping her. It really is sad. End of life issues never seem as real as they do when you’ve been through them. Then they suddenly seem to be all around you.

I’m trying to remain upbeat, though I dread the memories that await me in that room. I’ll go though, because I know Don is not long for this world, and a new face will make the world of difference to him.

Who Needs Some Beach?

Took some time out for PinF today. Original plan: leave office early and do taxes. Actual plan: grab I Pod and book and head to the 85* sun-drenched beach. What can I say? I'm weak. I'm also ever present, or at least I am ever trying to be--in the "moment". And the moment was screaming BEACH! Nuff said.

So I'm chilling in my regular spot, listening to French Canadians as they broadcast their distinctive French accents, watching the waves, the clouds, the lovely sights and peacefully gliding pelicans. Perfect day; breeze is coming out of the south, ocean is 76*, with a light chop. I can see there's quite a sandbar forming and with it a large deposit of shells. So, I decide on a leisurely walk, always on the look-out for the odd piece of beach glass. As anyone who has ever spent time with PinF on the beach knows how much I enjoy looking for glistening nuggets of smoothly worn glass. The whole experince relaxes my mind and allows me to wade in the shallows; add an I Pod and you're in the zone.

My thoughts drift from Sophia's orthodontist appointment, to the many friends I've shared good times with along this very beach, back to the music pumping in my ears. The memories, the laughs, and the many cold Coronas shared with these people give me pause to smile. I remember being on this very beach with my brother Rob and my Dad as he insistently told us both "how hot" it was. Friends from home, friends from Europe, friends from South America, they're all here, and their memories surround me. Just as I'm drifitng in my thoughts and the day, I spot some glass in about 6 inches of water--green, I quickly make the grab before the next mini swell.

I'm completely aware and thankful of the weather and my surroundings---as I think of the friends and family in less favorable climates. Perhaps I neeed to send my many colder climate friends a little bit of my beach---just a little bad zip-lock bag with a mini batch of sand and beach glass. That should sustain you all for a few months eh? Just drop me an email with a ship to address if you're in a cold place and need a shot of some beach and PinF will mail a miniaturebeach asap.

Doing the math....

Spent today recovering from the ear piercing shrieks of 20,000 tweens last night at Hannah Montana in Miami. Sophia, granted a one day reprieve from school, was my all day companion. First order of business was homework--lots of it too. Ever the lover of books and classes that require a more critical persuasion of intelligence Sophia's Achille's heel is math. Still, her being the overachiever she is, she never quits, and we're at it again after completing what seems almost without challenge--her science, writing, and English work. After about an hour, I could see the strain growing, and I knew she needed a break, so off to the beach we went.

Nothing stimulates the brain like a change of scenery; in this cae it was a sunny, warm, breezy day. We laughed, talked about the show the night before and swapped songs on our IPods. Eventually we finished up the math, and the relief her face displayed made all the work worth it, knowing she was now free to enjoy her weekend. Naturally we gravitated to the local pub for lunch and her favorite chicken fingers. Our talk was filled with Hannah, and how we sat next to Shaquille O'Neal, and the photo he took her with her. I notice more and more how our talks have become much more mature, and less and less me being the only authority in the conversation.

Funny how your children spend the most time with you, yet in many ways, know the least about who you really are other than 'mom" or "dad". I hadn't really ever though of this until today, when Sophia overheard me talking to a friend about a golf tournament. I had told him I might play. This had Sophia questioning me about golf, and whether I really played? I jokingly told her that papi has dones lots of things that she didn't know about. This got her going on a laundry list of activities: scuba diving, skydiving, different cities, different activities......and with each one, she wouldn't believe my answer and would threaten to call her nana--my mom, to confirm. We laughed so much, and I began to realize how odd it must be for her.

I know everything about her, and have since the moment she entered the world. I am in touch with her teacher, her music lessons, and I monitor the many other facets of her life--unbeknownst to her of course; I keep a sentinel's watch-- always in the background. Yet in thinking about this later I realized how many of the things I discovered about my parents and their pasts came either through their opening up due to a conversation or situation that would instigate such information sharing. Or, if my interest was piqued by something else, the occasional point blank inquiry/heart to heart chat. I can honestly recall that almost none of these exculpatory moments ever came before I was thirty or older; despite feeling as though I had very open relationships with each of my parents. Perhaps this is the natural order of life and knowledge, that we attain this information little-by-little, year-by-year, aquiring more only when the congruence of maturity and experience intersect and allow such access.

Either way, this chat made me more aware of sharing as opposed to always "telling" what she should do or what I "want" her to hear etc. Of course I recognize too, that much of the person I was 15 years ago, a nine year-old really has little comprehension nor business knowing. But it did awaken in me a sense of not allowing many of the mysteries of who I am to her to go unaddressed, and I told her that if she has questions and wants to know things about me, she should ask. If it's none of her business I told her, I would let her know. She looked like someone who just got a library card upgrade, and with it she was ready to check out some more info in the "reference" section. Still, we had some laughs, and once again I learned something from her as I noticed her ever maturing nature and modesty. Time is indeed passing us all so quickly, so it's important to me that I share as much of who I am, as what I know. This is precisely so because I know from my own experiences that this seemingly innocuous conversation will hold much more weight in her memory twenty years from now than our VIP seats last night with Hannah.

Sunrise over the Palm Beaches

Snapped this shot from my office window as the sun rose on the last day of January.......