The Book of Life

Flew in from Philadelphia emotionally, physically, and spiritually depleted. Not to mention, nursing my first cold in probably two years--yet one more reason I forgot that I like Florida, colds are harder to come by. When flying from a 26* climate there really is nothing more offensive than landing in 91* weather. That's right, PinF had chosen a record high temperature day to return, making it feel as though I was landing in Panama instead. Starving, aching, and now sweating-- I made my way to the spanish bakery and had a cuban coffee and sandwich then dove into my bed for the first time in weeks. I took a double shot of Nyquil that night and had the type of dreams that are like an all night movie in your mind. When I awoke I was back to almost-normal, congestion gone, sinuses clear, and sniffles dried up. Still my mind was clogged with the many images of the past few weeks. Kindnesses shown, words spoken, prayers recited and always my dad and the despair I witnessed as I and my brothers ministered to him right to the final moment. So much has happened, and yet so little time has been allowed to take it all in. I'm in the process of doing this now as I look back on so much; like a good book read all to fast without drinking in all that it was and savoring the finer nuances of the story.

I collected Sophia who was still on spring break and we made our way to the more familiar environs of our local beach. We proceeded to do what we do best---chill. She had her various books, art supplies, and sand implements and I had an Ipod, a newspaper, and a book. We stayed for 6 hours--as much therapy as it was relaxtion as it gave us each something familiar about each other and our lives before going to Philadelphia. We laughed, we cried (just a little), we played, we made sand sculptures, we hunted for beach glass and we ate hot dogs from the pier. This to me is like taking a giant exhale after all I had seen, done, and felt the previous two weeks. Never mind the fact that there was tons to be done still, I needed to get the head right first. I had the fore thought to just cancel work and get my life in order for the next five days, and part of getting it in order was doing the familiar things-- riding the cycle, hitting the beach, and just relaxing. Mission accomplished.

I'm really back now and in many ways it is a bit harder than I thought. My desk at work reads like a time capsule of a period that now seems so long ago. When I left here I knew I was going for the final chapter of my father's painful reality. I now return to post-its of this doctor, or that social worker, number's of hospitals, addresses, etc all littering the walls around me. It's almost melancholic to remove these reminders however sad they were, because in removing them I remove a little more of the closeness of my father to my day to day routine. Sure I've lost the daily dread of speaking to the doctors, nurses, and my brothers about discouraging news and developments; yet I've gained a gaping hole in my heart knowing that what I just went through was "IT". I'll never see this person in this lifetime. This takes a bit of time to get your thoughts around I'm sure, so I'm in the acceptance phase of this, something I know is normal so I won't dwell. Anyone who's lost a close family member will obviously know of what I speak.

So I'm finishing my coffee, doing my morning routine today when my phone rings just minutes before I'm to head out into the glorious day that awaits me. It's Sophia's mother's phone and it's minutes before Sophia is meant to be in school, so I answer with a certain level of dread for what it is I'm going to hear. What I hear is sobbing, crying, and alot of snot. I ask Sophie to put her mother on the phone. I ask what's going on? Much to my delight it is Sophia crying because she can only order 2 books from her book of the month club as opposed to her library stocking rate of 5. In an instant I realize how blessed I am, and I'm back in the here and now of my life. Here is a child with an insatiable need for books--not toys, not game-boys, but books! I'm instantly flashed back to a moment 4 years ago when we were in KayBee toy store looking for some piece of Chinese manufactured plastic crap and I issued the challenge: " Sophie I'll make you a deal, you can have this one toy, or you and I can go to Barnes & Noble and I'll buy you 5 books".....She sheepishly looked around at the madness in the toy store and then back up at me and she said "let's go Papi, I want five books". Well as my Irish luck would have it, she is able to recite this "deal" four years later everytime the "book issue" is broached.

I asked her mother to give her the money, and I will reimburse her later today. Some would call this giving into blackmail, and in a way it is. Though I would counter that to give into an educational blackmail is a good thing. How many parents would love for their children to read; and read for fun, not just learning. It reminded me of when I visited my mother serving in the Peace Corps in Honduras and how she had begun a library in her small pueblo right out of her house for the children. It is a fact that many children in third world countries barely make it to 6th grade, so my mother wanted the children to know that reading wasn't only for learning, but that you could read for sheer enjoyment. Of course this was something totally new and exciting to these children, coming to this American woman's house and signing out a Cat in the Hat, or Curious George book. I marveled at the joy it brought to these kids, as word spread quickly and my mom's house soon became the local hang out for the 5-10 year-old set.

Sophia is full of love for learning, for this I am blessed and cursed, as she now has well over 150 books in her room. One thing I'm sure of--she's read every one, and in most cases several times as she always picks about five of them before bedtime for me to read with her. Yes things are slowly beginning to appear normal again, the beach, the books, the motorcycle rides. Every so often sad thoughts creep into the mix, or Sophia will comment about how sad it must be for me. It is sad I tell her, but I also remind her that just like her children's Bible we bought at the church book store, her Pop-Pop is in heaven with Jesus now. She understands this because she read it. So on we go, everyday creating another page in our own "book" of life.

Going "Home"

So I here I sit; sniffling and sneezing from my two week sojourn north. A trip that saw lot's of tears, lot's of laughs, and an equal amount of self discovery. I watched a giant of a man slowly dwindled down until there wasn't much left. I watched as brothers huddled, rallied, and grieved. In the end I return from where I came with all my dread, sorrow, and worry. I'm physically and emotionally drained, and as I sit here at US Airways gate C-23 I try to make sense of all I've seen, done, and lost. It'll take a little while as I suspect the return to my "normal" life will also provide much needed introspection and solitude.

PinF moves forward still--back to Florida. I need to for more reasons than the weather and my job though; mainly because it's my "home". Although I left an entire family and hundreds of friends, Pa. is not my home anymore it's where my family lives. I live in Florida, and to Florida I now return. PinF will be back soon though, after some R&R.

William Lawrence Paynter 8/10/33--3/13/06

Thanks to my countless friends for all your prayers and well wishes. My father left last night on his next journey. Godspeed.

Privileged, Peaceful, and Loved

That my heart is aching there can be no doubt. Yet still I am able to see the the many hidden messages in what seems like a long life in a child's eye, and an all too short one in a son's. I am now embroiled in the final chapter of my father's last days. It is as surreal as it is real. No one ever really prepares any of us for this moment. Still, as I sit here in his hospice room I'm grateful for several things:

1. Having had a father for all of my youth and well into adulthood. Something many of my friends, cousins, and countless others never had.

2. I'm grateful I at least have the chance to actually say goodbye, hold his hand, caress his brow. Again, something many people never get to do when death either comes as a shock or too early in their loved one's life.

3. I'm grateful for having had the ability, the opportunity, and words to say what I always wanted to say while I could, either in writing or as in the recent months before my father's current bout of illness-- to his face.

4. I'm grateful too for having had this time in hospice, as painful as it might be so that I can really feel, appreciate, and drink in all that it was that my father meant to me as a man, a parent, and as a friend.

In considering to write or not to write one asks whether or not what you're feeling is either too personal, or worse still, too maudlin. This experience as I sit here in this room, and indeed this whole floor- where death is all around me and slowly creeping up on so many souls is an extremely rich and valuable one. If nothing else it gives me a greater appreciation of the greater good than evil in the world despite what you read daily to the contrary. I am surrounded by people who have chosen to be among the dying; as I get to know them, almost all of them use the word "privilege" when describing their work.

Yes it is hard to be here. Yes it is extremely sad to lose my dad. However, given a choice there's no other place I would choose to be at this time. This is in many ways the perfect convergence of being in the right place, at the right time, for the right reason. I can only benefit either in wisdom or compassion from this experience--most likely both. Still my overall opinion of this experience is one of gratitude and blessings. I cannot complain that I feel as though my dad was taken too early, yet rather I celebrate that I at least had this long, fully aware of the many people who never got what I had. As I've observed this process I've noticed how each of my four brothers has adjusted to this phase as well; each has done what they can in their own way. We've all brought different skills, personalities and sorrows to this, the final days of my father's life. Each one reconciling and processing the experience in their own way, and as painful and sad as it all is I'm also aware that we are still each other's greatest strength though I often lost sight of this fact throughout this ordeal.

PinF has certainly been throught the ringer this year, most if not all has been covered in one form or fashion through this blog, which got me to thinking as I sit in this room; how many blogs did I write regarding my father's situation since July? I don't know myself. Next step? You guessed it, I've culled all of the archives of PinF for any relevant posts that chronicle this most incredible journey, one that has finally brought me to South Philly were I now sit camped out in a room here at St. Agnes. Many readers of PinF may not know what the hell I'm on about, so I thought it a fitting tribute that I chronologically re-post as a sort of tribute to the man I call "dad" and more importantly one who I also call my friend-- Bill Paynter.


Could it all have started this long ago in July? Not long after arriving I made this observation. On the road home I was able to put my dread and fear in proper order based on a conversation with a stranger. Not but a few months later I was again called back home after the unfortunate auto accident that placed my father in his current predicament. Upon my arrival I was left with little to do other than be by his bedside and ponder the next step, essentially reduced to holding his hand. Before leaving I was able to see some music, something always good for the soul so I posted this observation. Seasons passed as did holidays, when Thanksgiving came around I made this observation. As time passed during his illness more events occurred that had me wishing he was healthy. Specifically the Johnny Cash movie had come out, we had spoken months before how much we were looking forward to this, sadly he was not to see it. I commented on such after my brother recommended seeing my dad's favorite performer being portrayed in the movie Walk the Line. The seasons continued to march forward, Christmas came further highlighting what a dire situation my father's condition had become, still we continued to pray for a turn around. For the first time in my life "my" family wasn't whole, I commented on the season and what it meant to both Sophia and me, ever cognizant of the void left by my father's illness. Not too long after the holidays along came a real reminder of my father as the movie portraying his idol won the Golden Globe bittersweet to be sure, because this would have made him immensely happy. With a continued eye on affairs to the north I felt the increasing pressure to begin to explore futher options, albeit begrudgingly. Not quite a month ago while still very preoccupied with my father's condition I was reading the Inquirier online and came accross one of those "gut check" stories that puts your own pain and trouble into perspective, and as usual it had to involve music---go figure. Certainly I have received all sorts of support either in person, by phone, or email. Much of this support has come from friends who have traveled this road before me, as such they are capable of knowing the many emotions such a challenge presents. Their support and wisdom inspired this post. Of course I'm in the "here and now" now, as such just before leaving I had to once again tell Sophia I was leaving, the difference this time? I had to broach for the first time in her young life, the subject of dying. It wasn't easy as she could sense my pain and I too could feel her's; still dying is something as natural as being born and an important lesson to learn no matter how painful.

As I Go, So Shall You

"She will take her lead from you; as you go--so shall she." These were words of advice I received from a close person in my life last week when I described how upset Sophia was regarding the news that her pop-pop was going to die. Truer words could not have been spoken. PinF has deliberately backed away for awhile, not fielding any calls other than necessary ones. I've not not really felt the need to blog either as I've tried to work through my own feelings and emotions regarding my mine and my brother's decision to allow my father to pass peacefully with the help of hospice. Though in many respects I've felt a sort of responsibility to share with the many regular readers of PinF that which they've either followed, supported, or advised me on for over the past 6 months. This after noticing either concerned phone messages or emails, thus I have been prompted to inform though not dwell- the many readers and concerned friends of PinF, as it's really too painful still.


Sophia has taken her lead from me in ways I had never really thought about until I witnessed such raw emotions after I told her I must leave for Philadelphia and that her pop-pop was going to be leaving for heaven. I have been living in Florida coming up on nine years this St. Patrick's day. Leaving was hard, as it always is when it is done on behalf of another. If I had my wish I would have never left, as I knew the day I left a little part of my dad died. Still like I've writen in earlier posts I still maintained a close, in touch relationship by phone, mail and visits. Speaking almost every night to my father allowed me to stay in touch with how he was doing and still monitor his health and happiness.

This frequent contact created a long distance bond between Sophia and him as well, something I really never gave much thought to as it was never something to mull. Now it is. And now I can see why she is so moved by the news, as she too feels the daily loss of his familiar voice. Sophia has always been encouraged to write thank you notes, send birthday cards, and generally be as involved as a little girl can be so far from her extended family. This again was her "taking her lead from me", as I try (though not always) to remember birthday's, Mother's and Father's days for all my family since I am so far away. Of course these little home made cards were often highlights of my father's day as he would call up to say he received this drawing or this home-made card. My father responded in kind, sending Sophia one of her most prized possesions-- her pink Eagles hat along with her pink sleeved Eagles Superbowl shirt. Every Sunday, she dons both and prepares to settle in with me to watch as much as her seven year-old psyche can really take. I know she does it for me, so I often implore her to go out and play, and that I'll call her when we score. Suffice to say she played alot during gamedays this year.

She still has her first pair of ice skates her pop pop bought her from Bill Battey's, something I've learned are not to be messed with when I recently suggested we give them away to some little girl who might be able to use them. Of course her reaction was that of a child on a mission to the Figure Skating Hall of Fame, preferring to save them for posterity. I know of course it's the sentimental value that she cherishes, again "taking her lead from me", as I too keep the sentimental items of value from my past. My father and Sophia enjoyed quite a different relationship than any of her other relatives in Philadelphia because she "followed my lead" and spoke to him very often in her seven years. He got to see her skate last Christmas of 2004, something she was quite keen on him seeing. She got to tell him she's a "Philly girl", knowing full well how proud this makes him when he hears it. They complimented each other's style well, so it was always an easy and stress free reunion for them, as they never seemed to need to "catch up" since they stayed informed about each other's lives. So as I navigate my way through these most powerful and sentimental emotions of loss and grief, I am constantly reminded of those words of advice and I check my emotions for Sophia's sake.

Sophia will survive. I will survive. Loss is part of life, though in times like these you do feel a sort of tendancy to try and re-savor the moments long since past. I'm comfortable with mine, and I believe Sophia is too, and as she comes through the pain she'll really only remember the happy memories and the positive impact of her pop pop's life on her's. I will soon be in Philadelphia to complete the journey that in many ways we're all on until the death of a parent. I'm ok with it, as long as Sophia keeps her emotions in check, because as Sophia goes-- so go I.

The Teacher Becomes the Student

All the time a person is a child he is both a child and learning to be a parent. After he becomes a parent he becomes predominently a parent reliving childhood. ---Benjamin Spock



It's no secret to any regular reader of this blog that PinF is completely enamored with his prodigious little companion Sophia. There is an ease to our relationship that is neither spoken nor defined. We know each other's boundaries both emotionally, and physically. She knows my likes, dislikes, quirks and most importantly my expectations of her. I too know her's. She's a child prone to praise and encouragement; whether it's her nature or the fact that she's an only child, she despises disappointing those who matter--her teacher and her parents specifically. This I see as a wonderful trait as she places her expectations of herself higher than those who matter would place on her, something every parent wants their child do.

Sophia arrived Thursday for her four days with her papi quite sheepishly. Her mother explained she was a afraid to show me her math test. Of the many blessings I'm grateful to have in my life one of my dearest would be Sophia's ease and love of learning, as she's always excelled with school. Again, she places high expectations on herself-- I like this, as I realize that one day this may wane with either the advent of boys or possibly teen angst-fueled rebellion. First thing I did was tell I didn't care about the test-- it is but one test of hundreds she will take this school year and she's never failed one yet. It was of course in the dreaded discipline of math that this travesty occurred, PinF was himself a victim of this "curse" as well. Specifically it was a test on "time"; how to read a clock, and the various ways we "tell" time.

After some hugs of assurance backed up with some healthy encouragement of just how good a student she really was, I was able to convince her to show me the "test". Oddly enough PinF is not a screaming, easily annoyed, or angered parent in case you're wondering. This isn't because this isn't my nature-- no, it's more because of the daugher that I was blessed with requires none of this type of carrying on. (See paragraph 1) She handed it over. She bombed it alright. A 56. Hopefully, she like I, was able to recognize that the real test was not the one she had failed, but rather that she came to me and though I may have been disapointed, I'll never be mad. I explained to her that her disapointment in herself made me more proud of her, as it showed how she really cared about failing the test, this in itself was much more of an important "test" to me. Well, I had to sign the test to assure the teacher I was aware of this so I did. I also wrote her a note telling her that by Monday Sophia would know "time" and all it's many nuances along with the equally diverse ways of desciphering it as well.

Saturday ushered in a "cold front" with rain here in PinF's part of Florida. A perfect day for sitting in and studying. Though Sophia loves school, she is first and foremost a kid--as such she also loves to play, something I knew I would have to be conscious of as we veered down "Study road" on a Saturday. We had bought a work book for 2nd graders on "time". Well let me skip the details and submit to the many readers that I know for certain that I picked Sophia up from religious school at "11:48", we discovered that though the lap top says "12:18" the stove says "12:20". We really didn't have to leave for the movie at "3:50" because it wasn't to start until "4:15" and so on. That's right-- I might have given her too much clock knowledge, as I was now reminded of the time of almost all functions and tasks throughout my day. Mission accomplished. I told her how proud I was that she put in the extra time this weekend. We probably studied about 3 hours off and on, and it paid off--quite literally. She went to school all puffed up with pride and feeling renewed and ready, and I went to work feeling like my weekend was spent very wisely. Equal parts play, work, prayer, the movies, learning, and laughing. Funny thing is, I think I learned more from her than she did from me. Either way it was the type of experience I know she'll carry for a long time, these are of course the most rewarding times spent.

Being a parent is a constant reminder that the teacher (in this case ME) often becomes the student, and as I often remind Sophia "you learn something new everyday".

The Music Of Life

Everyday I check Philly.com to see what's happening at home. This gives PinF a sense of connection even though he no longer lives in Philly, Philly still lives in PinF's heart. Often times I'll read of some senseless murder or embarrassing scandal currently afflicting the good people of Philadelphia. Occasionally I'll even write the Op Ed page in support of a columnist or a particular story.

How many of us get so caught up in our lives that we often don't realize our own blessings all around us? I know that I, PinF am most guilty of this at times, as I have allowed the situations of my life to cloud my vision at times. The important thing is our ability to empathize, lucklily I am able to. My father's declining health and all it has meant and done to me, my outlook, and indeed my view of my own mortality was all put into perspective this morning when I logged onto to Philly.com. I read a quote recently that really puts into perspective our own parent's mortality and what their passing often represents--- a loss of our own innocence: “Parents, however old they and we may grow to be, serve among other things to shield us from a sense of our doom. As long as they are around, we can avoid the fact of our mortality; we can still be innocent children.”

While reading the news this morning I came a cross a story so sad, yet so beautiful that it kind of kicks you in the stomach and warms your heart at the same time; more importantly it put into perspective the true nature of loss. In doing so, I kind of realized that many of my own petty annoyances and worries are just that, as I tried to imagine going into a recording studio to do what these children did with their dying mother. The story of Marcia Glover-Banks, a single mother raising her children while dying of terminal cancer struck me as an especially poignant lesson that nothing is guaranteed in this life. She and her three daughters just recorded a song written by her, about her and her three daughter's love of each other as she now prepares to die--- barring a miracle. This is a woman who is receiving hospice yet still caring for and raising her three children. How beautifully sad. You can listen to the song here.

It always comes down to the music, and though it's almost too heart wrenching to listen to-- listen you should. What a wonderful legacy of selfless maternal love this mother has given her three daughters along with the connection that love has to the music -- in all of us. She in her infinite maternal wisdom knows far too well that the pain of her passing will one day pale in comparison to the gift she has given to her daughters and the lesson it holds for their future.

Threading the Needle of the Dawn Sky

I went to the Florida Keys and took not one photo. I chilled, I read, and chilled some more. I will attempt to recreate the trip with words instead.

Unless you're in the Marine Corps, waking up any day at 5:15 AM is difficult at best for the majority of us; doing so on a Saturday morning is torture. And so it was that PinF peeled himself from his sheets about as easily as a label peels from a pickle jar. Questioning my wisdom/decision as I stumbled through the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, I began to eagerly approach the idea of riding to the Keys on my bike. Looking outside I could see clear sky with no clouds, plenty of stars and a brilliantly lit moon; the temperature was a moderate 68*---after my first sip of coffee I knew it was on. I was heading to my southern office to tend to some overdue business. Of course the whole point of a bike is to ride---preferably further than the super market and I was also eager to try out my new Metzler Tourance tires from Germany, that and I'd like to think maybe next year I'll take the trip I've been telling myself I would to Central America. So call this another trial primer run, with full luggage.

Showered quickly, layered some warm clothes anticipating the chill at 80 MPH and the fact that it would warm up equally as quick. I had already packed the night before and had the bike luggage with the necessary equipment ready to go--- small repair kit, rain suit, books, laptop, towel clothing. I eased the V Strom onto Florida's turnpike at 6:26 am in a still very dark light of dawn. The moon illuminated the road over my shoulder from the west and I could see hundreds of stars shining. To the east I could see the first vestiges of the much anticipated sunny and warm day that had been forecasted. I went to the "shuffle mode" on my POD, this always keeps the tunes unpredictable and fresh. With music pumping and wind rushing, I felt completely alert and alive as I hovered in the 80-90MPH range. Not many people on the turnpike at this time so I was able to enjoy the ride.

Having been under considerable pressure for some time now with family issues and my weekly commitments with Sophia's religious education, it was incredibly gratifying to be hauling ass down an open stretch of highway with my first free week-end in months. At 7 am I was almost half way to my destination in Key Largo and was mesmorized by the feeling of freedom and awe as I was literally threading the needle. On my left (east) was the brilliantly warm sunrise, while on my right high above was the 2/3 full moon. I had never given as much notice to the dawn sky as I was now; blame it on the music or the fact that I was on a motorcycle, but the beauty of the moon and the sun were stunning. I was glad I had made the decision to take this trip and eager to enter the Keys on such a glorious day. By 8 AM I was at the "end of the line" Better known as Homestead, as I approached the toll I could see three hot air balloons hovering; they too were enjoying this almost spring like day.

Due to a technical glitch my IPOD crapped out at this point-- which sucked, but also allowed me to really take in all the sites and sounds of such beautiful lands. I was just coming into the Upper Keys, just south of Biscayne Bay National Park, here there are reminders of the everglades and with them come an area teeming with with widlife and exotic birds. Nothing was lost on my senses, the smells unique to the Keys and their saturated grassy regions were first, soon after it was the water as I began seeing the turquoise and tranquil seas occasionally. I was to eventually meet up with my friend of 30 years Lauri MacLaughlin;(in white top w/blue flowers) she's been living in the Keys for 20+ years now and has one of those fascinatingly important jobs that make a difference in the world. Lauri is a marine biologist with NOAA working to improve, repair, and save the reefs of the marine sanctuary that is the Florida Keys.

PinF made Key Largo in record time due to all 1000cc's of his V Strom participating. Lauri had clued me in to a nice Monroe County park (Harry Harris Park) to check out. Arriving as early as I did I cruised off of Rte. 1 and went to see the park, it was as reported--perfect. Nice beach, swimming lagoon with calm water, showers, boat launch, etc. I asked the park guard (Francisco) where to get a good Cuban breakfast and he instructed me about 1 mile south on US 1 to the Cuban market on Tavenier Key. I arrived ready as susual to do some linguistic sparring as my Spanish is never as good as I'd like yet never as bad as I think. Today was no exception as I confidently ordered my breakfast , this of course caught the attention of the almost exclusively older male clientele, as I was the only "gringo" as far as I could tell. I was chilling nicely reading my Palm Beach Post that I had brought with me, sipping on my cafe con leche thrilled with the ride I just completed and anticipating my delicious breakfast followed by a relaxing day in the sun on a nice beach.

Struck a great converstaion with a retired Cuban man, himself a Bay of Pigs veteran who escaped Cuba and came to America where he obviously profited by the American system and now lives a comfortable retirement on board his boat. One thing about Cubans, whether you agree with our policies or not; you'll find no more fierce supporter's of America and the democracy she represents. Finished up the political rap, downed my juice and hopped on the
V Strom, which by now had found a few gawkers outside, made some small talk and then I was beach bound. I was able to locate a chair from the guard, and positioned myself in my office near a power source where I was able to replenish the IPOD and jam....read a little of Frank McCourt's new book "Teacher Man", took a swim, read some more, fielded a few calls from non-suspecting northerner's and chilled some more. Almost uneventful, except everytime I looked around I found myself giving thanks for where I was. After 9 years in Florida, I still take nothing for granted, most notably a warm sunny day in February. The day by now was at least 80*, no wind and not a cloud in sight. (Sorry PA. people)

Lauri arrived and we decided to go back to her house where PinF could assemble himself and shower, then we were off to a local dock restaurant called Snapper's to have some lunch. PinF started of with a pint of Stella, followed by locally caught and prepared fish ala cerviche. I complimented this with some fried conch and 5 huge pink Key West coconut crusted shrimp.....you know the drill. PinF was feeling no pain by now- the sun, the cold brews, the delicious food and a great friend all while sitting in paradise. Pulled out of the Keys at 5:30 and was home by 7:30, another nice, fast, and exhilirating ride with great tunes to fuel my pace.

Woke again on Sunday to another glorious day of Sunshine, sans clouds. This time I would be on my local beach in Juno right next to the pier, this is where we always sit. Sophia and I set the umbrella, laid out the blanket and then got ready for our favorite pastime---hunting for beach glass. We stayed until 6pm saw a manatee swim by, we played games and goofed all day. Sophia is an incredibly entertaining and wise child for seven years. She commented on how "time goes so fast" and how "....she could remember when she was five......" referring to some event on the beach. I agreed with her and told her that her papi could rememeber being 7 yrs. old and on the beach like it was yesterday, so it was good that she recognized the speed of how time flies and to truly appreciate the good times. She said she would.

Upon review, my weekend offered a brief if not needed break from some daily worries, though they were never far from my mind. Still I was able to recognize, appreciate, and truly enjoy all that is Florida, and it reminded me how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful region of this country. I was able to ride in the light of the moon as the new day's sun chased me into the Keys; I saw the beauty of the dawning sun and fiery colors of the dusk sun-- all within 12 hours time. The next day I was able to relax on another beautiful beach with my beautiful daughter doing nothing more important than just plain old appreciating each other's company and our beautiful surroundings.

Does it get any better than this?

http://timtraveler.blogspot.com

Wow! I'm not sure how many readers of PinF have been following this blog,(http://timtraveler.blogspot.com) but for those of you who haven't, may I suggest that you do now. This guy (Tim, coincidentally) has been traveling since late summer from California to Alaska accross the US and then down through the mid-Atlantic states and into Central and South America. Along the way he has been posting incredibly interesting and colorful stories of the people, places, and cultures he has encountered. It's been said that a picture is worth a thousand words.....if this is so, then this site is worth over 10 million words because of the image quality he has posted along way, from Machu Pichu, Peru to where he now finds himself--- on the edge of the South American Continent at Tierro del Fuego, Argentina. I have enclosed the above photo posted today taken of an iceberg. Tim's camera quality is as much responsible as his eye, as he has literally hundreds of incredible photos taken of breathtaking mountains, lakes, landscapes, and people. The most incredible fact is that this journey has all been done on a motorcycle!

Check it out.

Happy St. Valentines Day

To all of PinF's Valentine's, especially Sophia. Con Mucho Amor--- PinF

Passionately Golden Dreams

Every Thursday at 4 PM. It sounded easy enough in December, so what the hell I thought the kid L-O-V-E-S skating --every Thursday would be fine. In order to faciliate this activty I have altered my Thursday schedule so that I now arrive before the security guy does, do my work when there is almost no one around and then leave at 1:30PM so I can meet Sophie outside of school. From there we go to the house, eat a small snack and the get her "equipment" on. That's right, equipment. Sophia is taking ice skating very seriously these days, as such every accesory is of utmost importance, not to mention necessary. The last time she took lessons (level 1) she was cool with jeans, sweater and a pair of fleece gloves. That was last year. Level 2 has naturally elevated her "game", and in doing so has passed the cost of her "game" on to me and her mother.

Her equipment now is no less than the figure skates, the dress, the tan panty-hose (the kind that cover the skate down to the blade), her wool gloves, complete with faux feathering along the wrist, and finally her matching scrunchy to tie back her hair. Of course after all this she certainly "looks" the part; realizing full well that she may be more in love with the fashion than the sport. Still, this is OK because reagardless of her motives, she's nothing if not passionate for what she is doing. Passion. This is what any endeavor is ALL about, and I told her that so long as she has it, she'll have lessons. Because for me it's all about the love; if she loves what she's doing I love her doing it, I care little if it's skating, ballet or tee-ball. Just love it. And boy does she, almost too much, as I have to peel her from the ice at the end of class.

She lives for Thursdays, as she knows it's all about her for an hour, and of course me watching her, and her spins, her dips, her cross over and oh yes--her falls too. Of course I should mention also that she isn't just "another pretty face", she's actually quite good. She took to ice skating immediately when about three years ago I decided to do something other than a movie after reading an article about a rink oepning in S. Florida. At first she wasn't to keen on the "ice", and truth be told, I hadn't been on it for at least 12 years. We warmed up quick enough and before you know we were in the flow of over-sexed teenagers skating along to what seemed like the 8th grade dance DJ. I told myself that night that Fridays probably aren't the night we should skate. I couldn't ever remember teen-agers being so overt about sex and sexuality, at least not when I was at Skateland in Brookhaven in the late seventies. Suffice to say I made a mental note of this, and Sophie won't be skating on Friday nights.

I digress. Suffice to say Sophia progressed quickly, so I signed her up for lessons. The rest, as they say is......well you know the rest. So now here we are three years down the road, and she's changed. Wants to watch ice-skating on TV, loves any Disney movie regarding little girls and ice skating. So the other day we made our pilgrmage twenty miles south to the ICE ZONE in Lake Worth, itself a study in pushy parents and pudgy kids. (More on that later)
After leaving she said to me that the teacher said the girls in the Olympics today were Sophia's age less than ten years ago, and that they too could be the next Olympic skater. She could, yes I agreed with her,I told her she could also be a hundred other things that I would be just as proud of her for too. So last night we both got comfortable on the couch, broke out the ice cream and watched the opening ceremony. I knew full well that this will be the first Olympics she remembers, just like 1972 was for me. She watched intently, almost mesmorized by the stunning visually rich show. As I watched her I thought how quickly she'd be that 16 year-old, and maybe she would be an Olympic skater, why not right? This is probably how it happens, girl takes gymnastic or skating class, girl sees girls a little older than herself on TV realizing their full potential doing what girl already loves, girl becomes inspired, motivated and re-applys herself towards the ultimate dream.

Well we'll see, I'm not getting too ahead of myself am I? Actually, maybe not since her coach Alexei Ulanov is himself an Olympic gold medalist, something I've never met until Sophia took lessons. So why not allow her to dream a "big" dream, if she wants it she's got a good start--she loves the sport, her coach is a gold medal winner and she has passion. So it all begins now in Torino and we're excited. Afterall, the Olympics are the only event that the whole world watches in unison, a warming thought in such troubled times. I thought of that too, and that probably somewhere in Russia Sophia's rival was watching with her Papi too, with the same dream. Isn't this what's so great about being a kid? You have SO many dreams, and SO many possibilities-- and the time in which to foster and realize both if you have the encouragement, and even more importantly-- the PASSION.

Hard to Notice & Impossible to Ignore(the lesson)

OK enough of the political rants. PinF is back with more familiar observations.

In an attempt to respect the confidentiality and confidence of their remarks, I shall not use their names. However-- their input, observations, and advice I will share. PinF as many of you already know has been dealing with the continually spiraling health of his father from afar, certainly not something I'm comfortable with, though it's something I have no real control over. My day is spent in an office, with a major portion of it on a phone. Because I am my father's POA I am often called on by various Doctor's, social workers, and an occasional family member during my day as I monitor and and try my best to direct what is being done with regard to my father's care.

Whatever sense of responsibility I've felt to my daughter as a parent, I have felt an equal if not greater sense of responsibility as a child to my Father, as it is he who is now in distress. I have examined my motivations and loyalties and suspect that much of my sense of duty to my father and of course my mother is possibly tied into to an earlier shared experience of having faced a nearly fatal medical event in my life at age 7. It was through this experience that I viewed the scared, concerned, and loving looks of each of my parents as I looked back up at them from my hospital bed. This experience has had a much more profound effect on me than I ever really gave much thought to until I had to reverse roles and look down upon my father in his hospital bed.

Knowing this I have deliberately, slowly, and cautiously approached every request for another procedure as well as calls for "ending" the ordeal, a referance to considering hospice. My reasoning throughout has been that death is forever and so long as he shows progress I should afford my father every reasonable chance to "turn it around". This ordeal, as with any life challenging/changing event, often reveals the best and worst in all of us. Of course there have been fissures in relationships, mis-communications, and disagreements that unfortunately extreme pressures incubate. None of us knows how we will or won't react under these extreme pressures and situations until such time as we are called upon to do so in our lives. Having said this, I received an email from a friend who has felt this same burden, both with regard to the care and more importantly the decisions and the pressures they create. Her father passed away not too long ago and she knows what PinF is going through, especially with regard to the fact that I am separated physically from the situation. She wrote me: "Quality of life is something we take for granted daily, and when someone doesn’t have it, it is awful. Humans are selfish creatures, and would rather keep someone around to make themselves feel better, rather than considering that person’s quality of life."

Spoken truths are powerful.

I'm sure in hindsight PinF is on one level of sub-conciousness guilty of doing this too; it is afterall selfish human nature to "hold on" and "not give up", but the time is quickly approaching a point where I will have to. That isn't to say I have not made every decision as an informed (as best I could be) patient advocate, I believe have. Hence my decisions have been made after serious considerations of my expectations and the possible outcomes, and more importantly these decisions were made one procedure at a time. It would be very easy to view the present state of affairs and believe the course and/or decisions were wrong or could have been made differently---this is not a luxury I ever have or can afford myself. I have taken the best information I was privy to, and weighed it with what I believe my father would want and then factored in his propensity to fight coupled with his will for, and love of life.

I recently spoke with another person, one who herself has both firsthand and professional knowledge regarding end of life issues. This is a woman with a life's worth of experience and knowledge who has relationships with both me and my father; she too offered sage advice as to possible solutions to my father's dilemma. For she knows well that my father would never want to be "ware-housed" and most certainly would choose to be free of his earthly existance if asked to choose. Most importantly she offered calm support for what at times has seemed almost too much, especially at a time when I am still navigating my daughter and myself through the lingering emotional mindfields of our own lives.

As she spoke and mentioned recently seeing him and how his body weight was now down to 147 LBs. I began to have several thoughts rush into my head distracting me from what she was saying. The first was in remembering what a strong man my father was physically, and how he used his body working hard all his life. As a child his arms would almost seem as if they were "hulk like", much the same way Sophia thinks I'm Superman in her eyes, he was in mine. The other thought that rushed into my head was that of a novel I read a few months ago, The Confessions of Max Tivoli, strange I know--but this is how PinF's brain works. This is a complex novel that is in a nutshell almost metaphoric for how we all eventually leave this earth. It deals with Max who is born in 1871 a 70 year old infant who is fated to live his life in reverse, essentially giving him seventy years on this earth. Physically he appears elderly and deformed, mentally he is an infant, as he physically matures in reverse, he also mentally decreases backwards until 70 years laterwhen he is physically an infant, however he is so with a seventy year-old mind. Essentially when he becomes a middle age man, he is mentally that of a child (probably true of many middle aged men). It struck me that in many ways life ends in one form or fashion almost child-like, as you become frailer, weaker, lighter and smaller. Often times these changes can be accompanied by the mental deterioration reducing a once vibrant, strong, and independent adult to an almost child like state. Funny how that is.

PinF will obviously be coming to Philadelphia again soon, and will again confront both the reality and mortality of his father. Options are dwindling, though my responsibility remains clear, even if it means letting go. In many ways it would be easier if he would make that decision for me, but of course life's toughest moments are never easy. This fact illustrates why in life we humans draw the most meaning and best lessons from the biggest challenges. Still it remains the task of the living to understand the meanings and lessons of such events in our lives. PinF will, it'll just take time.

If You Lie Long Enough.....

Before you read this click here.

The few times that PinF has ventured into sensitive political issues he has ultimately invoked the ire of someone, specifically on the rabid right. PinF was in fact once a strong supporter of Republican polictics, at least when John McCain seemed to have had a chance of winning; sadly even he was a target of the "machine". Imagine a decorated, highly educated man of unquestioned moral character and honor was himself derided by the George machine. Now PinF is a strong Independent, choosing instead to seek politicians whose word is reflected by their deed, sadly even democrats have been guilty of the dirty tricks that the Republicans seem to stand for anymore. Irrespective of where you stand on the morality of war, there are some discerning points to be made. So I have to speak out. So I will.

How can a President be impeached for a little "adult fun" between two consenting adults in the White House, yet his predecessor can wage a war with an immoral agenda of death, destruction, and political meddling in sovereign nation's affairs, virtually unchallenged? Only in America I say. The only moral man of George W's administration resigned, deeply troubled by the bending if not total skewering of the facts. We have commited $18Billion dollars to the rebuilding of the grand and historically significant city of New Orleans. Yet this amount pales in comparison to the untold hundreds of billions of dollars we are spending to win an unwinnable war. Let us not mention our greatest and most precious assests-- our young American soldier's lives that are exposed to death and dismemberment daily in the pursuit of stomping out terrorism. Have we as a nation learned nothing by the agressive anti-terror campaign of Israel? They could not wipe terrorism out and neither can we. History will record the folly with which George and his minions believed they could.

It has been estimated that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan now cost the United States $4Billion dollars a month. In terms of George Bush's estimates, we could theoretically rebuild 3 major US cities this year. This is blood money, fueled by greed, natural resources and lies. George started "our war" off with $87Billion dollars in 2003, yet he has consistently come back for more and more....when do we as a nation wake up and start asking at what price? Can anyone even imagine $87Billion dollars? I couldn't, but now you can-- Look Here to see how scary and out of control this meglamaniac is. This war is not what "we" as a people stand for, nor is being treated as if you are less than American if you take a stand against it. It seems mighty peculiar to PinF that everytime a Democrat makes a challenge to this President or his policies, his name and indeed his career accomplishments are dragged through the mud by the evil non-miltary serving minions of George Bush. How we allow these men to hold positions of power when so much is at stake is beyond PinF, quite frankly it leaves me wondering where we are headed as a nation if we launch into wars based on lies and skewered intelligence. I for one feel no safer, nor prouder to be an American now based on our policy of bullying nations, and killing innocents, while evil men propagate the lies that accompany our policies.

Ok then. Let the right wing rhetoric and abuse begin. I love my country, but I hate it's policies of lies and hipocracies.
Cigars and sex = Impeachment, war and lies = a "holy crusade" of lunacy. Wow I feel better already.

SOUL FOOD IS GOOD FOR YOU !

Had any soul food lately? PinF has and along with Sophia, we're regulars every Sunday. The usual routine is to awake at 7 or 7:30, have some Life cereal, then we both slowly dress, plug the dual headphone jacks into the I-pod and cycle off for 9 AM mass at St.Paul of the Cross. Sophia and I have been doing this for the past three years, as I kind of phased religion into her life just as her parent's marriage was ending and as her maturity would allow an uninterupted hour of reflection. Her familiarity with church has also spawned other endeavors she loves, the Christmas Eve pageant being one in particular. Sophia loves this power hour of soul food, funny enough after a decade or more of estrangement from convential religious gatherings, so does PinF. I used to think you could keep your spirituality within, and worship in the church of your mind; you probably can but the act of commiting to such an endeavor of publicly professing your faith provides far greater rewards in the end.

PinF is speaking more of "faith" than "religion" when he attends church. Because for all I do get from the formal gatherings of traditional religion there is still much more I don't get, and indeed still take umbrage with. The biggest difference is as I've aged---or I'll say "matured" is I am less inclined to have "it" all explained and for it "all" to make sense. If that makes any sense. I can accept the non-sensical, choosing instead to draw out of my soul food that which I need for my sustenance and nourishment. Sophia too, as she is quite taken to what she loves most--the singing, so in this she has taken what she loves, and kind of sails through the "boring" parts.

Our weekly heapings of soul food have taken on a greater degree of nourishment as of late as Sophia has been preparing to make her First Holy Communion. PinF couldn't be any prouder. Every Sunday immediately following mass I drop miss Sophie over at the church school for her pre-Communion class for the next hour and a half. PinF then disappears to Starbucks for his dose of a more earthly sustenance, a grande caramel machiatto and the Sunday New York Times. That which I once found strangely forced and unnatural has come to Sophie much more naturally. Blame it on a different teaching approach maybe, that and the fact that Sophie really does dig God. Whatever the reason I am grateful as she shows an emotional maturity and understanding beyond her years sometimes, for this I give thanks.

This Saturday PinF will witness yet another mile marker of Sophia's development as she steps up to make her first reconcilliation, affectionately known to my generation as "confession". Of course this is mainly a Catholic thing, so for many the true meaning of making your first confession is either lost or just plain unknown. For PinF it was done by remembering the Our Father and a bit of scripted words beseeching forgiveness to a priest behind a veil in a dimly lit box. PinF is so happy to see those days, like so many of the dinosaurs of the Catholic faith- have changed, so Sophia will face the Father herself and profess her "sins", then she'll recite either a Hail Mary or and Our Father with the priest. Of course one thing hasn't changed since I did this and that is the fact that Sophia says she has no sins to profess. Funny, neither did I. So I told her "examples" of "sins", now it appears she's "going in" with papi's suggestions--no matter "God understands" I tell her.

The whole notion of forgiveness is kind of a strange to a child, as they really hold no long term anger or grudges and kind and move from one happy experience to the next. PinF has had to learn how to forgive many things in his life over the past few years, something I still work at daily. In trying to explain the whole notion of sin and reconcilliation I've explained that God's forgiveness of anything she does is like mine; there is nothing she can do or say that I cannot forgive her for. This allows her to grasp the idea a bit better, her fear seems to have disapated a bit, though I'm sure when the moment comes this Saturday morning we can expect a few last minute jitters. She'll be fine though, as usual I think I'm more nervous?

She is right though, she really hasn't any "sins" in the conventional sense, God knows she's never been disrespectful; being any only child she's never taken to using violence against playmates. But that isn't the point--she needs to understand that this is preparation for her "big day" in May. Strangely enough I've studied just as hard for this day, as parents now have to attend four classes prior to the child receiving these sacraments--something I do willingly. For I know it would be impossible for Sophia to find God and her faith without me attending church and leading by example, so I willingly and proudly walk the walk with her. I once read that when raising children you should be more concerned with what you do in front of them rather than what you say in front of them, as so much of what we learn in life is by example and not word. So Saturday PinF will be receiving an extra serving of Soul Food, and why not? It tastes great and has no calories. Blessings to all.

Life is a Song Worth Singing

So I guess I've been so preoccupied as of late with the continuing and emotionally taxing affairs in Philly and my own life in Florida, that I hadn't realized PinF was approaching yet another milestone of sorts. 5ooo visitors! That's a rather humbling feat, especially when you consider you're not providing people with anything more than your thoughts on really nothing more than what happens to be happening on any given day in the life of PinF. Often times I've even questioned whether to click the "publish" button, worried whether or not what I've written may at times be "too private". (they usually turn out to be the most true and interesting postings)

If nothing else, writing provides an outlet to personalize that which may be common to many, but too often due to the fear of admitting these thoughts---.many of us may never realize. PinF has received many, many, emails and comments regarding some of the pain and fears of the events he has experienced this past year, some are bound in empathy while others are cloaked in sympathy. Most are wrapped in a commonality of experience, mainly owing to the fact that although we are all uniquely different, we really are much more alike than we are different, especially when it comes to experiences of life as we all journey through. Like Teddy Pendergast so astutely said, "Life is a song worth singing, so sing it".

So while many regular readers as well as strangers of PinF have thanked me for touching something familiar in their lives; it is I- PinF who has received the greater gift, receiving literally hundreds of emails since PinF's debut in May. Of course there are the occasionally angry rants towards a particular political stance or statement--- the lion's share of your comments and postings are positive, supportive, and generally uplifting. PinF tries to be as innocuous as possible, choosing to observe the smaller nuances and meanings in his everyday life and travels, constantly trying to notice the hidden or obscurred lessons or meanings. For it is usually in the smaller and seemingly less significant moments and memories that we find the more profound lessons and experiences. I find this to be true everyday with my own daughter as she'll often recall something that never seemed that important to me, though I vaguely remembered it, it hadn't struck me as something I needed to "bank" at the time it ocurred. This too is true with my own memories, something which is often in contrast with those who remember my childhood events differently than my world at the time had colored them.

So what's the lesson here? Savor the small triumphs, remember the little details, and always try to pay it forward in your life. If you have children, then make it a priority to make "nice" kids; not kids that are nice to you and your family, but kids who are nice to all people all the time. Take time to stop and enjoy the simpler pleasures, even if it's doing nothing, as PinF is so adept at doing on the beach on any given Sunday. Remain focused on the "bigger picture", as it is so easy to get caught in a micro-examination of non significant events in one's life. PinF has gotten through a few particularly tough situations the past few years by doing just this...wide angle focusing, as opposed to zoom lensing my life. So thanks to the many who have followed the often insignificant musings and opinions of one man in Florida----->PinF.

Sunshine, Cold Brews and Migrations

Hmm...CNN in Florida for a week, (mis) adventuras de Carlos en Costa Rica, Tedman going to Texas....AKJN spending the holidays in Florida.......anyone seeing the pattern here? The "club" as we'll call it are all slowly migrating south. Tedman doubts he'll have strength enough to return....CNN has made it known she'd consider moving, hell her employment demographic is in full force in Florida. Then there's AKJN, aka blog "rookie of the year", she's a rolling stone disguised as a Media townie, if situations weren't what they were family-wise she might just be AKJNinFLORIDA....I like the sound of this. Finally Carlito--well what can we say about this intrepidly rolling stoned soul? He's as free as bird, so I hate him. He can go where he wants, when he wants, and the rest od us can only marvel at his free and easy lifestyle. Actually Carlito is not hated, just his jealousy inspiring lifestyle.

What's this all mean? Could it be that the PinF lifestyle has finally sunk in? The 74* drives to work, the weekends at the beach with coronas, or was it the motorcycle ride to the keys on a whim?......Time will tell.

In other news PinF has recently released his I-Pod playlist, once a tightly guarded trade secret of the inspired writings and rantings of PinF, these just recently de-classified tracks have been released as yet another layer of the onion peel that is PinF's outer persona is stripped to reveal a bit more of the likes, dislikes, and inner workings of PinF when he's traveling high speed on his bike with his music pumping in his helmet. Enjoy, CD's of PinF's greatest I-Pod hits are available upon request---JAH, yours fly's on Saturday for the chilly north, enjoy!

The Junk of Life

It's heartening to know PinF has a steady stream of readers/supporters and various friends who have sensed the silence for the past two weeks. Friends from Europe to Key West have been checking in, making me realize this may be PinF's longest break in posting since PinF began. It wasn't until TMac one of PinF's favorite people popped her head into my email box today as she's apt to do when her favorite blogger falls silent. She asked "if things were OK?", knowing full well the tumult that continues to tug at PinF from Philadelphia. She ended her concerned email with a little caveat: "... you haven't posted since December 29...". Wow....had it really been that long? I checked my last post, sure enough TMac tells no lies.

Happy New Year. I've just arrived home after another week in Philadelphia, PinF's 6th trip since May. It's gotten so bad that PinF was asked by a waitress in Media where I'd been? She went on to say she thought I had moved......I told her I did---9 years ago and that I live in Florida, something she found hard to believe. The week in Philly was just as painful and tough as the others, yet there have been small glimmers of hope. Reconnected with many friends and family while doing the hospital routine again for six days. Arrived home suffocating from stress, as the pressure of my father's continuing care, as well as the direction we should now take has begun to take its toll on myself and my brother's. PinF went straight from the airport to the ice rink to see Sophia start her third round of figure skating lessons. Amazing how my worries seemed to disapate as I sat and watched the kids.

Of course arriving back from such pressure and sadness takes a while to readjust to the "here and now"....but having a 7 year-old "Dorothy Hamill" to hang out with helps. Sophia is so all about the whole sport of ice skating, this makes sense because the sport is one of the few that blends the fashion aspect with the athletic. The glitter dresses, the gloves, the whold sport is as much about dressing up as it is participating. This and the fact that Sophia is truly a "girlie girl", she has no interest in soccer, softball, or tennis, she prefers the cool rink with the glitter dress on and her skates. Still my mind was half here, and half there.

There were a few highlights to PinF's visit, (mis)Adventures of Chuck was out and on the scene, he's living on short time as he prepares to leave for some volunteering in Costa Rica. I wish it was me, as I could use a good esccape plan for a month or so, though I know this isn't gonna happen. It will for Chuck, because he's set up for the nomadic, happy traveler type of life. My jealousy is is of course tempered with equal parts admiration. He's doing a good deed, and for this he's a good guy. Helping anyone anywhere, especially volunteering gives such a good feeling that he'll he get much more out of it than he'll ever invest into it. To this ends PinF was happy to make his contribution to (mis)AofC "volunteer fund" and I encourage anyone who knows Chuck or appreciates what he's going to do also contribute. MofC isn't exactly self sustaining right now, so all friends of Chuck ought to consider what they'll save not buying him a beer in the Plum or Sligo's and make a donation in this amount. Good luck MofC!!

My weekend thus far has gone a long way towards relieving some of the worries I have back home. Nothing like a bit of garage sale shopping to help that. Garage sale you say? That's right, PinF has been hounded by Sophia for the past month to take her, being the pack rat she already is with regard to her own things I was a bit reticent to take on OPJ (other people's junk). I'm still trying to figure where this desire sprung from, as Sophia has never been a "second-hand" type of girl, being an only child? So Friday night I got the classifieds and mapped our targets for Saturday, and by 8AM we were off. It felt like the first fall day in Philly, brilliantly sunny, but brisk-- as a cold front had poured on through from the north. Let's see, we picked up that hard to find soundtrack by Janet Jackson to the Nutty Professor movie-- a keeper for sure. Sophia picked up two "bling belts" for a dollar, two candle holders (she judiciously awarded one to her mother and one to me), and then we closed it out with three DVD's from Disney. It was fun. I don't really care for OPJ, but it was more about the yucks we had as we commented under our breath over the odd pickings that people choose to reveal at garage sales.

Funny in a way, because just last month PinF has collected a bagful of clothing that no longer fit Sophie with the intention of dropping it at the farmworkers council; they distribute the clothing directly to the children of migrant farm workers. Sophia being the packrat she is spied the bag and pulled out her size 5 Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt and put it on before confronting me and accusingly asked me "Papi, what is this doing in the bag?"...When I responded we were helping children who needed clothes she was quick to model the clothes proving that she still "wears" them. First rule of Sophia: Throw nothing away, as I have had to make many late night raids on her room to collect what needed to go, both to the trash and to the donation box. Well the sight of that sweatshirt was enough to make me laugh as it fit her about as good as Frankenstein's clothes, she then told me specific memories she had of kindergarten in that piece of clothing. It was an emotional attachment, but I knew what she meant and how she felt. I tried to reason what good it was to donate them, she stood firm.....suffice to say she wore the sweatshirt, this time with the sleeves cut off so she could fit into it. Funny kid.

Sunday was a tad warmer and allowed us a motorcycle ride to the park and then Barnes and Noble for some reading materials. Today being MLK day we have the day off, and we too have a dream. It's called chilling on the beach, and we're headed there now. It is as I look out my patio slider, a beautifully warm sunny day, with no clouds. A couple bowls of Life cereal and we're off. Life cereal....PinF ate life cereal, funny how life is really like a repeat movie when you have a kid, as your child is the "projector" of many of your old memories. So we're off now to make some new ones-- in the sand. Thanks TMac.