The Teacher Becomes the Student

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



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

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

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

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

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

The Music Of Life

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

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

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

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

Threading the Needle of the Dawn Sky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does it get any better than this?

http://timtraveler.blogspot.com

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

Check it out.

Happy St. Valentines Day

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

Passionately Golden Dreams

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

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

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

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

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

Hard to Notice & Impossible to Ignore(the lesson)

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

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

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

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

Spoken truths are powerful.

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

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

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

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

If You Lie Long Enough.....

Before you read this click here.

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

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

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

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

SOUL FOOD IS GOOD FOR YOU !

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

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

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

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

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

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