Duncan Hines Sucks (and other truths)

PinF was born on Thanksgiving Day 1962.

Of course my birthday doesn't always fall on the holiday, still Thanksgiving always reminds PinF of his birthday because as a child this is when the birthday hoopla would take place. Growing up with four brothers we usually celebrated Thanksgiving dinner at our house, as road trips with a family would be difficult, not to mention who wants to invite 7 people? As kids I think this was just fine with all of us as we had things to do; football in the street, the parade, ride your bikes and any other activity that celebrated your freedom from school. Of course nothing beat mom's cooking anyway, to look at any of the Paynter boys today you'd never know what finicky eaters we all were as kids.

The normal attendance at my parent's home for the Thanksgivings of my youth was always my father's mother, mom-mom. An incredible woman who herself was a nurse for fifty+ years right up until her death at age 74 in 1981. I think of this often as I've watched my father respond to the nurses attending him and have wondered if he feels just a bit more nearer his mother. Though now as a parent myself, I can see more objectively both the blessings and the curses of this woman, though curse is probably too harsh a word. She was loving too a fault, which usually meant she stuck her nose where often times it didn't belong when it came to issues of ether of my parents reprimanding us kids. This of course would cause friction between my parents and so on. So the Thanksgivings of my youth are peppered with the inevitable family conflict. But that's family right? And isn't it usually the most emotion packed holidays when tensions and troubles seem to rise like a souffle? So this is what you'd have: the doting grandmother, a lifelong artist friend Mina Smith from Philadelphia, and either my mother's twin sister's or occasionally her oldest most controlling sister, the one we all have-- Aunt Mary. So put all these people in a bag- shake for 5 minutes, open and distribute around the dining room table, sprinkle 5 boys seperated by 11 years and you have the perfect recipe for the typical Thanksgiving. These are funny memories that I know all brothers remember, in different ways mind you, but for better or worse, they're OUR special bonding and shared pasts of years gone by. This is one of the special dividends you get with siblings, especially grouped close in age-- you all get a history of your entire lives, the funny the bad, the embarassments, the triumphs, and everything else in between.

My parent's were fun parents, whereas some people might have felt overwhelmed with the thought of taking 5 boys in a car downtown for the parade, they didn't. We all would go, this is without doubt an experience all children should enjoy at least once in their live's. I've already brought my own daughter to the parade in Philly twice. Nothing prepared you for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner like the chilly air of the parade, added to this the warmth of the fireplace surrounded by family and friends and you a memorable day. My mother for all her skills in the kitchen would inevitably bake my "birthday cake" every year, I say this in quotations because just as inevitably, something would always happen to that damn cake. I know if my mom is reading this now she's cracking up and smiling ear to ear, because my mom's nothing if not able to laugh hardest at herself. A trait learned I'm sure, by doing nothing less than living life head on and taking all it has to offer. I am very thankful for her indeed. God bless her becuase every year she would "doctor" the cake before presenting it, and every year there would be the obligatory apology for this year's "problem" . I'm cracking up recalling this now.....and if I'm being honest, and I AM, I clearly remember being 7, 8, or 9 years-old, and lying like a child does when he doesn't want his parent's to know that the kid knows there's no Santa Claus. I would say things like "it's ok Mom" , or "It's great, really it doesn't taste burnt?" So concerned was I with hurting her feelings during an obviously pressured filled day, that the cake's quality wasn't what was important. So as it often does in life, the holiday meal preparation would inevitably fall apart at its weakest point--this was usually the Duncan Hines "link" of the chain. Normally the "incidents" were always the same culprits, they would usually include-"left in the oven too long", or baked without one of the few ingredients, in an absent minded moment of confusion. My mother and I have laughed long and loud over these memories, and sitting here now I chuckle as I recall the debacles of my "cakes". Though I know too, that I wouldn't have had it any other way. This takes nothing away from meal though, they were always perfectly delicious- especially that corn casserole.

My phone was ringing at 8AM today with no caller ID. As I have the last few weeks, I steel myself with every Philadelphia area code call, odd hour-of-the-day calls, and the one's with no caller ID. I was just preparing the coffee, checking the bird, and planning my day when it rang. Sophia was yet to wake and I was tuning in the parade for her. The caller identified himself as Dr. Jones, he assured me first that his call was not related to any change in my father's status. He was calling to inform me that my father was scheduled to have a cardiac procedure to clear a major artery already precariously blocked; I being the Power of Attorney he was in need of my authorization. As he droned on about the "percentages" of complications, the possible outcomes, and a host of other technical, yet necessary information regarding William Paynter patient, as opposed to Bill Paynter my father, I patiently listened. He was nothing if not the most thorough man I've spoken to, and his tone was one of genuine care and professional confidence. He asked me if I had any questions and I mustered one or two foggy queries. With that it was done. He will be taken at 9AM tomorrow for yet another procedure, all which I must keep asking myself whether I am making the right choices. As of now, I am. He's making progress and I must allow for him every chance to build on his progress. Still it's difficult.

PinF was extremely blessed the other day to receive birthday wishes from all over the globe, in the form of email's, phone calls, and cards. Still the one thing that I realized more than any other, was that this was the first year of my entire life that I have not spoken to my father on my birthday. This call this morning had the same effect on me, it made me realize that as much as my life is "happening" right now with regards to planning mine and Sophia's dinner, watching the parade, and planning a beach trip, he is "there". Here the man that has been at the "head of table" of so many of those dinners of my past is now spending his Thanksgiving where he did 43 years ago waiting for me and my mom--in the hospital. It kind of brought the whole situation to the forefront to start my day with a surgeon, an obviously dedicated man, as he was calling me from just outside my father's room from the nurse's station on Thanksgiving holiday too. In one respect you want to humanize the process and make him understand that this is the man who carved so many turkeys, held me up for the parade, and threw the long bomb to us on the field. But you know you can't. That is just emotions of the moment rising when you hear the cold, calculated, language of medical reasoning, even as I know it is not possible for this Doctor to see your emotions, love, or yearnings for the person you know, to return.

So it's on with the show, as I'm sure my father would want it no other way. I have a little girl to chew my ear all day about her Christmas list, how lucky her cousins are that they live in Philly and can go to the parade, and how she wants snow too. Of course I could have never imagined reliving the summers of my youth on a beach Thanksgiving Day, but to her this is what she knows, so the uniqueness is lost on her. Little does she know her cousins would trade places in heatbeat to be going to the beach to make a sand castle while the turkey bastes. That's the funny part of life, how as children(and some adults), we always want what we don't have, when in actuality she has an 80* day without a cloud in the sky to enjoy in her bathing suit in the sand. My father loves the beach, and I shall remember him today as I look out at this beautiful day and I'll say a little prayer instead of running all the medical odds throught my mind that his Doctor most thoroughly started my day with. Still in many ways I'm much more thankful than I would have imagined a few weeks ago, my father has a fighting chance and no one's giving up on him, for this he has himself to thank . I'll miss my brothers, mother, and various other guests today as they gather in Manayunk, though I'll be in touch by phone, and I'll kind of be there by memory too.

As for right now, PinF can smell the bacon calling him and my coffee mug is empty. Sophia lies behind in me bed watching the parade schreeching with excitement of her pop star favorites and complaining "how they're soo lucky!!" to all the spectators. As I look outside, there's a cobalt-blue sky with a brilliantly unobstructed sun, temperatures are rising and so is PinF's yearning to get to the beach and really be so thankful for so very much. That's today's story, Thursday November, 25 2005 in the life of PinF.

God Bless All.

Wise not Old

Tuesday, November 22 2005

You may feel you are in the right place today--everything just automatically falls into place. All the numbers add up and there are no complaints from the public, especially if you are working in a Complaint Department or in an Employee Department. Money benefits come your way today. This is a nice day that should just flow along. Enjoy the company of your loved ones this afternoon. Meditate to relax your mind. This evening you will do well in activities that include children, young people and your home and surroundings. You could feel real support and harmony at this time for circumstances and those around you. You are compassionate. You also enjoy serving others, you worry about their welfare. Let others serve you for a change.


If you look carefully, you'll see the passing sailboat, further proof that Paynter-truly-is-in-Florida. Today is my birthday-- no fanfare just a little dinner with Sophia. Who's believing 4? years ago today my poor mother was stuck in Delaware County Memorial on Thanksgiving day having her own butterball. I've always felt mothers should join in on their children's birthdays as if it were theirs too, I mean they did all the work. So happy anniversary of my birth to my mom, and happy birthday to me. Another year, jeez where do they go?

Giving Thanks

I've been back in Florida almost a week now and I am only now starting to feel as though I'm really "here", still I give thanks. Separating my concerns for what has obviously been an ongoing and worrisome situation back in Philly, and trying to focus on Sophia and my job has not been easy. Added to this equation the upcoming over-hyped, hyper commercialized, holiday season blitz and it's enough to make you wanna retreat to an little island somewhere. Of course this isn't an option either, since all of my concerns and responsibilities would be hovering over my umbrella on the beach as I enjoyed my ice cold Corona.

Arriving home was good, Sophia and her mother came to Pick me up from Palm Beach airport. Owing to the fact that my bag had not yet appeared on the carousel, Sophia jumped out of the car and came inside to wait with me as her mami did another pass around the airport. There's nothing like the adoration of your child to make things seem better as she clung to me like lint from a dryer. For this alone I gave thanks. We talked about school, her field trip, oh and her math test was a proud topic as well. Of course what she really wanted to know was what had I brought her, as I always pick up something for her when I travel.

Sophie had patiently waited for me to see the premiere of Zathura, since we always do movies together, she had even declined seeing it with friends until I arrived- funny kid. After two days of work I had a weekend to finally give her the attention she deserved and that I missed. Friday night started out with another premiere: Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. Now PinF isn't that big a fan of HP movies, still it seemed the thing to do with all the buzz surrounding the movie so off we went. As we arrived Sophie and I noticed all the kids dressed as different little characters, it was as if HP was to kids what Rocky Horror was to adults. If I saw one more kid in round spectacles waving a wand....thank God she's not into that. The movie was decent, the special effects mesmerizing, we ate popcorn and Goobers-- our standard fare for movies. Again as I sat there with her I gave thanks for such simple pleasures.

We continued on with our weekend, a rainy one but warm. Started Saturday with a pancake breakfast and some music. Then we did something I hadn't done for a long time, we broke out some magazines and glue sticks and made a collage laughing and joking all afternoon. It was pretty good actually, as she is a creative little girl. We used some old Philadelphia magazines so of course the collage had a Philly slant to it, as she considers herself a "Philly girl" which is kind of funny too. As the rain pounded the windows we spent the day just relaxing with our project, both us content in the moment and each other's company. Moments like these make me give thanks too. The afternoon was the highlight as we went to the Publix and bought all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and spent the rest of the day baking, this was fun. It brought back warm memories of my own childhood, when I too would get to eat the cookie dough from the bowl. Funny how in life there really are constants to draw memory from, and toll house cookies are one of them. No matter how long ago you made them, the recipe guarantees the same exact taste that you remember. Give thanks for this.

Sunday we awoke and went to mass after which Sophie went to Catetchism class in preparation for her Holy Communion. This allowed me a power hour to get the Sunday paper and peruse over it while enjoying a Stabucks caramel machiato. Sophia loves Sunday school, I mean really loves it. Funny because I can remember my brothers and I skipping St. Charles mass and Sunday school in Drexel Hill and then taking our collection money and buying penny candy. From there we would go to the "trestle" that carried the trolleys over the creek and hide out, making each other laugh with mouthfuls of candy. Ultimately we would then devote a certain amount of time to getting our stories straight before heading home for Sunday breakfast. That she loves Sunday school I am also thankful for, mystified--but thankful just the same.

Sunday was rainy too. Weekends like these begin to cut into a parent's imaginative creativity. It is because of this that I give thanks on days like these that I am parent to one child, and not three or four. When we returned from church I promised Sophie I would take her to Build-a-Bear to get a new holiday outfit for her bear. We were both feeling the slight effects of cabin fever so it was actually nice to visit a mall for once, something PinF does not normally enjoy. After "bathing" the bear and dressing her in her new outfit there was another issue to tend to. I had brought Sophia to have her ears pierced in August, she naturally chose the cubic zirconia "bling" from Claire's. For anyone who has never been to Claire's, well let's just say it's more of a mami/daughter place as it was next to impossible to get her out of the store, it's also quite simply put, nivana for young girly girls. Yet here I was heading back into the belly of the beast because Sophia had taken one earing out and had waited a few days before putting it back in. The young lady informed me the hole had filled in, ouch. This meant a re-piercing and Sophia wasn't really down with that. We got it done anyway with the promise/bribe of a small binge shop in Claire's if she complied. She put on a brave face and got through it, promising me that she would not take out these earings until Valentines, at which time the holes would be a bit more permanent. Her consternation at having to re-pierce the ear was lightened up when she told me that I didn't know what it felt like, at which I revealed I did, and that I had once pierced my ear. She's still asking me questions about this. I gave thanks that she got through it.

We arrived home and each of us quickly changed into our Eagles paraphanalia; she in her pink hat and pink Eagles shirt, me in my green Eagles hat. We watched the first few minutes, and then she bailed, choosing instead to work on the computer. The Eagles of course let us down again though we each shrugged it off and continued our weekend. Dinner was meatballs and spaghetti followed by the chocolate chip cookies. Homework was a snap, and then it was bath time and off to bed by 8:45. I spent the last hour ironing her uniform and making her lunch savoring the laid back weekend I had with a funny little seven year-old, while marveling at all we had accomplished, though none of what we did ever seemed forced. I turned the lights out and made sure she had her blanket on, and as I looked in on her I thought of my father and how child-like he too seemed and I wondered how he was. I gave her a kiss and gave thanks for the wonderful little person I was given.

As we head into the Thanksgiving week it's so easy to get caught up in the day to day grind, worrying about what we don't have. The funny thing about Americans is exactly that, we worry about what we don't have, whereas most of the world worries about what they don't have, but really need. We are such a pampered bunch of commercial consumers that we forget our blessings, and focus more on the "stuff" in life. Case in point: the mall yesterday, how obscene has Christmas become that a little after Halloween you begin to be bombarded with the commercial blitz. In a era of families whose father's, son's, and mother's, are soldiers dying far from home, and hundreds of thousands of people are still displaced by natural calamities, it's almost sinful to worry about what you haven't got. I'm just as guilty mind you, though weekends like the one I just had do tend to draw me back into what's really important and what I ought to be really thankful for. And so I am, having just been through the ongoing process of my father's medial condition and then to have that contrasted by the spirit of my daughter's zest for life. I will try to give thanks for the simple, more obvious blessings, and care less for what I have not got that I do not need.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you from PinF.

Songs in Our Hearts

I'm preparing to leave now, my father still fighting and still refusing to cede his earthly existence. Of course I expected a much more sad outcome when I left Palm Beach on Saturday, so this is in many ways is great news. One thing I have learned during this ordeal is that even the smallest of medical triumphs create ten more questions, often one's I don't have the answers to. What I have tried to do through this is stay in the moment, never letting myself veer to far ahead of the situation, which as humans we're all guilty of from time to time. So I will visit today and let my father know this time I am leaving, as he seems to have some of his cognition. I will return as his improvement warrants, though for now I know my presence is needed back "home", even though I have many, many, memories as well as friends and family here in Pennsylvania; my home is in Florida with my daughter.

However upsetting the past month has been, it has been at times equal parts joy and fun. PinF was raised in a household of music. I thought to myself as I looked on at my three brothers at Sligo's, how many people there would be surprised to know that my mother is very much responsible for the show they were seeing. Having learned the guitar while she was still raising her five sons, PinF can recall many nights sitting at kitchen table singing with his mother to famous folk songs. PinF's father was always a lover of music as well, though his love was for the listening enjoyment that the songs and the music gave. I remember going over to Lansdowne Avenue as a boy with my dad to the record store so he could purchase the latest Johnny Cash album, something we as his son's were all raised on. I was recalling a fond memory of how when we were all children, my parents took all of us to the Spectrum to see Johnny Cash live in 1969 or so. I guess they couldn't get a babysitter.

My mom was more hip with the music, Carly Simon, Carole King, and James Taylor come to mind as music of my youth, something quite cool as I could listen to any one of these singers today and they would still be cutting edge. It was many a reggae shows she attended with all of her son's as well. So it's always been about the music in our family, mom playing and dad cranking corny country stars on the stereo. Still, it would be our youngest brother Scott who would benefit most directly from my mother's guitar skills, learning at age 7 or 8 to play, everyone else who plays either learned later in life, or in the case of my brother Bill--was self taught.

The music has always revolved around all of us, so when I arrived at the hospital Sunday morning I had my CD walkman and a set of earplugs; figuring one many can only watch so much TV. Not to mention I know how my father LOVES Frank Sinatra, so I intended to allow him to "leave" that hospital room and drift off to better and less painful times. It worked. No sooner had I put the ear plugs in and the dulcet tones of Frank began to fill his ears he seemed less tense, he even let out a smile. Then he started to try to snap his fingers, he couldn't, but I knew what he was trying to do. It was all about the music again, he was for the first time probably free of all his pain and worry and I could see in him the peace of the moment.

The power of music has never been lost on anyone in our family as we have such diverse tastes that nothing really surprises any of us. The other night of music proved that power yet again as I looked around the room and saw the numerous family and friends who had come, all drawn to the music. It was an incredibly pressure releasing event, allowing all of us to just put down all our troubles of the past few weeks and enjoy with so many special people in our lives. Many of the friends I saw are friends I have known and loved for thirty years or more, their own lives woven into mine. These are the people who color us in, these are the one's who "knew us when", nights such as these are made more special by their presence. I had the good fortune to be contacted by so many old friends during my father's illness, some I had not heard from in years. Each of them brought their own tune to my father's still playing song of life, and for this I am touched and grateful. They know who they are, and how much their words and company has meant to myself and indeed all of my brothers over the past month.

So as I prepare to leave, I ready myself to go out the way I came in--with music in my ears. My father is far from out of the woods, but he's making progress, so I'll monitor events for a while from home and see where we go from here. Still it was kind of neat to see the music bind us all as one this weekend, though my father would have loved to have been there, I know in his own way he was "there", listening instead to Johnny Cash, and Frank Sinatra. The music has always been our bond, and it's nice to see how it can bond through the tough times just as easily as the good. It's easy to have a song playing in your ears, the secret is to get it to play in your heart. PinF will touch base with you all when he returns to FLORIDA. Be well.

The Winds of Change

Let me assure all my readers and friends that PinF has survived Wilma. Thank you all for your inquiries and emails regarding mine and Sophie's well being, all of which I was unable to receive due to the extensive loss of power in S. Florida. PinF has arrived in Pennsylvania to tend to more pressing matters regarding my father's health. My journey wasn't easy as I had to drive 180 miles to Orlando with the possibility of no gas stations open along the way board a flight. My reservation was worthless due to the devestation and loss of electricity in West Palm Beach.

A current posting is long overdue; though the inspiration for such hasn't exactly been there. PinF is very much back in the same "life-limbo" he was in July when he was recalled from Florida to tend to his father, only this time it is much more grave. Couple all this with the stress and worry that comes with a hurricane, and you have a neglected blog. Nevertheless I'm also keenly aware of just how many of you have come to rely on these frivilous postings as much as your morning coffee's, as such I am duty bound to report in. So many of you have responded with words of support and encouragment; many of whom I've never even met which makes your words even more helpful and humbling.

As I was "hunkered" down in my house during Wilma I was thinking two things: 1. How bad the weathermen screwed up the forecast, and 2. How insignificant our trivial worries and responsibilities are. Something about 125 MPH winds make you put your priorities in order, and slowly you become less concerned with bills, salaries, work related issues, cars, and possesions until you are stripped down of your wordly worries and just praying to yourself and to your God that you make it through this. That's where I was one week ago today, in my closet under my stairs with my cat, listening as the roof started to go, and then the fence, not to mention the trees and someone's F-150 cap. It was the first time that I can remember being scared since I was eight and climbed the ladder of highdive at our swimclub only to realize I hadn't any interest in jumping from a height into water I was barely able to tread in.

My thoughts were of my daughter and my family. Nothing else really mattered, I didn't care about the car, the motorcycle, hell I didn't care about the house; all I wanted was for this hideously moaning wind to stop. It did, for about an hour. I was in the "eye", and ever so slowly myself and my communitie's neighbors all started to assemble outside and begin to assess the damage. It was extensive, trees down on cars and houses, broken gas main's- which incredibly were responded to by the emergency officials. My roof was 1/3 ripped of it's cedar shingles, my 6 foot privacy fence was shattered, giving me a newer style of privacy. PinF went immediately across the way to check on his elderly neighbor, an 80 yr old gem of a woman named Doris from Kentucky, she too was fine. We all exchanged stories, had a beer or two and then quickly scattered as the "backend" of the storm began to roar. This was to be far more terrifying and destructive than the first 3 hour session.

Suffice to say PinF made it. He dealt with the loss of power and infrastructure and began the immediate clean-up of his area. Then I attempted to call the airlines to cxl my next day flight, unbeknowst to me that Wilma already had. I was to be thwarted from leaving S. Florida for two more days, my father's condition steadily deteriorating, until finally I took the move of driving to Orlando on what gas I had and catching a flight from there.

None of this was easy. None of this was fun. But as I've told the few people who've asked I still feel only "inconvenienced", and not really destroyed by this. I need only look to New Orleans, Pakistan, and Guatemala to see the depth of complete despair coupled with the loss of hope. For when hope is lost, all is lost. PinF lost some roof tiles, and a fence, and all of his refrigerated goods. What PinF gained was a truer understanding of his own temporary human existance and a much clearer unbderstanding of what really matters in life, and that is just that- LIFE. All the other shit is stuff we choose to clutter our minds with, never really thinking that everthing is a gamble and that we all walk the thin line, and that thin line is likely to snap when all of us least expect it.

My father's current predicament is an example of this thin line. So is my being here again. My priorities are clear: work, bills, and hurricane clean-up can wait. What matters most to me is life, and unlike a week ago it isn't mine that matters now but my dad's.

Para-dicey

Well the rent is due. PinF has watched and waited for 5 months as people throughout the gulf and carribean have been besieged with catastrophic hurricanes. Now it's our turn. Another alphabet killer, this time named Wilma is on the way. Quite a contrast from what I've just seen as I cycled down and back this past weekend. I saw crystal turquoise blue waters and sun-drenched islands of bleach white sand. Here is where life moves at a considerably different pace, and where clocks really have little sway over the locals. Tiki huts populate the upper keys as you make your way towards Key West, offering cold beer and conch fritters and plenty of locals with fish tales. It's enough to make one wonder if anyone works here, as it seems everyone's kind of on an extended holiday.

The reminders of past hurricane's and their power are everywhere. The most notably obvious are the ruins that run parallel to the Over Seas highway, these are long since battered remants of the original highway and railroad that were washed out by past hurricanes. These are all sobering reminders of the power of nature and the vulnerability of these island gems that are strung out 170 miles into the Atlantic ocean. For anyone who has never been, this is a must see area of this incredibly large country of our's.

I was enjoying my ride rumbling down through Keys anticipating all that is Key West: the revelry, the music, and the food. Of course there is the sunset too. I met up with a life long good friend from Pennsylvania Laurie MacLaughlin and her parents, herself a resident of the Keys for almost 20 years as are her parents who retired here a few years ago. Her work as a marine biologist with NOAA is what brought her here-- and I beleive keeps her here, as she is passionate about the reef and its preservation. We spent a great evening enjoying good food, good drink and then a little of night life. I was treated to wonderful hospitality and a comfortable bed, all much appreciated after an often rain soaked ride down.

Now it's back to the reality of what is coming. I wonder how Sophia is handling this, as the TV is non-stop with it's forecasts, and of course everyone starts talking bout this, not to mention probably even the school itself. Weighing even heavier on my mind is my father's health. He was involved in auto accident last week and has now slipped back into a very uncertain state, and is currently in ICU. The true dilemma will arise if his condition worsens, as I am now in for the immediate haul to make sure Sophia is protected with the impending storm, a fact I made the Pennsylvania Doctor aware of. I also realize and can imagine if my father could communicate to me, he would tell me to be here for my daughter, that he'd be ok, that's just the way he is; of course I'm torn all the same. Still the most important thing in getting a child through this type of ordeal is putting up a calm front. I realize that Sophia, and indeed all children take there cues from their parents in times of crisis, so as worried as I am for my father and of course our collective safety here, I cannot afford top be anything but calm and confident.

Of course Sophia and I have been through this before with Frances and Jeanne last year, and she has witnessed for herself the power that is a hurricane. She missed quite a bit of school as well, having lost power to our entire area for 7 days. So we wait; we watch the weather, and we prepare as best you can. You take the precautions that need to be taken, you make sure your vehicle has plenty of gas so as not to be caught in the panic. I did that this morning, so at lunch I will gather up the non perishables I am short on and then go over a plan with my buddy John and Sophia's mother, as I am still concerned for her safety as well. I have a concrete house to shelter in, so I'm confident. After this, you put your faith in God, and hunker down. My biggest fear at this point prior to the storm is whether or not I'll see the Eagles game, as I suspect we'll be without power--add that to the list: a portable battery powered TV.

Southbound

***PinF is back after an exhilarating ride. There are 13 postcards on their way to the 13 respondents of the PinF2K celebration...more later ***

After a minor rain delay....PinF is now southbound(to his offices in the Keys). Accompanying PinF is none other than John BV Breeding, on his new 2006 (12 hrs. new) Harley Sportster, hence the rain delay. PinF out.

Pride, Joy and LOVE

Countdown To PinF2k Celebration

UPDATE: PinF is happy to announce he will be sending 13 postcards to three different continents, and 6 different countries! Thanks to all who particpated and watch for those cards! A special congratulations goes out to the Mark Peck and his wife Amy, a frequent visitor and most astute commentator--in recognition of their new born son...I'm not sure but rumour has it his name is Paynter....God bless the little guy.
Welcome! If you're a regular you already know PinF is celebrating his 2,000th visitor. So if your seeing this message it's because PinF will be mailing you a Post Card of thanks from his homebase here in S. Florida, USA. If you've just stumbled upon PinF by chance -- welcome just the same. In celebration of all the worldwide visitors and daily readers PinF has decided to send a Florida Postcard to every visitor to PinF who visits between counter number 1,975 through 2,005 (scroll to bottom to see). So, if this is you-- no matter where you are in the world-- send me your mailing address by clicking here-----> paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net and I'll be sending you greetings from South Florida.

The Keys to Life

PinF has long maintained the surest way to emotional balance is taking time for yourself -- and regularly. Though I haven't always been able to take the time as much as I would like, I have still taken short periods here and there. My summer trip by cycle was a commitment I had made to myself last winter as I worked my way into my new-found single life. This trip was quite therapeutic as it gave me the time I needed to be alone and ponder the meanings of so many different events and changes in my life.

To this ends, the time has come again for a short reprieve of sorts. I will load the VStrom and motor on down the Keys for some R&R. I will take nothing I don't need. Specifically my kit will include an I-Pod, a rain suit, small kit of toiletries and one change of clothing, oh and my camera too. That's it- nothjing more. I will get on the turnpike at 5AM and ride into sunrise with my music in my ears. By 8AM I should be chilling in Key Largo having a Cuban variation of breakfast, my cares behind me and the sun above me. From here I will enjoy my morning Cuban coffee while reading the paper-- hopefully dockside somewhere, keeping to no schedule or person other than my carefree self. From Key Largo I will head further south into the Lower Keys, specifically Marathon and then onto Bahia Honda State Park...this is where the PinF southern offices are located, and from where I will be writing the many PostCards I have to send. This is also where I will make a day of chilling and some snorkeling. I forgot to mention that I will have with me a journal, and a book; they will figure into my day probably from here. After any early water activities I intend to move less than the giant tortoise, occasionally cracking a cold beer, and taking a dip, other than this it'll be a major chill session.

After my relaxing morning/afternoon, I plan on meeting some old friends the MacLaughlin's, for drinks and dinner, where I shall partake of the fresh bounty that is the Keys. This of course will be supplemented by several JW Blacks as well. From here I imagine we'll take in the sunset celebration along Mallory Square in downtown Key West. I'm sure after this I will be visiting a few of the more famous watering holes along the famous Duval Street, more to soothe my thirst for music than my thirst for scotch. I'll spend the night in KW and then get up and do it all over again the next day only heading north this time. This should be a nice easy ride as the speed limits in the Keys really dictate the pace.

Mind you, PinF will have with him the list of PostCard recipients that qualified via "PinF2K", so you can imagine the variety and quality of postcards my recipients will be receiving worldwide. So for those of you caught up in the doldrums of winter, or even fall depending on what hemisphere you're located, PinF will be sending a bit of the Florida sunshine via his PostCards, so submit those names to paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net, and then watch your box.

2000 Friends of PinF !

I happened to notice that PinF is quickly approaching 2000k visits. It's nice to know that there are people spread near and far around the global community who stop in from time to time to see what's got my attention on any given day.

Lately it seems we've been in a glut of catostrophic news stories, what with Katrina, the California wildfires, Pakistan/Kashmir earthquake, and now Guatemala and its devestating floods. This harkens back to what Nation of Islam leader Louis Farakhan stated after Katrina, (most incorrectly and irresponsibly I might add). I had commented on the fact that he had assigned blame for Katrina as God's wrath towards the United States for our policies in the middle east. The recent turn of events in Pakistan and Guatemala has me wondering what God is mad about now? As it appears he is nothing if not an equal opportunity God, spreading suffering and destruction equally throught the Christian, Muslim, and Hindu countries. I'll have to stay tuned to Mr. Farakhan's rantings in the next few days as he is much like the National Inquirer with his bombastic statements, specifically designed to call attention to him and his idealogies.

So, back to the upcoming "visitor 2000" I'm excited, and have been trying to think of something to mark this occasion. I'm considering mailing out some postcards to where ever in the world I receive visits from on this day. And for the actual "visitor 2000"? Not sure, still thinking that one through-- maybe I'll do a PinF biography to be featured on PinF of whomever, from wherever, makes the "2000th" post. So if your a regular, or if you just happen to scroll on by; may I suggest scrolling to the bottom of this page to take a look at the counter to see if in fact you are "the one"?

Judging by my daily visit average, I should hit 2000k on Thursday sometime -- any person from anywhere in the world can leave their address to have a genuine PinF postcard mailed to their corner of the world. I do however have to limit this offer, so lets say anyone who emails their address starting from visitor numbers 1,975 to 2,005, these people will recive a postcard mailed from the PinF offices here in sunny, warm Florida. You can email me your address to paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net. Mind the counter though, no visitor before 1,976 will receive a postcard.

Write on...

PinF welcomed a few new links this week that he wanted to call attention to. Both are well known and accomplished in their own right long before this medium of writing was in vogue. One studied writing; I can remember reading his stories when he was in college about the everyday people and experiences that colored his life. The other, well he was most renowned for his propensity towards the "less is more" style of writing, usually scribing short, succinct letters known more for the amount of questions they asked than the actual information they themselves provided. Still each has quality in their own particular way.

The one who trained in writing never actually used his skill in the convential or obvious manner in which many would have imagined he would, instead he enhanced his abilities by writing his impressions of all things wordly through his other gift - music. He's best known for his musical abilities and showmanship on stage, yet many who don't know him don't realize that the many songs they love, or the numerous CD's he's made were actually his writings come alive. He's talented in voice for sure, but his zeal for singing is inspired by the fact that he is literally singing his stories, instead of just letting people read them. In essence he sings his stories, night in and night out and gets paid to do it. Anyone who knows him, knows he carries a notebook chock full of songs, some he's recorded, some he hopes to, and still others will probably never make it to music. Still he's a writer first; a singer second. So welcome Scott, and to the many who read this you can find him here.

The other added link has also become aware of his writing talents as is illustrated by his works of late. He too has written his thoughts to music, though his chosen path was the exact opposite of Scott's, learning instead to make music first and then to color his music with words. He self taught himself more than 5 instruments and records his music himself. I guess it matters very little whether you write music or stories, so long as you write. In the end it's all one in the same really, as music can speak to a soul as well if not better than any written word can. If you can then put those words to music, well then you're soothing the mind and the spirit, as each of these two have done so well. I know this well- as they are both my brothers, one is very known due his public persona and illuminated career, still the other is lesser known - a fact he actually embraces, as it allows for greater freedom to find his "voice" as he steadily learns more and more. I hope any readers of PinF will take the time to listen to their music, but more importantly hear their words. So welcome also to Bill, his site can be found here, hopefully very soon he'll also post his lyrics.

Praying for Sense

As I sat through mass yesterday, my daughter Sophia by my side, I was struck when during the normal requests for prayers the monotone voice reading them said "for the men and women in the armed forces fighting for peace-- we pray". "fighting for peace"...hmm.

I had to think about this, as I couldn't get a handle on such an oxy-moronic thing to say. Fighting for peace--wow. I was under the impression to fight for peace would be to exhaust all possible avenues within the world community ie: diplomatic options, humanitarian assistance, maybe democratic regime changes. Yet here I was in church of all places where I was encouraged to say prayers in support of fighting. Not that PinF is opposed to war. When they're necessary-(wars)-- I'd be praying for the bullets to hit their marks. Take the Falklands, the Argentinians asked for and got a war. The Taliban-- again, never was there a more deserving and oppresive bunch of punks who deserved to have their asses thumped, I prayed those missiles found their marks as well.

This mess in Iraq is just that-- a mess. No one doubts or denies the danger that fundamentalist Islam poses to the civilzed world. It also goes without saying that Sadaam was a very evil man who committed countless atrocities agains 100's of thousands of people, both in Iraq and to its bordering neighbors (Iran, Kuwait). The problem is, as I open my newspaper every morning and see the wars of calamity befalling this country right here in our midsts (New Orleans, Missisippi, California), is that Iraq was NOT a war we needed to fight. I know, I know, Sadaam gassed 5,000 Kurds...yeah, yeah and he gassed tens of thousands of Iranians too during his war with them(where were all the WMD protestors then?). But what was it specifically that he was poised to do to us? Oh yeah-- WMD's, that's the reason we spent this 200 billion dollars. Kind of funny when all the World Trade Tower attackers came from our so called "ally", (Saudi Arabia), funny how we didn't declare war on them?

My point is this....I opened my Palm Beach Post paper this week and saw the first female soldier was killed in action from Palm Beach County. And what is so strange about this you might ask? Well for some it might be the fact that she was a woman, which in itself is kind of rare in war. Yet that isn't what struck me at all. What struck me as odd and particularly wasteful about this loss of life in particular was just a single sentence in the Palm Beach Post article. This young woman's name was Elizabeth Jacobson, 21 years old. She was by all accounts that I've read, a young lady who had trouble adjusting after her parent's divorce, yet she was beginning to find her direction in life. As I read her story it became clearer that she, like so many others her age was a young woman trying to find her path, unfortunately for her it lead her to the wrong place at the wrong time. She had hopes, dreams, and seemed just as naive as many other 21 year-olds. Yet here I was reading the obituary of a young woman cut down in her prime, another victim of an angry Islamic militant radical with much more hate in his heart than Ms. Jacobson could ever hope to match with the boundless love in her's. She was an airman in the Air Force, not typically a role that would seem to be too dangerous even in a war zone, apparently not so in this case.

Thus Ms. Jacobson became the first female casuality of the war in Iraq from Palm Beach County, a distinction granted her by a flawed policy fighting a sensless war. Oh and that one sentence? By the time she was deployed to Iraq in June, the changes in her were obvious. "I think she really just turned into a woman when she went away," Steinhoff said. Now that's the second oxy-moron concerning this war that I've read in as many days. "...she turned into a woman when she went away...", too bad she had to turn into a dead woman when she went away.

Ancient Chinese Secret

It had been a long, hot, fun-filled day of museum visits, I-Max movies, and street stomping. Sophia and I had gotten to know the Philadelphia public transport system well, and had made our way from Manayunk to downtown via the route 27 bus. Even this, though not the train we had planned to ride, was "exciting" to her -- funny kid. So we get off at 15th and JFK, and it's a glorious fall day with just a hint of coolness in the air. Sophia spied it first and quickly alerted me, as she had this on her "list" for some time now. The "LOVE" statue. Truly an iconic spot in Philadelphia, I had forgotten how beautiful the park was with the towering fountain behind the plaza and the flag draped view down the parkway ending in the grand Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's days like these when you really give thanks to be here and just soaking in the many sites you may have taken for granted for so long.

"Taken for granted". Isn't that how many of us go through life? Just passing by the sites that surround us, never really giving them a new glimpse or a second look. It occured to me that many of the places I still hadn't taken Sophia were these kinds of places, the ones I just assumed were of no interest because I had already been there. The LOVE Park for instance was something I had forgotten was so nice, yet Sophia had seen it so many times in books or magazines that she now wanted to see it. So of course the obligatory photo was in order and thanks to a nice couple from Ireland we got one. From here we quickly shuffled down the parkway the five blocks to the Franklin Institute opting to walk instead of riding the bus as it was so nice. Sophia quickly spotted the Venezuelan flag and we had our second photo op of the day.

One of neatest aspects, as well as awesome responsibilities of being a parent is in shaping a young life to go off into the world and make it a better place; PinF understands this. Too often children are raised in bigoted or racist enviroments, something that only perpetuates throughout their lives. Sophia for her part is a child of two cultures and two languages and is accepting of all colors, languages and customs, a fact I am quite proud to see. She seems to thrive on this when she is in the city with people of all colors, and never once stares or asks about "other" looking people. Last year when I would volunteer at her school her class was made up of 28 kids representing 4 languages, 3 ethnicities, and 6 countries. Of course much of this is due in part to her being raised in Florida, itself a mixing pot of cultures and ethnicities. This in itself has been good for Sophia's personal development as it further illustrates with a real life lesson how America embraces and celebrates diversity, as she herself does with both her Irish and Venezuelan ancestery.

After completing our objectives at the Franklin Institute, which included a vist to the Fels Planetarium, the new I-Max movie, and the giant heart, we set out again into the warm sunshine of the beautiful fall day. We were soon on the Philly Phlash bus headed to the Reading Terminal for lunch. After filling ouselves with lunch and a little ice cream we then walked out of the terminal and discussed the the hour and whether we should head on home, as I knew I still had to navigate Friday rush hour on a bus full of commuters. It was then that Sophia asked me why the street signs were in Chinese? That she even knows it's Chinese as opposed to Korean or Japanese I put down to her Hello Kitty "Hello World" book. This book introduces children to 13 different cultures and greetings in their languages. I explained that this is where Chinatown was; Sophia couldn't believe that there was an entire neighborhood of Asian people living and talking in their own enclave of ethnicity. It was then that I realized that this visit into a completely new enviroment would be as interesting as it would be educational. I soon realized the education value of this detour was far greater than any museum we could visit, as it gave Sophia a better picture of America and it's freedoms and tolerances.

Off we went entering under the ornate Chinese Arch that signifies the beginning of a complete cultural change from the Philadelphia outside of the arch. The arch located at at 10 and Arch St. is actually a "Friendship Gate" and as we passed through into Chinatown we were greeted by a myriad of aromas and activity. The sidewalks were busy with shopkeepers and shoppers. We weaved our way through the fishmongers shop, the various gift shops and down the street, deeper and deeper into this "new" world. Finally we came upon a Hello Kitty gift shop and immediately entered. Of course this was all knock off Hello Kitty stuff from China, but Sophia didn't seem to mind, and my wallet wasn't complaining either. After 30 minutes and several dollars we parted and started our walk back towards Arch Street, Sophia having clearly enjoyed both the sights and sounds of our new found environment. It wasn't until we were on the plane home and recounting our week-end that I asked her what the best part of trip was for her. I clearly expected to hear the museums or the time spent with uncles, cousins and grand-parents; much to my surprise she said it was "Chinatown". Interesting, since we so often are reminded of just how small our world is becoming; it was nice to see that Sophia's got a little larger on this trip.

Paynter'sinPhilly...again.

That's right....we're on the move north - yet again. Sophia and I fly tonight to attend my brother's innaugural "Fall Equinox" party, whatever the hell this is. I'm told it's a celebratory event marking the seasonal change, pehaps it'll be like the Druids at Stonehenge? PinF has-- by parental decree, absolved his daughter of her academic requirements tomorrow, (good to be the King) in order for her to accompany me on this trip north.

Of course PinF recognizing the precedent and example he sets in doing so has also planned an educationally fun day in the City of Brotherly Love. Tomorrow Sophia will once again do what is so foreign to most people in Florida--board a commuter train. We'll head on down to the vaunted Franklin Institute of Science to try and quench my little scientist's thirst for knowledge. Sophia's been here before, when we did our inaugural trip last year in which we did the Franklin Institue, Natural Science Museum, the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and then had lunch in the Reading Terminal Market. Suffice to say I had to all but carry her onto the train last year for our ride back to Swarthmore. This year figures to be different, as Sophia has been planning and looking forward to this years tour.

Of course much was learned last year, and we will trim our itinerary a bit. We learned of the greatest deal in town last year by riding the Philly Phlash, this is a tourist Trolley bus that does a continuous loop around center city from the Art Museum to the Liberty Bell- all for only a dollar.!...The Plash stops at all the best museums, attractions and even comes complete with a totally unfunny driver who sounds a lot like Rocky. So if you can stand being seated next to some yahoo from Arkansas while you ride around the city looking all touristy, there really isn't a better way to do it.

The coup de grace of our visit will be our attending the premiere of the new Imax movie Magnificent Desolation - Walking on the Moon 3D. This should be huge, as Sophia is a big fan of anything planetary, the 3D aspect is always a plus too. From the Frankilin Institute we'll try another scientific gem of Philly, the Mütter Museum , a little known museum of medical abnormalities and anomalies...this place is freaky! We'll probably take our show on down to the Liberty Bell again as she loved the gift the shop there last year. From there it'll be our return trip to the Reading Terminal Market for lunch. If this doesn't wear Sophia out then I'm in trouble. We'll then be returning to Manayunk for her to attend a sleep over with her Nana, from here I will jettison myself off to attend yet another bloggers convention with the illustriously light-hearted and funny (mis)Adventures of Chuck himself, also rumoured to be attending is the one and only CNN, the woman not the network. Rounding out this week's convention is that political warhorse Tedman, king of the Podcast; all of this taking place at the unofficial blogger's headquarters-- Sligo's in Media. So this is PinF's / PinPhilly weekend, complete with bubble-gummy fun, hell if Chuck isn't busy working on his "bowl", I may see if he wants to tag along..............

7 Decades of Justice -- Simon Wiesenthal

For your benefit, learn from our tragedy. It is not a written law that the next victims must be Jews. It can also be other people. We saw it begin in Germany with Jews, but people from more than twenty other nations were also murdered. When I started this work, I said to myself, 'I will look for the murderers of all the victims, not only the Jewish victims. I will fight for justice.'(Quoted in an interview in Penthouse Magazine, 1983)

Could any of us even possibly imagine having seven-dozen of our most loved relatives rounded up from all over the country and then have them worked, starved, and tortured to death. This group would include your parents, maybe your children, your aunts, uncles, and brothers and sisters, even your grandparents if you're lucky enough to still have them. To make it even worse, many of your most beloved friends and acquaintances would also suffer the very same fate.

Then, imagine this DID happen to you; and starting tomorrow you would begin a systematic and relentless sixty-year quest to bring those who had perpertrated this injustice upon you and your loved ones to face their own judgement. Your jurisdictions would know no bounds, your pain would have no solace; still you would perservere doggedly on every continent where ever the murderers might hide. The difference being, you would offer those accused of this hatred justice. Justice based on democratic laws that are subject to both appeals and public review; not the justice that was so indiscriminately meted out to the millions of innocents. This is of course would be in stark contrast to the summary judgements your seven-dozen loved ones not to mention hundreds of friends had received.

If you can even begin to imagine such a horror then you would know the life that Simon Wiesenthal has led. He died last night at 96. In his brutal early life he saw exactly these horrors and many more, yet he perservered to personally bring to justice over 1100 Nazi's in hiding for genocide and crimes against humanity. His relentless spirit of justice was motivated by his desire to give a voice to those who would never speak again, and to make sure the world did not forget the evil that men do. In a world short of true heroes and saints Simon Wiesenthal stood tall. Mr. Wiesenthal lost 89 members of his family and lived the remainder of his remarkably long life seeking the justice for those oppressors which they themselves denied to every single member of his family and community. This is a true hero.

Mug Shot: Van Gogh, Matisse, Turner....Paynter?

PinF is big fan of art. Currently my collection has become quite substantial; kind of funny how it just kind of grew until I noticed I had a fair amount one day. I have all kinds of art, becuase that's how I am - I have varied tastes. Some of the artists are famous either internationally or regionally, others are renonwned locally, some are family members and some are friends. Alot of my art is from my most favorite artist, Sophia Veronica Paynter, she's the 7 year-old prodigy based in Florida. As for sentimental value, the value that PinF holds much dearer than any monetary worth, well Sophia's art would rank highest. I have all sorts of paintings, drawings, and even a few illustrated books she's written, all extremely valuable to me.

My most valuable pieces in terms of monetary value would be my two Andrew Turner's; he's an African American artist from Chester, Pennsylvania whose work has become a bit more renowned since his passing a few years ago. Recently I read where several people of notoriety have works by Turner, an impressive list to be sure. Maya Angelou, Bill Cosby, Prince, and Woody Allen just to name a few. You get the picture, he's pretty famous. So I do indeed feel lucky that my mother gave me these two paintings when she left for the Peace Corps three years ago on what I thought was a loan, only to find out later was actually a gift for good. Thanks Mom.

Also adorning PinF's walls here in S. Florida are pieces of collage art from my brother Chris (Flash), unique and exhilarating works that I treasue as much as my "Turner's". My other brother Bill's wife Sally Paynter, is an accomplished and sought after local artist who resides in Swarthmore, her art also hangs in mi casita. Sally recently visited PinF for a weekend visit and busted out a poster sized watercolor of my daughter, a real treasue that I just love. Still yet another of my favorite artists and quite accomplished in her own right is a wonderful woman by the name of Mina Segal, she is a Philadelphia native and shows locally in galleries in Philadelphia.

Mina's story really makes her pieces even more interesting. She was PinF's art teacher from kinder through 4th grade. Cool huh? she became friends with my mother in 1969 and has been an intricate part of our family's fabric ever since, almost as if she was family. Each of my four brothers and mother all have "Segal's" hanging, and they too are much treasured in my collection. Aside from these "connected" artists in my life, I also own a smattering of reproductions like Matisse, Botero, and some art show poster repro's. So my collection is pretty neat and quite eclectic.

Recently PinF had the good fortune to receive an authentic - get this now -- Van Gogh! That's right, my blessed daughter Sophia recently bestowed upon me a work of art that takes the cake in my collection. I know you're asking yourself how could a seven year-old obtain an actual Van Gogh. Quite simply actually, anyone could have a real Van Gogh, provided of course you live here in Florida and have access to "Go Van Gogh", the pottery painting craft shop. Yup, that's right we spent the afternoon creating art together, and what fun it was. It's kind of a funky, laid back coffee shop/wine bar type of place where you pick out a piece of raw ceramic and then use their paints at a cost of $7.00 and hour to create your own unique piece of art. After you finish, you leave it with the friendly staff and they fire your piece and call you in a week to pick it up. My "piece" was a wonderfully large coffee mug with an "I love Dad" impression on the front. Sophia generously, (as is her style) applied funky, vibrant, and intense colors to this mug, giving it a real "one-of-a-kind" look.

Suffice to say I have received no less than 20 compliments on my mug at work, quite a feat when you consider how innocuous a coffee mug is really. Now, in review, I have to admit that this type of endeavor isn't really cheap either. When you add the price of the raw mug ($11.00), plus the price of painting (1.5 hr. at $7.00 per hr.) then factor in a few chocolate chip cookies, two hot chocolates, two Heinekens (a man's got be hydrated), well you get the picture. The $11.00 coffee mug winds up costing about $45.00. Still in my mind this mug with "Sophia Paynter 2005" emblazoned on the bottom was a steal at this price. Sure it's not as valuable as a real Van Gogh, afterall my designation of "priceless" would actually make this piece more valuable than a Van Gogh. The time spent and the memories created will offer value to both of us for years to come. (Check back for photos of the "mug")

New and Improved !!

By now any regular visitors to PinF will have noticed there have been some changes to the formatting and coloring of the site. In an a constant effort to improve your visit I felt some minor tweaking was in order, hence the changes. You'll still recieve your daily doses of Florida wisdom and observation, just in a cleaner format.

On another note, PinF never mentioned that he surpassed 1000 visits last month! Who exactly was the lucky 1000th I'm not sure. Never the less I would say 1000 was no more important than the 1st, or the 459th; the important point being PinF appreciates each and every visitor. The visits have been far and wide; thanks to the advances of counters I am able to see visitors from such places as China, Norway, Finland, Russia, India, Argentina, Uruguay, UK, France, Italy, Mexico, Belize, Canada, Iran, Venezuela, Mexico and many others. For sure the majority of visits are from here in the US, still it's interesting to note that one person's opinions, musings, and observations are so powerfully broadcasted to the far reaches of the world via this wonderful medium we call the internet. If this keeps up I'm going to have to offer a translating tool on PinF for the non-English reading visitors. Thank you one and all, no matter where you come, as the many visitors are richly and warmly appreciated, and allow PinF to vicariously travel to the many distant lands he hopes to visit in person one day.

Heroes, One and All

I didn't intend to watch it, it was actually quite by accident that I did. I was weary of a Hollywood-esque spin that may be infused into the story, luckily there wasn't. I'm glad I did watch though because if nothing else, watching this story reinforces my belief in good vs. evil, right vs. wrong, and the inherent good and valor in all people no matter their age, sex or station in life. The story of United Flight 93 explains in painful, tearful, and heartfelt detail the sacrifices of 40 incredibly brave Americans on that fateful day 4 years ago.

No one will ever forget where they were or what they were doing the day America was attacked by Al Qaeda terrorists; this story only serves to further remind us that there are those who would willingly give their lives in the pursuit of evil and terror. Luckily for all of us, there were also those who chose to stand up to evil and fight, these men and women were equally up to the challenge of sacrificing their lives, only their efforts were for the good of others. In case anyone has forgotten, this is the real reason for starting "our war on terror". The United States acted swiftly and justly in removing the Taliban and hunting down those responsible for the cowardly and brutal attacks on New York and Washington, indeed all of America. What struck me more than the devestation of the lives lost were the the suffering of lives left behind by fathers, mothers, husband and wives, daughters and sons. The movie is interspersed with real interviews of the families who survived these heroes and their recollections of the final conversations many of them had during flight 93 final moments. The power of these testimonies harkens back to what I said after the bombings in London, and that is to tell those you love that you do; and live today as if you may not have tomorrow.

The selfless act of these 40 Americans is generally accepted as an act of courageous sacrifice that in all likelyhood spared many more innocent lives of people in Washington DC, not to mention our Capitol building. I cannot even begin to imagine a casual flight that by some horrible twist of fate becomes the defining and final moment in my life, never getting to see my family or daughter again. Yet this is what these people faced, as they slowly became aware of the havoc being wrought throughout our country on this fateful day through their phone converstaions with loved ones. These men and women knew they would have to die; they said their good-byes and then got on with the business of standing up to the face of pure evil. I'm sure this moving and powerful show will be re-run and I urge you all to watch, no matter how painful and difficult it may be. The fact that they did indeed die is painfully over shadowed by the testimonies of the family members as they recall both through memory and actual recordings their final conversations with loved ones.

What would you say if you knew that such a conversation would be your last? Father's and mother's giving a lifetime of instructions and gratitude to their partners in a few moments time, sons and daughters thanking their parents for all they had been given. This serves as a powerful statement to the fragileness and value of all that we hold dear. We now live in much more uncertain and dangerous times than four years ago, still the underlying theme of this real life docudrama is one of hope, sacrifice, and courage, something we all can use more of. I'll never forget that day, if nothing else it makes me look at how lucky and blessed I am to have what I have and live where I live.

Conversations With God

I thought that maybe with all the suffering in New Orleans and Mississippi as of late I should check in with the big guy....you know, GOD. It would appear that every other militant, angry, fanatical, axe grinding minister, and anti-abortionist has-- so why shouldn't I? I didn't realize that these so called "leaders" all have an open pipeline to GOD. As it turns out they don't. For if they did, they wouldn't lay claim to recent events being "GOD's wrath".

Remember the movie Oh GOD! with George Burns and John Denver? GOD chose to reveal his disatisfaction with man through a simple servant(Denver); problem was no one would listen. GOD asked Denver to confront a certain minister who was claiming to speak for GOD when he beseeched America for more money to be sent to his ministry. The minister tried to make Denver look like a quack, and pretty much did. The bottom line was that GOD did eventually appear, and in true Hollywood fashion just in the nick of time to prove to a stunned courtroom that Denver was not a quack, and that HE (GOD) exists.

That GOD exists or doesn't exist isn't really my concern, this is a personal belief issue for everyone to work out themselves. I say GOD, and I mean more than one deity, whether it be Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Jehovah and so on...to me GOD is many.....The problem with speaking for GOD arise when certain ministers and fanatics try to grind their idelogical axes into impressionable, searching souls in an effort to justify really their political views.

I've now seen two very documented assertions within the past week that claim New Orlean's destruction to be GOD's wrath. Really now? One comes from Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrahkan, and the other from Repent America director Michael Marcavage. Farrahkan claims this is America's come-uppance for our brutality in the middle east, and our mistreatment of the Palestinians. I think this is crap, no matter what side of the ideological fence you sit on. GOD is not a spiteful GOD. If he were, why then has he chosen the weakest, poorest and most undeserving of New Orleans for his wrath? The other disseminator of GOD's will-- Marcavage claims GOD has inflicted this penalty for New Orleans for its abortion clinics, and the general immorality of the city. Sure Mike, that makes sense.

This is what happens when we try to make sense out of a "natural disaster" of epic proportions. Is it not possible that it was only a matter of time statistically speaking, before a major hurricane was going to overwhelm a city far below sea level?. If the Minister's words were true then where is Africa's payback for Rwanda....or Germany's for the Holocaust; how about Cambodia's for the slaughter of over one million people under Pol Pot? These countries appear to be far more deserving of "GOD's wrath" based on the sheer numbers of people murdered. Obviously these so called prophets and ministers neither speak for the majority of Americans, nor do they represent any type of resposible morality when they claim the innocent are taken because of a nation's political policies or women's rights. GOD knows that government's start wars, not people. Still, this is America, and these men are free to say this---I wonder if they would have been able to say this in Rwanda, Cambodia, and Nazi Germany?

What's Secure About Our Homeland?

HOMELAND
noun [C]
1 the country you were born in.

SECURITY
noun
1 Freedom from risk or danger; safety.

So it occurred to PinF that this new cabinet level appointmentee of "Director of Homeland Security" is a bunch of crap. My homeland looked mighty unsecure this week, which in turn has created a feeling of "Homeland INsecurity" throughout the rest of the nation. One would have thought that four years after 9/11 we might have a better idea of how to handle calamities and catastrophies. So my gripe isn't really so much politically motivated; as I would be equally jaundiced towards whatever party was in power that exhibited such a total sense of misunderstanding.

The point is, if Hurricane Katrina were a test we'd have failed. We must demand more of ALL officials, instead of the local officials blaming the federal, and the federal blaming the state...it's a fricking joke to see our officials react in such a way while our fellow Americans and tax payers suffer and die. The FEMA appointment is another poitical payoff joke, if this had been the private sector he wouldn't even have been a secretary in this department.

The other sad truth is one the Bush administration chooses to both omit, and ignore. That is the fact that the war in Iraq is diverting much needed funds to the US Army Corps of Engineers projects. Since the levee's of New Orleans were identified as one the greatest single risks to the national disaster (by FEMA), the ACofE's has seen their levee improvement costs slashed by 80%. Coincidence we're spending like tourists on vacation in Iraq? I think not.

Another bothersome facet of this mess is the liberal assertion that Bush "allowed" this to happen because of the color of the skin of those left behind. I don't buy this, but I do accept that the urgency wasn't there after it became all too apparent that there were people of all colors dying, though predominently black Americans. So what have we learned? I guess the lesson is that if you attack a center of global commerce and wealth you can expect nothing less than the cavalry. And if a natural, predicted, and deadly "attack" comes from Mother Nature over a broad area containing demographically poorer inhabitants you can expect a varying response. So, better move to an area closer to money, and certainly closer to help.

I'm Back-- and Lucky Too

Eighteen days, 1100 miles, and 6 states later I have returned to work. Need I say more? My wanderlust sated, I now get back to the business of work, rested and eager in a way, as work provides a schedule to our lives. Even in Florida one can see the creeping signs of Fall slowly appearing; the sun is setting much earlier, football occupies most of the sports section, and people are starting though not completely-- to breath a sigh of relief regarding hurricane season.

It was just a year ago this past week that PinF was involved in the challenges, sacrifices, and awe that only a hurricane can present. 5 days with no power, gasoline, ice, or supermarkets. I realize now how easy we got off. Sure it was tough; roof tiles needed replacing, pools needed to be cleaned and yards needed clearing--still it was nothing compared to the poor souls of Missisippi and Louisiana.

I had the good fortune to hang with two "refugees" this holiday weekend who by chance happened to be on vacation in Greece while this calamity occured. They arrived to the news that there house was not flooded but rather under water, as such it was a total loss. It makes you realize how fragile any of our live's really are. We did things that tens of thousands of their fellow New Orleanian's couldn't do-- we ate good meals, slept comfortably, drank good wine and went to the beach. Still the tragedy was never far from us, as they were prone to moments of utter despair. Yet through it all their spirit to return never wavered, nor did their insistance that they would rebuild and get on with their live's.

It seems that so often we look at the news with such a sense of disconnect at the many troubled people of the world who are suffering in varying degrees due to famine, earthquakes, war, and floods. When was the last time you ever heard anyone refer to an American as a "refugee", yet here we were witnessing the despair and death of far too many of our fellow Americans. It really makes you think about all you've got, and how we so often take for granted the small and easily forgotten blessings of the mundane and repetitive details of our daily lives.