Finding the Kid on Christmas

Funny what memories you're reminded of when you're a parent reliving some of the very same memories with your own child. And so it was that Santa PinF and his little elf Sophie headed off in search of a Christmas tree two days before the big day. To remain true to the spirit and cognizant of moment are tough challenges these days with Sophia not in my everyday life. Still as chagringed as I may be towards the hipocracy and commercialism of Christmas I am totally able to place myself in the mindset of an 8 year-old, and press on in pursuit of delivering the moments, memories, and wonder of her Christmas.

I was speaking to my mother the other day and she commented how she remembers how myself and brothers would often go in search of a tree on Christmas eve when the bargaining power was in our favor. Inevitable we would always come home with the "best tree" ever, and at a fraction of the cost; right then I was back in that moment when the holiday held so much power and meaning. So as Sophia and I pulled up the North Pole tree sales on Route 1 in Juno Beach, the game was on. My rap was ready, my audience of one counting on me to "make it happen". To be honest, there weren't but maybe 25 trees left, but of those left, a quick pull of the needles revealed their freshness factor was acceptable.

The young guy came over to us as Sophia was excitedly picking this one and that one while I kept trying to sway her into the Charlie Brown special---she wasn't having it. The fella was about 25, and when he spoke he spoke a familiar and heavily accented English, in what I thought was of Russian origin. He started the negotiations, though I knew the date was in my favor. I had bought from this stand before usually in the first week of December, and the prices were always in the range of $50-$100. I asked how much Sophia's pick was? He responded in accented English $45.00, ouch. I changed tactics trying to connect on a different level than that of consumer asking him where he was from. "Bulgaria" he responded proudly, the irony not lost on me that in the land of so many latin cultures I was now dealing with an eastern European two days before Christmas.

I asked whether he was from the capitol Sofia. "Yes, you know Bulgaria"? I told him I had friends who owned a pizza parlor not but 1/2 mile south of his stand who are all Bulgarians, called Pizza Bella. His eyes widened and he asked me where this was, and as he did, I felt the price of the tree drop by 50% on the spot. I gave him directions and told him to tell them Tim sent him, he told me he was from Lake Placid New York, and that in the month he had been in Florida had met no one from Bulgaria, I told him to get ready, as the whole shop was "little Sofia". He asked me again what tree did I want? I acquiesced to my elf, Sophia had by now picked a 7 foot douglas fir, he yelled to the cashier, "Mike", pointed to Sophie and me, and said "twenty dollars"---SOLD. Sophia had just been given her lesson in people skills and connections. We got in the car and she said "papi, you talk to anyone". I knew what she meant, because I had grown up with a father exactly like I was in her eyes.

As we drove away eager to set up our tree, I thought of my dad, and remembered going with him to either Oak ave, or Guadios on Baltimore Pike as a kid and getting a tree with him and my brothers. His lines kept playing in my head, "Christmas is for kids", as I drifted in my thoughts I thought how trues it was, and how as a kid you can't understand NOT being excited about Christmas. But I thought also how the day-to-day cares, concerns, bills, and life get in the way. In that moment I found the kid in me again, and Sophia and I set about getting our shop on...picking up gifts for her Mami and her kitten. I was now feeling what she was, and what she wanted me to feel, and not a minute too soon as Christmas Eve was almost upon us.

Turns out it was a sweet tree, made even sweeter by the deal, and the personal connection of sending that wayward Bulgarian into a store full of countrymen. Christmas Eve arrived, and with it Sophia's Christmas Eve nativity mass where she was appearing in her reprised role of angel again. So it was as we headed off to St. Paul's last night, her little cousin from Venezuela, her mami and her papi. The mass was inspiring and exciting. The spirit has a way of filling even the most empty heart when you watch 50 children dressed as shepherds, sheep, angels and wise men all to the accompaniment of Christmas carols. Add the fact that your everyday angel is among them, and it's a powerfully emotional event, one that makes life worth living even more. These are the moments that will remain after the toys are gone, and child is herself an adult.

Afterwards, before Sophia was to leave for Boca for Christmas eve with her Venezuelan side of the family I took her and her cousin to a neighborhood that was like one my parents would take me to in Lansdowne many years ago. Over the top is the only way to describe it. The whole neighborhood aglow in lights, music floats, and excitement. Just then when I thought it couldn't get anymore excited "he" appeared, flying above a rooftop. Santa himself!! And as I played the role of father, I too was the child excitedly screeching and squealing in that backseat as we drove down the illuminated streets of Christmas wonder. It's kind of neat to be able to recognize life-long memory making moments-- something I was completely aware of in this moment.

Soon after the girls were off to their families, and I was again on my own for the night. But I knew the lessons of that mass, and the gaudy display of lights was going with each of them. And like my father would tell me, Chistmas is for kids--and even though he never said it-- I know now, it's for the kid in all of us.

The War On MisAdventures

Editor’s Note:
This report was painstakingly gathered from information submitted and disseminated here in at the Southern Command Surprise Headquarters. Due to the "fog of war" regarding many of the instances that were either reported or in some cases RECORDED, this commission needed time to present a chronological, not to mention factually correct representation of this bacchanal celebration of Chuck's 40th.


The week leading up the surprise wasn’t without multitudes of controversy.

For starters, Chuck was attempting to weasel his way out of a supposed filet mignon dinner invitation further proving his in-grate tendencies. The dinner a cover story and set up for the Ponderosa throw down trap that had already been set that was due to be sprung. Preferring instead to cavort with his drinking pals in Sligo’s, Chuck issued a series of emails, questioning CNN (to further be referred to as agent Soul Mate) as to the necessity of a "dinner" per se, and asking for an unconditional release of obligation. This of course sent shock waves through the planning coalition’s lines of communication. As acting field Commander I had to issue orders to our junior field Lieutenant CNN (Soul Mate) to calm down. She was beside herself, and threatening to cancel her fake dinner, feeling slighted for almost being stood up for a party she wasn’t really having anyway. I issued orders to "hold the line" and to take the offensive; as such an angry guilt laden retort was issued along with calls to the other planning officers in the field, (Colonel Flash and General Big Plow).

These stop gap measure proved effective and Chuck was once again humbled in to a New England-esque submission. Fire out. PinF could now concentrate on moving his remote base of operations (somewhere deep in South Florida) to the theatre of operations up north. He and his trusted, though diminutive assistant Sophia boarded their jet that would fly them "in country" to over see the campaign, by now dubbed "Operation Chuck’s Misadventurous 40Th Birthday bash at the Ponderosa". Unfortunately due to the cantankerous nature of the "enemy", he had managed to thoroughly piss off our trusted and battle tested General of the Ponderosa Matty "Big Plow" McCusker, completely calling into question whether we might have to scrap OCM40THBB.

Apparently Chuck still smarting from the transition into unemployment and possibly acting under the influence of several pints* had responded to Big Plow’s chain mail angrily and with malice—which in itself was disturbing enough. Unfortunately the enemy chose to rear his evil and demented side of his psyche and copy everyone on the emails original list. Essentially MofC was trying to make the Plow look bad---Chuck’s parry had worked, and general Plow took great umbrage. Again my leadership skills were called into question as the fragile "coalition" began to show signs of crumbling yet again through the vitriol behavior of our enemy from Vermont.

Emails were immediately issued from Headquarters before taking off from my secret location deep within the tropical interior of Florida. Again I was able to temper General Plow’s wrath, as he wanted to use the nuclear option, an option never before tabled in all our many, many, campaigns, yet incredibly Chuck had somehow managed through his North Korean approach of diplomacy and gratitude to illicit such a bitter reaction. All of this while we have many troops in the field already mobilizing and securing child care in order to attend. Meanwhile Lt. Gold Dust, (AKJN) had already managed to slip over the Pennsylvania/Delaware line and capture a fair amount of alcoholic libations necessary for our planned invasion of Chuck’s sentimentally vulnerable emotions. This was to be an all out blitzkrieg of Chuck’s senses, lucky for the coalition Lt. Gold Dust was able to fill the entire trunk of her assault vehicle and safely return to friendly territory.

Upon return she was met by Lt. CNN (SM) where the contraband was transferred to another assault vehicle for transport to the theatre of operations. By now I had made my way into theatre and the troops were hungry. Considering we were to bivouac at my Jr. Assistant’s grandmother’s house, it made sense to secure some nourishment at the venerable Apollo pizza. Chow out of the way, I made my way to the secure albeit, temporary headquarters in Media with which to wage my psychological warfare on none other than my literary nemesis MisadventureofChuck himself. Despite years of active duty planning, implementing, and building coalitions I could not have been prepared for what was to take place upon finishing my pizza. Into my before mentioned "secure" headquarters waltzed Colonel Flash, senior officer of enlightenment-- accompanied by none other than MofC himself!

My instinct told me this was psychological OP’s at their finest. Who better to dispense with this type of "mis"-information than the enlightened one him self? Colonel Flash adeptly delivered our quarry into my lair, allowing me some pre-assault assessments of my adversary. Fearing a breach in secrecy I proceeded with very general conversation, never once veering towards the obvious: that his age had caught up with his hair loss. Knowing full well that MofC is well versed in counter-intelligence and had previously issued a challenging edict that "he would not be taken by surprise", I cautiously assessed my New England nemesis. He seemed in the dark: was this by devious design? It was decided I would need to administer some "truth serum", I contacted some "agents" at a local front know as the Plumstead. Chuck was obviously clueless as to the worldwide network of agents and interrogation rooms the coalition has at its disposal for just this purpose.

After tucking my junior aide safely into her sleeping bag at Nana’s house, I ventured toward Colonel Flash’s assigned rendezvous point---Checkpoint Sligo. I made sure that I was not tailed, zig-zagging through the back alleys of Media like Chuck walking home after Super Sunday. I immediately set about plying Chuck full of the dreaded "black truth serum", known to the masses as Guiness stout. And I’m not talking about some ex "has been" boxer either. Rather, it was decided that after reviewing Chuck’s dossier that he had two glaring weaknesses. Well three actually, but PinF don’t roll that way. That left us with two vices with which to soften Chuck up with-- beer and Tequila. And so it was in the interest of gathering Intel that I embarked on all night session of pre-party debauchery.

Joining me early on in this mission completely unbeknownst to Chuck were double agents, and soldiers for the cause Lt.’s CNN (SM) and Gold Dust (AKJN), they were much too willing to get the drinks flowing and got myself and Chuck off to a good start before heading into the interrogation chamber located at the Plumstead. Luckily for the coalition there was no shortage of traitors for the cause, each participating in their own way, and all of them providing much need information. Most prominent among them would be "agent X", located in Annapolis, his identity is protected because he’s still in deep cover on "other OP’s" that as a coalition member I am not at liberty to divulge.

Also eager to turn state’s witness and collaborator was none other than the man known as TXXBAN CHXXK, again his name blacked out to protect his identity. Rounding out our list of turncoats willing to put their integrity, names and future relations with Chuck on the line were none other than DXDX BXXBX and her team operative NXXX BXXBX themselves in deep cover as well, due to their intimate complicity in this affair. In fact almost all of Chuck’s long list of "friends" were too happy to accommodate the coalition’s requests for secrecy and misinformation, MR NUXXER was a perfect example listing child care issues as a reason he may "mot make it to Sligo’s". All in all my undercover treachery and black OP’s proved completely unwarranted as Chuck blabbed on at the Plumstead, tequila after tequila softening the already easy target even more. Once again, this only further proved that my "Gordon Liddy" tactics weren’t even necessary with a target of such opportunity and innocence.

The plan was eventually put into motion on my "GO". General Plow eventually acquiesced on his initial reticence to let the troops go in. He knew as I did too, that we had flown in a secret weapon, one not used on the good people of Pennsylvania for some time—known only as the "KG" option. A man who’s power has never been truly gauged, though the patience with which it tries has often been reduced to shreds. To be safe we unleashed a counter-weapon, agent Soul Mate, she herself an untested, if not undeterred force of equal if not more power than "KG". And so it was a battle of the titans was unleashed on the good party people of Chuck’s 40th birthday. Destiny you say? Maybe. Fate? Possibly. Outcome? Never in doubt. Chuck was caught completely off guard.

I like to think it was all a well choreographed battle plan unleashed by the coalition for the purpose of leveling the cantankerous Chuck for once and for all. I think we succeeded. Judging by the Intel from all of those who were there to witness this battle, I think the war on Misadventure is being won, but I caution the good people of Media, we are in for a long war, and sacrifices will have to be made. We did our part for one night, and for this the coalition owes a debt of gratitude to all in attendance for their gritty determination to see Chuck attain 40.

Pizza, Trains, Chinatown and Chuck

It's coming. I know many are waiting for the literary version of the weekend. Still busy playing catch-up, so here's a montage of the w/end.

1.Sophie w/ cousin Grace

2. Sophia and Birthday boy Chuck

3. Sophia with her beloved Apollo pizza

4. Swarthmore College campus as viewed from train station

5. Lnasdown Station for a good friend far away.

6. LOVE statue Philly.

7. Media station.

8.

Crusty Memories

Though she resides 1100 miles to the south, Sophia is still very much a child of her father's hometown. Sophia is coming to Philadelphia with PinF. It was time, the fares were cheap and there's a winter chill in the air that allows us to wear items we wouldn't normally get to wear (scarves, gloves, hats, coats), and it is of course--Christmastime.

This visit will be an abbreviated version of our normal sojourn north. Our itinerary will of course include a visits to our favorite museums, eateries, and neighborhoods all unique to Philadelphia and beloved by Sophie. Oddly enough our first and most prized stop along the culture train will be Sophia's favorite pizzeria, Apollo's pizza in Media. This stop is scheduled to occur Friday night immediately upon arrival into Media; this has been the subject of several conversations while going over our "game plan", and we'll arrive with game faces on for sure.

In our visits to various local pizza establishments here in Florida, Sophia and me are always looking for that "one pizza", the one that both satisfies and qualifies as the "best". High on our list would be Pizza Bella, and Palm Beach Pizza Department; and though they're each close, as of yet we haven't yet found what Apollo's has -- the perfect crust. When PinF was a child-student of pizza starting out in Drexel Hill in the 70's, Friday night was always pizza night. For the five Paynter boys there was only one pizza-- California Style on Garrett Road, next door to O'Donnell's Irish pub.

This was the quintessential pizza. Whatever the hell "California" style was I'm still not sure, but there was many different styles then, "Drexel Hill" style was another. The point was, we Paynter boys devoured it - and fast. There was a hierarchy as anyone with siblings can attest---the older ones ate more, and invariably, faster. One of the classic "tricks" of doing so was to leave the "bones". By bones, I mean the crust. This way the eater was free to pounce on the next slice as the others was paralyzed by the unspoken rule of not taking another slice before completing the one you had.

Incredibly, much like my own parenting experience, Sophia's preferences are in direct contrast with my tactics back in the day. She loves the crust. She leaves no "soldier" behind when it comes to her pizza crust. Her preference has altered my style as well, as she now asks for my crust as well. She still eats the "body" of the pizza, but prefers the crust. I put this down to the lack of predators in her environment. In my day you had to be quick, crust was a time waster and of little taste value on Lasher Road. So as life is the greatest equalizer, I have a daughter and not a son, she loves the crust not the cheese.

Ironically maybe Sophia might have been the missing link at the table of pizza predators. She would've ruled the crust. Not that she doesn't already-- being the only child. So the countdown has begun. We have Apollo's Pizza, The Franklin Institute, the Reading Terminal, Chinatown, and hopefully the Christmas light show at Macy's. Ambitious I know, but we're used to squeezing all we can into what little time we have. We pack light, have a plan, and keep moving.

Isn't there anyone out there who can tell me what Christmas is all about?

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the lord shone round about them, and they were so afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not, for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you this day is born in the City of Bethlehem, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men'". That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.


Watched the all-time classic yet again this year. Sophia and I love it. The meandering yet steady piano orchestrating the "action" is as much a feature as the pre-technology animation is. How cutting edgy was this? No way in this so-called politically correct nation we live in now would any producer ever create such an obviously Judeo Christian slanted show, one that even quotes the bible. This must have been a real gamble in its day.

There is simply no way I can watch this show without being transported back to a simpler, carefree time when Christmas really seemed like a season, and not a "reason". By this I mean a reasom for the sales, pushing each other at 5 AM in mall parking lots, and the never ending onslaught of spending enticements.

So if for nothing else, you can lose yourself in the simple message, the easy animation, and actual children's voice-overs and not polished adult actors. Of course there was a time when such a production was truly cutting edge.

For starters, Charlie Brown is a generally a downer. The music, while I personally love it, is a bit melancholic with the haunting piano solos. Obviously the dollar drives all decisions on television, and the mere fact that Charlie Brown is on for the 42nd year would speak volumes to its commercial success.

Nothing says Christmas season is upon us like the simple old Charlie Brown. This show is as much a part of "Christmas" as Santa. Again, the threads of my childhood run through the fabric of my own child. Really quite cool, not to mention I still really enjoy the show. I think this year I'll download this excellent soundtrack of yesteryear via today's IPod technology.

Onions, Celery, and China

THANKSGIVING 1982

The first Thanksgiving Day smell I remember is celery and onions. When PinF would wake up as a child in Drexel Hill it would inevitably be to the peculiar odor of onions and celery being sauted in butter in preperation for the stuffing. To this day nothing else evokes memories of past holidays like this odor wafting through the house, as if the concoction is is signaling your brain that it's Thanksgiving. So it was as I stood over the stove this morning stirring the translucent vegetables as my mind wandered through Thanksgivings past.

Sophias' tucked away in her bed comfortable in the knowledge that as soon as the parade begins I'll be waking her so she can enjoy the many floats, celebrities, marching bands, and pomp as it marches, dances, and floats its way through Manhattan.

So much has changed. So much. This time last year I awoke to yet another Doctor as I stood in my kitchen doing exactly the same things. He sought my authorization for what would become an increasingly steady list of procedures. I can remember trying to steel myself as he so matter-of-factly discussed what he intended to do and telling myself that I was doing the right thing, and to be strong. I wonder too, where we all would be a year from now. Well we're here, my father isn't. Life is so much about what has been as much as is about what will be.

To think that 44 years ago today myself and my parents were all linked and together in Delaware County Memorial Hospital as I made my debut into the world almost seems surreal. So again as I prepare to carry on and create the memories for my daughter that my parent's created for me as I ponder my blessings and experiences that have me made the man, and father I am today here in Florida.

We're all woven into each other for better or worse. We all leave indelible smudges and scatches on each other. I was reminded of this as I began my routine this morning and I began to assemble the different china pieces I would need for the meal and noticed a chip here or there. I have beautiful china given to me by my mother who herself was a recipient of the same from her mother, my grandmother. The link is static. It runs from my maternal grandmother to her daughter- my mother, and then straight to me. Touching this china today evoked thoughts of the many McCormicks and friends who've laughed, cried, argued, and enjoyed meals and company via the meals they've served, myself included as a child long, long, ago. It's like living history. I never break them out now except for Thanksgiving. Still their poignancy and history is rich and powerful.

As I picked and chose my pieces Sophia appeared behind me, wiping the sleep from her eyes she said "wow, papi where'd we get these?"....she was thinking we had new tea party china. So it was that I explained that this china is probably 70 or more years old, and that it was her great-grandmother's. "Wow" she said, as she grasped the history and beauty of the pieces. I told her that one day when she is grown and has her own home that she too would have the china. And in this small way her family's Irish side slowly and poignantly is conveyed through tangible and historic means.

Sophie's calling me every other moment now, telling me this person is appearing or this float is coming.....funny how Thanksgiving is as much a repeat of past years as it a continual absorption of family values, histories, and traditions. There isn't the madness of four siblings that I enjoyed as a child, yet there is peace and complacency that I didn't have as a child. So as much I wish Sophia had siblings and maybe more family to share with on this day, I'm also cognizant of the quality of time we have in this format. I remind myself too that Sophia's memories of her days as we live them are based soley on what "she " knows, and not my memories. Result being that she loves her solitude, routines, and traditions that we've come to create and enjoy, not to mention being #1.

PinF's blessings are many, and as I renew another year of my journey I always get a chance to look at the bigger picture by virtue of the holiday I was born on. I miss my dad and remember sitting on his shoulders trying to see the parade on Broad Street. I'm thankful for my mother too, as this day forever connects us; being born on Thanksgiving as I was. I gotta run now, as Sophia has called my no less than 6 times asking me when we're going to watch the parade together. The onions and celery have filled the air, the china has graced the tabled. Memories, past and present are rich and palpable as they are constantly being made as well as pondered.

Life is good, I am truly thankful all that I have. Nothing is dearer or more appreciated than that of having that cute eight year-old beseeching me to join her for the parade, little does she know she's starring in her memories of tomorrow.

Happy Thankgiving from Florida.

Happy Blog Day

So I drag myself out of bed. It's 40* and brilliantly sunny. I feed the cat. Boot up my computer in between making coffee. See there's a message on my ceel phone--strange, who calls pre 8AM on a Wednesday? It's my birthday I realize as I begin to listen to the message.

The older I get the less I realize my birthday, I guess that and the fact that Sophia is not with me yet, so I don't have my 60lb. walking, talking, reminder. I check my email, then blogger. Surprise! I'm my own 20,oooth visitor to PinF.......fitting I suppose. Happy Birthday to me.

SBJ

Sweet Baby Jesus----do I see nearly 20,000 visitors? OMG. There is a special something for that 20,000th PinF reader.....the countdown has begun

College Calls

Another autumn gem of a weekend here in PinFland. An all day beach excursion with Sophie on Saturday that included the Juno Beach Art and Crafts Festival was followed by our main event, Villanova-Northwood. This event became more exciting the closer to tip-off we got. Sophia, worldly as she is for an eight year-old, lacks completely the experience of sporting events with which to compare. There was a palpable buzz on campus as we made our way to the brand new Countess de Hoernle field house. About the size of a typical high school gymnasium, it was a real treat to see a Division 1 basketball team this close. Throughout the game Sophia screamed, hooted, and hollered for "her" Wildcats. She had tried to get me to buy her a posterboard to make signs supporting her 'Cats. I declined. She of course had other plans. She brought along her pad and markers and made "Go Wildcats!!" signs, and "Boo Seahawks", waving them throughout the game. Funny stuff.

The "game" in of itself really wasn't about winning or losing, rather it was more a story of recognition, and in this way Northwood did just that. In attendance were rollie Massimino's long time friends and almost his entire championship squad from 1985. Really neat. Villanova's team seemed like giants sitting as close as we did, not to mention next to the Northwood team. One of the nicest touches were some of the Hall of Famers in attendance, Chuck Daley, Billy Cunningham, and even hockey great Bobby Orr(seated coutside in photo to left). Incredibly many in attendance either didn't know of this, or were too young to know who they were. We happened to be making our way to the concession stand and I came face to face with NBA great Billy Cunningham. I asked if I could have a photo of Sophia and him, and he was most obliging, bending down low so that I could fit his 6 7" frame into the photo with Sophia. I didn't realize my camera was set to video though, so I got a mini video instead.

While walking back to the car we passed the student housing, which in this case are cute townhouses. Sophia asked who lived in these and I told her the students. She was surprised and asked where their parents lived. At home I told her, and that college was a special time that you got to live in a little house with other girls while you studied. She warmed to the idea and said she'd like to attend Northwood, that way she could be close to her mami and me.

For Sophia college must seem like light years away. For me it looms just beyond tomorrow's horizon. I can only hope that she'll feel this way when she's 19. My heart hopes she's close, but my mind tells me she's going to go far, from home and in her life. Either way, I'm sure she'll remember this, her first "college visit".

PinFer's Paradise Flight Leaves Sunday

Whoa Nelly !! PinF almost went missing worldwide. I checked my 19 million dollar Lotto ticket only to discover one number....two numbers.....three numbers...(already a winner)....four numbers!!!....and.....and.....that was it. I was one of 4,377 players who hit four of six....a mere two numbers away from overindulgent, worldwide decadence and galavanting. Damn. You can bet all the friends of PinF would've been boarding my chartered jet for the celebration party!!!

Still PinF's investment cost him $10.00 and he earned $85.00, leaving him with a net profit of $75.00 to re-fund his Lotto ticket, which it should be noted rolled over and is now worth an estimated $23 million for Saturday. Better keep a "to-go bag" packed....I've been feeling kind of lucky lately, I don't want to sound prophetic on the PinF site---but I think Saturday will be the day. You've been warned.

David Becomes Goliath

My Old man loved basketball, college basketball to be exact. And when it came to college hoops it was the old Big Five that he loved. The University of Pennsylvania, Villanova, Temple, St. Joseph's, and LaSalle. If he had to whittle these five down he would take Temple, St. Joe's, and Villanova. If pressed further he would easily tell you there was no comparison in choosing his favorite; it would've been Villanova. I clearly remember that magical journey, almost befittingly matching the date: April 1st, 1985. The only fools that day were the mighty Georgetown Hoyas lead by Patrick Ewing as they walked off the court that day almost dazed by what had just transpired.

My father would talk about that game for the next twenty years of his life. He loved the grit, determination, and the unwillingness of the smaller, and on paper- mis matched "David" against the nationally touted and much feared "Goliath"- Georgetown Hoyas. God he loved that team. It was therefore quite fitting that he was buried on a day that I think he himself would have been proud of-- St. Patrick's Day, and Villanova's semi-final game of the NCAA playoffs. I made remarks to this effect when I spoke at his funeral, saying something to the effect that had he been attending a funeral on such an auspicious day it would have been an "Amen, God bless and let's get to the game", and for no one to be sad, because he would have wanted everyone cheering for his boy's at 'Nova and enjoying St. Patrick's Day.

PinF saw it by chance. I was perusing the Palm Beach Post sports page as they gloated over the Dolphin's improbable victory against the Bears in Chicago, when I saw that tiny Northwood University right here in West Palm Beach was ushering in a new era this Saturday night. This tiny business school was beginning a new chapter in their history with the inaugaration of a men's basketball program. The news flash here is that they lured the legendary and disheveled Rollie Massimino out of retirement to coach their program through its infancy. The fact that this school only has 900 students makes this a big deal, the other fact of note would be that almost the entire student body wasn't even born when Rollie lead his Wildcats on their improbably title run.

I'll be in the stands Saturday night. I bought two tickets of the 1600 that the tiny field house can accomodate. The first game? Division I Villanova. These NAIA upstarts figure to have no chance, none, nada, zilch. Of course this would be missing the point. It's already been announced that Hall of Famer Billy Cunningham will be there, so will legendary Hall of Famer Chuck Daly, along with a host of national press, as this will be the first game in the new field house built for Rollie's team. I'm sure there will be no shortage of luminaries on hand as Rollie has proved to be quite the ring master when it comes to garnering attention for his program and calling out big favors for the school and team. This of course is not about winning, it's about competing and learning. I was planning to take a buddy, but now I'm leaning towards taking my little buddy--Sophie. She loves hoop, she loves Philly, and she's never been to basketball game, and with all the inaugural "hoop"-la, this could be just the ticket for her to get a taste of it.

I know this much is true. If my dad were here today he'd be on a plane down on Friday. He would've loved this. So PinF will be there, and Sophie too. And I'm sure in his own way, so will my dad.

GOT VOTE?

Mama Africa

Ok. PinF is in. I just stepped foot in Africa and have begun underwriting a childcare start up in Kenya. My portfolio is listed in my links and I will be adding a few more business startups shortly so do check in to see the progress, country, and industry that Sophie and I begin to help.

Whenever it warrants I'll even post a copy of any correspondences I have with my business owners/borrowers. For now I'm happy to welcome aboard Sarah Wanza and her cause. Her needs were nominal by most business standards, and I'm just happy to be a part of her team.

Compassion and Empowerment

I picked up Sophia from Catechism class yesterday and she informed me she had to write a mini report on the saint of her choice by next Sunday. I asked which saint she chose to write about. She told me she had chosen the saint named for her middle name, also named after my mother—Veronica. Legend tells us that she was the wife of the Roman officer who by defying public opinion demonstrated her compassion by wiping Jesus’ face with her handkerchief as he stumbled with the cross in Calvary, only to discover his image was transposed. She is said to have also cured the the Roman Emperor Tiberius soon after with this relic. This should be good, and I look forward to her report as she’s inspired if for no other reason than her namesake.

Sophie also had with her a paper bag that she is to fill with a non-perishable food item for next week. Sophie told me it was for “poor people”…she expounded on this and said “…..she had seen poor people before….” I asked her where, figuring she might be referring to the poor people she’s seen in her mami’s country. She said in the road begging for money, referring to the homeless Vets she sees panhandling in the medians at red lights on the way to ice skating. I explained there are lots of poor people, all over the world in fact and that it's good to give and to help them.

Skip back to last week, when I was on the Halloween candy begging tour with three little girls.

PinF arrived home haggard, wet, and semi-flu feeling from trick or treating in the rain last Tuesday night with his three rookies; a six year old and two eight year-olds. I set about making myself something warm to eat and sat down to watch a little TV, and was glad I did. I tuned into PBS just in time to see an incredible feature on the series Frontline.

The story involved an internet startup company (KIVA.ORG) that has funded small business ventures throughout the Third World where often times either corruption or red tape has prevented internationally funded projects like this from reaching their intended targets. This idea (KIVA.ORG) was different in the sense that the money goes directly from the internet lender to a carefully screened financial intermediary in the country. These intermediaries are carefully vetted and verified as credit worthy, non corrupt, and fiscally responsible.

The KIVA intermediaries serve two purposes. For starters they help the prospective loan seekers chart their business plan, their short/long term goals and their specific funding needs. In many cases since we’re talking about the Third World, the amounts of loans requested are under $500.00. Taking in account that the average wage in many Third World countries is often a dollar a day, this in fact is a major loan for the prospective borrowers.

Apparently, due to the overwhelming response after the Frontline special aired their servers completely crashed, leaving them with no web presence in the critical hours and days after their national exposure. PinF made note of their site and checked back occasionally until they finally came back online. Yesterday PinF logged in, read about their history, its operating officers, (former Google and PayPal execs) and their mission statement. Surprisingly enough KIVA has no agenda other than directly impacting the lives of small time entrepreneurs around the world. They have no religious or political mission and exist solely for the good of the people they serve. I liked this.

PinF was sold. The show featured some of the people impacted by the program, specifically in Uganda, and then it would cut to a young business professional in California. As he talked about the satisfaction of actually seeing his “investment” at work, and how he looked forward to the emails he would receive updating him of such. It occurred to me what a unique way to build a worldwide portfolio that directly touches lives, as opposed to sending a check to national non-profit juggernaut where you never “see” how or where your money goes or the impact it has.

PinF created an account to KIVA, and I would encourage others to read about this organization and consider joining me. This week PinF and his junior financial advisor Sophia will sit down and comb through the prospective start-ups that seek capitol, from there we will discuss the various people, where they come from, and their businesses. And like any lender we’ll choose which prospective borrowers have either a good idea or definitive need. I figure to loan $100.00 to start and invest in four different people/businesses. The site allows for loans as little as $25.00 and in doing so we will enter into a partnership with a person somewhere around the globe that we’ll be able to follow through correspondence and loan repayment updates. We plan to diversify, as such the site allows you to track your loans and chart them into what sectors/countries and watch as your loans are repaid and ultimately the impact you have on your borrowers’ business.

KIVA states that they have a 96% repay rate due to the diligence of their in-country partners as well as the seriousness of the prospective borrowers. Once the loans are repaid, we can then either elect to cash out or reinvest. This figures to be a cool interactive experience for both us, one that will ultimately teach several lessons, the least of which is compassion, and that brings it all back to her report on Saint Veronica. At least that's the idea anyway.

I so believe in this site that I'm going to add a link to PinF site, something I’m not to quick to do for any cause. Because I’ve been in Third World areas where I have see with my own eyes both the despair and the hope; I think this is worthwhile cause that people can make a real difference with a relatively small amount of money. This lesson is especially timely with the onset of the overly abundant and obscene commercialism and waste that is set to begin this holiday season any day now. Not to mention this exercise will offer Sophia tangible lessons that all tie into one another---investing in people and ideas, and seeing the result of hard work, most importantly it will illustrate the value of a dollar and the effect that individuals working together as a group can have.

We’re psyched, and will post our loan portfolio once we choose our industries/people.

Thursdays With Sophie

Thursdays are exhausting, for Sophie and me. We drive the 25 miles to the rink for Sophia's weekly installment of figure skating lessons. In as much as it does require a certain degree of sacrifice, I know I for one draw a much greater return for being a part of this activity. I'm also quite certain that my little ice princess will recall fondly our once weekly rides to and from the rink where we discuss everything and anything. Laughing usually makes up a large part of the ride, that and Radio Disney 1600 AM.

Still it's what takes place once Sophia is on the ice and separated from her papi by an inch of plexiglass that amazes, annoys, and fascinates me the most. PinF is one of very few men at the rink, usually finding himself surrounded by various women talking a whole lot of nonsense. I hear it all; the infidelities, new houses, new breasts, new jobs, divorces, and most any other mundane, and self absorbed subjects you can imagine.

All the while Sophia is constantly looking at me out of the corner of her eye, checking to make sure I'm watching her every move on the ice. I usually blank out these overbearing Gucci wearing suburban complainers by inserting the earplugs and kicking the Ipod, thank God. It's during these times that I'm in my own little world, feeling the chilled air and watching the children--all to a soothing musical backdrop--miles away from some cheesy story of some department store injustice being bandied about the disinterested mothers in my midst.

Of course Sophia knows nothing of these melodramatic events unfolding all around her papi. What she does notice is me. She's constantly looking to me for approval, encouragement, and support. It occured to me today that I couldn't remember the last time I didn't use swearing as an everyday part of my language. Thursdays are no exception. I find myself uttering (under my breath) "shit", or "damn" sometimes, when Sophia might fall. This is all decidedly contrasted by Sophia's utterances of "oopsies", or "whoops" when she makes a mistake. How nice that must be to be so innocent of angry and obscene words. Lord knows I cannot remember when it was that profanity didn't lace my words.

PinF made another observation today as well. As I watched my daughter I realized there is a certain feeling I can only get when watching my child. Almost and indescribale feeling, any parent will know of what I write. Of course you can probably feel the same way about a parent, brother , sister or mate---but I know that when I see my daughter trying so hard to excel and to please me there is a certain sense of protective pride that just comes over you as a parent. This type of feeling lends itself to understanding what your own parents meant, felt, and experienced before you.

So as I sat there today blanking out all that didn't matter to me and focusing in on my little ice skater, I thought of my own parents and how many times they must have had these feelings, either from watching their sons perform on stage, a ball field, or a basketball court. Sophia for her part is as aware of my presence as I am of hers; her reward is my praise, pride and adulation for her. Sure she wants to do good for herself too, but her real joy comes from my happiness, the thing she doesn't yet understand is that my happiness comes from her doing whatever she wants to, so long as she is happy.

Sophia was given her U.S. Figure Skating ID card today. She hurriedly skated over to the glass and slipped it in between for me to hold for safe keeping; I'm not sure who was prouder of who. So on we'll go with our Thursday rountine, it's been 2.5 years with no signs of quitting now, especially since I've seen her grow from a 5 year year-old full of wonder and fear, into an eight year-old full of poise and confidence.


For this I would've driven 100 miles.

The PinF's

Halloween in Florida

Scary Sophia making the "transformation"..... Sophia, Allison, and Ashley taking on the "Mask", and making a few bewitching friends. These were good witches, they provided papi with an ice cold Corona.

Ashley's little spider-brother Jacob, rocking his 1st Halloween. Sophia and Allison. Another house on the 20lb candy tour route.

Pinhead, our new friend that we met at the Scary Halloween Bash at the local theatre.

Sophia trying to bring better focus on her candy collecting future.

Ice Skates, Pumpkins and Guitars

The legions are beginning to clamor. Nuanced emails are collecting in my in box. Outright consternation has begun.

It’s time to BLOG.

It’s no secret that PinF’s life in Florida mainly revolves around two things—Sophia and all her extra-curricular activities, and the enjoyment of my paradisiacal environment. Whether at the beach, or on my motor-cycle; or any other activity that combines the glorious weather of Florida with pursuits of blissful fancy that’s PinF’s pursuit in his free time.

Lately the PinF files have revolved around Sophia’s skating and guitar playing both of which bring me immense joy and even more pride. Sophia’s penchant for solitary endeavors obviously is a direct result of her being an only child, still her abundance of confidence in her abilities and even more importantly her self, are quite impressive. I’ve asked her if she wanted to do the more traditional activities i.e.: softball, and soccer—she’s just not interested in team sports. That she enjoys ice skating is something I’ve touched on before, and I believe there are aspects that mirror her more feminine likes (the fashions). Still, she’s not in it for just the “flash”, she is really good, and improving weekly before my eyes.

This month she graduated to level 6. Immediately I saw the degree of difficulty begin to rise as she now is learning much more technical skills. Her new instructor is a man, his name is Vincent and he is notably different that the women instructors, for starters he’s more technically focused. Often he’ll have a student do the same move 5 or 6 times until he sees they’ve learned it before he’ll move on. His one-on-one skill is different, and I believe all the girls accept his advice differently because he is a man and they don’t have the commonality they have with the women instructors, as such it’s more business on the ice. I’m extremely proud, and in awe of my little girl; her progress makes my getting up at 5AM on skate days worth the sacrifice.

Sophia’s guitar instructor is also a man, his name is Freddy and we’re very lucky to have found him. I found him on Craigslist. Turns out he’s a Philly boy, trained at the school of performing arts and is a multi-talented musician playing both drums and guitar. He’s quite taken with his little student, as Sophia’s concentration level as well as maturity and focus are beyond what he expected from an 8 year-old. Sophia’s all business at class, she’s now added “Smoke on The Water” to her electric repertoire and has almost learned all her chords, her week-to-week progress is really quite stunning. This is further proof that children can do or learn whatever they want, provided they are offered an environment that fosters learning, growth, and encouragement.

So now we’re at Halloween. This is Sophia’s time of year and she’s been planning her costume for months. I believe it’s a rock n’ roller, sticking to her themes I guess. On Tuesday I’m taking her and a girlfriend to a local theatre company for their Halloween presentation for kids, something we were meant to attend last year only to be cancelled due to Wilma. Tonight it’ll be memory lane. The 40th anniversary of “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” will air tonight and we’ll be ready, popcorn bowl full in anticipation.

PinF loves these moments especially, probably because like a piece of LEGO, these are the moments that fit snuggly together; linking my past with my present and future. Sophia for her part would assume that tonight’s show is something unique to her—not something her Papi may have seen. This in itself is one of the coolest aspects of being a parent in this era. Unlike my parents, there weren’t too many common bonds in their childhood experiences that carried over to their children, case in point would be television and the technology that ensued. Incredibly, though technology has increased at lightning pace, I still get to enjoy the same shows from my childhood that my daughter does. Cool.

These shows take me back to much more innocent time in my life. I’m easily able to picture my mom thirty years ago, young, pretty, and 37 years young. She’s dressing my brother Bill as a Philadelphia Eagle, me as a hippie, Chris as a pirate, and Rob as a ghost—nothing store bought here, all of us conjured up by her own hands. Of course she still had her fifth goblin Scott, though he was too young to step out with the boys in Drexel Hill. Then we would excitedly shuffle out into the crisp October air laden with the smell of early season chimney’s burning and go shuffling through Drexel Hill neighborhoods of what seemed like hundreds of kids. The best part was you were safe, you were happy, and you were unaffected by the prevailing fears that covet the minds of parents today.

These were special times and we didn’t know it. Watching Charlie Brown tonight to see if he finally gets to kick the football will remind me of those special days so long ago. This is something we must all try to remember, because these days that we’re living now are “The good old days” to ourselves and children twenty years from now.





Happy Halloween.

Caracas and Back

PinF is back. Exhausted, weary, and happy to see his daughter. I left last Wednesday night out of Miami headed towards Hugo Chavez's leftist leaning country Venezuela. I hadn't been since 2001, so it was kind of nice in many ways.

As I kicked back on my flight down it dawned on me--I'm not sure why, but it did. October 1th of last year was when my father was involved in his auto accident that would eventually lead to his demise some 5 months later. What a difference a year made. I arrived to the chaos that is Caracas and began to seek out my driver--there was no sign of him. This left me to fend with all the free lance taxi drivers and money changers looking to buy dollars. I was soon united with my driver and headed off into the thick, humid, night air of Caracas, andthe many politically contrasting signs of Hugo Chavez, and the inequities of his people.

I arrived in a quick 25 minutes to my friends' Arturo and Mary's house, the penthouse in an upscale area of the city at the base of the Avila mountain range that seperates the city from the sea. The view of the moon from the rooftop deck was spectacular, second only to view the next morning of the moutain and sprawling city resting at its base.

The Avila mountain range follows you, leaving you vulnerable to its atmospheric whim...it holds clouds, it draws clouds. We were to take the cable car to the top and enjoy the Oktober fest, then take a Jeep half-way down and spend the afternoon enjoying a seven course Spanish luncheon and a bottle of Buchanan's Reserve (aged 18 years) as we dined on a cliff looking down at the modest farms from above the clouds. You can even see the Caribbean Sea from the mountains. A special day for sure. Coming from flat Florida the beauty of the scenery was especially striking as I observed the small fincas that produce flowers, fruit and other mountain grown goods.

We spent about 5 hours as we leisurely took in our scotch's from above the clouds. Occasionally the clouds would clear leaving us with a clear view of the Caribbean Sea some 20 miles away.

It was nice to escape the noise, heat, and trafic of the city to the cool fresh air of the Avila. In the 10 or so times PinF has been in Caracas he never once took the time to take the cable car to the top so I'm especially grateful to my guests.









Caracas is a vibrant city full of contradictions opulence/poverty, calm/fear, democracy/dictatorship.....still it is a favorite city of mine as the people like any great city are what make it. I was lucky in the sense to visit with great people, great hosts, and great friends.

Lessons Lived

PaynterinFlorida has watched from afar, feeling a sort of kinship to the people he's seen and known from his life back in Pennsylvania as they sort through the madness of such an unspeakable, let alone unimaginable act.

I was even driven to write to my old paper the Philadelphia Inquirer to express my grief and outrage. Ironically enough, just below my comments are those of a Mr.Gootlieb and a Mr. Workman both of whom argue for MORE guns, by empowering school officials and janitors to carry guns--- good idea guys, and perfect time to pitch that plan? How obscene is this? These little girls died because of guns, yet these two call for more guns? My anger is towards those who allow and even lobby against any form of gun reform in this huge expansive country of ours where seemingly anyone can have, get a hold of, and possess a firearm.
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When after the the dust settles, the facts are known, and the healing begins, there will be lessons learned. Bravery, humility, forgiveness, kindness, and faith are but a few of these lessons.

Still, grief clouds the reality of what has actually happened. More devastating than any crime that has been committed would be the losses that must now be absorbed by those most affected by this tragedy. The loss of daughters, sisters, and granddaughters to such a small and unique community is without doubt a devastating blow to the people known as the "plain people". Yet as painful as the physical loss is, there is another loss though not as profound, this is a loss that the community at large may never recover from. The loss of innocence and security these hardworking and historically rich people once enjoyed is most likely forever gone in the minds and hearts of the parents and children involved. This ripple affect will continue through the Amish community as today's generation of children become tomorrow's parents.

Equally as powerful as this past weeks' loss would be the lessons currently being absorbed and taught to today's children and tomorrow's parents. These are lessons that all people of faith and heart can only hope to learn. Forgiveness. There can be no greater test nor display of one's faith than the events of this past week in Pennsylvania. Still by all accounts the Amish community is being being portrayed as a forgiving and non-vengeful society. Long noted as exclusionary from the outside world, we've even seen the Amish reaching out to the outside by publicly asking for the public to pray for the family of the man who has taken their children. And as our technologically saturated world stays glued to the TV for details, the Amish somehow provide us the strength to accept what we cannot understand in their quiet humility and steady march towards the cemetary. I suspect this is one time when a lack of television and computers is actually a saving grace.

I could only pray for such grace. As a parent myself to a little girl the same age as these girls I honestly doubt I could forgive, at least not yet. Americans by their very competitive nature are not quick to forgive, rather we're quicker to revenge or 'justice". Sadly, in a case such as this, there is no revenge, or justice for that matter, only lessons. Contrastingly, we are just now discovering the bravery and composure of these little girls as they steadfastly approached their final moments armed with something much more powerful then their captor's weapon---their faith.

For many people who either haven't seen or lived near these fascinatingly private people, the only contact they may have had would be through movies or books. Philadelphian's are lucky in this respect, located just short drive away to the beautiful country and peaceful life of the Amish. I'm reminded of a scene in the Harrison Ford movie Witness when Harrison Ford playing police detective John Book moves to physically defend himself and the Amish father. In the scene the father chides Ford's character regarding violence saying "It's not our way", to which Ford responds "It's my way".

Apparently hatred is not the Amish way either. It has been widely reported that the grandfather of one of the victims has asked for the community to pray for the family of the murderer as well as letting his widow know that his family forgives her husband for what he has done. Heavy stuff for sure. Now I'm reading that the mother of one the victim's had invited the widow of the shooter to her daughter's funeral. Could any one act or words speak to the character of a community more than this? This is the Amish way.

We will come to learn many facts in the coming weeks regarding mental health, gun laws, and how best to safeguard our children's schools. Hopefully the people who posess the power to affect such changes act expediently and in a non-partisan manner, especially when it comes to gun law reform. The contrasting images of peaceful farmlands, and horse-drawn buggies surrounded by the intrusive world media resources will soon fade, leaving but the memories and the lessons. Leaving in its wake will be a community struggling to return to a normal existence as both the Amish and the "outsiders" struggle to make sense of what happened.

Ironic in a way that a people with so much less in the way of gadgets, technology, and sophistication have so much more when it comes to faith, forgiveness, and humility, in the overwhelming face of utter despair and pain. Again, the Amish way.