The Long Way Home

So I'm guessing by now that some people are wondering what the update is with PinF since I so abruptly arrived into my old state of Pennsylvania. For starters, my father has slowly crept back from the great abyss of the here after and made a stunning reversal of his medical decline. Having spent almost 80 hours in 9 days in a hospital, I have developed such respect for those who are called to nursing. The nurses that surrounded my father must have known that his own mother was a nurse for 57 years, as I watched the dedication, respect, and care they gave to what appeared to resemble very little the man I know. Especially poignant and appreciated were the two sister's who worked side by side in nursing. These two nurses took special interest and care in my father; safeguarding his dignity daily with the devotion and love with which they gave so willingly and sincerely. These two young women I would come to find out, were both graduates of my mother's alma mater, Little Flower Catholic High School for Girls. It was just two months ago that I was at their school giving a speech of introduction for my mother's induction into the LFHS Hall of Fame. The irony of this was not lost on me, and I suspect their care spoke as much to their family values and how they were raised as it did the values instilled at such a fine school. Neither words nor deeds can truly express gratitude for those who would care for your family member as you yourself would. These young women along with many others are the personification of what "nursing" really is, and I supect their care is as much responsible for my father's recovery as was his will to live.

As with all major events in our lives, my father's health has allowed me to see many facets of my own life from both different and hopefully wiser perspectives. Receiving a call informing you that any family member is dying least of all a parent-- is at best like a kick in the stomach, even though it's a fear all children will one day have to face. My parent's faced it, their parent's faced it, and so on. So now it's my turn. Having said this, these events often allow us all to "go home" in a sense. Facing your parents mortality forces you to look back upon your own life and the path you have lead that eventually leads you back to whence you have come from. This and the fact that you must communciate with your siblings the wishes and desires of your parents almost force you to confront your shared past's.

This fact was particularly illustrated in my case by the virtue of the hospital my father wound up in; Delaware County Memorial Hospital. Three of my brothers and I were born here, I also had my kidney removed here as a sick child. I remember quite vividly also being here when my father's mother died, we were at her bedside as she a woman of profound faith announced she was "leaving". This made my initial visit all the more poignant not to mention painful as I now looked down at my parent in what at the time appeared to be his death bed. This was not to be, not now anyway.

After almost ten days of back and forth from Media to my father's bedside I was reconciling my past with my present, as each day I drove through my childhood memories on the streets I was raised in Drexel Hill. Each morning I would ride past my elementary school where some of my fondest and dearest memories as a child have been stored for 32 years since I left in 3th grade. I decided after a particulary hard day of emotions to ride down my old street and see the house we grew up in. As I sat parked across from 4009 Lasher memories of days long sinced past flashed before me, in all of them my parents are youthful and strong. I gazed upon the steps that my brother's and I would play "stepball" on for hours, and where for some reason the entire street always seemed to congregate. It was both cathartic and sad as I knew that time does indeed march on, just as it was now with my father's health.

The one true desire aside from actually being allowed to walk through my childhood home was the imposing three story, stone elementary school where so many of my memories remained stored. I drove up remembering how my mother and I would walk to the adjacent street in the summer time to the Bookmobile to check out books. Prominent still were ball fields where my dad would hit pop-flys for his four older boys or play football. I decided then that this would be the day I would reenter the true essence of all I had left behind of my childhood before moving to Wallingford. In reality what dramatic or instilled memory does any child have of childhood other than their school and friends? I had longed wished I could walk the halls as an adult to see what it was that had permeated my memory for so long, today was the day.

I approached the massive building, and in doing so was transported back in time to a simpler, happier, and carefree time when innocence was bliss. Much to my surprise very little if anything had changed. I walked into the main office and was greeted by a nice secretary who I told I was considering locating nearby and enrolling my daughter. I prefaced this with the fact that I too had once been enrolled and was equally curious to again walk the halls. The woman was immediately warm and accomodating as she explained the achievements and advantages of attending Garettford Elementary. So often your past is jarred by a familar smell and this day was no exception, as I could smell the old wooden doors, cabinets, and teacher's desks. She encouraged me to walk anywhere I wanted and told me she was available for any questions. I felt the same lump in my thgroat as I did on the first day of Mrs. West's kindergarten class when my mom walked me in crying not to go.

I logically started at the beginning. I went into Mrs. West's classroom, still looming as large as I remembered were the room-width blackboards; somewhat of a throwback I thought since so many "modern classrooms now use dry erase boards. I could remeber milk and graham crackers here. I then went to the first library I had ever been in; it seemed small by comparison to my childhood memory yet still it had the familiar and deliciously musty odor of old books. After this I walked downstairs to Mrs. Garret's first grade class remembering my schoolboy crush on her as I sat in the now empty and sweltering classroom. I remember her teaching us about the Apollo space program and watching the launches huddled around an old 19" black and white with rabbit ears. Across the hall was Mrs. Scott's 2nd grade class, it was here I learned about tracing one's family roots and made my first family tree.

I ambled down the hall to the cafeteria; still the largest assemby area of the school, it's two sets of double fire doors leading to the massive playgrounds where kickball was king. After here I went up to the second floor to Ms. Johnson's third grade class, this too was very clear to me as I remembered how young and beautiful she was. She taught us about the bigger world that lay outside of our own protective neighborhoods. It was in her class that I made a passport and drew a picture of Buckingham Palace, this memory would come back to me when I would eventually stand before the real palace 16 years later on my first of many visits to London. Next I would go to my favorite class-- the artroom. This was a place I loved, and just like the library it too held magical memories in the smell of the paint, the kiln, and the myriad of art supplies. It's relevance further heighten by the fact that my first art teacher, Mina Segal is to this day a wonderfully close and loved friend of my family; one whose art hangs in my house in Florida.

The unlocking of these any so many other childhood memories have better prepared myself for the inevitability of change. Change comes in many forms; location, job, marriage, divorce, and sadly death. For now that's something that seems to be on hold, though I know it's there waiting, not just for my father but all of us. If nothing my trip back home to see my father through this time whatever the outcome, allowed me time that I hadn't been able to afford during past visits. The time for reflection is often times one that is a luxury that we don't allow ourselves for whatever reasons. Sometimes the terrain is too painful, or maybe we just get so caught up in our busy lives, whatver the reason I'm glad I took the time to remember the many good times long since past as I pondered my father's fate. Equally important are the friends and family that line our paths in life, and in this department I have been blessed. It's been a tough two weeks, one full of crying, laughing and wondering. The only constant has been my many friends who have either supported my by email, the phone or in person. For them I am grateful and humbled, and wish them all well. It would seem that often the best way home, is the long way home.

Laughing Through My Tears

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.-- William Shakespeare

We've done a lot of both......

PAYNTERinPHILLY

As Harry Chapin said..."All my life's a circle", God knows this is true. PinF touched down on Wednesday 7/13 with a heavy heart and a mission. Judging by the lack of feedback by the many I know who read PinF, my latest blogs have been heavy. I know this. Life is heavy. Death is heavy. Still life is a CIRCLE, and an bitterly sweet and painful one at that..........................

Still what I found here in Philly is four brothers grieving four different ways, all trying their best to do all they can for a father whose health continues to spiral in ways we cannot understand. What is life, if not the one's you love and hold dear? I am now asking this daily as I deliver unto my father my unrequited love and support in his hospital room. This week has been incredibly painful and retrospective in ways I cannot properly put into words. I am residing for all intents and purposes in a hospital room 10 hours a day. I love my dad, hence my presence here, having dropped completely my life in Florida. Still love isn't always enough when dealing with end of life issues.....I'm trying to do what's right by my dad....

Media has been somewhat of a pressure release as of late......going from hospital to friends...still I come back to the reality of the hospital and what is ultimately to come...God knows it isn't what I'm ready for...yet it's what we've all been preparing for.....more later

Feliz Cumpleanos Sophia!

HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY SOPHIA!









Well the fashion party was a huge hit, the "high heel" pinata was beaten to a pulp and another year has gone. Sophia is 7. Seven years really isn't that much time, though when you speak of 7 years of parenting it seems as if an eternity, like I can't even remember life without her. Strange. Still it's been 7 years of fun, laughter, and learning - about what it is to be a parent, and more importantly a father. Sophia has enriched my life in ways I could have only imagined.....Happy Birthday Bu. I added a few "montage" photos of her along the way, not the best quality, but I wanted them still. I'll add some from her party later......

Destinies, Dads and Daughters

EDITORS NOTE: I received an email complaining-- well not really complaining, more like commenting - that I have yet to once mention the weather here in Florida as I said I would in my profile. Well let me see.....hold on, straining to look out the window....OK Weather: Partly cloudy, VERY hot, and winds are ominously gaining strength, a harbinger of what is to come to our neighbors to the west....God help those in the path of Dennis...it looks BIG.


So anyway I'm watching the news, just as shocked as anyone else of course, and it occurs to me how in a "blink of an eye" life can be snatched, not to unlike the recent shark attacks here in my sunny state. Who could have EVER imagined three years ago -- a plane, some buildings, and thousands of fathers, mothers, sons and daughters not coming home? So I'm thinking the same thing...who would ever imagine as you head off on your way to work that the double decker bus you so innocently believe will deliver you to your destination will become a sardine can of deadly shards, mayhem and death? In an instant. Boom. Which brings me to my point.

So often we're told "never go to bed mad", "always tell the ones you love what you want to say while you can"...."say you're sorry even if you aren't"....how true is this? I'm thinking of this because as I write this now my Father lies in a hospital bed, his future quite uncertain. It becomes so apparent when you see your own parent's frailities what Bob Marley meant when he said "...once a man and twice a child...", as we are all destined by our own human weaknesses to eventually revert back to our childlike existance as we age. Thank God, I feel as though I've always taken the time to tell my father what I felt, though the physical separation during this period is straining. Do I go to Philly only if his time seems near? That seems kind of harsh but it is a reality, as I have already planned for three weeks of vacation in August to spend time with him and others. My brothers have the burden of having to live in this reality whereas I only have my imagined fears, which is worse I'm not sure.

The contrast of my father's approaching last days is contrasted by his granddaughter, my daughter- Sophia's birthday this Saturday. I am faced with dread, worry, and fear for my father all the while knowing I must also face the joy, excitement and blessing of my own child as she excitedly awaits her 7th birthday party. A fact that reminds me of my own time on this earth. Parenting is such an equal lesson in both your parents' past, as it is in your own future. Keeping this in mind I try to not to take the "little moments" for granted with my own daughter's life. Knowing full well that the little moments that we as adults assign little consequence to are usually the most etched in our childhood memories. I like so many friends, family and indeed all people will very soon face my father's mortality, it's disconcerting and sad and made even more worrisome by the fact that it could happen before I could be physically there. Just as so many of those poor people in London now know; life rarely ends when we expect it, nor are any of us granted the time we'd like, to say the things we wanted.

Perhaps if any good at all comes of these recent events, it would be that we all take the time to reflect how important and loved our family and friends are in our lives. And then maybe we will all endeavour not to put off telling them so, or staying mad at someone for what I'm sure will seem ridiculous reasons when the time is too late. I know myself that Sophia and I always tell each other how much we love each other every day, and if I lose my temper I ALWAYS tell her why, and that I'm sorry. Always. She may come to realize many things she did not know about her father over the course of her life, knowing how much I loved her will not be one of them. These are the lessons of our lives, the ones we're so sure we already knew when our parents were trying to teach them to us.

As of right now my thoughts are with my father, so I don't have much in the way of anecdotal funny thoughts...that'll come though. Regardless what happens, I've had a lot of fun with my Dad, and a lot of great memories, God willing he'll pull through and we'll have a few more when I get to Philly in August. Still I am comforted in knowing that he knows how I feel, and though he wasn't much for sharing his feelings, I know how he felt too. So in this department I'm good. I guess no one is ever ready to say goodbye to anyone they've known all their lives, whether you get the chance -- or in the case of those poor souls in London yesterday - you don't.

Sharks are Lurking Everywhere.....

As I sat on the beach reading the days' news enjoying my fourth of July holiday with my wonderful little gapped-toothed girl, I was stuck by what a metaphor sharks are in real life. Never really being able to relax due to the recent spate of Florida shark bites prompted me to enter the water with Sophia, keeping one eye on her and one eye on our general patch of water. It struck me what a strange way to enjoy something that has come so naturally to me all my life...I am now faced with the fact that there are REAL dangers around us-- all the time in fact. These dangers are often either ignored or placed way back in our conciousness, nevertheless any parent knows of what I speak.

I went into to the water even though I was more comfortable reading my paper because I thought to myself this is what is was like for all the other shark victims families-- relative calm and fun interupted by abject horror and mayhem. In a sense my imagination got the best of me so I figured the best way to allay that fear was to be with my daughter in the water...all 24inches of it, as I kept her close. Sure I realize the lottery winning odds of being bitten by a shark are incredible, but when it comes to something as precious as your child why tempt fate, right? Suffice to say there weren't any shark attacks on this fine day, just children laughing, frolicking and parents smearing sunblock...it was a sunny, typical fourth of July...

The metaphor of the shark hit me as I read of yet another horrible child abuse/abduction, when the little girl in Idaho was released. What could possibly strike more fear into any parents' heart than their innocent child being attacked by a man-eating fish? The answer to this was easy as I read the all too familar stories of these montrously evil people who abduct and torture other people's children with less regard for humanity than a shark. After all, a shark is doing what it is genetically programmed to do..feed. The appetite of these land monsters in our midst is troubling,worrisome and scary. It is in this vain that I have educated myself as to where predators live within relation to me, thankfully the Florida Law Enforcement website affords this capability. Still any unguarded moment whether in front of your house or in front of your beach chair has in it the makings of a nightmare--just turn on the news and look at the children from Camden, the girl in Aruba, the child in Idaho...it's enough to make you want to move to an island off of New Zealand.

I recall fondly my childhood of relative safety and security when I could ride my bike just about anywhere, literally. This fact was supported by my mother's only real fear, which was that us children would mind the traffic lights and intersections...not pedophiles and kidnappers. I have probably cast an overly protective eye on my daughter and will continue to do so for the forseeable future, as it appears we live in a world that is not safe...just as the ocean is dangerous, so too is the land we walk. I try to imagine the fear, pain and sorrow any number of these parents must feel and I think I can to a degree; though I suspect my empathy is a million miles off from their reality.

The lesson? There are many. None more important though than to teach children to fight, scream, and run. For I know with certainty if some sick person is of the mind to abscond with a child, that child has one chance to call for help, or fight....sad but true. It's sad that the world we live in is becoming increasingly dangerous, what with terrorism, encroaching widlife and now even your own neighbors you must constantly cast a jaundiced eye on even the most innane situations. I for one try to make my child aware that there is no one who has been authorized to "pick her up" on my behalf, or has anyone been given any authorization to touch her anywhere--period. It's a fine line -- education vs. innocence, though I suspect I'd rather sacrifice a bit of that innocence for the protection it affords........

Long in the Tooth

Haven't posted as of late, I guess I was non-inspired since Sophia had traveled to Venezuela for eight days and I guess this left me with a void. Suffice to say she's back...and with her came the same old wiggly front tooth I sent her away with, you know the one--the first front tooth. She had lost her real "first" tooth oddly enough on Christmas Eve, it was a minor player in the mouth, the front bottom one....of course it presented traffic problems in the house that night as I had to set out refreshments for both Santa and the tooth fairy, not to mention a note to each informing which snack was for who...Phew..Anyway back to the current oral crisis, the Big Kahuna front tooth, loose for weeks on end now, and nearing the conclusion just prior to her departure for Venezuela, I was sure it would be out by the time I picked her up in Miami. How she managed to squeeze another eight days out of that tooth I'm not sure, it was to the point of "flopping" when she spoke. She almost started to sound like Winthrop in the "Music Man", turning her "S's" into "TH's"...still no matter what incentive I offered (and I offered a King's ransom) she wouldn't pull it out.

So I began a new campaign; an all new strategy intended to get that tooth under her pillow. I began preparing foods that might precipitate the ouster of this already "Famous Fang"...corn on the cobb, crunchy garlic bread...and the most secret weapon? No more ice cream desert in the bowl...it was now to be served in a cone. Despite the intended results, Sophie was able to gnawl through her foods like a hamster, adapting to her "flapping in the wind" tooth and eating on her side teeth...she was more than up to my strategy...I had to regroup.

Finally, on Friday night I noticed that the "pint sized chicklet" was now literally hanging by a pulpy string of flesh, I could have blown on it and knocked it loose--yet still she was able to eat her meals, devour her desert and brush her teeth, all done with such skill as to not interfere, displace or touch the "wiggly one"!? I fully admit to considering sneaking in and plucking it out myself....yet I knew I had to let "nature" run it's course.

Low and behold I found myself dreaming away Saturday morning only to be awoken by a tickling sensation in my hand....slowly opening my eyes I saw Sophie trying to place her little pearl white tooth into my palm. I awoke to see her gapped toothed smile proudly retelling the tale of how she awoke to find her tooth missing...she subsequently did a cursory search of her sleeping area and found the little nugget. Can I tell you how proud she was? It was as if she had been working for weeks to bring this event to a conclusion....(I guess in her way she was)-and here she was now, telling anyone and everyone she spoke to about her "tooth".

Funny how your child's life serves as a mirror to your own...God knows I haven't given any thought to losing my own tooth probably since I did it 37 years ago. But it all came back to me, the feeling of relief and accomplishment when you cross one of the many "milestones" of your pre-adult life. And losing your first front tooth is just that- a milestone, one I'm sure she won't forget and neither will I as I immediately got my camera and captured as many images as I could of her little face beaming with pride over her new gap.

A short footnote to this event would be the going rate for the "Tooth Fairy"....suffice to say this is one instance I'm happy to be a parent to only one child. Lets just say it costs about a pizza these days due to inflation and such, still it was worth every penny.

Free at Last....Jail the "Parents"

Well once again Michael Jackson walks. Many will believe it was the money and notoriety that saved his skinny butt from becoming the featured poster boy of the state penitentiary. Still isn't this the beauty of this conuntry's judicial system? That a man can actually be tried, convicted and sentenced in the media as well as the court of public opinion, and yet somehow still come out a free man.

People must remember that this trial was not a trial of MJ's life and the way he has conducted it; this was a trial for specific incidents that obviously were never proved without a shadow of a doubt. And for this ruling we must all celebrate our system rather than castigate it, for it proves-- God forbid, that if any of us were ever falsely accused of a crime where the majority of the public bought into it, that there is still room for justice by a jury of your "peers". I use this term loosely as there really aren't any comparable subjects that are "peers" of MJ.

Still it isn't the fact that MJ has "beaten" this charge that has me as worried as other issues. We all know that something happened, the state just didn't have very credible witnesses or convincing case for that matter. My problem isn't so much with Michael Jackson being a child abuser as it the parents of the many boys who were either paraded through this circus, or had testimony revealing their completely abusive tendancies as parents.

Why is it we are all so quick to convict Michael Jackson for what are undoubtedly heinous crimes if true, when in reality he didn't go patrolling grade school campuses for these children. No instead the PARENTS would bring their little "sacrifices" to this guy...why are we not looking at removing these children from the "care" of these parents who would knowingly put their very own child in harm's way.

You would have to be from an Indian tribe deep in the Amazon to not know something of Mr. Jackson's less than clean past...so these "parents" are the real monsters...they fed Mr. Jackson. Yet through it all, we hear nothing of this...If I brought my child into harm's way and she was injured would we blame the harm or me? Why is it that all of these so-called "parents" are either pimping their kids in return for millions of hush money, or parading them into court rooms to substantiate their miserable conspiracies in an attempt to get rich? Yet we are not outraged and demanding that they stand accountable? This to me is a far more dangerous form of abuse, as these parents represent the actual life example and teacher of these children.

I think it's time that the DA call everyone of these parents and take as close a look at their past motivations as they did to MJ's underwear, magazine subscriptions, and anatomy. Let's see what this type of scrutiny would do to them, their families and their motivations.

I suspect many of these children would be removed from their care, as they cannot really be safeguarding their future if they would drop their children in the belly of a beast and allow them overnight sleeping arrangements with at best a very disturbed man. This is in no way meant to mitigate MJ's actions-- he is obviously an ill man, but the bottom line is, he needed the parents to act as intermediaries in these sordid trysts, unfortunately they were all too willing.........

Summer Movie Reviews by Sophia Paynter

** Unless otherwised noted, the following reviews are completely un-edited reviews by Sophia Paynter, aged 6 1/2. She composes her "reports" without any help. ( or suggestions for that matter).---Editor, PAYNTERinFLORIDA


MADAGASCAR-Well me and my dad went to the moves and thoght of seeing Madagascar. it was about a zebra named Marty and he wanted to go to the wild and the penguins wanted to go to Antartica so they did. When they arrived they said this sucks how do other penguins live here? so they went back on the ship. and they arrived to madagascar! and sat on beach chairs and got a sunburn! but it semed like they didint care my favorit character was the hippo named Gloria. i gave this movie 80 stars.


THE SISTERHOOD of the TRAVELING PANTS--well we went to the movies again to see a very good movie it is about four teenage girls buy these blue jeans and the jeans are magical they fit every girl so they all go for vacasion exept my favorite named Tibby she had to work and the three other girls Lena Carmen and Briget go to have fun! Lena went to Greese to see her family Carmen went to see her dad and Briget went to do races and soccer.i gave this movie 60 stars


THE ADVENTURES OF SHARKBOY AND LAVAGIRL we went again to the movies to see a 3D movie this one was my favrit it was about a little boy named Max he broght hiss dream jornal to school to show everybody about sharkboy and lavagirl but a horable storm came when sharkboy and lavagirl arived and said they needed himto go to a planet he invented in his dreams planet drool.and had to stop mr electric the bad guy.i give this movie 1,002,845 million stars

Friends and Time

Funny how one day you're a natty headed kid with not a clue about life and the next your teasing each other about "'70's" hair do's, and each other's receding hairlines. Of course this observation is borne of my earlier observation of my daughter's fascination with the hippy Bo Bice. I apparently stirred the pot with this one as I heard from my dear friend the former Tracey Wright....and I mean "dear friend" most sincerely............

Of course I also heard from the Chuckstinator in Holland...he of very little hair these days, but a good sport all the same and the owner of quite an entertaining blog himself..."misadventuresofchuck".........

Still if nothing else Blogging seems to lend itself to plenty of retrospect at times, as this has been the case of late. I mean really-- writing about my DAUGHTER!! I'm still in shock I have a kid. And then there was Tracey's reply about her son in HIGH SCHOOL!!!! jesus...gimme a break. It seems like yesterday I was up to alot of no good and fun times with her in that little Omni...of course that's the great part about old friendships...you can pick up right where you "left off". Case in point would be, everytime we see each other he drift back to that magical night in 1979...November 11th actually---to Bob Marley and the Wailers in concert University of Pennsylvania...now I can tell this story a 1000 times, and no-one, unless they saw the great one himself...really can identify with what we saw that night. We boarded the train in Swarthmore station, laden down with a backpack full of Genesee Creal ales...of course my Mother entrusted her soon to be 16 year old son with the "responsible Tracey"..HA!.......

Hell I still don't believe we where there. But we were. We also were there for....get this-- Pope John Paul's visit to Philadelphia...not sure what that's all about. Still we did alot of funny things, we worked the Swedesboro-Gibbstown drinking circuit at Waynes Paradise Inn, limping home on more than one occasion, we even worked together occasionally...lifeguarding. We shared good times, funny times, sad times, heartbreak times..you name it. So it's with a nice sense of connection that I see her posting to this site after all these years gone by....of course it's also tempered with a great deal of amazement when she speaks of her High School children...who have great hair mind you....just like I had. Your the best Trac...funny, witty and always lurking even after all these years....maybe we'll have some more laughs this summer at the Jersey shore? I'll be up at Bill and Sal's in Avalon last two weeks in August....surely there's someone we haven't told the BM & the Wailers story too?

Idoltry

Well as a famous man once said..."It all ends in tears" and so it did for Carrie Underwood last night after being crowned the "American Idol". Her tears I could give a rat's ass about, my 6 year old daughter's tears are another story. She was heartbroken to see her beloved rocker Bo Bice take second place after hanging through 2 hours of the most shamless self promotion I've ever seen.

I had become somewhat of a "fan" I guess when it became my daughter's and my routine to watch this show every week together, and watch we did faithfully through the whole 12 week airing. Sophia immediately took to the rocker BO, declaring after the first night that the long haired, bearded hippyboy was her favorite. This got me to thinking that one day her "favorite" boy could and probably won't be the image I have in my head for her, which is a future worry i will delay dwelling on for now. Still it was with sadness for her as I watched her excited face well up with tears as the winner was announced? What do you say to soften that first real crush let down?

The whole idol phenomenon is a bit scary anway, as there seems to be little to idolize when most of these kids have their past transgressions outed by the likes of The Smoking Gun or others. Yet I also understand the mind of a 6-year-old girls, or at least I think I do- and in her mind, Bo was the end all and be all of stardom. Cute in a way, but sad still to see your child reduced to tears over something so contrived and scripted. I assured her that Clive Davis dug Bo more anyway, and he even said so a week before, and that he wanted to record his album, so he must be better than Carrie. This had little of the intended effect and so off she went with tears on her cheeks to bed....

Memorial Day +4 part 2

A good friend responded to my latest Memorial Day observation quite astutely when he mentioned not only is he also annoyed with the whole Tillman fiasco he also mentioned another forgotten "hero" Jessica Lynch. This brave young woman took a bullet and kept shooting untill her ammo ran out, only to use her knife. We've since learned that this too was an embellishment of the facts. This lead me to wonder if this wasn't a concerted effort on the part of the military, designed to glorify these individuals and in the process, make the enlistment even more attractive to any wanna be youngsters.

I wonder how many 18-year-olds are presently receiving basic training that may have enlisted inspired by the heroic-- if not less than honest portrayal of these individuals. Of course regardless of what they did, they are to be commended, but outright lying by the military establishment is very worrisome in a time of so much suffering already. Funny how this administration decrys the "false' depictions and imflamatory stories Al Jazeera and other Arab outlets produce, it seems to be a case of the kettle calling the pot black.....

Memorial Day +4

We're now 4+ years into W's war on terror and it appears we've only stirred a hornets nest of hatred towards our policies and people. Though as scary as this is, the real legacy lies in this years' Memorial Day commemorations as we now have 1600 soldiers who have given the ultimate sacrifice for an arguably dodgy cause at best.

As a father I try to conceive of the pain of losing a chid so horrifically, and I am always drawn back to the root question: For what? I love my country as much as the next guy, I want to stamp out terrorists and I want America to be safe. Is starting an unnecessary and unprovoked war in the most volatile region in the world supposed to really make this happen?

Yesterday I watched as Pat Tillman's family one by one denounced the George W. war machine as having used their son's glorious sacrifice for their own warmongering public relations battle. It wasn't that he was killed by friendly fire -- this is and has always been a by-product of war, the crux of the problem is the US's inability to report the "truth" even after Tillman had given the ultimate sacrifice. So my question begs to be answered: If we are lied to when our children die in service to their country, why then should we believe the very reasons we're even fighting for?

All Americans should this year, more than most, remember that what this Memorial Day really stands for is not cook-outs, beaches, and boardwalks-- but rather tombstones,amputations, and devestating war. That we too often insulate ourselves from the real truths of the holidays we celebrate is a fact, and that in reality for over 1600 families this Memorial Day is but another very raw, painful reminder of a policy gone wrong from the start. This should not, and cannot demean any soldier's service or sacrifice, as I have the utmost respect for anyone who would go 10,000 miles away from his family and fight an enemy like no other--an enemey with no real face, front lines, or even uniforms. Still this country continues to bleed four years after 9/11 and it's time we all ask the tough questions of whether we are allocating our resources in the best possible manner. Hell, even Colin Powell has dropped off the radar from this administration. Being a man of high honor who has both witnessed death and war, I believe he is still disapointed that the White House allowed him to go the UN with that less than verifiable "eveidence".

Is this not the greatest irony that a man who spends his entire life in service to his country, not in words-- but in deeds-- and with honor, truth, and conviction, is himself the sacrificial lamb of the truth? Let's hope by this time next year we have a clearer vision for what we ought to be doing to help the world see peace, since fighting for peace is such an oxymoron.

I wonder if we had taken $100 billion and distributed it as agressively in the name of peace, health, and education to the very people we have chosen to bomb, maim, and kill-- if our investment would be yielding much better long term dividends? I don't want to sound like a daisy waving peacenik-- because I'm not - Afghanistan needed to be cleansed of the Taliban and the hatred it spread, but if we could have tried to change world opinion through peaceful altruistic means maybe, just maybe, we might see ourselves liked by the world as much as we are liked by ourselves.

Isn't this the real problem with our country? Americans by nature, deed, and example are good peace loving people, giving milions upon millions domestically and indeed internationally to those less fotunate. For this we see ourselves as a fair, generous,understanding and compassionate people -- unfortunately we have a policy abroad which presents a completely different face to the world-- bully, mighty, warring, and wasteful. We have allowed ourselves to be painted completely differently than we see ourselves.

So enjoy your Memorial Day, but don't forget that for everyone of those 1600 Soldiers, Airmen, Sailors, and Marines, how many lives are directly affected by their deaths. Maybe each person's death has a ripple effect through 1000 lives around them in the course of their lives...that would mean that 1,600,000 people are feeling the very raw pain of this war as we cook our hotdogs and drink our beer here at home - well behind the "front lines"......God Bless ALL of us-- not just America.

A Father's Pride

Well the torch has been passed...my wonderful 6-year-old daughter is blogging! Wow, I think when i was 6 I was still learning to ride my two-wheeler...today's kids are so smart, though Sophia's abilities are most likely due to her love of reading....you got read to want to write. And such a coherent blog....she'll be signing on often and adding her little perspectives to this site...stay tuned

My School Fair-- By Sophia Paynter

Hi my name is Sophia daughter of PaynterinFlorida, i am 6 1/2 . This is my first blog yesterday me my Dad my Mom and myUncle went to my school fair at North Palm Beach Elmentary. And the first thing i went on was the bounse house. And i play mini golf saw my freinds played some games . After that i did sand art my bottle had a butterfly i put some beatiful colors in it. i also got a tatoo! My tatoo was on my arm it was a beatiful butterfly. i also want to tell you about when i went into a maze where i had to craw in it oh! and it had good air condishining but i also played games and won a prize it was a baton it was a beatiful baton oh! and before i forget i took a picure with the build a bear workshop bear and then i went home to have dinner and watch the muppets Wizard Of Oz.

Ahhh Friday, finally.

Finally!, I haven't yet been able to completely unpack from my sojourn north to Philadelphia so I anticipate a week-end of "getting it together"-- laundry, house cleaning etc. Then I shall retire to my auxiliary office-the beach for some much needed chill time(sorry Chuck). It'll only be 7 days before the next round of northern visitors with the impending arrival of the mighty Yogaman himself, the venerable Flash makes a Memorial Day appearance, beginning at 9am on Friday the 27th at Palm Beach International Airport. His Yoginess will then lead the enlightened to the Juno Beach pier for an impromtu beach session. The FM will be relaxing until Tuesday morning taking in all that the Palm Beaches have to offer....of course not to be outdone our eldest brother Captain Kaos himself makes a "backdoor" entrance as well- sneaking in via the Ronald Reagan Memorial highway (Fl. turnpike). He arrives Friday also and he'll be bringing along support---the EDman...his son who now makes Orlando his homebase....so the Memorial day weekend looks to be strong and long...I will be stocking up on the Becks in anticpation. So there it is...a 7 day reprieve before the next wave of northern immigrants....that's the beauty of Florida, constant reminders of your northern past....until later...PAYNTERinFLORIDA out.

Hall of Fame

In other news here in Florida it was one week ago today I was standing before hundreds of high school girls and nuns (go figure) giving an introduction speech to my incredible mother Alice V. McCormick for her induction into Little Flower Catholic High School for Girls Hall of Fame. An honor for sure as they only have about 50 inductees in their 65 year history containing 37,000 alum. The honorable Alice earned this distiction the old fashioned way....hard work, service and faith. To say it was an honor to be chosen to introduce her is putting it lightly, as I know the many friends and family who were in attendance felt she was deserving for not just her Peace Corps service but her loyalty and love she has shown the many people in her life for so long...congrats Mom!

Hurricanes are a coming....

Wow, just saw the future in Central America.....none too eager to witness that fury again. Last year was my eigth year in Florida and my first time at having to evacuate. Those poor people in C. America are so unprepared, having been to that area a few times it's a pretty safe bet that corrugates metal and adobe shacks are not what you want to be in. Last year was trying enough for me in a concrete block house, what with no power for days, no gas, no supermarket. i guess the upside to abject poverty is that you don't miss what you don't already have, still I guess prayers are in order for the many thousands who will surely know the terror of the impending fury....

Hall of Fame Introduction Remarks May12, 2005

Good afternoon to the faculty, students, distinguished honorees and their families, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Today it is my pleasure to introduce a woman who in my view embodies the very spirit of Little Flower’s mission statement-- my Mother- Alice V. McCormick. Her lifetime of service to others both civically and globally, as well as her spiritual, academic. and professional accomplishments have provided me with a glimpse of just how influential her early years at Little Flower were for her.

It isn’t often that a son gets the opportunity to return to his Mother’s High School, let alone introduce her in the very auditorium where her hopes, her dreams, her future, and indeed character were pondered and developed—so the magnitude of this moment is not lost on either my self or my four brothers today. With this in mind, I decided to fly from Florida with my daughter Sophia to be here today to introduce my Mom because of how proud I am of her.

I’m quite sure if anyone were to ask my Mother what the proudest or most meaningful accomplishment was in her life, she would respond by saying it was her being blessed to have had five healthy sons, all of whom she enjoys equally diverse and vibrant relationships with; as we all represent a different period in her life-professionally, spiritually, and educationally speaking.

Several years ago I was fortunate enough to travel to Central America to see my Mother in Honduras where she was serving in the Peace Corps – honoring a commitment made to herself some 40 years earlier-- a dream delayed, yes—forgotten, no.

Throughout this incredibly hot and un air-conditioned week I strolled around Alice’s pueblo meeting it’s people and documenting everyday life with my camera while amusing the townsfolk with my Spanish skills. As luck would have it, this was the week my Mother’s class was to begin teaching to the town’s 8th grade boys and girls. I welcomed this event as a real opportunity to see the “altruistic” Alice at work.

The class My Mom had chosen to teach was on issues that all teenagers-- regardless of nationality, ethnicity, social position, or gender will face—Issues such as peer pressure, self esteem, respect for one’s self, and for even more importnatly-- for others.
I knew that the “Mother” Alice was to her own five sons, would enable her to connect to these teenagers as well regardless of language or cultural barriers, so I sat back and got ready for the show.

Much to my surprise, soon after the class began I realized the person I was seeing through my camera lens was NOT my Mom—instead I was seeing what these children were seeing- a confident, caring, and devoted bilingual woman. Here I was in the middle of Honduras in a tropically sun-bathed classroom in October, with my Mom conducting her class completely in Spanish- and the kids loved it. I was never so proud, nor was I ever so sure that my Mom was indeed in the right place at the right time. Despite all of us missing her at home, I knew that our loss was to be this small town’s blessing.

This is the Alice McCormick I know—caring, giving, compassionate, yet tough when she needs to be. Like many things in life—perception never quite equals reality. And I believe Alice’s perception of herself has never really balanced with how her many friends and family have seen her. My Mom has adopted a much more modest view of her herself and of her service to others-- as opposed to the often glowing admiration those in her life have for her, myself included.

So in many ways Mom this day represents validation—more to you than to us. Validation for what WE your family and friends have known and said for years-- that you are to be commended for your dedication and service to the many people that your service to has altered, impacted, and enriched their lives. Your lifelong positive messages have not been lost on your five sons or your six grandchildren—who all see in you the example and the result, of hard work, reaching for your dreams, and most importantly never, ever giving up.

And so ladies and gentlemen, faculty, students and distinguished honorees-- it is with immense pride, love, and respect I present to you My Mother, my friend-Alice Veronica McCormick LFCHS for Girls class of ’57.