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,

A Student's Pride

I write often about how the experience of parenting often allows a glimpse into your past­. Specifically, your childhood, and the many memories that get lost somewhere between birth and adolescence. Because in life, all things are circular, all experiences are shared, and for the most part much of what we did as children our parents have already done; and conversely our children will do also. It’s just the way of the world. This commonality of experience is also what provides all parents with their intuitive powers. As quite often we are able to pick out circumstances and results with a fairly good degree of predictability, based entirely on our own experiences. How many of us haven’t been admonished as kids how we can’t fool our parents­because they were children once?

This is where PinF found himself this morning. I felt like a sort of child Psychologist as I watched 1000 children from grades 3 thru 5 file into the cafeteria/auditorium of my daughter’s school. The advantage of Florida is that almost all school assemblies are held outside due to the weather’s accommodating nature. Today would be different, as we were forced inside for this event due to rain, further magnifying the noise ten-fold. Still I wasn’t complaining, I would have gone anywhere to see what I was here for today. To watch the dynamics of this many kids is quite a study in both anthropology and psychology. You can see the extroverts, the introverts, the cliques, the athletes, the nerds and the cool kids. Kids in groups tend to behave much differently than in one-on-one situations. Funny, as I thought to myself that I hope Sophia is as nice in school, as she is out….I dismissed this thought, of course she is.

So here I was, hiding from my own daughter in her school on a rainy Tuesday morning, her mami was there too. It's not often we’re brought together to do things, but when it’s our daughter, there exists a certain level of détente. Good for Sophie and good for us that we can be there together for her. Usually any underlying issues get left outside the school and we’re able to revert back to the three of us, at least for our daughter’s sake. Today was a special surprise. None of the 1000 students in attendance had any idea who was to be called up on stage by the principal to receive the coveted Student of the Month award for their individual classes, a high honor indeed. Each month, all teachers nominate one student for the monthly ceremony, and bless her little heart---Ms. Sophie was chosen as her class’s representative. Hence our hiding---for if a child sees their parent in attendance, the gig is up and they know they’ve been chosen.

I was prepared, camera in hand ready to capture a “moment” in time. For even though I know there will be a thousand more moments, this knowledge did little to diminish the importance of this moment­ in the here and now. We watched as the third grade nominees were called up one by one to receive their certificates and have the SofTM pin pinned to their uniform lapel. Steadily, like the spelling bee of last year, Sophia’s moment approached and with it, the tension and excitement her parents felt. Until finally the principal called out SOPHIA PAYNTER and ever so confidently and cute she rose, with an almost surprised, though surely happy look on her face to finally win the honor she had coveted since third grade. She strode towards her parents not knowing we were here, and then she caught my eye and smiled a nervous, knowing, and almost self conscious smile. By this point her mami was wiping her tears and I was shaking, as I tried to steadily record the moment on my camera.

As she walked back off the stage back to her seat I gave Sophie a little card of congratulations. In it I told her I wasn’t so much proud of the SoTM distinction as much as I was for her being such a good person. Grades can be attained through hard work, races won through practice, instruments mastered through lessons. I told Sophia you can't be a nice person if you really aren’t one to begin with. And she is. She’s a good kid who considers others, knows her manners, and tries her best, to be her best, through her studying, hard work, and her caring for others. I told her I was proud of her but mainly because of her pride in herself, something that no one can teach, nor ever take away from her. So that was PinF’s Tuesday in paradise, a moment in time yes - but not one I’ll soon forget because she understood exactly what I was telling her.

All the accolades in the world would mean nothing, if she wasn’t a good person, comfortable with who she was and where she was headed. And she is, and this is what makes me proud.

One More Year

I received an interesting email from a life-long friend the other day. It had all the typical news to report; the children, job, and the stresses of the everyday grind. My friend is unique in the fact that she lost one of her parents at a young age, and now as she approaches that age is probably prone to seeing that loss in a much more real way -- ­can’t blame her there.

She went on to mention how she had been drawn to a life coach after reading some articles describing how to take control of your life and live a life of purpose. Quite an interesting concept when you really consider it, because who wants to do anything in life that is devoid of purpose. Yet in many ways we all find ourselves questioning our motives, both personally and professionally. Either the job is unfulfilling, or the marriage has lost its luster, or even worse--­maybe both.

So often it feels as though the “purpose” in our lives has been lost, and with it, so have all the dreams, passion, and ideas we may have once aspired to. We’re all victims of this. How can we not be? Bills have to be paid, decisions need to be made, and responsibilities have to be met. That’s the irony, since we often go through life envying another person’s life, job, or outlook. In reality, if we could get inside the thoughts of each other, we’d find that we often share the same doubts, insecurities, and fears.

My friend went on to mention that she feels so overwhelmed with work, and that she wonders if she is dividing her time and dedications in their proper proportions and more importantly assigning her priorities the correct attention. Think about that for a minute.

Who doesn’t think about what they should do, and what they would do, if only they could make their decisions based on what they want to do, instead of what they have to do? The email ended with my friend coming to the realization that what were really important to her were her children growing up and the amount of time she gets to spend with them. Yes, the career and the opportunity it affords to give her children a certain lifestyle were important too, but she seemed to be making the point that it wasn’t so important as to be choosing long hours and career advancement over the quality and quantity of time with her children.

It was towards the very end of the email that her whole epiphany was brought into better focus. She mentioned that one of the exercises she was asked to consider under this theory of coaching was quite daunting, a question that evoked as much fascination as fear. It forces you to really consider changes that you would make in an instant if you knew your time was suddenly finite.

If you were to be told today that you will have one year to live, how would you spend this last year? You would not be allowed to use or borrow more money that you have today. Where would you start, and what prevents you from enacting any of these changes today?

What would you do?

A * BIG * WASTE

Again, it would be so easy, what with all the rhetoric, lies, and proganda that invade our daily lives, newspapers, and airwaves to forget the “good old days” of innocence and false security before we started erasing civil liberties. Remember those days? First change not long after 911 was seeing airports staffed with rifle-toting soldiers--shouldn't we have seen it coming? Now when you fly, the airports are still full of soldiers, the difference is they are battered and scarred both physically and emotionally. Or they are tear-stained from good-byes, all much too young either way. The losses continue to mount, 2,974 at the WTC and 3,537 in combat, this leaves us approaching 7,000 lost lives, hopes, dreams, and promises for a better world if maybe these people were still in it. And the question still beckons. Are we any safer, more respected, closer to catching the "real" terrorist? Sadly, it doesn't appear so.

But as I drove to work today I was thinking. Six years ago I was rushing to dress, gather Sophia for pre-school, and get to a real estate closing after a quick stop to drop Sophia at day care. As I frantically got ready while sipping my coffee I flicked on the TV. In a moments time I was to witness something so horribly tragic, and so humanly sad, that I’m sure like my parents’ generation remembered where they were for the assassination of JFK, I too would forever remember the morning of September 11th, 2001. I stood, slack jawed in my kitchen, and watched as the second tower was hit and broadcast live on network television.

In an instant everything changed. Almost in a fog, and hugging her even more that day, I dropped Sophia at the daycare, hustling over to meet my clients for their closing, all the while tuned to the radio—any station really. There was no music that day, only live feeds from New York as bewildered journalists tried to make some sort of sense out of hell the day had become. I knew as did millions of Americans that this was to change our lives, our history, and our view of our place in the world forever.

Gone now are six years, and what an incredible mess we have on our hands. A bunch of white middle-aged men, none of whom had any military background bumbling through history altering decisions. Clearly we have been led by a cadre of self-serving bureaucratic liars calling the shots, trampling on our constitutional rights, and generally making the world even more dangerous and volatile in the process. Afghanistan was accepted as something that had to be done, and even the meekest of Presidents would have had to decapitate the Taliban leadership. I needn’t go into the incredibly wasteful and fool hardy decisions that we as a nation have allowed Bush and Co. to make and lead us into since then. George has played this nation and its assets as if it were his personal little game to play, however he saw fit.

With so many factors pointing to failure, it appears now that this debacle was doomed from the very start. Having mentioned that the executive leadership of this administration was a non-military serving one, especially during Vietnam, I should clarify myself. I do no find it a requirement to have served in the armed forces to be considered qualified to make decisions regarding the deployment of our soldiers destined for combat. I do, with regard to the matter of protesting or supporting the validity of American soldiers’ sacrifice in combat, find it a far more credible argument of one who has served in the armed forces; especially in combat, when arguing for either the continued deployment or withdrawal of said troops from harms way. Who knows better than someone who has faced death?

After witnessing Representative Murtha’s treatment by this administration with regard to his beliefs that we should bring our troops home, it only underscores this administrations’ willingness to muddy anyone’s name who would dare take a stand against its failed policies. Even a decorated combat Marine, something no one on the executive branch of this administration is. Implying he is less a patriot for this view, yet Bush's minions outed an undercover agent of the CIA. So who's the real patriot here?

So here we are. Not gaining any ground in Afghanistan, and bogged down in a bloody civil/religious/ethnic war in Iraq and surely no safer in the world than we were six years ago. On the contrary, we are as a nation even more despised and ridiculed than ever, and probably even more at risk now as a people than we've ever been at any time in our nation’s history. Having been to Europe this summer, most people are incredulous how we could reelect such an inept, and fundamentally flawed man again. Now we have the double indignity of the administration using combat veterans when it’s convenient with regard to the new propaganda commercials extolling the wisdom and virtues of our failed policies and doctrines, while imploring us to commit more young lives to the slaughter.

There are others still, all maligned for their opposition; McCain, Kerry, Murtha: these men were all viciously attacked in ads and propaganda during both elections and key votes of Congress, despite all of them being combat experienced statesmen, men who have seen blood spilled in vain as well. Instead, the shameless Bush administration has no conscience when parading double amputees, widows, and parents of killed soldiers to propagandize this mess we call a war.

Even with six years gone we're not an inch safer, nor a pound better than we were before George started this mess. Instead we've allowed our "Commander in Chief" to lose 3,537 more lives since 911, and Bin Laden? Well, incredibly, he's still alive and lives on to torment his enemies-- George and Co. It's been said that the "devil is in the details", in this case it would seem that he's also found in the lack thereof, since the "details" of this mess have never been true anyway, nor have they added up to much more than lies. Further proof of a flawed and undefined mission, misguided policies, and fuzzy objectives in righting the many wrongs of that innocently peaceful day six years ago.

Reflections

Parent/Teacher Night was last night.

I’ve gone every year for the past 5 years. It’s a quick greeting, followed by a synopsis of curriculum and classroom expectations and goals for the year. Sophie had already told me she thought that this might very well be her favorite teacher of her illustrious school career thus far. Nothing new here, she claimed the same about every teacher for the previous four school years. I, of course, have my favorites and I think I might agree with her that this years’ teacher might be on PinF’s short list as well.

There is, for those of you who haven’t visited an elementary school room in many years, something very cathartic about doing so. It is the one common denominator we all share, along with the same hopes, fears, aspirations, and experiences­ -- all in different degrees mind you, but similar all the same. So there I sat in my daughter’s chair. Viewing what her daily world looks like from day to day. Trying to imagine her little mind at work. My first impression was why she can’t she keep her bedroom as neat and orderly as her desk was.

My second impression? How many silly, clueless, and nervous Nellie parents there are in the world. I don’t know if it’s because I’m one of maybe two fathers in the class, and women are just different, or if I just seem to recognize some women who are too involved. Instead of just taking it all in and maybe reserving questions for after the teacher’s presentation, many parents seem to want to pose questions on a personal level about their children’s performance. This is often done by way of a statement-pseudo-question where the parent begins with “…Bobby says…,” I don’t get that. Luckily there are usually only a few of these parents and the one’s that are clued in usually recognize each other with a knowing nod.

Of course every parent wants to hear good things, PinF is no different. Probably one of the great disappointments of parenting is to realize that the cooperative, angelic, and responsible child you thought you were raising was the complete opposite in class. For some parents this was obviously the case, either by way of the state of their messy desks, missing papers that were to be on display for parents, or the chart of behavior demerits on the wall. Nothing egregious mind you, just fourth grade stuff; forgot my homework, talking in class, hitting, etc.

So it was that that when I got my opportunity to speak with Ms. Pifer I just let her speak, not trying to tell her about my kid, but rather letting her tell me, she is after all the third most powerful person in my daughter’s life­ at least until May. Blessed as I am, I got exactly what every parent longs to hear. “She’s a joy to have in class….always follows directions….is reading above grade level…..her cursive is very nice….” What I did to deserve this, I’m still trying to figure out, but I’ll take it.

The memories that come rushing back to your mind as you sit in a miniature desk looking at the cursive writing chart are for the most part incredibly vivid. You can actually relate to the smells, the sights, and the sounds of school, even a modern one with computers and CCTV’s. Even more interesting are the many emotions you recall of excitement for the year, goals you want to achieve, and the sense of moving on that each successive grade represents. You can feel all of this and more as you step out of your own daily grind and world, and sit behind a little desk, in a little chair, attentively listening to teacher lay out the plan for the coming year. My “plan” is to try and get her to savor her years, as they are going very quickly now.

The presentation complete, we were asked to take out a letter each student had written to their parents and respond with a letter back for them to read when they came to school the next day. Sophie, like any kid, thanked us for her stuff in life, her summer vacations to the Keys and her cruise to Mexico. The last sentence was the most telling, written in the innocuous way that only a nine year-old can write it to her parents: Thanks for making me.

Little can she realize now, that it was her who made us.

(ch) ILLING

Took the day off today.

Sophia is sick with strep throat, the first illness of the year, potentially knocking her out of contention for her first spelling quiz of the year tomorrow. She's touch and go right now, though her sense of pride and duty have her claiming that she'll be in school tomorrow. She's on the SOP of anti-biotic for 10 days, and a diet high in fluids, so we'll just have to make a launch-pad call tomorrow morning regarding whether she's a GO for school tomorrow.

In one way it's good she gets sick now since Sophia doesn't really miss much school to illness, actually she really doesn't get sick but one a year, usually the same old culprits---strep, ear infections, or the plain old cold. Funny enough the kid probably misses more school due to sanctioned travel than she does illness. You know they're sick though when they take a nap in the afternoon, she's been in and out all day, battling a slight fever and nasty raw cough. It's been a straight diet of Campbell's, Gatorade, water and cherry Popsicles.

Still, a little down time allows PinF to get his house in order---something I haven't addressed in earnest since returning from Europe---so I'm on the top-to-bottom cleaning mission. Seeing how my weekends are usually spent outdoors, it's actually good to have a little time to straighten things up.

Speaking of spelling quiz's, PinF has updated his blog somewhat, trying to keep up with recent technologies offered to Blogger. On my last post, directly below this, you'll notice I've added a technological bit of candy to the post----and this one is bittersweet, it is the lost footage of Sophia's Spelling Bee 2006. If nothing else it drives her---to be even more vigilante and better prepared....hence her reticence at missing tomorrow's spelling quiz. Not to mention she was without doubt the cutest entrant that day.

The other update is long overdue. Ever since PinF returned from Europe he's noticed more an more European IP addresses visiting. So out of deference to my non-English speaking visitors I've added the translation tool to PinF. you never know when one of my friends from China or Brazil will be stopping by. The other new feature, would be my first off-shoot Blog, PinF's reading list. This area is still under construction so be careful, though essentially it'll be a forum to suggest, discuss, and review books. I've read so many great one's in the past 6 months, and they're kind of like movies, in that if they aren't fresh on your mind it's often hard to recommend them. So this will be a place where they can be recommended. So that's about it, just a few minor tweaks here and there. Ok, gotta finish running the vaccum and then get some type of dinner ready for patient #1.

Studying, Spelling, and Singing

PinF grew up in a large family. He had four brothers and two obviously busy parents. And while mine was a happy childhood, it was in many ways like many other peoples’, fraught with change, loss, and a sense of mayhem, much like you’d expect in a family with five boys. One of the greatest advantages of having an only child is the ability to devote extra time with your child as well as the unique relationship that is formed by virtue of having a one-on-one relationship. While I would have in many ways preferred having a large family myself, I especially enjoy only having one child too. For starters, we each understand each other’s temperaments, likes, dislikes, and quirks. We also enjoy an ease of communication that is often non-existent or infrequent when there are more than one child in the equation.

Communication between Sophie and me is easy, open, and frank. She understands that while I am her father, I am completely approachable, fair, and understanding of her hopes, fears, and needs. Figuring I have just one child, that’s the way I want it, so that as she grows up she and I will continue to have not just a father-daughter relationship, but a friendship as well. This relationship only continues to get better as she gets older especially since she is so poised for her age and expressive of her thoughts. We have routines, and I think she enjoys them almost in a ritual sense, whether it is church on Sunday, or Boogie Boarding on Saturdays, she knows what she gets with me, she knows also that I am her go-to-guy. I’ve tried to be very conscious of never making promises I cannot keep, especially since she is my only child.

Some might call this relationship spoiling, others have called it special. Whether it be exploring the Florida Keys, or attending a concert, we each enjoy the other’s company completely. Much of my enjoyment comes from seeing Sophie set goals, not so much for my sake, but for hers, again something not often found in a little girl who just turned 9. I would guess that this too is a result of the confidence she gains from being an only child. I have so many friends who have neither the time nor interest in investing the "extra" time in their children, either due to career or other family commitments, or sometimes it come down to plain old disinterest.

In return I demand very little. Manners, proper behavior, and doing what I expect of her are it. Luckily for me, the constant reminding of these few rules has both through repetition and expectation, created a polite, nice, and for the most part responsible child. She always does her homework immediately upon arriving from school, again a routine. So it is as we start yet another year on her journey through the school years. The routines are the same, the excitement is the same, and the expectations of behavior and performance are the same. What isn’t the same is the little girl. She has left a certain stage of "littleness", and has shed some of the self-doubt that is found in the first few years.

In its place is a new confidence and maturity that somehow just seems to arrive like a new tooth. Sophie sat at the kitchen table yesterday and explained to me her approach for getting "...all A’s…" this year. She then told me she aims to make the safety patrol in fifth grade and how the selection process begins now for fourth graders starting with class behavior, as all fourth grade teachers nominate the students that demonstrate the traits they seek. So it’s now. She’s out to win the orange belt, and with it, the coveted fifth grade field trip to Washington D.C. This of course is quite a big deal to children in southern Florida since D.C. is a thousand miles away both literally and figuratively in the minds of children.

Her other goal? Win the Spelling Bee. Sophie still hasn’t forgiven herself for misspelling such an "easy" word last year, and she’s aiming to bounce back. My response is typical of most parents, just do your best, ask questions if you don’t understand and behave like I expect her to. All A’s is nice, but let’s not get too obsessed with this, the three A’s and two B’s were good too. Still, the wonder to me as a father is her desire to set and attain such goals at such an age. Maybe, though I doubt, I once set such lofty goals as a nine year-old myself. Either way it’s a real joy to have a child who is so focused on her own hopes and dreams. This weekend Sophie gets to do what she’s wanted to do forever---sing. Her first rehearsal with her new choir is this Sunday and she couldn’t be more excited.

These are hectic days in way as I must schedule pick-ups, custody days, shuttling to practices and rehearsals and all the other activities little girls engage in such as sleepovers and parties. Still, I am completely cognizant and appreciative of these years, as I know well how fast they are going as well as the importance we will each assign to them someday down the road. Because of this I try as hard as I can to live in the moment and enjoy the simple, mundane pleasures of day to day fathering.

Luckily for me I am blessed with a little girl that makes it easy to be a good father.