A Study in Flight

I shot this photo while sitting on the beach. Watching a jetliner streaking above I decided to capture the technology that allows us all to travel through the skies. Incredibly, just as I shot the photo the very inspiration for modern flight "flew" into my shot. Da Vinci would be amused.......

Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes

Having successfully navigated the emotionally filled and often misdirected intentions of the holiday season, I had today to rediscover what I increasingly find hard to either truly embrace or find time for in my busy life--- taking time just for me. Sophia's Christmas a success, thus making mine enjoyable as well, it becomes a little clearer everyday that life does indeed slowly recoil into that which was familiar after major life changes. I now sit under an evening sky that I'm not quite sure my just-taken photo will convey, so I'll try to describe it in two words. Heaven's glow. The westerly receding sun has splashed traces of pink and lavender throughout the high scattered puffy Caribbean-borne clouds, leaving in its wake a palette of colors that only the heavens could paint. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

So it was that PinF reacquainted himself with his old tribe -- the do-nothing-tribe of the pleasure sponge nation of life. The day presented itself in all its glory with gentle breezes and warm sunshine, ushering in what would prove to be a classic book toting, Ipod accompanying day of self indulgence along the edges of the warm Atlantic ocean. I had only just spoken to a dear friend far, far away in a cold European country on this, her birthday before making camp at precisely 11:45 AM, the sun nearing its winter apex for the day, bathing the beach in warm 84* temperatures. The incredibly difficult thing for a pleasure sponge such as myself, is often in the details of deciding what indulgence to enjoy first. I have routines. I like a really good book, something that courtesy of my mother, I had. I like some nice contemplative music as well, once again, check. I like also to get in the ocean and feel its restorative properties allowing my skin to be heated back to warmth under the sun. And lastly, though certainly not least, I most enjoy just watching what's going on. The people, the birds, the waves, the whole scene; as I find nothing so interesting as watching the myriad of activities unfolding in and around the water.

So here I sat with that great book, ever so conscious not to devour it too quickly, like a tasty meal that you want to savor and draw out as long as you can. The children's shrieks, the gull's cries, and the lifeguard's whistle all acting as a soundtrack to my day as I go from reading to swimming and back to the Ipod and then back to reading again. I am cognizant enough of the day to recognize that life is indeed good and for this fact I am grateful to have this day. Lots of love surrounds my thoughts and indeed my chair as I see young mother's with their babes touching the ocean for the first time, reminding me of 9 years ago when Sophia, at just 3 weeks old first had her tiny toes dipped into the warm gulf stream fueled elixir. I see behind the haze of my music, old people gingerly navigating themselves through the sand, careful not to fall yet determined and somehow renewed by that which probably contains more powerful memories than any mountain or meadow in their lives--the ocean.

Yes this is my day. Drifting in out of my book, sipping ice cold water, and disappearing in and out of different times and places with people who've either shared, touched, or left my life through the music that now flows non-stop in my ears. What caught my attention over the volume of music I'm not sure. A kind of sixth sense I suppose as I turned my attention to the sea and the crowd gathering along the shoreline, a rescue most likely, or maybe a shark sighting. This is after all tourist season in Florida when drownings spike often due to ignorance of the conditions and currents. Sadly, this would be the only thing that could shatter such beautiful bliss and relaxation. And so, like the dozens who've gathered before me, I remove my music, grab my camera and make my way to the water.

Much to my surprise I find an even more interesting drama unfolding. I saw the little boy first. He was shoeless, and in a mini tuxedo. He was equipped with a small bouquet of roses and a bucket and shovel, and while his accompanying party was mesmerized with what was happening I had the pleasant realization that what was really happening. This was just one more confirmation of the restorative and calming powers of the ocean, as a couple had arrived to be married in front of hundreds of beach goer's. Instantly the "church" was filled as the bathing suit-clad congregation piled into the service, young and old, black and white--all pulled from whatever had been captivating their attention moments before now gathered in a semi-circle as the barefoot bride and groom exchanged vows with a turquoise blue ocean backdrop.

Looking around and listening to the many hushed comments, most people were so caught off guard yet somehow so involved at this point, so I did what PinF does best. I became the "unofficial photographer" and snapped a few shots. People who were complete strangers moments before were now commenting, joking, oohing and ahhing. The woman officiating the service was crying as the bride read her own vows, even a few of the congregation began contributing salty tears to the already salty ocean. No one was prepared for this, so it really was quite neat--not to mention unique. PinF has seen many receptions on the beach, but never had I seen a commando wedding just pop up during the height of the beach going day, again more evidence of the love that abounds with people near the ocean. As if there is some unseen power that emanates from the ocean, or is it like J.F.K. once observed that humans have an affinity to the ocean that can be traced to the earliest life forms on earth, this and the fact that humans, like our planet, are comprised of 75% water?

Whatever the case, this was the the perfect beginning to their lives, as well as the perfect ending to mine and many other's day. A true convergence of the yin and the yang.

"Love is the strongest force the world possesses, and yet it is the humblest imaginable"

-- Mahatma Gandhi

Holiday Days

Christmas Eve arrived with little left for me to do except secure a new halo for my angel and revealed to us a full moon on a muggy unseasonably warm night. With this task completed Sophia and me took in a little lunch and enjoyed the balmy weather, something that had I not been from the north might have been taken for granted. Christmas Eve represented Sophia's last run as an angel as the cut off point is 4th grade.


We arrived in the angel's "locker room" before mass to an array of tiny people cloaked in sheep skins, adorned in silks, and flowing about in halo's and wings. Sophia commented to me that many of the angels this year looked so tiny. I reminded her that it was only 4 years ago on this night when she and I arrived, herself looking tiny too. She was only 5 years old and was so filled with excitment to be an angel. It got me to thinking just how fast time is going. Thankfully, this warp speed of time includes both the painfully excrucuiating moments as well as the intensely joyous one's.

Sophie said to me the other day that "...2007 was her best year ever...". I can relate to this since she made her choir, has been making her own music, and attended the Hannah Show. I reminded her that as good as it is, the future holds even better experiences, and that's the best part of life. So we're on to 2008, each of us hopeful for the what the New Year holds. In the meantime we're going to enjoy what's left of 2007 and this incredibly beachy weather. For now we have a few days to relax and enjoy all the goodies Santa brought her.

Of course I too get to enjoy my School of Rock shirt, courtesy of

Sophia's keen gift giving eye along with several good books that will be savored on the beach these next few days. The holiday train chugs forward, next stop New Year's Eve.

Holiday Heartache

33 months ago PinF arrived in his present neighborhood with all the baggage that goes along with a major life change. Not an hour into my residency I was met by a goateed man who appeared to be in his mid-seventies who proceeded to lecture me about my late buddy Peabody's independence. Apparently my twenty pound Maine Coon's wandering proclivities irked my "nosey" neighbor, and he let me know to keep my cat in check. I remember bridling my words mainly due to his age, though annoyed all the same that his first words were not those of welcome, but rather of complaint. An onerous beginning at best.

Of course life is never that clear cut or obvious. You have to scratch the surface to find the real diamonds of life, something that in retrospect couldn't be truer. Turns out my neighbor was just a gruff guy, not exactly schooled in personality endearment. I met his wife one day and offered to carry her groceries and from that point on things only got better, which is kind of ironic since things for me personally kept getting worse. First it was the hurricanes that almost blew my abode down and left me without power for 8 days, and then on the heels of this my father's auto accident that would set into motion six months of decisions, eventually resulting in my father's death. By this time Don was emotionally invested in me and checked in on my well being often.

Oddly enough, or shall I say coincidentally, we both came to discover that we had more in common than either of us could have imagined. I saw my neighbor Don in a Phillies hat one day during the power failure period and we got to talking, and to my surprise it turns out Don too was from Philly-Springfield to be exact. From this point on Don I always talked sports, Philly, and news. We became really good friends, he followed my father's illness, offered to help me in anyway possible whether it be feeding my cat, to collecting my mail, whatever he could do -- he wanted to. His wife Doris was a real nice neighbor too, always chatting to Sophie and asking her about her new kitten after Peabody passed away. Turns out, Don and Doris are cat lovers too, and have 3 huge cats, so his initial remarks were based upon his fear of may cat messing with his. Little did he know Peabody was the original feline pleasure sponge of inactivity an laziness.

Don, I come to find out, is actually 81, and a hearty 81 at that. We always rap sports when we see each other, he's now a Dophins fan after so many years in Florida so of course I chide him on jumping ship on our boys back in Philly. About a week ago I was on my way out and bumped into Don and we had our usual small chit chat and I very casually asked, albeit rhetorically, how he was doing. What came out was the type of answer that you're never quite ready for, nor even know how to repspond to when presnted in such an innocuous manner. Don told me as his eyes filled up that he had just been diagnosed with esophagal cancer, and that he and Doris were reeling from the news and trying to formulate a plan of treatment. I was stunned, and he was near tears even telling me. He's old school, and he quickly recovered and said he had to get moving to a doctor's appointment.

I'd been thinking of Don since he told me the news, and noticed I hadn't seen him as much lately, that was until this morning when I went out to my car and bumped into Don again. He looked a bit gaunt and ashen though his spirits seemed a bit better. I was bit better prepared this time and asked how it was going and if he had made a decision regarding the treatments. He had, but he acknowledged he was scared as hell, this was unsettling and I let him know that I didn't want to intrude but that I was here for he and Doris. I told him, anything I could do whether it be taking out the trash, driving he or Doris anywhere--anything, they need only tell me and I'm on it. My words felt hollow as I looked into his gray face and welled eyes, for I knew his thoughts were much deeper and much more distant than my offerings.

So here I was, again with a man on the verge of tears with nothing more to offer than simple friendship and suportive words. He shook my hand and thanked me. I drove away to the car wash, taking special notice all the beautiful things around me that I take for granted everyday. The palm trees, the big low lying puffy clouds, and the rising new day sun. My worries of a lonely holiday and petty concerns all in check now as I drove along to the drone of 24 hour Christmas carols on the car radio. I suspect things will happen rather quickly, though I hope he beats it, though he and I both know what lies in store. So it's Christmas, a time when emotions run deeper, though for Don and Doris this would be an understatement. For what it was worth I invited Don and Doris to Christmas Eve mass, figuring they could probably use a little diversion while I explained Sophia is an angel in the production of the childrens mass, and that he and Doris might get a kick ouf of seeing her.

Of course I was thinking of the prayer side of the equation and I think he got my point.

12 pictures 12 days

PinF's been busy. Very busy. What with Christmas parties, Sophia's concerts, beach events and the hustle and bustle of work and the impending holidays, well you get the point. I've assembled a montage of photos encompassing these busy days.....


Company Christmas party














Sophia, helping me decorate and trim the tree










This years' entrant for Christmas tree










Shorter yes, but we had to take into account inflation....










Still, the tree looks large here










Young Singers of the Palm Beaches 1st gig, the holiday show.










The chanteusse herself










Enjoying the holiday boat parade on the intracoastal










Sand art competition along Jupiter beach, gnome being swallowed by whirlpool










Something this world could use alot more of










Buddha










Fantastic sea dragon (our favorite)

Change

"Everything in life is connected somehow. You may have to dig deep to find it but its there. Everything is the same even though its different. Somehow everything connects back with your life. The faces in certain places may be different, but the situation is the same. Irony is a hidden factor that creeps around us in life, letting its presence felt only after it has left. Picture back to a year ago and the situation you were in. Look at how things are different yet somehow everything it still in someway cognate. Everything connects together to form the balance of life, to maintain structure. Change is and always will be inevitable, but everything is relative, and all the moments and times in your life will come back around again, you just might find yourself on the other side of the coin. Things are always changing, as fast as everything stays the same."

Dynamic of Family

Holidays aren't always the easiest of days for divorced families. I remember my own experiences as a teenager, never quite comfortable with one parent or the other getting the short end of the stick with regard to who sat around the proverbial table of thanks. To this ends, I've swallowed my pride and often--discomfort and dined with my "ex" each year since my divorce ,reasoning that my happiness and holiday has less to do with my comfort than my daughter's. As I still remember what it is to be a kid, and to want your holidays the way you remembered them, I have forgone my doubts and better judgement and dined as a "family".

Only children are always striving. Having come from a larger family I see the difference daily. Striving to please, to achieve, to have their opinions matter, to prove their independence. Mostly though, only children of divorced parents are always striving to straddle the precarious tight-rope of loyalty, love, and confidence. These are worries no child should have to worry about, though through the evolution of post-divorce dynamics, they do. To this end, whether it may be faking it or not, I try mightily to set aside my fundamental differences of opinion and parenting and come together for the betterment of the child--our child, Sophia. Still, despite all the pain, and all the grief of divorce, I gtry to use my childhood memories to my daughter's advantage by recognizing without asking-her fears, worries and needs. Like I told Sophia, despite her parents' divorce--we are still thankful for eachother, for it is because of one another that we have her.

And though I'll never really know her true impressions until someday in our future when we're enjoying each other's company at a bistro somewhere on a plaza in Spain or London enjoying a wine, some memories, and a laugh; I hope and I think, that this approach makes a difference. We all know when family members are tense, equally so, we know when we're at ease--laughing at quirks, and mannerisms that only "we" get. This was the case on Thanksgiving this year. Sophia playing her guitar, I and her mother enjoying a wine and preparing hor'dourves together. This unity does more for her parents then it does for her; though the effects on her are what make it all worth it. Again this year, Sophia designed her pumpkin floral center piece for the Thanksgiving table and it was real sweet. You kind of get the feeling you're creating her traditions down the road. So it was for the most part a very small, private, and reminiscent Thanksgiving/birthday. Though oddly enough, this is exactly what Sophia will be remember.

This effect was further highlighted in an unprecedented manner when Sophia's choir opened their 2007-08 season with their first show downtown at City Place in West Palm Beach. The Young Singers of the Palm Beaches presented an array of Christmas classics combined with more obscure numbers--some in French. It was a packed show, culminating in the lighting of the 50 foot Christmas tree. Again, Sophia was able to see each of her parents united before her, thus making her anxiety free. She looked ever more like the burgeoning young lady as opposed to my "little girl", something that is of itself a bittersweet fact.

So, maybe some of it was faked, maybe some of it was uncomfortable, still the days were real, and will be remembered as enjoyable to her--because for me, that's what this is ALL about--I had great childhood holiday memories and so should she. I like to think she did. Now it's on to Christmas and New Years, somewhat of a an emotional mine-field, though like everything else we'll get it through this too.

Thanks for Giving

So, let's review.


Sophie responds to a local entertainment writer's call for any girls who are "Banana's over Hannah Montana" to write her and tell her why, the most interesting will be selected for an article. Pretty cool, and I figured why not, knowing full well that there would be at least a 1,000 letters written. Short story---she's selected, incredible.

Now during this process, Sophie's also been busy in her room, fiddling with her bass, studiously penning lyrics to her next (and first) break out CD. I think it might've stemmed from a little conversation about her practicing more when I made a comment that she should pick up the guitar whenever she has free time and just fiddle wth it. I was relating memories of her uncle Scott as a boy when he would carry that guitar all around the house, and how he probably taught himself more than any lesson because of this.

Not one to miss a "lesson" Sophia became more earnest in her practice. Of course her writings were being held back somewhat out of shyness to present them publicly. She finally did to her mother one night, and then to me over the phone. The playing of the bass while singing ala Sting, was impressive; but to me it was her lyrics that really impressed me. So when she played it for me live I knew I would need to capture this moment for posterity, and capture I did when I took her to the Lounge Recording Studio. This had a double intened effect: encourage her to see that her efforts would result in good things, and to preserve this innocence for her parents--and for herself one day when she is an adult.

Things soon took off after this---MySpace, an article and photos in The Sunday Palm Beach Post, and of course an online video contest. It's easy to see how a kid can become an overnight internet celebrity, as she was getting quite a bit of attention for efforts. Most adults were surprsed by her sensitive lyrics, and most all of her friends saw her as a rock star. She was just Sophia to me,; I told her that this is all nice, but what's really important to me is who she is--as a person, student and daughter. She seemed to understand, never really getting too full of herself.

Now the internet contest, well she clearly--and I say with all due respect to any one else's child, whom I understand probably feel the same as me, but she clearly was the only one who could sing. The response spread quickly, as my friends, her mami's friends, and indeed her schoolmates and the general public responded in kind by voting for her en masse. She was after 4 days collection 2/3 of all votes. At this point we suspected that the "prize" was two tickets to the incredibly impossible-to-get-tickets-to-show. That was dispelled when the writer wrote me and tol me the "prize" in fact was the article and internet exposure--fair enough I thought, that is a prize. Still, she was crushed. she wanted ever so badly to see the Jonas Brothers and Hannah/Miley.

No dice. Sold out. Craig's list? Got three responses, the cheapest being $600 a seat. I told the fellow, that I would'nt spend $1200.oo to see Jesus himself perform, and that he ought to be ashamed, of course greed knows n o shame--but I had to tell him. Sophia was crushed, and as a parent who remembers what it's like to be a kid and wanting to do what is the hottest, and coolest thing in your world right now--I understood. So I did what all parents would do. I told her "next time", and that she had a great two weeks, and how it isn't "the end of the world", all the while having flashbacks of hearing the same things as a kid.

I also did what you have to--I kept my ears and eyes at the ready, placed a plea on Craigslist and waited. I didn't tell her. Meanwhile over at the internet voting things had turned a bit sour there too---her closest competitor proved once and for all that the contest was more about how much your parent was willing to solicit votes than talent. The child who was not even a factor for days was now inextricably winning--she also had a mother who was a bit of a "stage mom" the day we went the Post for the interview--so it all made sense. Still, the many worlwide votes that poured infor Sophia commented that though they voted for her out of loyality and love, she was in fact the only one who could really sing. So she and I knew the real score and acknowledged the moral victory.

Now here's where the story develops a real plot twist, and if you're still reading this, you'll really be warmed by the turn of events. I had logged on at work to check the crazy accumulation of votes for Sophia's closest competitor, further convinced of what unhealthy parenting is, when I happened onto a message board of the web site. And posted just a minute before logging in is this post:

I have two extra tickets for tonight. Now they may be not next to each other (depends on where my son wants to sit) but if someone is interested, let me know. Posted by: colin cornish at November 20, 2007 11:04 AM

Incredulous, I respond that I'm interested and give my phone number, of course wary of internet scammers as well. And the name, well let's just say it didn't look Floridian. Sure enough my cell phone rings 90 seconds later, and I commence to explain that I have a 9 year-old broken hearted daughter. He says enough about all that (in a cockney London accent), and goes on to explain that he has two tickets--both great seats, but apart. One on the floor in the 6th row center, and the other on the side about 25 rows up--but close to the stage-end of the stadium. Suspicious---I ask how much?

Here's where if you're lucky in life--and I like to think I am, good things happen to you, and a sort of Karmic justice occurs. Colin explained he was disgusted by the scalping, and selling of tickest in the hundreds if not thousands of dollars, and that he didn't want to profit in anyway. So I said great--I'll take them, knowing face value of $66.00 dollars was still a deal---he said "no mate, if you want them--no charge, I want to make a little kid happy"....gulp. British guy say what? That's right, try as I may to extend even the most basic gratitude, he refused...he wanted to just feel good about doing something for a child who wanted to see the show. Humbled, we made a deal--he all the while assuring me he wasn't a scammer, and that I had both his cell phone and office number.

With this a deal was set into motion. We would meet in Fort Lauderdale on the steps of the arena. I first had to collect my sad superstar from school---and reverse her mood from one of abject despair to elation--and it did. We gassed the car and got on the way Sophia telling me she couldn't believe it (nor could I). We were met by Colin and his 2 kids, and sure enough we were given 2 tickets. True to his word, he accepted not a cent. He told me to "pay it forward" exactly what I had been thinking since I had found out at 1Pm the day of the show that Sophie and me were now going. So we get to the show, scope out the uber security and I briefed my rocker how "the plan" was gonna go down. I explained that there was a chance I might be compromised and that she was to sit tight until I returned and enjoy the show-- she said she understood. We did a pre-show run-through and went down to the seat on the floor an hour before the show, our luck had us on the aisle--key for me to make the plan work.

We retired to the concessions, went over the plan again and had a snack. By this time Sophie has her game face on, not to mention her "designer priced tour t-shirt". Time ebbed until 10 minutes prior to the start when we moved into position and waited until the last second. When security looked less stiff we made our way to the floor, I handed one ticket, the guy asked if I knew where it was I said yes, took the ticket in one hand, and my rockstar's hand in my other hand and turned to walk. This is where we hit a snag..the gatekeeper said I only showed him one ticket--he was right. I chose the honest tact and explained we had two different sections, so I was going to escort my daughter to her seat and then go to mine---he said "oh sure" and off we went--- excitement was at a high point, parents and kids were arriving in droves. With that the lights blinked signaling the show was to start soon. Things looked copasectic, so I hung out. In an instant, the lights went out and stage lights went up and the Jonas Brothers arrived on stage showered in pyrotechnics, I was in!!

Long story short, we rocked for the next two and a half hours, Hannah 20 feet from us. An unbelieveable show, great accoustics, vibes etc. To see your child that estatic and happy is an incredible sight. Sophia did not stop dancing for almost 3 hours. We were never once questioned or hassled, and thoroughly enjoyed the show next to people who had paid in some cases, thousands of dollars. I was especially happy that Sophia's show was courtesy of something the world needs more of--kindness. My ticket seller summed it best when he told me he would feel so much better making a little girl's dream night come true than he ever would have by receiving $1200. As incredibly lucky as this was it certainly sent a far more powerful lesson than the one the many parent's who spent thousands of dollars did to their kids.

Happy Thanksgiving.

In Harmony

VOTE FOR SOPHIA To WIN PALM BEACh HANNA MONTANNA CONTEST: view video


Every once in a while you have the type of day that reminds you how blessed you are to have a child. Of course I’m always grateful, but occasionally like all things in life, parenthood tends to involve all the logistics and intricacies of many other responsibilities. I guess that’s why it’s so important to break out of routines and experience new things, placing you on an almost equal footing with the child. PinF had that type of experience recently, and I’m quite sure it will rank as a memorable day for the both of us. I’m speaking of course of my indomitable little power house of pop----Sophia. With her music steadily improving, I decided to let her record her three songs at a local studio after hearing her play the songs. Of course all parents "hear" music in their child’s efforts on any instrument, and I'm no less subjective than any other proud parent. The difference for me was not so much her musical ability as it was her writing ability. Sophie had composed three songs of substance, each with metaphors, similes, and irony. I of course was a bit skeptical—not to mention stunned at her ability. I went so far as to flat out ask her where the lyrics came from—despite knowing what a smart girl she is, and excellent writer as well. Still, I had to ask.

Once I was sure of the originality of her lyrics, I knew also that what she was composing musically and lyrically---all alone mind you, was something very special and had to be captured. And so without telling her I inquired of a friend at work whose cousin is a sound engineer at a local recording studio. Once given a green light on an hour of studio time, I then asked Sophie whether she was interested—true to her personality she confidently replied she was. So it was done, we would go to the studio on Sunday afternoon and "lay down" three tracks she had written, composed on her bass guitar and sings. Nervous, yet undaunted we drove down to the studio, on the way she was definitely starting to become more nervous and decided she wanted to discuss her studio time with a veteran and tried reaching her uncle Scott---to no avail. She forged on anyway, and once in the studio was put at ease by the Puerto Rican engineer, who was putty after her heard her sing her lyrics in Spanish.

The rest? Well as they say its history, with the help of my good friend Sergio, he set up an artist’s MySpace for Sophie, and downloaded the recording and video of the session. I was, as you could imagine, the proud father just watching my quickly growing "little" girl, evolving into a confident person. As I said, what really struck me were her lyrics. Even the soundman, he a veteran of international musical experience, who worked in Nashville for 10 years, told me that what she had written was quite special considering her age. They are incredibly advanced lyrics for a child of nine, as is her confidence in her abilities. If I do nothing else in this life, I am determined to raise a girl who matures into a confident, capable woman of substance and depth, with many facets to her personality and character-- after witnessing what I did this past week-end I’m quite confident she’s on her way. The innocence of her youth occasionally lifts its veil to reveal the young lady of tomorrow; this is what happened on Sunday. I looked at Sophia in a different light---of course as a proud father, but also as man who can see what / who she is becoming.

Suddenly she wasn’t my "little" girl, but rather a smart, confident, and nice young lady who knew who she was, where she was going, and what she wants out of life. This to me (as a father) in of it self, is both revelatory and scary all at once since as a parent—you want to slowly savor each day of the discovery and wisdom gathering process of your child (or so you should). Though like sand through your fingers, you just can’t enjoy each and every grain of the many experiences of a child’s life. So you grab hold of the more prominent and special times, and you try, to really remember the swell of pride and that feeling deep down inside of intense emotion. Knowing full well, that the real gems in life are like photos taken when she isn’t looking—they’re the little less-pronounced moments, the glance, or maybe the connection without words—we had all of these. All the time knowing as well that just as light refracts in many directions and colors through a prism, she is seeing and experiencing this "moment" in a completely different light. Yes, you’re both here, but something tells you you’re in different places of the moment. The real fun will come one day when she can relate the moment and its impression upon her little psyche when she is an adult, though once again, I’m in no hurry to get there.

Still, the best part of the day was in watching her realize that what she had accomplished was created completely by her own little mind, hands, and voice; and that this was a lesson that only she could’ve taught herself.

You're My Sunshine

Wow. Sophia is starting a new career. Better check this out.

Best of Both Worlds

You never know what you have until you see what’s out there.

Well, you kind of do, at least in my case I do. I knew I had a confident and talented little girl, but even more importantly a nice little girl and once again it showed in her demeanor and manners. About a week ago Sophie answered a call by a local columnist in the paper to write and tell her why “You’re bananas for Hannah”, as in Hannah Montana aka Miley Cyrus, daughter of one Billy Ray Cyrus who is of course the mulleted wonder of the early eighties whose claim was to the Achy Breaky Heart fame.

Now if you haven’t any kids, especially girls in the “tween” category, you may in fact not know about this pop singing/acting sensation. Then again, you might also have heard about her concerts being the hottest selling ticket in the United States due to the fact that some scalpers are offering her tickets for up to $3000. Spoil my daughter as I may—even this is too rich for PinF’s blood. Still the exorbitant prices have done little to discourage the mania surrounding this “tween” pop diva’s pending visit to South Florida. So it was that I alerted Sophia to the article in last weeks’ Palm Beach Post encouraging kids to write to a features columnist why you are “Bananas over Hannah”. If your letter was compelling or interesting enough they would ask you to come in for a photo shoot and interview for a future article.

Guess who got the nod? That’s right the mini Hemingway herself, her letter was cute, concise, and most of all, compellingly honest. Sophia has exhibited great writing skills since an early age, and clearly excels in all areas of reading and writing, especially creatively. So it was that my “suggestion” sort of took on much larger proportions as I prepared to take her to the offices of the Palm Beach Post yesterday as one of five children give the “golden ticket”. Excitement wouldn’t quite describe the anticipation of the day. First, a photo shoot of “before”, and then “after”, dressed as Hannah with a blonde wig, and then onto an interview for the article scheduled to run next week—what kid wouldn’t be excited? Still, like all things, I try to temper the moment for the inherent pitfalls and disappointments that may exist, rather than see a full blown crash and burn. Incredibly she seemed very grounded and matter-of-fact about the whole thing, nervous yes, but under control.

I explained that there would be other kids there too, “I know papi”, and that she should just be herself, “papi, I know”, and that it’s ok to be nervous, “I know papi” I think I might have been more nervous by now. As it was the columnist explained that the response was so overwhelming her employer had to stop her email for several days as her inbox was overwhelmed by hundreds if not thousands of emails. Of this number, 5 kids were chosen and upon learning this, the kids seemed to sense the stakes were higher. Not sure what to expect when we arrived they each were asked if they would be willing to sing while being videotaped—this footage would run simultaneously on their website so that the readers may vote on the most convincing “Hannah”. Sophia did great, due in large part to all she’s done musically leading up to this moment.

I was having a “Willy Wonka” kind of feeling as I watched the other parents, and their nervous children learn about having to sing too. I was the only father for starters and it seemed to me that several of the moms have seemed almost cajoling their kids into the whole experience, almost like stage parents do. Sophia on the other hand was given an “out” right up to the last moment; never once telling her she “had” to do anything. I further explained that in my mind, she had already “won” as far as I was concerned. She got to be treated like a celebrity, toured a newspaper, had photo shoots, met the reporter, been interviewed, etc. So whatever happens -- happens. Sophia, true to her easy spirit agreed, and never once seemed too nervous or anxious, she just rolled with it. I think it showed that we were a little less anxious too. I offered to leave the room so she wouldn’t be too self conscious during the filming of the singing portion. Knowing full well it might be easier for her if I wasn’t watching; I was peeking from behind the curtain, and could still hear her. I suspect the winner is going to get two passes to the sold out H.M. show, though it was not said. Her voice kind of surprised the production assistants, and truth be told-- me too. I know she had long been singing this album in her room, and had been taking voice lessons with her Young Singers Choir, but she really, really impressed me. I was too proud. The photographer, reporter, and videographer were blown away and they said as much. Of course this will all be online sometime next week, and the article runs Sunday November 18 in the paper.

So once the reporter heard her sing, questions arose and Sophia let it out. She told them she really does play guitar and sings too. Having taken lessons for a year now, her guitar skills have steadily increased. This year her school band told her the only guitar in the band is the bass guitar--- undeterred Sophia now plays that too, and has since gotten one. To the reporter’s delight she let slip that she’s also written 3 songs that she sings while playing her bass, and that we just so happen to be going to the studio this weekend to record them. So there it was. She was an honest to goodness musician, and not just a fan. Every kid has their moment, and this clearly was hers, as the three women were so impressed, not only with her talent and voice, but even more so by her poise and manners. With regard to her music, she has exhibited a level of songwriting and composing not usually seen in a nine year old. Sophia’s lyrics are really quite amazing, so it was that I spoke to a friend whose cousin is a sound engineer about recording her music. And that’s where we go from here, to the studio. I’m going to try and have it videotaped when she’s in the studio and then post a You Tube of the session.

We had quite a day, and for me it wasn’t really about winning anything, it was more of an affirmation to her what her writing had sparked, and all the hours of guitar and voice lessons represented. Sure, who doesn’t want to be treated like a star, or even win tickets to the hottest concert in town, as for me the winning was in watching a little person bloom through her God given abilities and talents.

Autumn (finally)

Well it was fittingly ironic that my daughter Sophia was my 25,000 visitor. Of all the worldwide locations and friends that visit PinF who’d of thought that it could have come from Florida--- and from the most important person in my life to boot? There’s a certain type of symmetric truth to this since so many of these posts have been either been about, or included, Sophia. And so the beat goes on…….

PinF recently set out on a cycle journey. This past weekend Florida finally experienced our long awaited “Autumn”. Temperatures in the low 80’s by day with 50% humidity, and a comfortable 60 degrees by night had PinF loading up the “T” Strom for a trek north to the QuickSilver surfing regional semi-finals at Sebastian Inlet State Park. There’s an incredibly free and easy feeling about racing through the farmlands of Florida on a crisp Saturday morning, the sky a cobalt blue, music playing in my helmet. Along for the ride was my buddy of over 30 years, John Breeding-- he on his Harley Sportster. We reached Sebastian at about 9:30, just as the temperature began to hover in the 70’s, warm for most readers of PinF, but unseasonably chilly for us here in Florida.

The waves, much to the thanks of Tropical Storm Noel,were barreling, providing some good pipelines for the competition, not to mention robust size of 12-14ft. John and I were treated to some extreme surfing competition in sunny conditions making for an overall great day for a ride. We eventually made our way out of the Park and into one of PinF’s favorite National Wildlife Preserves; Orchid Island preserve and Jungle Trail. This is a must see for anyone when visiting the Vero beach/Sebastian Inlet area of Florida. I had been to the park before, my friend John however had not. The Jungle Trail really doesn’t lend itself to a Harley Davidson Sportster model, and is definitely more suited to a dual sport bike such as PinF’s V-Strom. Neverthless, Breeding isn’t one to shy away from a little mud and water, and so he trudged right on through the deep puddles, sand, mud and crushed-coral paths that encompass the 7 mile long trail through the jungle.

This is almost surreal landscape. Carved from nature, and preserved by Theodore Roosevelt 104 years ago (the first national wildlife preserve), this park is teeming with hawks, bobcats, turtles, foxes, manatees, dozens of species of both migrating, and in most cases-- rare birds and fish. You hear nothing except the occasional splash of a pelican diving for a fish, or the screeching of a hawk. Just a pristine area of nature doing what nature does best. Afterwards Johnny and I began the 7 mile trek through the jungle under often precarious and downright slippery conditions on account of the passing of the tropical storm two days before. The trusty VStrom forded the mud and ankle deep puddles without missing a beat, Johnny on the other hand had to be deliberate and methodical about where he would cross a puddle and how fast. A Harley Sportster just doesn’t have the clearance or rubber for this type of ride, still he made do.

V25K

Well it's almost like the night before Christmas. If you look to the right-----> of this post, you'll see I've dragged the counter up from the bottom of the page, where it has been inconspicuously counting the many, many varied guests and visitors to PinF for the past 29 months. Visitor25K is soon to appear, and with that honor the many gifts and accolades such an honor bestow.

If I were a betting man, I'd say the the 25,000th visitor will be arriving sometime after midnite tonight, owing largely to the fact that visitations are normally low on week-end nights. However, anticipation is high, so it very well could happen tonight. Still, if it is you, let me know where you are, and who you in the world, and a PinFCard will be in the mail.

Another Day in Paradise

Out for my morning stroll this morning I was reminded just how beautiful where I live is. It's easy to get caught up in the grind of life, and then you turn the corner and see this.

Living In The Moments

PinF was witness to another path of convergence recently. His brother Rob, recently married in Mexico, was again pronounced husband to his lovely wife Mari in a civil ceremony, further establishing their new tax status. It was of course, a wonderful service filled with close family members, and an equally close collection of lifelong friends. The bitter sweetness of life was also included in the day, as the cousins' of the groom were in attendance after having just lost their mother---sister to the groom’s mother, to cancer several weeks ago. Proving yet again, that the force of life’s experiences, combined with the power of time’s sweeping hand, are both complimentary and symbiotic elements in the natural march forward.

Oddly enough these lessons became even more apparent when PinF would literally bump into one friend and be introduced to another later in the evening. The first was an old friend whose “experience” 25 years ago continues to alter the time in his life. To add the necessary symbiosis to the lesson, I was to also meet a new friend, one who would give testament to one of the most painful and powerful events in our nation’s history.

PinF saw the wheelchair parked at the edge of the crowded bar as people squeezed by in each direction either trying to get a glimpse of the jazz band or making their way out of the club. As I made my way to the bar to place an order I was startled by the feeble hand grabbing at my own, as quick as I looked down towards the wheelchair it was instantly apparent it was an old friend from high school, one I hadn’t seen or heard from in over 15 years. His is the kind of story that sets all your hardships and setbacks in life in proportion, and inside I felt a sort of guilt for having moved on and lived my life in the years since I had seen him last. Norman is his name, and he’s been paralyzed since 1983 when riding his bicycle down Wallingford Ave. he was stuck from behind and left in the road paralyzed by a never identified hit and run driver. He has never walked since, and has limited use of his hands and arms. I quickly thought of all the things I’ve been able to experience and do in my life—all of them things he hasn’t, nor probably ever will. I asked how he was, what he’d been doing; all seemingly shallow questions when you understand his reality. He said he’d been living in Boca Raton and seeking treatment at Nick Buoniconti Spinal Cord Research known as the Miami Project in hope of finding a cure so that he might walk again.

Norman had recently moved home to Wallingford, his hopes apparently dashed. Sad stuff to be sure. He was quite despondent, and spoke of “ending it all”, something that isn’t easily countered in a crowded bar with lot’s of noise, not to mention the downer that alcohol is. I offered what words of encouragement I could and we drifted through other less sad memories and painful times, he seemed to cheer up. He eventually moved on, his wheelchair being pushed by other old friends, one’s who’ve remained in Norman’s life ever since this tragedy struck down the once muscular and motivated youth. The striking contrasts were hard to ignore, the mutual friends—true friends at that, who have been pushing that wheelchair for decades, they now have families of their own, yet remain loyal and dutiful. Norman however remains in a wheelchair, trapped in time, dependent on others for his every need. What the anonymous driver of the car that hit him on that dark night 25 years ago didn’t steal, time and despair have slowly and steadily managed to --- hope.

Equally interesting though no less heart wrenching was the next friend PinF was to make on this night. An old college buddy of a friend of mine was in town to watch a football game. He was bringing along his 20 year old Penn State undergrad son, of whom after speaking with him, I discovered he is immensely proud of. He’s a good student, living away from home for the first time and excelling with his studies. His parent’s like any first time parents who send a child away for college were naturally reticent and a bit worried. They live on Long Island and their son is all the way up in Happy Valley. This father had a message of a different kind, his one of true hope borne of loss. It seems that all his worry was not based on the fact that the son was living away from home, but rather it was based on the fact that his son was living with an incurable disease yet he continued to strive, live, and accomplish. The father was immensely proud. He’s also worried, for his son lives on timetable of unknown length owing largely to the fact that his disease has an expected life span of not many more years than his son already is. His son is living with Cystic Fibrosis. As much as this may have sounded like a bummer, it was actually quite uplifting to hear especially when I heard the father’s story behind the story.

This friend bore witness to his own brother’s death not but 6 years ago when he arrived to work on the 24 floor of his office adjacent to the World Trade Towers on September 11th, 2001. Upon arriving he was greeted with frantic phone messages from his elderly mother, he returned the call and was told to turn on a television that her son and his brother were in trouble. He knew immediately the reason--his brother, a broker for Cantor Fitzgerald was trapped above the impact floors of the WTT along with 657 other work mates. He quickly placed calls to his brother and was met by a calm, deliberate voice who assured him he was alright, he would get out, and to let his mother know that she shouldn’t worry. My new friend commented on how his brother was a tough guy, a former boxer, and a real go-getter. He repeatedly spoke to his mother and brother that morning assuring them he was on his way down. Of course by now he knows better—that his brother was in fact trapped, and had no chance of exiting the building. He also knows his brother most certainly knew the severity of his situation after witnessing the second tower attack.

With horror, he watched his brother’s building collapse, and with this collapse went his hope. Of all the people I’ve either heard or read accounts from of this day, this was the first who calmly related the horror of the day while also having been directly affected with the pain and sting of a personal loss. Perhaps this event had a large role in his sons’ realization of his dream to attend university—no matter how much time he had. It also spoke of how hard it must be to let any child go, let alone one with a fatal disease, when in fact that child is quite possibly living his last year’s--- and away from home at that.
So here were two totally unrelated people; each carrying incredibly personal and heavy burdens, both of them under the same roof. Their only connection was the fact that I heard both their stories and felt both their pains.

Still, although sad, each one of these men had a valuable lesson to offer; one offered a stark reminder in appreciating that which you have, though we all might occasionally complain about ---for it could be gone in a second. The other lesson was equally stirring---about having the courage to face what seems like cruel circumstance, and evil odds--- because sometimes with hope and a prayer you can overcome those odds. the biggest loser, wwe, rose bowl, college football, nfl,

24 HOURS WITH THE PinF's

More photos today---the 1st Green Market of the season....fall like weather (mid 80's)....oh and big news...Sophia updated her blog!! I'll add the new photos later...............



Started the day looking for some new surf wear for Sophia, waves were up and Sophie needed some new board shorts. ...........

Started this running log last night with a sunset swim....let's see what fun we can get up today....we'll update later---

World Wide Inspiration

Slowly and ever so silently, yet steadily and consistently, like the ticking of the clock. Everyday just watching, recording and reporting each visit to each page; the location the visitor came from, how long he stayed and what caught his or her eye. Maybe they commented publicly or maybe as is often the case—privately, to my email. Some are known, many are not; some are from places I’ve visited others, from places I hope to visit one day.

The PinF count is set to reach another milestone very soon. Thirty months ago PinF was launched, destination--clearly unknown. What started as more of a novelty to goof off with distant friends, PinF has slowly evolved into the online personal journal it is today due primarily to the influence of external forces-- AKA change, that we call life. These experiences-- travels, laughs, and tears are by no means unique to PinF alone. Nor for that matter is the experience of raising a daughter as a divorced father. What is unique is the influence that these experiences have had and the power of translation this Blog has given to such experiences.

The good, the bad, the happy and the sad, the adventures and travels, including the trips and falls, the countless steps—both forward and sometimes back, almost all of theses stories have graced this site. PinF could never have considered maintaining such a public log of his journey 30 months ago. At that point in time the life of PinF was day-by-day, due to radical changes in the personal life of its author. Still, the ability of being able to look back is always a blessing to remind one of the temporary nature of the passing storms of life. What at one time may have seemed either insurmountable, too painful, or unimaginable, slowly just becomes just another day in the life—for better or for worse.

I have, through this Blog, communicated, laughed, shared, and indeed become friends with hundreds of people the world over. Strange really, that perfect strangers feel as they know you, and in a way they often do, better than people who know you in the physical sense. Because they’ve read between the lines, they’ve recognized the shared pains, triumphs and day-to-day life experiences and because the forum AKA as PinF has bothered to express what has often seemed boring or routine. Still, PinF receives emails from as far as Australia telling me how these experiences were exactly like something that happened to them. That’s kind of cool, when your daily drivel can have that ripple-on-a-pond effect.

I’m often at a point where I think I’m going to just let it end, no official sign off, just a kind of fade to black. Just then, I'’ll be doing something that'll strike my interest (or ire), or as is often the case, someone will write me a note or comment that makes me want to write “one more” post. Hell like I said, I never imagined I’d have written 170 essays in 840 days, visited by 24,400 people, who’ve read over 45,000 pages. That seems bizarre to me. But these are the numbers I’m told, and from over 70 countries no less. I imagine I’ll hit 25,000 visitors by the end of October give or take, I’m wondering what I can do to mark that milestone. (any ideas?)

In any event, the whole experience of PinF were it to end tomorrow, has been such a rich exercise in global positioning, one that's been worth all the experiences I’ve lived through, both good, and bad in order to generate these posts. In that I mean, that knowing my everyday simple yet complex life of rich thought and often simple experiences is read by any number of people in any number of foreign lands is a reassuring, humbling, and nice thought.

Paynter may be in Florida, but he’s in Great Britain, New York, Zimbabwe, Brighton, Moscow, Dallas, Copenhagen, Chicago, Bergen, Atlanta, Brussels, Malta, Akron, Sweden, Washington, Greece and Ireland as well as many, many others............

Thanks to ALL of you, everywhere you are.

Turtles and Books

Windy Tuesday in Florida. So windy that PinF and Sophia had to head on over to the beach themselves to see firsthand the devastation being inflicted upon our coasts. Aside from the all too familiar condo owners bemoaning the loss of sand on their beaches, there was an even greater concern for the PinF's. Hundred's if not thousands of turtle nests have been lost the past several days all along the treasure coast of Florida as 10+ foot seas have ravaged us.

We approached the beach with caution. What had once been beaches at least 40 yards deep have now been reduced to maybe 10 yards of sand followed by a sheer drop of maybe 4-6 feet into the angry, churned up sea. The sight of it is a bit overwhelming, what with the site of hundreds of ping-pong ball looking turtle eggs scattered about and the eroded coast it certainly warrants listening to the experts about rising seas.

After shooting some photos, collecting a few empty turtle eggs for Sophia's science class we were off. I had a score to settle with little PinF for an exemplary week of school last week. Proud papi that I am, I found myself almost surprised when after returning home from school after her induction into the Student of the Month club last week, Sophia informed me she needed my help writing a speech. A speech I asked, for S-of-the-M? Sophia told me no, not for that. For what I asked? Student Council she replied. I didn't even know there was SC in 4th grade, nevertheless it was clear she wasn't resting on S-of-the-M laurels, so I told her to write the speech and i would edit it. Sophia informed she was one of 5 "candidates" and they all had to give their speeches and then vote afterward. Wow, I thought-- what moxie.

So it was she shipped off to school that next morning, she and I practicing the speech for the umpteenth time, right up until when she bailed out in front of the school. Unflappable Sophie was ready, she certainly seemed a lot calmer than me. I told her to call me first thing after school. I was confident, but then again you know how kids are, issues mean nothing, alliances and cliques mean everything. Her issues? recycling, and school store hours--getting them improved. She also proposes placing a question box in her class where her classmates can drop questions and concerns they want raised when their representative goes to student council. They loved this idea, her opponent went the sweet tooth route---and age old ploy. Promising smoothies in the lunchroom, something I never knew any 4th grader to deliver on.

Bottom line--Sophia Wins!!!....Certainly a week for her to remember, first S-of-the-M and now this. I told her she just earned a nice trip to Barnes & Noble for her accomplishments, something we've been doing since she was about 3 when I gave her the option of one Chinese made piece of toy crap, or five books. She's always taken the books. Plus I knew from NPR that there was an excellent new novel out, primarily for teens, but her reading comprehension, not to mention appetite demands more of a challenge anyway.

The result? Sophia went to bed a little early so she could read some more of "Click". What a neat book, I suspect it won't be long before it's a national best seller. I'm gonna read it after her as it looks so well written I think I'll enjoy it too. I know she does. paris hilton, pakistan, iraq, bhutto, brittney spears, breast, alicia keys, justin timberlake, kenya, oil, dollar, hollywood, sex,