373 Days, 12,749 visitors , and 91 posts later PinF chugs on. A journey or sorts; destination unknown. What began as a modest little space to arrange my daily observations and to keep those from whom I am seperated informed, has become somewhat of a personal juggernaut. Part therapy, part soapbox, PinF has survived a year's worth of triumphs, upsets, losses and awakenings. The fact that a year anniversary even passed is further proof of how much a part of my life these postings have become...almost second nature. Most likely I wouldn't have even given this fact much thought except for the fact that I remembered last year at this time Sophia's beloved Bo Bice lost AI4, and that I had commented on this fact.
So much has occurred in 373 days in the life of PinF. Readjusting to life alone, defining my own routines, continuing Sophia's, and coming to terms with the constant change that time deals to all of us. Most importantly, and equally painful-- I miss my dad. I have good days and bad; still I think of him everyday and wonder if I always will or is it just the fact that his passing is still fresh in my mind. The inevitability of knowing you're not going to see someone ever again on this earth slowly creeps in when all the tears have dried. The realization that you've laughed your last laugh together, BS'd on the phone, and have shared your last meal together all come to the forefront of your consciousness. The longer I myself am a parent the more I come to realize the lessons I need to impart, the things I need to do, and the times that really matter with my own child. Because for all the "big" moments of my life, I would ask for a few of the smaller ones back if I could. As if I feel a need to savor the small details a bit more and drink in the nuances of the moment a bit more reflectively.
Something I've noticed as a father is just how much of your own childhood is remembered through your own children. So often I'll recall a moment, a feeling, or a specific time with my own dad through time spent with my daughter Sophie. The other day we went and shot some hoops at the local court; she loves basketball. And though my father loved basketball, and me and my brothers did as well, I've never encouraged nor pushed Sophia towards the court and yet she shows passion for hoops. Yet there she was, her new ball, shorts and sneakers asking me to go to the court. And so we went. The distraction of shared sport encourages funny anecdotal conversations about nothing an everything all at once; we chatted for an hour, laughing, goofing and learning- from each other.
In many ways it's kind of silly to think that 12,000 people could, or even would read PinF in a year. I'm not sure if I stumbled onto this blog if I would give a rat's ass about the life of some guy in Florida. But then again- it isn't why I wrote any of it. It matters little if anyone likes, reads, or comments on anything. Still there remains a feeling of semi-responsibility to continue, as If I got people hooked on my daily "ho-hum" life, and now I owe them something for their loyality. So I write on. Certainly I neither expect nor need a comment back on anything yet so many people, some known and many more anonymous have made very real and often times touching remarks on something I've written that either touched a nerve or evoked an emotion. For all of these comments, encouragements, and words of support PinF remains very grateful and humbled. If nothing else loving travel as much as I do, this forum allows me to send a small part of me off into the tiniest corners of the world to be read by the many faceless friends and regular readers of PinF.
2005-2006 has proved to be a very emotionally and physically draining period due in large part to hurricanes, personal losses and often times events that have either clouded or obscured the lessons and truths that lurk behind the pain. Still, PinF is ever optimistic and always mindful that his next joy or new bliss is waiting just around the next corner. And as sad as the past years' posts have been at times, they have allowed for greater appreciation of the "good" times, good friends, and special moments I've been blessed to know and enjoy. So PinF chugs on towards another Memorial Day week-end, something that has become a signal of the anniversary of this blog. I'll treat myself to a nice ride this weekend down south to Key Biscayne National Park for it's in the tranquility of nature's splendor where you can really unburden from the stresses and effects of life's challenges. I've not checked in at the office for a while so this visit will do me some good.
Surely a humble thanks to the many regular and faithful readers of this blog is in order. Let's see where we are in another year shall we?
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The Right Path
PinF was richly rewarded and parentally humbled this past weekend. Sophia's two year journey towards spiritual awareness and education culminated in her making her 1st Holy Communion this past Sunday. For her devotion and commitment, she was chosen to lead the procession into the church and to step up to the altar and crown the Virgin Mary before the start of the mass, and honor indeed, one she took quite seriously. Surrounded by members of both her mami's and papi's families, Sophia piously took her next step forward along the path of her religious education.
Truth be told PinF wasn't always as good a Catholic as he could have been, preferring to remain "spiritual" as opposed to religious during his single pre-fatherhood days. During the year leading up to once again being single, PinF found himself drawn to the church again. The solitude, reflection, and peace it offered were a chance to re-assess events and directions, and unload inner burdens and worries. A re-charging of sorts, on a weekly basis where the music, the message, even the sunlight streaming throught the stained glass windows would offer an almost serene like calm to collect myself for the challenges ahead.
Unbeknownst to me at the time I was reconnecting with long lost values, and beliefs. Some of which had been lost in my laziness as a bachelor, others that had been lost in my doubtful, agnostic, and at times angry whiplash to religion in general. Always I had asked what God or religion had done for me? Never questioning what I had given, or done to contribute to my own spirituality or peace. Around the time of such personal upheaval in PinF's life, I recognized the value of quiet reflection; more importantly I recognized the value of moral and spiritual direction in any child's life, especially my own daughter's as she watched her parents' going through divorce. To my surprise, Sophia loved church. This in turn made it even more satisfying and easy to become regularly involved. Sophia is truly a child of many facets, predisposed to traditions and the reverance found in church.
Two years ago while sitting in mass I read in the bulletin that 1st grade communion prep classes were beginning the following week, I ran it by Sophia and she was down for it. Sophia was in the "I love school phase" anyway, so it was an easy sell. Her maturity towards mass was quite astounding, reading along, singing the songs, she loved it all. I in turn became more involved just seeing her exhuberant participation. So for two years of Sunday's, Sophia and I have built yet another traditon, one that I know will be remembered by her for many years to come. We would attend 9am mass then she would go to religious class from 10:15 to 11:45, while Papi would attend his classes at Starbucks reading the NY Times. My mother once told me that raising children is all about routines; children need them, parents need them too. It gives a child comfort, direction, and discipline to know where they'll be, what they'll be doing and with whom and when. I've incorporated many aspects of raising my own child based on the tried and true methods of my own mother. Yes my dad was involved, but of course he was "old school", so the bulk of lessons, rituals, and traditions fell to the mothers of PinF's childhood generation.
This of course was to PinF's benefit. So often in the course of reminding yourself that you are indeed someone's "papi", (yes, it's hard to believe sometimes still), I find myself drawing on my own memories and remembering how I was raised or taught by my own mother. In this sense too I know it gave my mother great pride to see Sophia this past weekend; maybe in a strange way MORE pride than PinF himself. Because in a way only a parent who has walked this emotionally, spiritually, and religiously charged path can understand-- she had the double satisfaction of seeing that all her work paid off--through two generations. PinF was passing the torch of sorts. He had come to learn the lessons taught so many years before, despite the protests and difficulties in getting five boys to mass every Sunday to sit, behave, and listen. Here now was her adult son, basking in the glory of her granddaughter's spirtual accomplishment. These are important values to my mother, and her willingness to be there no matter where speak volumes to that effect and will obviously one day speak of their importance to my daughter when she looks back at photos and videos and sees this. Six years ago on the last day of 1999, the eve of a new millenium we were gathered together in a 300 year old Spanish church on a tiny Island off the coast of Venezuela for Sophia's baptism, my mom was there too.
My mother had mentioned that most childhood accomplishments carry more emotional weight for the parent than the child the night before, how right she was. I was proud of Sophia, and my mother in turn was proud of Sophia and me. In a sense it's almost a feeling of mission accomplished. Having walked my own path of spirtuality, I will understand if at some point Sophia needs to take time away from organized, regimented religion when she's older. The important thing is to plant the wisdom, the inner compass, and the moral direction. This knowledge acts like a seed, and when provided the right enviroment in which to nuture it is awakened and will take root; as in the case of myself this may take a while-- but it will eventually take root all the same. I now see why my parents valued religious education, as it really does offer an emotional and spiritual core in a child's life, a core to always fall back on when many events of your life will not make sense.
There was a small party for Sophia afterwards, though for me, my mother, and my brother Chris, the party was in the joyful accomplishment of Sophia's day. The party was in the mass for me. To see her standing at the altar in her white dress and veil with her little hands folded in prayful reverance waiting to accept Jesus--this was the party. Last Monday she and I attended rehearsal where she was to receive her first taste of unblessed bread and wine so that the children would know what to expect on Sunday. Of course after watching in church for seven years, the children are naturally curious what it tastes like. I explained that what she would try tonight was not what she would accept on Sunday, in that on Sunday the host and the wine would be blessed, and that she would be accepting Jesus then. She looked at me and said "what does it feel like"? I told her that it's different for everyone. She stepped up to the altar received her practice round, scoffed at the taste of wine and took her seat next to me in the pew. On the ride home from rehearsal she said "...papi, I know that the bread was unblessed, but I think I felt something..." "Funny", I told her "so did I". I felt a surge of pride and love that are found in moments such as this. And in that moment I felt a connection to all who had guided me through the same path-my mom and my dad especially.
Truth be told PinF wasn't always as good a Catholic as he could have been, preferring to remain "spiritual" as opposed to religious during his single pre-fatherhood days. During the year leading up to once again being single, PinF found himself drawn to the church again. The solitude, reflection, and peace it offered were a chance to re-assess events and directions, and unload inner burdens and worries. A re-charging of sorts, on a weekly basis where the music, the message, even the sunlight streaming throught the stained glass windows would offer an almost serene like calm to collect myself for the challenges ahead.
Unbeknownst to me at the time I was reconnecting with long lost values, and beliefs. Some of which had been lost in my laziness as a bachelor, others that had been lost in my doubtful, agnostic, and at times angry whiplash to religion in general. Always I had asked what God or religion had done for me? Never questioning what I had given, or done to contribute to my own spirituality or peace. Around the time of such personal upheaval in PinF's life, I recognized the value of quiet reflection; more importantly I recognized the value of moral and spiritual direction in any child's life, especially my own daughter's as she watched her parents' going through divorce. To my surprise, Sophia loved church. This in turn made it even more satisfying and easy to become regularly involved. Sophia is truly a child of many facets, predisposed to traditions and the reverance found in church.
Two years ago while sitting in mass I read in the bulletin that 1st grade communion prep classes were beginning the following week, I ran it by Sophia and she was down for it. Sophia was in the "I love school phase" anyway, so it was an easy sell. Her maturity towards mass was quite astounding, reading along, singing the songs, she loved it all. I in turn became more involved just seeing her exhuberant participation. So for two years of Sunday's, Sophia and I have built yet another traditon, one that I know will be remembered by her for many years to come. We would attend 9am mass then she would go to religious class from 10:15 to 11:45, while Papi would attend his classes at Starbucks reading the NY Times. My mother once told me that raising children is all about routines; children need them, parents need them too. It gives a child comfort, direction, and discipline to know where they'll be, what they'll be doing and with whom and when. I've incorporated many aspects of raising my own child based on the tried and true methods of my own mother. Yes my dad was involved, but of course he was "old school", so the bulk of lessons, rituals, and traditions fell to the mothers of PinF's childhood generation.
This of course was to PinF's benefit. So often in the course of reminding yourself that you are indeed someone's "papi", (yes, it's hard to believe sometimes still), I find myself drawing on my own memories and remembering how I was raised or taught by my own mother. In this sense too I know it gave my mother great pride to see Sophia this past weekend; maybe in a strange way MORE pride than PinF himself. Because in a way only a parent who has walked this emotionally, spiritually, and religiously charged path can understand-- she had the double satisfaction of seeing that all her work paid off--through two generations. PinF was passing the torch of sorts. He had come to learn the lessons taught so many years before, despite the protests and difficulties in getting five boys to mass every Sunday to sit, behave, and listen. Here now was her adult son, basking in the glory of her granddaughter's spirtual accomplishment. These are important values to my mother, and her willingness to be there no matter where speak volumes to that effect and will obviously one day speak of their importance to my daughter when she looks back at photos and videos and sees this. Six years ago on the last day of 1999, the eve of a new millenium we were gathered together in a 300 year old Spanish church on a tiny Island off the coast of Venezuela for Sophia's baptism, my mom was there too.
My mother had mentioned that most childhood accomplishments carry more emotional weight for the parent than the child the night before, how right she was. I was proud of Sophia, and my mother in turn was proud of Sophia and me. In a sense it's almost a feeling of mission accomplished. Having walked my own path of spirtuality, I will understand if at some point Sophia needs to take time away from organized, regimented religion when she's older. The important thing is to plant the wisdom, the inner compass, and the moral direction. This knowledge acts like a seed, and when provided the right enviroment in which to nuture it is awakened and will take root; as in the case of myself this may take a while-- but it will eventually take root all the same. I now see why my parents valued religious education, as it really does offer an emotional and spiritual core in a child's life, a core to always fall back on when many events of your life will not make sense.
There was a small party for Sophia afterwards, though for me, my mother, and my brother Chris, the party was in the joyful accomplishment of Sophia's day. The party was in the mass for me. To see her standing at the altar in her white dress and veil with her little hands folded in prayful reverance waiting to accept Jesus--this was the party. Last Monday she and I attended rehearsal where she was to receive her first taste of unblessed bread and wine so that the children would know what to expect on Sunday. Of course after watching in church for seven years, the children are naturally curious what it tastes like. I explained that what she would try tonight was not what she would accept on Sunday, in that on Sunday the host and the wine would be blessed, and that she would be accepting Jesus then. She looked at me and said "what does it feel like"? I told her that it's different for everyone. She stepped up to the altar received her practice round, scoffed at the taste of wine and took her seat next to me in the pew. On the ride home from rehearsal she said "...papi, I know that the bread was unblessed, but I think I felt something..." "Funny", I told her "so did I". I felt a surge of pride and love that are found in moments such as this. And in that moment I felt a connection to all who had guided me through the same path-my mom and my dad especially.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
A Communion of Memories
When PinF was a kid every once in a while he'd get into the Chevy Impala with his dad and we'd cruise on over to Lansdowne Ave. to the record store. And as fun as it was, I knew very little of music per se, other than what my parents would either be listening to at the time or what I would hear on WFIL AM 56. Still these were wondrous trips as I would follow my dad around as he thumbed through albums looking for the latest Neil Diamond or Johnny Cash release. Record stores when I was a child were full of "LP's", a concept completely strange and unknown to anyone under 18 nowadays. Yet it was the album covers themselves, and the art the was as facinating as the music. Albums were "big" with their artistic covers and such, unlike today's counterparts the CD. Of course it was much different than today in that there was no sampling of the music, even I can remember buying albums in high school and shortly there after prior to the CD age. You either knew what you were after, or you took a chance. There was no MTV, VH1 or the various of mediums that we now know to sample or "try" the music.
Sophia my daughter shows the same inherent love of music; she can name a Van Morrison or Bob Marley song, knows the words to Suzanne Vega's songs, adores Enya's music and will tell anyone that'll listen that her uncle Scott is a singer with his own reggae band. This to me is endearing and fascinating as she's so ahead of where I was when I was seven going on eight. And just like I would go to the record store with my dad, she loves doing the same with me. Truth be told PinF buys very little music in stores these days, preferring to utilize Limewire or I tunes, still the music store is a fond memory for PinF and the poignancy of such visits are never lost. Sophia being an only daughter receives far more perks in her little life than I ever dreamed as one of five boys. It's all relevant to what you can give and to what a child deserves, and today she deserved her CD.
Sophia completed two years of religious education this morning in anticipation of her 1st Holy Communion next Sunday and PinF couldn't be prouder. As I picked her up from her final class, one that saw her go on a three hour retreat with the 39 other communicants, I was filled with such a sense of pride for how she steadfastly attended mass and her classes. Her teacher commented to me on what a well behaved child she is, further adding to my already puffed chest, and I in turn thanked her for her role in Sophia's spiritual development. We left and she said to me "papi, do you think I could buy Disney Mania 4 today?"....... First question was what was DM4? Once told, I told her it would be my treat for her completing her classes today; so off we went to the record store.
Life always sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and as I watched my little girl go up to the in-store computer to locate her CD I was amazed at how my baby is slowly transforming into a young lady. Confidence and ability beyond her age were evident as she easily found the CD and then located its location in the rack. PinF has had many distractions and equal amounts of heartache the past two years, both of which have often blurred the everyday realities and changes before my eyes. She didn't say it, but I knew she was on top of the search so I kind of did what dads have to learn how to do with little girls, I let go of her little hand and kind of went about looking at albums for myself while keeping an eye on her. In that instant it all flashed back to Lansdowne Ave. record store. Here was my little person, her head barely visible over the stacks of CD's listening to her album on the courtesy player with big headphones as I did the same without her seeing me. I thought to myself how I was once that little person and my dad was me. And all at once I felt an incredible sadness and joy at the same time. Missing my dad, and rejoicing in my daughter.
We bought the CD went home, I of course had to sit through the songs of the many Disney network shows as she danced, sang, and reveled in the bliss that is being a seven year-old. Soon after this the day broke open with blue skies and sunshine, and we were back to doing what we do best, enjoying the beach. Last week she and I attended a sneak preview of the new movie Akeelah and the Bee about a little inner city girl whose love of words and scrabble provides her a vehicle out her urban blight and sorrow over losing the father who inspired her love of words. This movie struck a familiar chord with Sophie as she loves spelling and has maintained a perfect spelling test record this year too, so this movie really hit home. This also prompted Sophia to dust off her Scrabble and throw down the challenge. PinF loves Scrabble and can himself remember learning to play at an early age with his mother, something Sophia knew as she told me about my games with my mom. She acts as if she were there, absorbing every memory, anecdote, and recollection of each of her parent's childhood stories. I imagine this must be a result of being an only child in some way, since she has no siblings to go "down memory lane" with, instead she does it with me. Funny kid.
So off we went to the beach with our travel Scrabble, again with memories of my mom and me doing the same. She's good too. Anyone who knows Scrabble knows also the importance in placing the tiles on the right bonus squares as opposed to impressing anyone with words. The bigger and more obscure words will come, what you must learn first is the strategy-- something her game is beginning to reflect. I imagine what a postcard image we made--just the two of us sitting in the sand, enjoying eachother and playing a game of words, oblivious to everything and everyone. Again the poignancy of doing something with my daughter that I once did with my parent was an interesting feeling, as if I had a mirror raised to my past today. I know also that as I prepare her for her big day next Sunday she's one step further along. These are the "moments" in a child's memory-- 1st day of school, Holy Communion, 1st school field trip, these all constitute the mile posts of a child's life. As a parent we're better able to see the bigger picture and how each accomplishment no matter how small, provides the confidence and indeed the ladder that enables the next step up.
It's a bitter sweet journey to be sure, for in as much as you want and need for your child to continue taking the steps of life, you know in your "adult" mind that these memories that are being made are exactly the ones you'll want to relive in ten or twenty years. Sophia said something completely uncanny to me to tonight as we ate dinner, she said "papi, we'll never have this moment again". I asked her, "where did you hear that?" She said she just said it, that she hadn't heard it anywhere. Makes me think that she too is maybe savoring the sweet memorable moments, and is not just growing up in my eyes alone.
Sophia my daughter shows the same inherent love of music; she can name a Van Morrison or Bob Marley song, knows the words to Suzanne Vega's songs, adores Enya's music and will tell anyone that'll listen that her uncle Scott is a singer with his own reggae band. This to me is endearing and fascinating as she's so ahead of where I was when I was seven going on eight. And just like I would go to the record store with my dad, she loves doing the same with me. Truth be told PinF buys very little music in stores these days, preferring to utilize Limewire or I tunes, still the music store is a fond memory for PinF and the poignancy of such visits are never lost. Sophia being an only daughter receives far more perks in her little life than I ever dreamed as one of five boys. It's all relevant to what you can give and to what a child deserves, and today she deserved her CD.
Sophia completed two years of religious education this morning in anticipation of her 1st Holy Communion next Sunday and PinF couldn't be prouder. As I picked her up from her final class, one that saw her go on a three hour retreat with the 39 other communicants, I was filled with such a sense of pride for how she steadfastly attended mass and her classes. Her teacher commented to me on what a well behaved child she is, further adding to my already puffed chest, and I in turn thanked her for her role in Sophia's spiritual development. We left and she said to me "papi, do you think I could buy Disney Mania 4 today?"....... First question was what was DM4? Once told, I told her it would be my treat for her completing her classes today; so off we went to the record store.
Life always sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and as I watched my little girl go up to the in-store computer to locate her CD I was amazed at how my baby is slowly transforming into a young lady. Confidence and ability beyond her age were evident as she easily found the CD and then located its location in the rack. PinF has had many distractions and equal amounts of heartache the past two years, both of which have often blurred the everyday realities and changes before my eyes. She didn't say it, but I knew she was on top of the search so I kind of did what dads have to learn how to do with little girls, I let go of her little hand and kind of went about looking at albums for myself while keeping an eye on her. In that instant it all flashed back to Lansdowne Ave. record store. Here was my little person, her head barely visible over the stacks of CD's listening to her album on the courtesy player with big headphones as I did the same without her seeing me. I thought to myself how I was once that little person and my dad was me. And all at once I felt an incredible sadness and joy at the same time. Missing my dad, and rejoicing in my daughter.
We bought the CD went home, I of course had to sit through the songs of the many Disney network shows as she danced, sang, and reveled in the bliss that is being a seven year-old. Soon after this the day broke open with blue skies and sunshine, and we were back to doing what we do best, enjoying the beach. Last week she and I attended a sneak preview of the new movie Akeelah and the Bee about a little inner city girl whose love of words and scrabble provides her a vehicle out her urban blight and sorrow over losing the father who inspired her love of words. This movie struck a familiar chord with Sophie as she loves spelling and has maintained a perfect spelling test record this year too, so this movie really hit home. This also prompted Sophia to dust off her Scrabble and throw down the challenge. PinF loves Scrabble and can himself remember learning to play at an early age with his mother, something Sophia knew as she told me about my games with my mom. She acts as if she were there, absorbing every memory, anecdote, and recollection of each of her parent's childhood stories. I imagine this must be a result of being an only child in some way, since she has no siblings to go "down memory lane" with, instead she does it with me. Funny kid.
So off we went to the beach with our travel Scrabble, again with memories of my mom and me doing the same. She's good too. Anyone who knows Scrabble knows also the importance in placing the tiles on the right bonus squares as opposed to impressing anyone with words. The bigger and more obscure words will come, what you must learn first is the strategy-- something her game is beginning to reflect. I imagine what a postcard image we made--just the two of us sitting in the sand, enjoying eachother and playing a game of words, oblivious to everything and everyone. Again the poignancy of doing something with my daughter that I once did with my parent was an interesting feeling, as if I had a mirror raised to my past today. I know also that as I prepare her for her big day next Sunday she's one step further along. These are the "moments" in a child's memory-- 1st day of school, Holy Communion, 1st school field trip, these all constitute the mile posts of a child's life. As a parent we're better able to see the bigger picture and how each accomplishment no matter how small, provides the confidence and indeed the ladder that enables the next step up.
It's a bitter sweet journey to be sure, for in as much as you want and need for your child to continue taking the steps of life, you know in your "adult" mind that these memories that are being made are exactly the ones you'll want to relive in ten or twenty years. Sophia said something completely uncanny to me to tonight as we ate dinner, she said "papi, we'll never have this moment again". I asked her, "where did you hear that?" She said she just said it, that she hadn't heard it anywhere. Makes me think that she too is maybe savoring the sweet memorable moments, and is not just growing up in my eyes alone.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Lies, "Bad" News, and More Lies
NOTE: PinF hasn't had a politically motivated rant in awhile. I couldn't help myself.
Where else but in America can two adults engage in consenual sexual relations that would result in an impeachment of an American President?
Where else but in America can an over-zealous millionaire with a score to settle for his daddy engage in a totally false, immoral, and destructive war---once again against people of color, and consider his cause and mission to be just and holy?
Are these not the ironies and oxymorons of the times we live in? When PinF was a kid there was strong movement throughout the US to spray paint the words "Nixon now" underneath the word "stop" on STOP signs. This of course was considered for the times- blatant vandalism, not to mention un-American.
How ironic that in the 30 years since then we should come to find how un-just, ill-advised, and needlessly prolonged this travesty of American foreign policy was (VIETNAM), and yet we now enter another period of questionable policies and leadership. To add insult to injury, we eventually would come to find that as the highest elected official in the country Nixon was nothing more than a racist, common crook himself. He cloaked himself in both word and deed in falsehoods. Still there was fervent support for this man; even later in his shamed life as he was much sought out for advice on both political strategies and policies. His Secretary of State Kissinger was himself also later disgraced with allegations of his personal endorsement of Pinochet's junta against thousands of souls never to be heard from again.
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Could there be a more appropriate adage for the times we now face? Anyone who dares dissent against the failed policies of Bush's destruction, war, and world domination are deemed "unAmerican". Complain about the dissolving state of afairs in Iraq and "you don't support the troops". Never mind that there is a growing chorus of retired Generals now coming out against Rumsfield and his (BUSH's) failed policies rooted in both intimidation and lies.
So now here we are half way into a regally failed administration where we've lowered taxes, increased spending by billions upon billions on a foolish and clearly unwise and unnecessary war--and I ask, FOR WHAT? There were no WMD's. Not to mention, while we've lowered all the government revenue we've been beseeched by the single largest terrorist calamity ever, along with hurricane after hurricane plaguing our atlantic and gulf coasts. Oh yeah, "Americans are safer now", I had almost forgotten. Now I see the village idiot on television harping about "price gouging" with regard to gasoline. Is this whole country asleep? Are we drunk on the false financial elixyr we've been fed? This policy, and indeed this administration is a house of cards, when it all falls is the question.
PinF is no Wharton economist though surely this senseless form of government fiscal irresponsibility and lies that propogate them must resonate even with some Republicans? You cannot conduct a $4 billion dollar a month war and continue to cut to taxes. It's as if Bush is the pied piper is leading us all into fiscal hell so long as interest rates are low, and my tax refund is large. I challenge anyone to name one significant domestic policy or lasting social achievement in 6 years? What ever happend to that all important mandate on "no child left behind"?
How can we as a nation not to mention as the leaders of the free world, human rights, and of the God given liberties we hold so dear have gone so astray? This entire cabinent is corrupt in one form or another. We have a Vice President who until becoming VP was the chairman of the board of the single biggest contractor to the war effort. Mind you, Halliburton doesn't compete with its bids. Coincidence?
PinF is ashamed of the bullying hipocrit his country has become. The Bush administration always complains the "news media" only reports the bad things that happen in Iraq. True. That's news George, I would counter that a robbery in Texas carries more newsworthiness than than a groundbreaking for a new daycare. To be fair, I would also suggest that the American people haven't been told the half of the atrocities, deaths, and mutilations of innocent Iraqi's...of whom there have been tens of thousands killed in the pursuit of your safer America. We have created more hatred and terrorists than we'll ever kill.
I have heard time and again from the talking heads of the right-- brain washed by the "reasons" for this war, how Clinton "blew it" and how he could have had Bin Laden but failed to act. This indeed has some merit. The big difference between Clinton and Bush's policies are indeed stark. We had peace, prosperity and no war with Clinton, we also had a balanced budget and an incredible economy. We must also acknowledge the world was a very dangerous place with terrorists operating freely. With Bush we have war, financial instability, record national debts, and a precarious economy pumped up by distracting tax breaks, primarily to the rich. We arguably have a much more dangerous world, the difference being that after all the billions spent and thousands of precious American lives lost and maimed--we still have all the terrorists operating freely. PinF was no fan of Clinton the man--though it would seem that Clinton the President offered this country much more than dread, fear, and war.
Bush could have had Bin Laden too...he instead allowed Rumsfeld to farm this mission out to the Pashtun and Afghani tribesmen instead of an all out assault by the professionally trained and brave soldiers. These are the very same brave and willing soldiers we now allow to be slaughtered by the faceless enemies of Iraq courtesy of IED's.
Clinton also was wiser in the sense that he did not allow himself to be baited into a bloody, no-win war either. When we lost the Army Rangers in Mogadishu we cut our losses and got the hell out of hell. It was clear to both he and his Secretary of Defense that nothing good could come out of escalating such an incident. Further proving that the better part of valor is discretion. Conversely, Bush appears to become more stupid with every bungled objective and battle. Instead of realizing the futility of his policies, he pours in even more money. all while continuing to expend the most precious of all our commodities as a nation ---our young soldiers live's.
All for what? To do daddy right? To remove an aleady isolated despot? What a joke. An incrediby sad one at that.
Now comes George to the rescue (again)...help us.
He piously preens on the news regarding price gouging in the gasoline supplies....well duh. You started a fricking war in the middle of the world's most economically rich and vulnerable spot all at once!! Oh and if this wasn't enough? Now we have death thirsty militants in charge of the Palestinian people, and to top off George's legacy...well he might just get to drop a tactical nuclear bomb. Now there's a presidential accomplishment.
How insanely ironic that the first deliberate nuke since Hiroshima should be used in an attempt to stop exactly what we'll be dropping on the heads of the Iranians. Well at least we're all safe here on the "home front". Now if we can only get "them" to stop reporting just the bad news.........
Where else but in America can two adults engage in consenual sexual relations that would result in an impeachment of an American President?
Where else but in America can an over-zealous millionaire with a score to settle for his daddy engage in a totally false, immoral, and destructive war---once again against people of color, and consider his cause and mission to be just and holy?
Are these not the ironies and oxymorons of the times we live in? When PinF was a kid there was strong movement throughout the US to spray paint the words "Nixon now" underneath the word "stop" on STOP signs. This of course was considered for the times- blatant vandalism, not to mention un-American.
How ironic that in the 30 years since then we should come to find how un-just, ill-advised, and needlessly prolonged this travesty of American foreign policy was (VIETNAM), and yet we now enter another period of questionable policies and leadership. To add insult to injury, we eventually would come to find that as the highest elected official in the country Nixon was nothing more than a racist, common crook himself. He cloaked himself in both word and deed in falsehoods. Still there was fervent support for this man; even later in his shamed life as he was much sought out for advice on both political strategies and policies. His Secretary of State Kissinger was himself also later disgraced with allegations of his personal endorsement of Pinochet's junta against thousands of souls never to be heard from again.
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Could there be a more appropriate adage for the times we now face? Anyone who dares dissent against the failed policies of Bush's destruction, war, and world domination are deemed "unAmerican". Complain about the dissolving state of afairs in Iraq and "you don't support the troops". Never mind that there is a growing chorus of retired Generals now coming out against Rumsfield and his (BUSH's) failed policies rooted in both intimidation and lies.
So now here we are half way into a regally failed administration where we've lowered taxes, increased spending by billions upon billions on a foolish and clearly unwise and unnecessary war--and I ask, FOR WHAT? There were no WMD's. Not to mention, while we've lowered all the government revenue we've been beseeched by the single largest terrorist calamity ever, along with hurricane after hurricane plaguing our atlantic and gulf coasts. Oh yeah, "Americans are safer now", I had almost forgotten. Now I see the village idiot on television harping about "price gouging" with regard to gasoline. Is this whole country asleep? Are we drunk on the false financial elixyr we've been fed? This policy, and indeed this administration is a house of cards, when it all falls is the question.
PinF is no Wharton economist though surely this senseless form of government fiscal irresponsibility and lies that propogate them must resonate even with some Republicans? You cannot conduct a $4 billion dollar a month war and continue to cut to taxes. It's as if Bush is the pied piper is leading us all into fiscal hell so long as interest rates are low, and my tax refund is large. I challenge anyone to name one significant domestic policy or lasting social achievement in 6 years? What ever happend to that all important mandate on "no child left behind"?
How can we as a nation not to mention as the leaders of the free world, human rights, and of the God given liberties we hold so dear have gone so astray? This entire cabinent is corrupt in one form or another. We have a Vice President who until becoming VP was the chairman of the board of the single biggest contractor to the war effort. Mind you, Halliburton doesn't compete with its bids. Coincidence?
PinF is ashamed of the bullying hipocrit his country has become. The Bush administration always complains the "news media" only reports the bad things that happen in Iraq. True. That's news George, I would counter that a robbery in Texas carries more newsworthiness than than a groundbreaking for a new daycare. To be fair, I would also suggest that the American people haven't been told the half of the atrocities, deaths, and mutilations of innocent Iraqi's...of whom there have been tens of thousands killed in the pursuit of your safer America. We have created more hatred and terrorists than we'll ever kill.
I have heard time and again from the talking heads of the right-- brain washed by the "reasons" for this war, how Clinton "blew it" and how he could have had Bin Laden but failed to act. This indeed has some merit. The big difference between Clinton and Bush's policies are indeed stark. We had peace, prosperity and no war with Clinton, we also had a balanced budget and an incredible economy. We must also acknowledge the world was a very dangerous place with terrorists operating freely. With Bush we have war, financial instability, record national debts, and a precarious economy pumped up by distracting tax breaks, primarily to the rich. We arguably have a much more dangerous world, the difference being that after all the billions spent and thousands of precious American lives lost and maimed--we still have all the terrorists operating freely. PinF was no fan of Clinton the man--though it would seem that Clinton the President offered this country much more than dread, fear, and war.
Bush could have had Bin Laden too...he instead allowed Rumsfeld to farm this mission out to the Pashtun and Afghani tribesmen instead of an all out assault by the professionally trained and brave soldiers. These are the very same brave and willing soldiers we now allow to be slaughtered by the faceless enemies of Iraq courtesy of IED's.
Clinton also was wiser in the sense that he did not allow himself to be baited into a bloody, no-win war either. When we lost the Army Rangers in Mogadishu we cut our losses and got the hell out of hell. It was clear to both he and his Secretary of Defense that nothing good could come out of escalating such an incident. Further proving that the better part of valor is discretion. Conversely, Bush appears to become more stupid with every bungled objective and battle. Instead of realizing the futility of his policies, he pours in even more money. all while continuing to expend the most precious of all our commodities as a nation ---our young soldiers live's.
All for what? To do daddy right? To remove an aleady isolated despot? What a joke. An incrediby sad one at that.
Now comes George to the rescue (again)...help us.
He piously preens on the news regarding price gouging in the gasoline supplies....well duh. You started a fricking war in the middle of the world's most economically rich and vulnerable spot all at once!! Oh and if this wasn't enough? Now we have death thirsty militants in charge of the Palestinian people, and to top off George's legacy...well he might just get to drop a tactical nuclear bomb. Now there's a presidential accomplishment.
How insanely ironic that the first deliberate nuke since Hiroshima should be used in an attempt to stop exactly what we'll be dropping on the heads of the Iranians. Well at least we're all safe here on the "home front". Now if we can only get "them" to stop reporting just the bad news.........
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Millions of Blessings
Sophia and me blew through $65 million dollars last Saturday night. Happily I might add, with no regret and no hesitation what so ever! Our many friends and family should be happy to know that they too were included in our blowout spending spree. The Florida lottery has been making a lot of noise lately, due in large part to no one winning for several weeks now. Sophia reminds me of the jackpot every Thursday on the way down the turnpike to figure skating lessons where we have to ride by the lottery billboard proclaiming the jackpot amount for week. So it was with this mega figure in mind we both made our way to the lotto man and purchased our "winning" ticket. I promised my Haitain friend at least $100,000.oo upon winning, he in turned wished me well now that his fortune was tied into mine.
Anyone who's ever played a lottery knows the real fun is before the drawing, when your numbers have as good a chance of being the winning ticket as anyone's. And so it was as we made our way home from the beach last Saturday night that I asked her a few questions regarding what we would do with all our "loot"? Like the apple that has fallen not too far from the tree she responded "travel"-- good answer, I already liked where this was going. So I asked Sophie "if you could go anywhere you wanted RIGHT NOW, where would it be?".... She thought for a moment, and as I eagerly awaited my travel plans she blurted out CHINA!! She said that she wanted to see the Great Wall....that's cool. It wouldn't have been my first travel location, but cool all the same. I told her we would leave on Monday, and she said "but papi, what about school", I told her not to worry we would "buy-out" her teachers' contract and take Mrs. Dinger with us to "home school" her.
She began to like this game too and so I continued on. I asked her what it was she wanted to do for people who needed help. Again, she pondered-- a bit longer this time and recounted how she and her mother had encountered a homeless veteran panhandling on the median at a red light, and how her mother gave him some change. "Help the homeless" she said, this made me feel even better about this new found money we had coming. Of course the conversation eventually wound back to her missing ice skating lessons while away in China to which I responded we would just buy the rink, and have her school lessons moved there as well. She loved this idea. By now all sorts of crazy dreams, wishes, and desires were flowing freely back and forth. We decided upon a trip to Ireland as well, she said she wanted to take her Irish nana (my mom), so I was pleased we would be going to an english speaking country as well.
As evidenced by my lack of announcements we didn't win Saturday night, at least not the cash. When she asked if we lost the next morning, I told her no. I told Sophia we didn't win any money, but that didn't mean we lost. I told her in light of all we have lost recently, including my father and our cat--that we had actually won something far more important. We had each other, we had our health, and we had a glorious Easter Sunday to go to mass together. Added to this, we had a beautiful day in which to spend together at the beach playing in the sand and the ocean. Sophia immediately knew what it was I was saying, and she told me that family and health are more important than money. Now this kind of smarts you can't buy with any lottery. Amen; our blessings are worth far more than $65 million dollars, though it would certainly enhance them for sure.
So today I stop and get the paper on my way in to work and see that the lotto has again rolled over, now it's up to $82 million. Wow, looks like alot of readers of PinF will be seeing a direct hook if we win. Mind you, I have a 1 in 23 million shot to be exact. Comparatively, to put this in proper perspective PinF's chances of a shark attack are 1 in 11.5 million, becoming president?, well that's 1 in 10 million. Poker Pro already knows this one: drawing a royal flush in poker? 1 in 650,000. OK here's one a bit more likely: drawing a 4-leaf clover on first try? 1 in 10,000. Unfortunatley what I've learned from all of this is that PinF is more likely to be struck by lightning, 1 in 3,000--than win the lotto.
Still it all comes back to that wise statement. You gotta play to win. So play we will once again tonight. I need all of your wish lists by 10PM tonight, lets say you all have $50K to spend, you can either have a lump cash payout, or PinF and Sophia will make your dreams ($50K's worth) come true. If I win, please pardon us until weI get back from China and Ireland, then I'll be up toPhilly to hand out the checks. Wish us luck!
Anyone who's ever played a lottery knows the real fun is before the drawing, when your numbers have as good a chance of being the winning ticket as anyone's. And so it was as we made our way home from the beach last Saturday night that I asked her a few questions regarding what we would do with all our "loot"? Like the apple that has fallen not too far from the tree she responded "travel"-- good answer, I already liked where this was going. So I asked Sophie "if you could go anywhere you wanted RIGHT NOW, where would it be?".... She thought for a moment, and as I eagerly awaited my travel plans she blurted out CHINA!! She said that she wanted to see the Great Wall....that's cool. It wouldn't have been my first travel location, but cool all the same. I told her we would leave on Monday, and she said "but papi, what about school", I told her not to worry we would "buy-out" her teachers' contract and take Mrs. Dinger with us to "home school" her.
She began to like this game too and so I continued on. I asked her what it was she wanted to do for people who needed help. Again, she pondered-- a bit longer this time and recounted how she and her mother had encountered a homeless veteran panhandling on the median at a red light, and how her mother gave him some change. "Help the homeless" she said, this made me feel even better about this new found money we had coming. Of course the conversation eventually wound back to her missing ice skating lessons while away in China to which I responded we would just buy the rink, and have her school lessons moved there as well. She loved this idea. By now all sorts of crazy dreams, wishes, and desires were flowing freely back and forth. We decided upon a trip to Ireland as well, she said she wanted to take her Irish nana (my mom), so I was pleased we would be going to an english speaking country as well.
As evidenced by my lack of announcements we didn't win Saturday night, at least not the cash. When she asked if we lost the next morning, I told her no. I told Sophia we didn't win any money, but that didn't mean we lost. I told her in light of all we have lost recently, including my father and our cat--that we had actually won something far more important. We had each other, we had our health, and we had a glorious Easter Sunday to go to mass together. Added to this, we had a beautiful day in which to spend together at the beach playing in the sand and the ocean. Sophia immediately knew what it was I was saying, and she told me that family and health are more important than money. Now this kind of smarts you can't buy with any lottery. Amen; our blessings are worth far more than $65 million dollars, though it would certainly enhance them for sure.
So today I stop and get the paper on my way in to work and see that the lotto has again rolled over, now it's up to $82 million. Wow, looks like alot of readers of PinF will be seeing a direct hook if we win. Mind you, I have a 1 in 23 million shot to be exact. Comparatively, to put this in proper perspective PinF's chances of a shark attack are 1 in 11.5 million, becoming president?, well that's 1 in 10 million. Poker Pro already knows this one: drawing a royal flush in poker? 1 in 650,000. OK here's one a bit more likely: drawing a 4-leaf clover on first try? 1 in 10,000. Unfortunatley what I've learned from all of this is that PinF is more likely to be struck by lightning, 1 in 3,000--than win the lotto.
Still it all comes back to that wise statement. You gotta play to win. So play we will once again tonight. I need all of your wish lists by 10PM tonight, lets say you all have $50K to spend, you can either have a lump cash payout, or PinF and Sophia will make your dreams ($50K's worth) come true. If I win, please pardon us until weI get back from China and Ireland, then I'll be up toPhilly to hand out the checks. Wish us luck!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Our New Maine Man
UPDATE: Just recieved an email from my "breeder" informing me that my new kitten's father is 32 lbs. and "still growing", she said she felt obligated to let me know that this kitten is going to be "very" large. My response? "Bring him on".
After a week of profound loss and sorrow for our beloved friend and buddy Mr. Peabody, PinF is happy to report that a finalist has been chosen to assume the now vacant throne of Peabody the I.
This said, there can never be another Peabody but there sure as hell can be another Maine Coon. PinF finds this breed of cat to be one of the coolest, most laid back, inquisitive, friendly, and above all--loyal companions that any cat could be. Taking into account there is very little in the gene pool that separates a domestic cat from it's larger and obviously wilder cousin's in the wild--this is quite amazing.
Maine Coon's are almost human like in their insistance that they be "wherever you are". They have got neither the aloofness nor the sneakiness of their "other" domestic cousins. They are quite large (Peabody in his prime was 20lbs. of very relaxed muscle), so any element of surprise is immediately lost with their physical presence alone. Although due to their size I've also found them to be very confrontational if their space is violated, rarely if ever backing down to any animal. Peabody once lept atop a brown Labrador and put the lion's clamp on the back of it's neck as the 80lb male dog ran yelping with Peabody on his back. They are nothing-- if not the fiercest protectors of their domestic domains. PinF loves this attribute....couch potato-to feline super hero.
After an exhaustive, and often emotionally draining canvassing of the the state of Florida PinF has become more educated on Maine Coons than he had as Peabody the I's caretaker and confidant for 15 years. I've spoken to dozens of breeders and afficianados regarding the "application process" and their "screening" after which I've come to the conclusion you may very well be able to adopt a child easier than a Maine Coon kitten. Still, I had to play the game. PinF's initial contact was the heart-string tugging letter--quite by accident really as I was feeling down as the search began. Explaining Sophia's and my loss and then how we need to find a replacement. This approach was obviously a wise one, as we have "automatically" been placed at the top of no less than three waiting list's since we are "grieving" the passing of a Maine Coon, and not first time buyers. PinF has to admit, these Maine Coon people are mighty classy, and very accomodating, further proving that "membership does indeed has its privileges" .
After narrowing the list down from either readily available Coons that were either a little older than we wanted, or not the gender we wanted, or 450 miles away from us-- we were finally contacted by a breeder just south in Dade County. She informed me who upon learning of our plight, that she had one male who would indeed be "very, very, large" who was promised out already, but due to my "grieving" status I would trump this person's wait on the list of next adoption. Cool. PinF is considering applying his grieving status to other purchases....maybe his next motorcycle, or even his groceries...like "my bananas died, they just turned black"....
And so, without further adieu I have photo of the heir apparent to the now vacant throne of Peabody I, he is only 8 weeks old, as such he will not be released to ascend to his rightful role as Monarch for another 3-4 weeks. He has been informed of his duties--quite simple really. Get fat, chill out, guard the kingdom, make Sophia and myself happy. Simple no? So PinF is now in a holding pattern, his search completed, he sits atop the adoption list waiting (and saving $$$$) prepared to enter into yet another bond of responsibility to another living creature. Sure it would be easier to just worry about myself and Sophia, but it's obvious I got so much more from my cat than he ever got from us; that and the fact that Sophia deserves to have a pet now more than before. Besides, now that she can really enjoy one as a young child and not as a hair tugging toddler. Another real "plus" is that I can assign her "cat litter duty" so maybe this isn't so bad after all. His new name? Tenatively it's "PEABODY-TOO".
After a week of profound loss and sorrow for our beloved friend and buddy Mr. Peabody, PinF is happy to report that a finalist has been chosen to assume the now vacant throne of Peabody the I.This said, there can never be another Peabody but there sure as hell can be another Maine Coon. PinF finds this breed of cat to be one of the coolest, most laid back, inquisitive, friendly, and above all--loyal companions that any cat could be. Taking into account there is very little in the gene pool that separates a domestic cat from it's larger and obviously wilder cousin's in the wild--this is quite amazing.
Maine Coon's are almost human like in their insistance that they be "wherever you are". They have got neither the aloofness nor the sneakiness of their "other" domestic cousins. They are quite large (Peabody in his prime was 20lbs. of very relaxed muscle), so any element of surprise is immediately lost with their physical presence alone. Although due to their size I've also found them to be very confrontational if their space is violated, rarely if ever backing down to any animal. Peabody once lept atop a brown Labrador and put the lion's clamp on the back of it's neck as the 80lb male dog ran yelping with Peabody on his back. They are nothing-- if not the fiercest protectors of their domestic domains. PinF loves this attribute....couch potato-to feline super hero.
After an exhaustive, and often emotionally draining canvassing of the the state of Florida PinF has become more educated on Maine Coons than he had as Peabody the I's caretaker and confidant for 15 years. I've spoken to dozens of breeders and afficianados regarding the "application process" and their "screening" after which I've come to the conclusion you may very well be able to adopt a child easier than a Maine Coon kitten. Still, I had to play the game. PinF's initial contact was the heart-string tugging letter--quite by accident really as I was feeling down as the search began. Explaining Sophia's and my loss and then how we need to find a replacement. This approach was obviously a wise one, as we have "automatically" been placed at the top of no less than three waiting list's since we are "grieving" the passing of a Maine Coon, and not first time buyers. PinF has to admit, these Maine Coon people are mighty classy, and very accomodating, further proving that "membership does indeed has its privileges" .
After narrowing the list down from either readily available Coons that were either a little older than we wanted, or not the gender we wanted, or 450 miles away from us-- we were finally contacted by a breeder just south in Dade County. She informed me who upon learning of our plight, that she had one male who would indeed be "very, very, large" who was promised out already, but due to my "grieving" status I would trump this person's wait on the list of next adoption. Cool. PinF is considering applying his grieving status to other purchases....maybe his next motorcycle, or even his groceries...like "my bananas died, they just turned black"....
And so, without further adieu I have photo of the heir apparent to the now vacant throne of Peabody I, he is only 8 weeks old, as such he will not be released to ascend to his rightful role as Monarch for another 3-4 weeks. He has been informed of his duties--quite simple really. Get fat, chill out, guard the kingdom, make Sophia and myself happy. Simple no? So PinF is now in a holding pattern, his search completed, he sits atop the adoption list waiting (and saving $$$$) prepared to enter into yet another bond of responsibility to another living creature. Sure it would be easier to just worry about myself and Sophia, but it's obvious I got so much more from my cat than he ever got from us; that and the fact that Sophia deserves to have a pet now more than before. Besides, now that she can really enjoy one as a young child and not as a hair tugging toddler. Another real "plus" is that I can assign her "cat litter duty" so maybe this isn't so bad after all. His new name? Tenatively it's "PEABODY-TOO".
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Nine Lives Are Not Enough
PEABODYinFLORIDA 1992-2006
UPDATE: Had "the talk" with Sophia last night. Tough break for this little kid. First her pop-pop, now her beloved little buddy Mr. P. She wants to get a new Peabody and name it......you guessed it, Peabody. Of all the events you can shield your child from, death is not one of them. Death sucks.
PinF loves cats. Not dogs-- cats. I tolerate dogs, I like dogs, I also admire dog owners' dedication to their pets; because unlike the cat they require much more "involvement". Want to experiment with the idea of having a child? Get a dog. You have to walk them, keep them out of things, clean up their poop and basically raise them as steadfastly as a two year-old child. Cats? Well they are independent, clean, and come with a built in program of survival. Unlike the dog, the cat is a predator and hunter; more importantly the cat is not a pack animal, but rather a solitary animal--- one that relishes it's solitary life of sleeeping up to 18 hours a day while it's owner is away, then patrolling the night time hours as it's owner rests comfortably. Try as man may, you cannot remove the predatory tendancies of a cat, something that fascinates me. I guess that's why cats have nine lives...because they're so damn rested.
PinF's lifestyle dictates his pet be self sufficient, quiet, and clean. So give PinF a cat anyday. When travelling it's nice to know I can leave a clean littler box, several strategically placed bowls of water and food and know that my animal is good to go. Try this with a dog. Most likely your house will resemble pooptown with a few articles of furniture chewed for spite.
PinF has had a Maine Coon cat for 15 years, Mr. Peabody is his name. He was adopted by PinF and his brother Flash back in 1993 from a woman in Philadelphia who was on the verge of an emotional break down due to a divorce and her landlord's edict that she get rid of four of her five exotic cats she was co-habitating with in a 800 sq. ft. apartment. Flash and I were imediately taken with Mr. Peabody when we visited to look over the "goods". She had a collection of cats that spanned the feline genus; a siamese, a persian, a ragdoll, a tabby, and standing tall as all the others scattered--- was 20lb. Mr. Peabody. We knew immediately he was "the one". This shook his very unstable owner to the core, and as Flash went out to the car to fetch the much to small small cat carrier, Peabody's owner broke down in a fit of tears crying "..he's my favorite..." in my arms. It was not pretty, and a bit much more than I had bargained for. My mouth was uttering words I tried to take back like "you can visit him anytime you want"....Flash came back in and was wondering what the hell had happened in the five minutes he had stepped out.
Maine Coons are much more than just cats as anyone who has ever owned one will tell you. They are true companions. They are also an indigenous feline to North America, big, strong, and eternally playful. They are incredibly dextrous with their paws and will open doors and clutch things like a child would with a hand. They are very durable, and extremely loyal. Maine Coons were originally from Maine and were nototious for their skills at ridding farms of vermin, so they were endeared to generations of farmers. More than anything the MC is quite unlike many other breeds in that they are very people oriented, gregarious, and downright friendly cats. Choosing always to be in whatever room their owners occupy, almost to annoyance. If I'm in the shower he's stretched out on the bathroom rug, cooking?--he's on the floor in front of the stove. You get the picture.
Over the past 15 years Mr. Peabody has defended me from bats, squirrels, dogs, raccons, and mice. Most recently he has been called on to repel the reptilian invaders all around PinF's headquarters, killing no less than 500 lizards since moving to Florida 9 years ago. About seven years ago PinF was awoken at 4AM to the most un-Godly noises I had ever heard--clearly a fight was in progress, something Mr. Peabody never really got into much so I rushed downstairs in my underwear and threw on the outside lights to see what was going on. In my haste I gashed my big toe open; at the time I had a pool and and a one year-old so I had the child fence around the pool to prevent Sophia from access. In my still half asleep state I could make out a huge ball of snarling fur running, fighting, snapping, and splashing within the fence. I quickly went back in and grabbed a broom and came back to break up what I believed to be a "cat" fight.....as I came upon the the furious ball of fur I relaized that it was a racoon--not one but two! Peabody was on top of one with a throat hold, while its mate was on top of Peabody.
By this time I was fearful for my trusty mate's life, so I rushed the now snarling and backtracking racoons with the broom handle, swinging and prepared to kill the raccoon to protect Mr. Peabody. The first raccoon leapt 6 ft. over the fence, and just as the bottom raccoon stumbled trying to make the fence I swatted the snarling pest. He was clearly injured from his engagement as he scurried up the fence with a lame front paw and a now sore backside. Mr. Peabody had opened a family size can of whoop-ass on him, I was quite sure that these coons being the smart animals they are wouldn't be back through these parts again. By this time the adrenelan was pumping hard as I grabbed the soaking wet Mr. P in a towel and brought him inside for a post battle inspection. He was clearly freaked--shaking and soaked. As I was to find out later from the vet, the raccoon will often take the fight to the water in order to use his webbed feet in an attempt to drown his adversary. Poor Mr. P!. At first light I called work and hurried Mr. Peabody over to the Vet where he was seen immediately, fearing the worst-- my wife said her good-byes in advance. I was sure due to rabies and such that Mr. Peabody's valiant fight may have cost him his life. Much to my surprise after an intense head to tail inspection Mr. Peabody showed no skin breaks what so ever!! He was issued a rabies booster and awarded a unanimous decision over two wild animals! The Vet had explained that due to Mr. Peabody's size (almost 24 inches long, and 20lbs.) and his thick, long, waterproof coat of hair he was able to surprise, over power, and dominate not one--but two raccoons.
It was further discovered to be trash day, as such the coons were doing what coons do--trash picking. The hour of the night and the fact that the coons were traveling in a pair further suggested that they were not rabid but were healthy, curious, albeit very unlucky-- coons, that just happened to take a short cut through Mr. P's domain, violating his perimeter. Being the incredibly vigilant cat that he was--he engaged the "enemy". All of this with no front claws. He was afforded macho hero status in the Vet that day, and I as his owner could not have been prouder of what he had done. For to know cats, you must also know that as solitary animals they see their owners as their parents; as such he was protecting me and my perimeter. Conversely, dogs are pack animals, and have Alpha leaders, humans walking behind their dogs on a leash essentially are showing their place in the "pack" to their dog.
Mr. Peabody is old now. I noticed he had been losing weight since the hurricane something I had attributed to his getting lost for 6 days, possibly he had eaten something that had given him parasites? This combined with the fact of his old age. Still, after being away for three weeks for my father's death I returned and saw Mr. P. very differently. I rushed him over to the Vet where he was subjected to a battery of tests and lab work. The initial diagnosis was hyperthyroidism, a controllable condition, so my hopes were high as I left the Vet Friday night. I received a call yesterday that all the labs were normal, as such they would need to do an X-ray on Mr. P. So back we went, me and "Mr. Famous", as the staff had read his file and were aware of his bravery in battle. I no sooner arrived home and my phone rang. It was the Vet and she said she had "bad news", the X-ray had revealed a large mass on Mr. Peabody's liver. I was stunned. I could not say anything, the Vet could sense my shock and said nothing, allowing me time to absorb this. My options are clear, but due to his age, and the size of the mass, she advised I should probably put him down. Loss is becoming a recurring theme in PinF's life as of late. Yes he is "just a cat", and yes he's lived a long, faithful, and fun life. He's even gotten to live in a tropical climate, freeing him from the "housecat" chains he was raised under in Philadelphia. But he's my buddy.
The one true constant in my life despite all the up's and down's and incredible changes I've experienced--has always been P and me. He is my last connection to Philadelphia, and his passing represents much more than that of a pet, but of an era, one which saw me leave everything in Philadelphia except my buddy, Mr. P. The moves from Philadelphia and around Florida, the hurricanes, the divorce, all of it-- he's been there. This era ends Monday. I have the week-end to explain death once again to Sophia and to pamper Mr. Peabody, as she has been Mr. P's biggest admirer for ALL of her life. PinF has had many pets in his life--none like Mr. Peabody, he was a giant amongst his peers. His size was small compared to the joy he brought and the loyalty and love he so unselfishly showed us. PinF is trying to find the message in all the loss. It's in there, I know. For now I shall focus on indulging Mr. Peabody with all his desires--shrimp, salmon, raw hamburger. He's going out the way he's always longed to live--in gluttony.
UPDATE: Had "the talk" with Sophia last night. Tough break for this little kid. First her pop-pop, now her beloved little buddy Mr. P. She wants to get a new Peabody and name it......you guessed it, Peabody. Of all the events you can shield your child from, death is not one of them. Death sucks.
PinF loves cats. Not dogs-- cats. I tolerate dogs, I like dogs, I also admire dog owners' dedication to their pets; because unlike the cat they require much more "involvement". Want to experiment with the idea of having a child? Get a dog. You have to walk them, keep them out of things, clean up their poop and basically raise them as steadfastly as a two year-old child. Cats? Well they are independent, clean, and come with a built in program of survival. Unlike the dog, the cat is a predator and hunter; more importantly the cat is not a pack animal, but rather a solitary animal--- one that relishes it's solitary life of sleeeping up to 18 hours a day while it's owner is away, then patrolling the night time hours as it's owner rests comfortably. Try as man may, you cannot remove the predatory tendancies of a cat, something that fascinates me. I guess that's why cats have nine lives...because they're so damn rested.
PinF's lifestyle dictates his pet be self sufficient, quiet, and clean. So give PinF a cat anyday. When travelling it's nice to know I can leave a clean littler box, several strategically placed bowls of water and food and know that my animal is good to go. Try this with a dog. Most likely your house will resemble pooptown with a few articles of furniture chewed for spite.
PinF has had a Maine Coon cat for 15 years, Mr. Peabody is his name. He was adopted by PinF and his brother Flash back in 1993 from a woman in Philadelphia who was on the verge of an emotional break down due to a divorce and her landlord's edict that she get rid of four of her five exotic cats she was co-habitating with in a 800 sq. ft. apartment. Flash and I were imediately taken with Mr. Peabody when we visited to look over the "goods". She had a collection of cats that spanned the feline genus; a siamese, a persian, a ragdoll, a tabby, and standing tall as all the others scattered--- was 20lb. Mr. Peabody. We knew immediately he was "the one". This shook his very unstable owner to the core, and as Flash went out to the car to fetch the much to small small cat carrier, Peabody's owner broke down in a fit of tears crying "..he's my favorite..." in my arms. It was not pretty, and a bit much more than I had bargained for. My mouth was uttering words I tried to take back like "you can visit him anytime you want"....Flash came back in and was wondering what the hell had happened in the five minutes he had stepped out.
Maine Coons are much more than just cats as anyone who has ever owned one will tell you. They are true companions. They are also an indigenous feline to North America, big, strong, and eternally playful. They are incredibly dextrous with their paws and will open doors and clutch things like a child would with a hand. They are very durable, and extremely loyal. Maine Coons were originally from Maine and were nototious for their skills at ridding farms of vermin, so they were endeared to generations of farmers. More than anything the MC is quite unlike many other breeds in that they are very people oriented, gregarious, and downright friendly cats. Choosing always to be in whatever room their owners occupy, almost to annoyance. If I'm in the shower he's stretched out on the bathroom rug, cooking?--he's on the floor in front of the stove. You get the picture.
Over the past 15 years Mr. Peabody has defended me from bats, squirrels, dogs, raccons, and mice. Most recently he has been called on to repel the reptilian invaders all around PinF's headquarters, killing no less than 500 lizards since moving to Florida 9 years ago. About seven years ago PinF was awoken at 4AM to the most un-Godly noises I had ever heard--clearly a fight was in progress, something Mr. Peabody never really got into much so I rushed downstairs in my underwear and threw on the outside lights to see what was going on. In my haste I gashed my big toe open; at the time I had a pool and and a one year-old so I had the child fence around the pool to prevent Sophia from access. In my still half asleep state I could make out a huge ball of snarling fur running, fighting, snapping, and splashing within the fence. I quickly went back in and grabbed a broom and came back to break up what I believed to be a "cat" fight.....as I came upon the the furious ball of fur I relaized that it was a racoon--not one but two! Peabody was on top of one with a throat hold, while its mate was on top of Peabody.
By this time I was fearful for my trusty mate's life, so I rushed the now snarling and backtracking racoons with the broom handle, swinging and prepared to kill the raccoon to protect Mr. Peabody. The first raccoon leapt 6 ft. over the fence, and just as the bottom raccoon stumbled trying to make the fence I swatted the snarling pest. He was clearly injured from his engagement as he scurried up the fence with a lame front paw and a now sore backside. Mr. Peabody had opened a family size can of whoop-ass on him, I was quite sure that these coons being the smart animals they are wouldn't be back through these parts again. By this time the adrenelan was pumping hard as I grabbed the soaking wet Mr. P in a towel and brought him inside for a post battle inspection. He was clearly freaked--shaking and soaked. As I was to find out later from the vet, the raccoon will often take the fight to the water in order to use his webbed feet in an attempt to drown his adversary. Poor Mr. P!. At first light I called work and hurried Mr. Peabody over to the Vet where he was seen immediately, fearing the worst-- my wife said her good-byes in advance. I was sure due to rabies and such that Mr. Peabody's valiant fight may have cost him his life. Much to my surprise after an intense head to tail inspection Mr. Peabody showed no skin breaks what so ever!! He was issued a rabies booster and awarded a unanimous decision over two wild animals! The Vet had explained that due to Mr. Peabody's size (almost 24 inches long, and 20lbs.) and his thick, long, waterproof coat of hair he was able to surprise, over power, and dominate not one--but two raccoons.
It was further discovered to be trash day, as such the coons were doing what coons do--trash picking. The hour of the night and the fact that the coons were traveling in a pair further suggested that they were not rabid but were healthy, curious, albeit very unlucky-- coons, that just happened to take a short cut through Mr. P's domain, violating his perimeter. Being the incredibly vigilant cat that he was--he engaged the "enemy". All of this with no front claws. He was afforded macho hero status in the Vet that day, and I as his owner could not have been prouder of what he had done. For to know cats, you must also know that as solitary animals they see their owners as their parents; as such he was protecting me and my perimeter. Conversely, dogs are pack animals, and have Alpha leaders, humans walking behind their dogs on a leash essentially are showing their place in the "pack" to their dog.
Mr. Peabody is old now. I noticed he had been losing weight since the hurricane something I had attributed to his getting lost for 6 days, possibly he had eaten something that had given him parasites? This combined with the fact of his old age. Still, after being away for three weeks for my father's death I returned and saw Mr. P. very differently. I rushed him over to the Vet where he was subjected to a battery of tests and lab work. The initial diagnosis was hyperthyroidism, a controllable condition, so my hopes were high as I left the Vet Friday night. I received a call yesterday that all the labs were normal, as such they would need to do an X-ray on Mr. P. So back we went, me and "Mr. Famous", as the staff had read his file and were aware of his bravery in battle. I no sooner arrived home and my phone rang. It was the Vet and she said she had "bad news", the X-ray had revealed a large mass on Mr. Peabody's liver. I was stunned. I could not say anything, the Vet could sense my shock and said nothing, allowing me time to absorb this. My options are clear, but due to his age, and the size of the mass, she advised I should probably put him down. Loss is becoming a recurring theme in PinF's life as of late. Yes he is "just a cat", and yes he's lived a long, faithful, and fun life. He's even gotten to live in a tropical climate, freeing him from the "housecat" chains he was raised under in Philadelphia. But he's my buddy.
The one true constant in my life despite all the up's and down's and incredible changes I've experienced--has always been P and me. He is my last connection to Philadelphia, and his passing represents much more than that of a pet, but of an era, one which saw me leave everything in Philadelphia except my buddy, Mr. P. The moves from Philadelphia and around Florida, the hurricanes, the divorce, all of it-- he's been there. This era ends Monday. I have the week-end to explain death once again to Sophia and to pamper Mr. Peabody, as she has been Mr. P's biggest admirer for ALL of her life. PinF has had many pets in his life--none like Mr. Peabody, he was a giant amongst his peers. His size was small compared to the joy he brought and the loyalty and love he so unselfishly showed us. PinF is trying to find the message in all the loss. It's in there, I know. For now I shall focus on indulging Mr. Peabody with all his desires--shrimp, salmon, raw hamburger. He's going out the way he's always longed to live--in gluttony.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
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 mothe
r 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 Am
erican 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.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
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.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, March 06, 2006
As I Go, So Shall You
"She will t
ake 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.
ake 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.
Monday, February 27, 2006
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 s
ecret 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 excel
led 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 bo
mbed 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 ha
ve 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".
It's no s
ecret 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 excel
led 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 bo
mbed 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 ha
ve 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".
Thursday, February 23, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, February 20, 2006
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?
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