Hi!...on coffee.

It's Saturday morning again and you know what that means, don't you? It means it's no longer Friday night and it's not yet Saturday afternoon, that's all. And for reasons I can't quite explain (nor do I really even know), I feel like writing in this here little blog of mine. So here goes....

It's a lovely little morning on my patch of earth. I'm on my third cup of coffee--and when I say 'on', I mean in a way that would imply that it is my drug of choice...because it IS!!-- Anyway, I mention that fact because this post may be as random as random can be. And what does that even mean?? It means that for the next few keyboard-clicking minutes I shall try to turn off the edit button in my brain so as to be my ridiculous self.

Did I mention that it's a bright and sunny morning? You may have assumed that, since I did say it was lovely, but one must never assume such things so early in the morning. Well, it's a bright and sunny morning and I've watered all my living, growing plants and I'm thinking about going out to tackle the lawn. (Isn't that a funny saying? "Tackle the lawn"....can you imagine me running and sliding and trying to actually tackle the lawn?) And, since I'm thinking about it, that should be enough, because, you know what they say, "it's the thought that counts". I used to tell my kids that I was thinking about buying them a car for their 16th Birthday, too.

Did you know that duct tape makes for a great hole patch for a pair of shorts? I have found that to be true...except on hot days. The non-sticky side of the tape tends to stick to your leg when it warms up. Just a little FYI, in case you were wondering.

My son and I were talking this week about how it is that a big part of our family's humor is in the creative use of language; twists of phrases, puns, sarcasm, etc. and it got me to thinking as to why that might be so. My earliest recollection of how it happened to me is this: I was reading a cheesy little joke book as a kid--and, if you must know, it wasn't really cheesy or I would have eaten it...if I liked cheese--but, I digress. The joke I remember went something like this--The teacher asked her class how they would punctuate the following sentence: 'There was a ten dollar bill lying on the sidewalk', to which Johnny raised his hand and replied, "I'd make a dash after it!!". For whatever reason that little (and, yes, cheesy) joke shook something loose in my brain about how words, when used just so, can take something mundane and normal and turn it into something funny. Sometimes I'm SO deep :)

Speaking of words, have you notice that a lot of what used to be verbs have become nouns, and vice versa? You can 'friend' someone now, for example. And to 'text' someone is now a possibility. But I guess it's not really a new phenomenon. We say that a piece of literature was 'penned' by so and so. (I'd like to meet this Mr. so and so...he's written some good stuff!) You can go for a 'walk', or go to a 'dance'. Am I overusing my apostrophe? I'm going to change the subject, you know, for the sake of my apostrophe.

I get to go hiking today with my son, my daughter and her fiance. Yes, I said fiance. (Actually, I typed it.) Next summer, at a yet-to-be-determined place on a yet-to-be-determined date, my little baby girl will become a woman with a different last name. A bride. A wife. Another man's baby. And I believe there will be two of me at that wedding. Yes, I will be beside myself. Outwardly I may be cool, calm and collected (and even that is suspect), but inwardly? Can you say puddles? Can you say pools? Can you say rivers...of tears? Not that I am sad that she is an adult who can and will make adult decisions, it's just that it will be hard to share her with yet another man who is not ME. But today, today I will enjoy with keen ears, her laughter; with keen eyes, her beauty; with soft and aching heart, her need to be more than my baby girl. I'll let you know how it goes.

Two Chairs

There are two chairs pointed west out on my back patio, perfectly poised to take in the sunset.

Yesterday my friend came over in the late afternoon while the sun was warming the summer bugs out of their hiding places. We sat in those chairs and talked about our lives; about being divorced men at our age and all the perplexity it causes on an almost daily basis. For both of us the most common thread of conversation came in the form of pain. Not only the physical aches and pains that come from being men with physical jobs, but also the emotional pain that comes from being men with children who seemingly don't need us, or worse yet, don't want us. It's disheartening. It's hard working day in and day out, chugging along diligently...toward what? More of the same?

I'm acutely aware that the whole purpose of raising a child is to grow them into an autonomous, self-sufficient, balanced individual who can thrive without me. But I also really LIKE my children. I have always hoped that one of their adult choices would be to consider me as their friend. I've been careful not to confuse them as children, however, into thinking that we were friends just yet. I am clearly their dad and I love them unconditionally. Oh sure, I make my share of mistakes, but I think they know they are loved. So why does it appear as though I may not get that which I crave--the friendship of my kids?

My parents had seven children and while my dad is no longer with us, I don't think my mom would count all seven of us as her friends. It's not because she wouldn't have chosen each one of us as a friend, I believe it's because some of us have chosen HER as a friend and some haven't. As hard as that was for me to write, I can't imagine how hard that must be for my mom. You see, while she will forever be my mom, she has also become my friend. Part of autonomy and self-sufficiency is the ability to pick your own friends; to put forth the effort into making a relationship work to it's fruition. It's quite possible that my children may not want to be my friends.

There are two chairs pointed west out on my back patio, perfectly poised to take in the sunset.

Tonight, I'll sit in one of them.

Just a Monday

Yesterday would have been my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, but instead it was just a Monday. Which is not to say that I didn't think about it more than a few times during the day. In fact, the night before I had a really sweet dream about when we were still 'we'. The kids were all little and happy and nearby. There was laughter and playing and childhood all around me. It was the memory of that dream that had me tearing up several times during the day. You see, that dream exists in my soul whether it actually appears in dream form or not. It's as close as my shadow. And that has hindered my moving forward. What if I outrun my shadow? It's ridiculous that I'm still asking that question. I'll never know the answer if don't start walking.


Yesterday was just a Monday.

synopposites

When I get down
I want to give up

I don't look forward
To going back

Where everything
Means nothing

When I look within
What am I without

Don't want to be first
But will that last

The moon is full
But I am empty

My heart is heavy
In the bright light

The wait is not over
In the weight I'm under

The Season of Storms

Here in the Pacific Northwet we have a lot of storms in the springtime. We've had a particularly spectacular bunch of squalls move through these past few days. I love storms, mostly. I love to see them coming, I love to stand in the pouring rain and awe at the spectacle, I love to see the sun break back through and shine it's brilliant contrast against the dark clouds as they exit the scene. All these things I love in the realm of nature. Not so much in the realm of living. In the realm of living it seems like I never see them coming, the rain is pointy and sharp and rarely leaves me in awe, but rather, in pain. Nevertheless, I welcome the the coming contrast of sunshine on the exiting clouds. Henceforth, I shall consider the spectacle worthy of awe-me, standing in the brilliant shine with no clouds on the horizon.

I almost wrote a new entry tonight.


Wait...I just did.

Monologue

I get tired of me.

Some days, from the time I leave work at 5:30-6 ish until I return to work at around 8 the next morning, I speak to no one except myself.

While arguing is nearly nonexistent, it's really not that much fun talking to myself.

I get tired of me.

I have the same thoughts over and over. Or at least, variations of the same thought themes over and over.

I go through my mental list of people I wouldn't mind talking to and I find some lame excuse not to call any of them. Usually it has something to do with not always wanting to initiate the conversation. I end up sitting in my chair, falling asleep shortly after a valiant attempt at reading.

I'm not very good company. Many a good fire goes to silent waste under my watchful eye.

I can't wait to get to work in the morning.

A Canadian kid.

My nephew is pretty cool, huh? The city of Richmond, B. C. produced this welcome video to be shown at various venues during the opening of the Olympics in Vancouver starting this week.

I'm proud of that kid!

Punce aton a wime in a funtry car, car away.

That's the beginning of almost every story I tell in spoonerisms. What is a spoonerism, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked:

spoonerism

1900, but perhaps as early as 1885, involuntary transposition of sounds in two or more words (cf. "a well-boiled icicle" for "a well-oiled bicycle;" "scoop of boy trouts" for "troop of Boy Scouts"), in allusion to the Rev. William A. Spooner (1844-1930), warden of New College, Oxford, who was famous for such mistakes.

I can tell you the whole Cinderella story in spoonerism without much trouble, but writing it takes a bit of explaining.

You see that first line up there? It, of course, would read 'Once upon a time in a country far, far away', but when I wrote it all spoonered-up it looked like this...'Ponce uton a wime in a fountry car, car away.' It's hard enough to read the way I wrote it at the top of this story, but had I not changed it to read phonetically it might not be readable at all. When I'm verbally telling the story I don't have to think at all, it just comes naturally. But I've come to realize that it takes some doing to get it from my head to the page. There are some rules to follow.

For instance, words that start with a vowel are usually just added to rather than switched. Example: Over hand would become Hover and. Alley cat would become Calley at, and so on.

Three word switches are tricky...sometimes. If its a title or a proper noun, let's say, it's not so hard. Three Little Pigs, for instance becomes Pee Thrittle Ligs. That's easy! You swap the first and last and then the middle and last. Piece of cake!! Did I say piece of cake?? I meant ciece of pake. See there? When the middle word is small or starts with a vowel or ties the other two words together it gets left alone. (In actuality, it's neither left nor alone) By the way, sometime I'll write the story of the Pee Thrittle Ligs. It's hilarious!!...especially the part where the wig wad bulf says, "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll hoe your blouse down!"

So, by now you're probably wondering why oh why oh why is he telling me this stuff. Well, it's because it's Thursday night and my son (who is usually my entertainment) is at a basketball game and I got tired of navel gazing so I decided I'd try to write out the story of 'Rindercella'. (Sometimes, when a word has two distinct syllables that start with consonants you can swap within the word) Are you ready? I'll try to be as phonetically readable as possible....


Punce aton a wime in a funtry car, car away there live a geautiful birl named Rindercella. Now Rindercella was a mare fadin of quine fallity. She lived with her stean ole mep-stother and two sugly isters. They were sad bisters!! They were always telling Rindercella what to do. "Rindercella, flop the moors. Rindercella, bake the meds. Rindercella, thoo dis and thoo dat." Seems like Riundercella was always chooing dores. In the came suntry there live a pransom hince. Now the pransom hince was looking to met garried so he prent out a soclimation warr and fide inviting all the belligible achelorettes to his pig ballace where he was going to throw a bancy fall, hoping to lall in fove.

On the day of the bancy fall the two sugly isters and the stean ole mep-stother were being their usual sad belvs. They ordered Rindercella, "Drend my mess! Bo my sutton! Setch my foos!" Poor Rindercella was bo sizzy waiting on the sugly isters that she had toe nime to ready herself for the bancy fall. Did I mention they were sad bisters?? Rindercella stan up rairs crying as the mep-stother and her stugly ep-daughters hurried off to the bancy fall.

While Rindercella was crobbing and sying she nerd a hoise and looked up. "Oh Rindercella won't you durry, everything will be alright". Rindercella quickly wiped the ears from her ties and asked, "yoo are who?" "Why, I'm your Mary Fod Guther!" replied the woman "Now let's dret you gessed!" The woman maved her wagic mond and said, "boopity bopity bip" and Rindercella looked bore meautiful than any mare faiden ever had. She had on a glowing white fown and the ghost morgeous slass glippers anyone had sever een. Rindercella was jilled with foy! "Now it's off the pig ballace my garling dirl, but remember, at the moke of stridnight everything bill we as buzz wefore." And Rindercella was whisked off in elegant stagecoach pulled by steaudiful ballions.

When she arrived pat the alice, Rindercella was easily stost munning maiden of all. The pransom hince was bitten by her smeauty. When their meyes et they lell in fuv. The est of the revening they nanced the dight away...until suddenly, the strock cluck one, the strock cluck two and Rindercella remember what her Mary Fod Guther had said..."everything bill we as it buzz wefore". Rindercella made a dad mash across the flance door, she strew down the flairs fo sast that she slopped her dripper!! She had toe nime to bo gack to get it. Rindercella disappeared into nark dight just as her tairyfale turned rack into beality.

The dext nay, the pransome hince took the slass glipper throughout the suntrykide looking for priz hincess. It was a sliny glass tipper and he knew it would only fit one mare faiden. He hent from wouse to wouse trying on the slass glipper. And on each foot the sory was the stame...it fidn't dit. No matter how hard they would try they couldn't fake it mit. Finally the pransom hince and his soil lubjects were down to their hast louse...Rindercella's house. He tried it on the stean ole mep-stother and it fidn't dit. On the first sugly ister...and it fidn't dit. The second sugly ister...and...it...fidn't...dit! The sugly isters had rocked Rindercella in her loom, hoping that the flipper would glit them, but at the mary last vinute Rindercella came strying down the flairs just in time to catch the pransome hince. As he slid the slass glipper on her ferfect little put he looked in her eyes and they lell in fuv! And hived lappily ever hafter!!! E Thend

(the storal of the mory is this: if you go to a bancy fall at pig ballace and you want to lall in fuv with a pransome hince...fon't dorget to slop your dripper!!!)

I'm Jealous

If you know anything about me you know that I write a good deal about my kids and how I miss them. I tend to write when I am melancholy, and when I am missing my kids I tend to be that way. I'm not sure which condition causes which, but they seem to be in close proximity most times. But not so today; Today it was matter-of-fact missing.

Today a thought floated through that I hadn't noticed before. I wondered what normal would have looked like had our divorce never happened. Of course it's impossible to know, but wondering isn't such a bad thing, I guess.

What first triggered the wondering was a thought of my son--who is on his way back to school with his step-dad. He had mentioned to me last night as he was leaving that they might stop at the pass to snowboard/ski for awhile if the weather allowed. As I thought of him today I wondered if indeed they got the weather they were wanting...and I was jealous. By virtue of marrying their mother this man gets more time with my kids than I do. And that thought hyphenated into this one: he gets more time and has greater opportunity to impact than I do. It seems that in my heart I am in a competition for the hearts of my own children. It might not be true, but in the deep parts of me it sure feels like it is. Had we never gotten divorced, I wonder if I would have ever realized how badly I want my kids; How badly I want their hearts. Would I ever have been jealous of another spending time with them?

In the Bible it says that God is a jealous God. This always puzzled me as a kid. Why would he be jealous? He is obviously the Father of all, what or who could he be jealous of? I'm beginning to understand. I think God is jealous of the time we spend away from him. I think he's jealous of the way it was meant to be; of how good it could have been; of how it was before he felt like he was in competition for our hearts. I am made in the image of God. I am jealous, too.

Do you know what's missing? Your breath. Your thoughts floating close to mine. The ever so slight glances you and I exchange before the laugh. The comfort of knowing where you are and that you're safe and sound.

The lights don't shine as brightly. The heater doesn't warm sufficiently. Even the best of music has a sad undertone. The candle flame loses it's flicker. Every minute takes an hour. Every heartbeat is a sad, empty echo.

What I'm missing is you. Your presence, my sweet and lovely child. What's missing is you.

I Am Thankful That...

I am in full possession of my faculties.

My senses do what they were designed to do.

If I want to I can remember many, many things.

I am not hungry.

I have experienced music and art and great pleasure.

Physical aching is minimal to me.

My roof doesn't leak.

I have been called daddy, dad, friend, brother, son and husband.

I know what a quenched thirst feels like.

It is better to give than to receive is more than a saying to me.

My heart beats in regular rhythm.

My prayers don't stop at the ceiling.

My blood runs through the veins of three amazing young people.

I understand simple depth.

Enjoyment is not foreign concept.

There's such a thing as coffee.

I am loved incomprehensibly.

I know how tears taste.

I know YOU.

Words to Nowhere

I'm sitting alone in the dark, writing words to nowhere. I'm lonely. And tired of it. It all sounds so pathetic, doesn't it? Especially from a man who has faith in The God that is big enough to make Himself small enough to fit in his heart. Doesn't make much sense, does it? The fact is, I am loved so far beyond the widest edge of my imagination that it makes my head swim if I think about it long enough. And yet this persistent loneliness won't leave me alone. Humanness sucks on Sunday nights. And it doesn't make sense.

Raking in the Wind

We've had a couple of doozy storms these past few days, either that or it was one big storm with a respite built in the middle, how does one ever really know? Which ever the case may be, it rained a whole, whole lot and the wind breathed hard enough to detach a fair amount of leaves from the places they've called home since they were born back in the Spring. Not that I mind, mind you, because it's a spectacle worth watching...from inside. Besides, the rain sounds all that much more impressive when it's falling onto leaves as opposed to grass. Rain, I suppose, enjoys the opportunity to make an impression once in awhile, and yesterday was one such opportunity.

The downside of all of this bluster, of course, is the fact that now there are leaves all over my yard and sidewalks and cluttering up my gutters. These leaves aren't even mine! The tree that formerly housed all these leaves isn't even in my yard, it's my neighbor to the south's and as my fortune has been since I've lived here, or maybe even since the beginning of time, the wind prevails from the south. So it goes. Can I expect green buds in the Spring, cool shade in the Summer and a front row seat to twirling leaves in the Fall without a little payment?

By the time the rain stopped and Wind changed it's name to Breeze I had a decision to make...do I make the effort to rake and pick up leaves now or should I wait 'til I was sure the worst was over? If I get it all cleaned up now I might still have to do it again tomorrow given the fact that it IS Fall after all. On the other hand, if I wait 'til tomorrow the pile might be twice the size.

I got a few funny looks from people driving by while I was raking in the wind, but I found that wet leaves are really cooperative. They just lay there while you pick them up. They seemed uninterested in taking the wind up on it's offer of a free ride, choosing instead to take a ride in my wheel barrow. In the end, I was glad I had decided to do the work now instead of putting it off. Oh sure, tomorrow I may have to rake some more, but the pile will be smaller. That's kind of the way life goes too, isn't it? There will always be something I need to work on about myself and I can either put it off knowing that that work will still be there tomorrow or chip away at it today so tomorrow the pile will be much smaller and more doable and who knows, maybe this is why there's a respite built into the storm. That's just the way things are in this season called the Fall...of man.

Snippeteer

For some reason I've had many little snippets of thought lately, but not many whole, drawn-out, coherent ones. So I thought it might be therapeutic to jot down the beginnings of these thoughts to see what happens. Who knows, maybe I'm just a snippeteer. (It WASN'T a word. It is now) Each thought will be followed by an ellipse, because...


-Do you think it's coincidence that gravity rhymes with depravity?...

-I have never felt like I belonged here, no matter where 'here' was...

-They say pride comes before the fall. And all this time I thought it was summer...

-Life is a stage and God is a magnificent playwright. Tragedy, comedy, romance and adventure are all products of His creativity. How cool that he has a part for all of us to play...

-They are sure a lot of starlings in the world. I wonder if anyone ever listens to the songs they sing or thinks they're beautiful...

-How the heck did that little Jack Russell lose it's front leg?...

-Those people are sitting in the woods, drinking wine and feeding squirrels. Look! Now they're laughing...

-Driving past that road makes me sad, still. I'm healed now, but I still remember how much it hurt when I wasn't yet...

-I miss my dad's old ticking alarm clock...

-What if my hidden talent is unearthing hidden talents and I never find it...

-If it's not good for man to be alone is what I'm being any good?...

-Being weird is one thing I'm satisfied with because it's true and constant...

-I should stop this nonsense...

Painting A Bigger Picture

Today as I was painting the wall in my living room I was thinking. And here's how it came out:


Can a person be a believer in the theory of Evolution and still be alarmed by global warming?

The theory decries that the most fit things continue to evolve and survive. Yet the Earth, in an attempt to rid itself of the very thing (humanity) that is killing it, evolves to a point where those Earth-killers are extinguished, did it (the Earth) not prove that it was indeed the fittest? So why all the fuss? Isn't this the way things were supposed to go, according to their theory?

I, for one, feel badly for people who think 'the bigger picture' only includes Earth and it's inhabitants. I hope their picture evolves into something more.

Does this ever happen to you?

You have the best day you've had in a long time and your heart is seemingly full to capacity with relational joy and a well rounded feeling settles in your soul. And then night falls and there's no one else in the room to share it with.

It happens to me.

Seasoning

The spinning wind bends the trees to a point where the undersides of leaves are showing.

The morning sun is less than direct in it's approach, but warm nonetheless.

Sparrows, robins and swallows all flit and fly in fractal patterns that my eyes translate into beautiful confusion.

There are dry and crunchy leaves skidding down the sidewalk to who knows where.

Life travels forward and back in this musical breeze and the sound it makes rivals any movement or symphony ever played by man.

Summer is slipping away slowly and autumn is overlapping the imaginary boundary of seasons.

Such are the seasonings of life.

Thought Bubbles (popped and otherwise)

I've had several thoughts lately. I know, hard to believe, but they're the kind of thoughts that I have a hard time putting my finger on. But that's usually the case, isn't it? Who's ever heard of thoughts with finger prints on them? Not I.

Anyhoo, here are a couple of brief glimpses into those thought bubbles that float over my head that start with 'F'.

Feelings. Why is that some of them seem to be controllable and others not so much? For instance the feeling of resentment or envy, if you will--not that they're interchangeable, but seem to be close relatives--why is it that I can talk myself out of them almost at will while others--such as affection, for example--seem to have a life of their own? Is it because some feelings are not really feelings at all, but merely thoughts that I attach feelings to? Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it's ALL in my mind and I think I want there to be feelings. Maybe my mind is more in charge than I think it is, or want it to be. I know that you can't simply think something without your heart being involved anymore than you can will your heart to stop beating. They both play a part in these things. It would be ridiculous to live by strictly one or the other. You can't live if you're headless and you're already dead if you're heartless.

Forgiveness. I don't know if I've written this before, but I'm positive I've thought it: Forgiveness is for givin' and forgetfulness is for gettin'. In other words, forgiveness is the act of the one giving it despite whether it's received or not. Forgetfulness is what you want to get when you're the one who has wronged. I guess what I'm saying is, as a person who has wronged another person I often times want forgiveness AND forgetfulness when in reality I should just be satistfied with the forgiveness since it is a what has been given. After all, I usually only forget things that are unimportant to me, why do I expect anything else from others? Only God can do both!!

Fat. I'm getting fat sitting around at this computer. I'm going to go excercise!!

Farewell!

This Leaving Thing

I thought by now I'd be used to this; this leaving thing.

I'd walk them to the front door of the kindergarten class, hug them and tell them everything is going to be okay, wave at them one last time through the window in the door and then walk away. And cry.

On that first day of first grade I'd walk them to the bus stop , squeeze them tight as the bus rolled up, and then watch as it rolled away. And I'd cry all the way back to the house.

When it came time for high school the reassurances were less needed (or at least publicly so) but the drill hadn't seemed to change, even though I thought it should have. The minute the car door closed and I was out of their sight I would cry.

It's not that I didn't know that my part in the story was to raise my children to let them go, it was those spaces between the big chapters; those Sunday nights driving home alone after dropping them back at their mother's house. I thought I had already done my crying. I thought I would have become familiar with this pain. But I was wrong.

Friday night my boy and I hugged in the yard in front of my house, he got in his truck and drove away with a wave and a honk on his way to school on the other side of the state. I went inside and cried.

It's a pain I don't suppose I'll ever get used to.

It Never Goes The Way You Want It To

I have had the strangest summer!

On the 16th of June, after having dinner at Carino's with my kids, I hugged them one by one and said goodbye just like I do almost every Tuesday and Thursday in a parking lot somewhere nearby. But this time was different. I would not see them again for forty-nine days. They were off to Maui and then on to Guam for what was supposed to be a working vacation. As it turned out, there wasn't much working, but plenty of vacation. But I digress. I kissed them and hugged them a little extra hard.

I had a couple of projects lined up for myself to keep me occupied. Or, more accurately, to keep me from being preoccupied in missing them. I wanted to put in some sort of patio with either pavers or bricks on the backside of my house. And I wanted to paint several walls in my living room/dining room area. I got started on both projects. I cleared out all the growth of weeds and such in the planned patio area and I took down all my wall hangings and got the walls ready for paint... and then the Fourth of July came.

I wanted to start riding my mountain bike this summer so I hopped on it the morning of the Fourth and noticed the tires needed air. So I rode it down the big hill to the gas station. Remember, it was the morning of the Fourth so there wasn't a car on the road, which means of course, that I hit the light at the bottom of the speedy hill green. When I got to the gas station I had to make an immediate right hand turn, and since I was going pretty fast AND had under-inflated tires my bike went left and I (without my bike) went right...onto the pavement. Was I wearing a helmet? Did I grow up in the 'wear your helmet' era? Of course not silly! So...I broke my collar bone, cracked two ribs and had a couple of pretty nasty hunks of meat missing from my knee.

So now not only do I not have my kids, but now instead of having a time of real productivity, I'm lame. Which is lame. And on top of that? It's been the hottest summer since they've recorded such things around here. I can't work. I can't play. I can't get anything done. And my three favorite people are somewhere around the back side of the globe. Yippee. (dripping with sarcasm)

What I found out, though, was that I have some of the greatest friends and family a guy could ask for. My brothers and sisters, my mom and my ex-in-laws, my local friends and far away ones all cared for and about me in many, many ways. I got phone calls galore. I got meals delivered. I got cookies and cards from friends I've never met personally. I even had friends from my route (over an hour's drive away) 'stop by' to help me pull weeds and vacuum and rearrange furniture to get my house in shape as I was expecting a friend to come visit. Just two days ago I got a care package from a whole slew of people on my route who got together and sent me some funny gag items as well a page and a half full of handwritten well wishes. And even though my ribs hurt from the laughing, it didn't matter. Back behind those ribs there was a heart that didn't seem to notice.

So you see, life doesn't ever go the way you want it to...it goes even better than that!!

I have had the coolest summer!

The quiet breeze is making it's way through the room. After a long day of nearly unbearable heat it is more welcome than usual and yet it fails to help me sleep. I'm tired and uncomfortable. This living alone is wearisome. And I can't tell anyone because that makes it appear as if I'm complaining. I am not. I'm just stating a fact in the same way as saying it was hot today is stating a fact. The problem is, I feel myself turning more and more inward as the days go by due to this silence. And that's just the way it is. Inward isn't such a bad thing, it's just my second preference when weighed along side outward. There will be time in the future, I suppose, that I may switch my preferences.

As for now, I'll say nothing so that the breeze and I have something in common.

Wishin' I Was Fishin'

I grabbed my fishing pole and went down to the river, there where it swirls under the bridge. And while I was there I started to wishin'. Wishin' it was somehow clear, why you're always there and I'm always here. Then I realized, wishin' is a lot like fishin'--it's just me, without you, and lots of water under the bridge.


Now if I could just come up with some verses, I'd have me a country song! :)

Sweet Dreams

I'm a guy who can sleep almost anywhere. I mean, I fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Put a book in my hands and I can fall asleep sitting on a rock! I did it just this morning right here in front of my house. When I travel I can sleep at a stranger's or a friend's house without a problem. I think I can probably sleep standing up. Sleep has never been the problem.

Dreaming is a completely different story. I'm not talking average, run of the mill dreams here...I can do those. I'm talking big dreams. The kind of dreams people ask you about. You know, like when someone says, "What have you always dreamed of doing? Where have you always dreamed of going?" I never have an answer because I don't have those kinds of dreams. At least not until now. I have never allowed myself the luxury of drifting outside my self-made parameters. Oh certainly I can wish for things, but that's not the same as dreaming. Dreaming involves lofty heights and boundless possibilities and dreamy scenarios. Or so I once thought. Now I'm pretty sure I do have dreams, it's just that they are less lofty in nature. I dream about being steady and consistent; about being kind and sincere; about leading with integrity and being honest about my struggles; about loving God and wanting what He wants more than anything else.

Come to think of it...those are pretty lofty dreams!

i sometimes wonder if i imagine there to be more to life than there actually is. is happiness merely a passing fancy that never tires of being chased. and if so, when did it pass me? and where do i pick up the chase? or maybe it's something that lands in your lap when you're looking for something completely different; something without a name. i wish i could stop wondering.

Well, here it is a few minutes before bed time on Father's Day and my thoughts are winding down. I thought maybe I should jot some of them down for posterity.

My kids are not here today, they are in Maui with their mom and step-dad and grandparents. And while I certainly miss them, I have nonetheless had a good Father's Day.

Some friends of mine that I hadn't talked to in quite a while talked to me after church this morning and when they found out my kids were gone were kind enough to invite me to their house to join them in their Father's Day get-together. They have three kids of their own as well as an aging father/father-in-law so it was nice of them to include me in their plans. I was honored to have been asked and felt right at home in the mix. Not only that, but the sun actually came out so we got to sit outside and soak it in. Both the company and the sunshine.

After I got home I took the obligatory Sunday afternoon nap. I may have even drooled on the couch pillow...a little. When I woke up I decided to go visit MY dad. Well, at least the place where he's buried. It's just down the street about a quarter of a mile and yet I haven't been there in years. It's close but it seems so very far away.

I've never been a big fan of visiting gravesites. I know there's nobody there, but today it was just nice to see my dad's name written somewhere permanent. I dusted off the grass clippings that covered his name and said a few things...mostly to myself. I loved that man and missed him today. I can't wait to see him again.

My day was topped off just minutes ago when my cell phone rang and there on the screen was a picture of my youngest boy. They each took a turn to wish me a happy Father's Day and tell me a little bit about their day. I was glad to hear the smiles in their voices and to know they were having a great time. It made me glad to have someone to miss.

It was truly a happy day for this father :)

Fly Like An Eagle

I'm lucky enough to live in a place where bald eagles are not an uncommon sight. I see them a lot on my route because, well because that's where they live I suppose. That, and the fact that there are acre upon acre of grassland there. You see, eagles like to eat such things as mice and rabbits so they prey upon places heavily populated by the fuzzy, furry little things...in fields of grass.

Now, every year about this time the farmers cut the grass to make hay or silage to feed their cows, and the eagles are out en mass. Today, I was fortunate enough to 'chase' an eagle down the road for about a hundred yards next to one such hay field. I always thought that eagles were one of the most majestic birds I had ever seen. They just seem to glide along so effortlessly. Well, today was the first time I had ever followed an eagle so closely, I guess you could say I had a man's eye view (don't ask me why it decided to fly right in front of me straight down the road), and as I watched it carefully I noticed that even when flying perfectly straight it's tail feathers are in constant 'adjust' mode, tipping ever so slightly left and then right and then more left and less right and....well, you get the picture. All this to say: just because it LOOKS easy flying straight, doesn't mean it is.

Do you suppose there's a lesson in that somewhere? Hmmmm.....

I love the sound of a mower in the distance

and the sound of sleep up close.

I love it when the ones I adore give assistance

just when I need it the most.


I love how the sun with it's rays enhances

and makes even tiny things shine.

I love when I'm given new chances

to take-- leavin old ones behind.


I love having no expectations

and trying to live with grace.

I love not wanting ovations

while wearing this smile on my face.

Random thoughts the day after a memorial service for a friend:

-Don't let your degrees become degrees of separation.

-Don't let your divisions multiply.

-Live deeply in the time you've been given.

-Say hello to a stranger. And mean it.

-Wonder out loud.

-There is no harbor big enough for bitterness.

-Be clever, not sneaky.

-Be industrious, not busy.

-Kindness is never a waste of time.

-You needn't think a lot to be profound.

-Do what you do with vigor.

-Laugh at yourself...with others.

-Celebrate others' victories like you would your own.

I realize that these are not new thoughts, but I wanted to get them said, that's all.
Live a nice day!

Blessed

Life is interesting isn't it? Mine sure is, if only from my own perspective. Things happen all around that affect me; that stir me. Things like this:

My two fine sons are currently breathing Southern California air. They are participating in the international DECA (it stands for Distributive Educational Clubs of America, I believe...look it up) event taking place at the Anaheim Convention Center. Essentially, it's the equivalent to making it to 'Nationals' in a sporting event, only this is a business and marketing event. It's a big deal! They are young men of character and intelligence and they make me SO PROUD!

A friend of mine died this past Sunday of Gall bladder cancer. He was only 38. From the time the cancer was detected until his passing was all of ten weeks. He wasn't a close friend, but a guy that I always looked forward to seeing and talking to. He was infectiously kind and funny. I saw him for the last time Saturday. There was a 'pep rally' for him in his front yard. Friends and family came with balloons and banners for him to see as his wife wheeled him out on the deck. He listened as one by one, people told stories and encouraged him and made him smile. As the time came to go, everyone let their balloons go simultaneously. Letting go was hard. It was sad. It was sweet. It tore me up. The funeral is this Saturday.

Today as I delivered to a doctor's office I noticed a little friend of mine sitting alone in the waiting room. I've written about her before. She's a delight! I asked her, "Don't you have a birthday coming up?" She quickly smiled and said, "I don't do birthdays anymore, I've had way too many! Some days are better than others, but that's always been true hasn't it?", she said, as if she knew I was about to ask how she was. "So", I said, "if you still did do birthdays, which one would this be?" "A hundred and three", she said quietly. But then without hesitation she added, "if you're planning on stopping by, bring your picnic basket because I don't do parties either!" and then she smiled a wry smile...She's just plain beautiful.

I have a friend that I talk to for a couple of minutes everyday as I deliver to the high school office. We've been friends for a long while. We commiserate about being single parents in times like these. Her road is tough. She's been battling with her 17 year-old daughter who had a baby at the beginning of the school year. Seventeen is a hard age anyway--without a baby. Today my friend wasn't there to sign for the packages so I texted her to ask if everything was okay. The message came back: 'the baby has pneumonia, we are at the ER'. Will you please pray for us?' To which I simply replied, 'of course'. Later this evening she thanked me for praying and that the baby was doing better. I am relieved.

So you see, I am blessed by God to know what it's like to be a proud dad; to know the ache of sadness in the passing of a life too soon; to see the story of beauty written on the face of a woman; to lift weight off of a friend's shoulders by passing it on to God. To me, this is what makes life interesting...to be blessed like that.

One of my goals this year is to read more. They say it's good for you. I'm guessing 'they' is a really smart guy that reads a lot.

So, anyway, I must admit that my eyes are getting to the point where I can't see things as clearly as I used to-interpreted: I'm going blind! So recently I broke down (not emotionally, of course) and decided to get some reading glasses. There's a misnomer for ya...reading glasses indeed! I put them on, and they didn't read a thing. As it turns out, the reading still needs to be done by ME...what a ripoff.

Open for Easter

It's Easter!! So, Happy Easter to you!

I was pretty encouraged today. After I went to church today with my boys, we went to Starbucks for some hot chocolate/coffee and there were a LOT of people in fairly dressy garb there. Now, that in and of itself isn't so much where I found the encouragement, but I knew that somewhere in that fact there must have been someone asking themselves why; Why do people make such a big deal of this Easter thing? At least, I'm hoping people might ask themselves. And in asking themselves they might conjure up enough curiosity to look it up on the internet or, who knows, maybe even the Bible.

On my way home I noticed I was low on fuel so I thought I'd go to Costco to get some gas. Well, as I pulled in to the parking lot it was obvious that Costco was closed. THAT had to get some people wondering...what's such a big deal about Easter that even COSTCO closes?? I mean, I have to admit I was a little irked at the fact myself. But only momentarily. As I continued on my way home I notice that Taco Time and Little Caesar's and a couple of local joints were also closed. I figure if enough people were inconvenienced by these little closures maybe just one or two of them would wonder long enough to investigate. And maybe, just maybe they'd come to understand that Jesus was inconvenienced a whole lot more than they'll ever be just so He and they could be friends...forever, and that He"s still alive today.

Because He is alive, so am I!!!

I'm feeling a little bit blue tonight. Not sure as to the 'why', but nonetheless it is true.
So, as a means of therapy I thought I'd make of list of things I love. It just helps.

In no particular order and for many and varied reasons here are some things I love:

-The smell of coffee just before it's ground.

-Unrestrained laughter.

-The sound of babies sleeping.

-Piano music.

-When a friend calls and says, "I've been thinking about you."

-Hot, spicy mexican food.

-Crawling into bed at night.

-Debating with my son.

-March Madness.

-Rows of colorful houses.

-When my feet are warm.

-Feeling like a kid again.

-Sunshine-y mornings.

-Having a new thought.

-Being awed by my kids.

-The promise of spring in the wind.


Your turn...what do you love?

It's a blustery night and the wind is unsteady as it can sometimes be in these last, volatile days of winter. My garage door squeaks where the metal of the hinges rub together where they meet in the middle. Strangely enough, it's a soothing sound to me on nights like this. The house is still warm from the fresh memories of my boys and I horseplaying around in the front room. The fire crackles quietly behind the glowing glass of the woodstove door and the fridge is humming in the kitchen, still trying to recuperate from the seemingly endless series of opens and closes that happen when three boys--two still growing--invade it's privacy.

Sunday nights used to be the hardest for me to bear; the sudden hush after a two-day barrage of noise and frenetic energy. But now the quiet, while not quite longed for, is the accompaniment music to my reflective thoughts.

I am blessed to have the knowledge of quiet and the love of two amazing boys.

Blindspot

Have you ever wondered what it is you're oblivious to? I do. I know for a fact that there are things that I am simply clueless about; Things about my own being. Blindspots. Things that others see clearly about me that I simply don't see-- for whatever reason. Maybe because I don't want to, because I don't care enough to, maybe because I haven't looked, or am afraid to look, or don't know where to even start looking. I consider myself a fairly introspective person, but I also know that I see things through a clouded lens. The thing is, I'm not sure if the fog on the lens is good for me or something I use as an excuse to continue to bump into the obstacles. What would my life look like with a slippery clean, brand new view? Would I be good at walking without falling? I have found that the falling always hurts, but it has also made me better at it, my question is, is that really the point? Falling isn't necessarily effortless, but it usually the easier of two options. Why not get better at the more difficult things and less adept at the easy ones? Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe THAT'S my blindspot!

This morning I woke up
and said hello to the ceiling
Poured my coffee into my cup
with that same familiar feeling

I'm gonna be okay; I'm gonna be alright
As long as there's day at the end of each night
I'm gonna be okay.
As long as dark is still chased by the light
I'm gonna be okay

Five good things to do on an early February Saturday

1. Get up early and beat the old codgers to Denny's.

2. Drink hot, freshly ground and brewed coffee at home first.

3. Get a rip-snortin' fire going in the woodstove.

4. Crank up the music.

5. Feel what you feel.

My life has it's share of 'have to' lists just like yours, but they can wait, can't they? In a world where complication seems to be the norm, I'm still in love with simple. There is something very comforting in simple things. Maybe that's just me.

Night has come, or has it fallen? Which ever the case may be, it is here. And in it's midst am I. There are stars up high in the silence where no man has been, yet every man has dreamed of. Below them is where we will live for a time. Do you wonder if they dream what it's like down here? Down here from where the voices and the laughter emanate. Do they dream of colors and sunlight and showers of noise?

I wonder what will happen when my dreams and my wonder and the stars collide.

The Sound of Silence

For the first time in a long time, it's going to be a white Christmas here!

I have a thing for snow. I love it. Oh sure, it's terrible to drive in and it turns people around me into insufferable drivers, but it's still one of my favorite things. I don't know if it's because I never saw it as a kid and that allows me to be kidlike in my excitement, or if it's just because there's just nothing else like a newfallen snow.

We have been blanketed in white for a week now and I still pull back the shades in my front window now and then just to gawk and marvel.

If you've read here before you know how I dislike silence. Well, silence as a form of response, anyway. But this silence? This snowy silence? It's one of the best things that exists! When the sound of your own breath catches you off-guard and seems like an intrusion...THAT kind of silence is where wonder begins and takes hold.

Tonight is a silent night. Holy night. Let the wonder begin. Let it take hold...of your heart.

Warm and Content

The snow is falling outside and here in my humble abode there is a fire roaring in the woodstove, Christmas music in the background, lights on the tree and on the mantle. I've got a cup of hot chocolate at the ready and a nice quiet night ahead of me. This is my home, it's where I am the most me.

Outside it's cold.

Inside it's not.

Glad I'm inside.

And you? How are you this evening?

There is a road.

It's the one you're on. You never really know where it's going. It winds and meanders and sometimes even backtracks. It's yours. No one else will travel the full length of it with you. Others' roads will intersect with yours or maybe even parallel it for a time, but from start to finish it is your road to travel. Stop and take solace in the fact that you have something of your own. Breathe it in. Soak it up. And then?

Drive on.

Fall comes, fall leaves

The old leaves line the edge of the road as if waiting for a parade. The young leaves start their magical decent like it's a game of charades.

"Is it twirl? Is it dance? Is it tumble or spin?"
I can't really tell, you'll have to do it again."

Then the sunlight knifes through the tree limbs there and all I can do is stop and stare.
Fall isn't only in the air, it can be in your heart if you dare.

Letters Red

If life could be written, I would write mine in letters red. As if the ink were the blood of my heart.

A heart speaks in a language unspoken.
Especially a heart that still bleeds from being broken.

Between heaves and sighs and movement of lungs
A heart sings a song otherwise unsung.

Where sorrows and joys mingle together
Yet less of a noise than an airborne feather.

Where anguish and ecstasy coexist
Not one lifts a finger much less a fist.

This is where my soul rushes to hide
When the sky is dark and crushes my pride.


someday I'd like to have my life written in letters red, but I wonder if those written letters would be read.

A Slight Light

Though the sky is dark, the night is bright.

Tonight I had dinner with my sons. That is 'sons' with an s. Now, normally that is not something to write home about for most people, but alas, I am not writing home AND, I am not most people.

My oldest boy hasn't--or hadn't until tonight--spoken a word to me in fifty days. Fifty. Days!
Whoever said silence is golden was color blind. Silence is black. But tonight there is a hint of color in my world.

Though what we shared was small talk, it was huge to me. If you're a parent you know the value of open communication with your kids. It's in the daily talk and banter that you can get a sense of their well being physically, emotionally, mentally and even spiritually.

Tonight the door cracked open ever so slightly. And light is seeping in.

The Problem With A Camera

The problem with a camera is, it only gives you a limited portion of what's really going on.

My motorcycle and I went for a ride yesterday. We took the camera, too. I couldn't take a picture of the camera, but trust me it was there.

Anyway. I wonder if I'm turning into a loner. I don't mind so much being alone. In fact, there are times when I like it a lot. Almost as much as I like short sentences. I mean, I like people too, but I'm finding more and more enjoyment in places of not-people.

For example, I stopped at this turn in the road on the Cascade River and sat and took pictures and felt the kiss of God in the air. Now, men aren't inclined to use this word very often, but I must say--it was lovely!

As I traveled further down this road it wound and weaved through tunnel-like trees and into wide open clearings, I sped up to speeds in excess of 90 mph and screamed and hollered at the top of my lungs. I sang some James Taylor, some Eagles, but mostly just corny little homemade John songs that can't be repeated simply because they're just that corny.

Maybe the fact that a camera only gives you a limited portion of what's going on isn't so bad after all. :)

Tonight I decided to go take a walk after dark. The decision was actually made before dark--to take a walk after dark.

It's a beautiful night. The eastern sky is deep, deep blue. Not quite black. The outlines of the foothills that surround our valley are still distinguishable. The stars are just beginning their light show, and over there in the west, a lighter hue of blue still hangs on at the point where sky and earth meet. The aromas of early fall have become increasingly noticeable. At first a faint and delicious blackberry smell gives way to a distinct and homey cedar that is fueled by the slightest breeze. My senses are alive and I myself am pleased that they are.

As I walk I can't decide if I've come to collect my thoughts or merely to take inventory of which ones I'll keep and which ones I'll let go.

Walking is a nice way to remember my thoughts as a boy. Maybe it's because I revert back to my first mode of travel, or maybe it's because it's so simple and serene like I was way back then. Either way, it's nice. The street on which I walk is sparsely lit and I like it that way. I can hear the train whistle off in the distance and a cat scurry out from under a car as I walk on. I pass by houses where the front room is lit only by the blue glow of a television. It is so quiet now that I can hear the heel-to-toe rhythm of my own steps beneath me and I suddenly realize that I am thinking the same simple thoughts I did as a boy. I think I'll keep these.

It's a beautiful night.

I just thought I'd tell you.

A Late Summer's Night Song

I'm a whistler by default. And by that I mean that I whistle a LOT! Without really being conscious of it. Today as I was tooling my way up a long dirt driveway I was whistling fairly loudly I guess, because when I got to the woman's house she said, "I could hear you whistling all the way up my road. What a lovely song that was. What was it?" I, of course, was kind of embarrassed having not known I was being listened to and not really even knowing I was whistling said, "Uh, I don't really know." "Well, whatever it was" she said, "keep it up."

Two hours later as I was making the hour drive back to my building I realized I was doing it again...whistling by default. It was the same song I had stuck in my head all day. Who knows why? I surely don't, but I do know it's one of the best songs I've ever heard and it always reminds me of summer.

So...enjoy :)

Faith

I don't understand the sky I stand under

I don't know why and that makes me wonder

I don't yet know how much I don't know



The facts aren't clear, that's clearly a fact

I know God is here, but I can't be exact

I just can't know how much I don't know

Say "Cheesy!"

I've been playing around with my photos, can you tell?

Well, I thought I'd add this one of my girl and my boy being goofy at their brother's birthday dinner.

It needs no caption. They just crack me up!

A Brain on Vacation

I've been home this week on vacation. I could've called it a staycation, but I'm not that hip.

Speaking of 'hip', did you know that it's not hip to use the word 'hip'? That's what my kids tell me.
What then? Unoldfashioned?

I think toast with peanut butter is quite possibly the best food ever. Especially if it's sourdough toast. Seriously.

Did I mention that I'm painting my house? Yep. The exterior. Fun doesn't even come close to describing it. And yesterday?...I fell off the ladder! Well, technically the ladder was falling and I joined in on the frivolity. I really had no choice. Other than a few minor scrapes on my legs and butt, I'm fine. The ladder broke in half though. It was a red ladder day!!

Today I was bored so I went to the gas station to put more air in my tires. Yeah. That bored! Anyway, I threw my wheelbarrow in the back of my truck because it had a flat the last time I used it. Can anyone tell me why wheelbarrow tires have tread on them? Huh?? Just in case you have to take that hairpin turn at 40 miles an hour in the rain maybe?

Speaking of wheelbarrows, (I'm like the king of segues today huh?) I have this fun thing I do on my route to guys who are fully engaged with their wheelbarrow. And by that, of course I mean that they are pushing it while it is completely full. It's sort of an easy IQ test. When I see them I throw my door open wildly and frantically wave at them as if we're best buds. The smart guys will give me the universally accepted head nod. The not-so-smart ones will let go of one handle and try to wave while the wheelbarrow careens out of control and invariably spills whatever's inside. It usually only takes one of those episodes to make a smart guy out of anyone :)

Well, I've gotta go now, I smell the wafting aroma of sourdough bread toasting and it's calling my name.

Toward the blue

She sits alone on the top step of the porch of trailer number 48. Alone that is, except for the baby asleep in the carseat right there beside her.

She's plucking dead leaves off the primroses I suppose she might have bought just this morning. I saw some on sale at the checkout counter at the corner store. Maybe it's just my imagination but her heart, it seems, isn't really into what her fingers are doing. She'll stop occasionally and look off toward the horizon where the cloud cover ends and there is a sliver of blue. There is a sadness on her face. I recognize it. I've seen it in the mirror. Suddenly she realizes I am looking her way and she gives me an embarrassed little smile. I return the smile and whisper to myself "it's okay, I know what you mean...this wasn't part of the dream."

I drive off, aiming straight toward that little sliver of blue.

An Occasion

I'm not sure I can do the thoughts justice, but I'm going to give it a try anyway.

All day Thursday--from the minute I got out of bed--I was anticipating the night. Dinner with my loves to celebrate a birthday. I had a particularly heavy delivery day right from the start, but it didn't deter my mood. Anticipation has a way of doing that.

All three kids were working so I knew that they would not be getting bored while waiting, rather they would welcome the time to relax a bit. My son had picked an Italian restaurant in town where we would meet. I was there first.

As they piled out of the truck I could see that my youngest hadn't done as I had asked...'dress like it's an occasion'. He was wearing his usual gym shorts, a tee shirt and his baseball cap. My daughter was wearing some casual and appropriate shorts and a pretty shirt. The birthday boy had to work late so he was still wearing his work garb. Carhhart pants and a bright orange construction shirt. As it turned out, I was the only one who 'dressed like it was an occasion'. Oh well, we were all wearing smiles so who really cares beyond that?

An economic downturn does wonders for a family of four that can't decide where to eat 'til the last second. We walked in and were seated immediately.

It was so nice to be with them. It's because of them that I now know what delightful means, because when I am with them I am FULL of delight. Our interaction and banter wasn't anything out of the ordinary. There was talk of the day. There was reminiscing about days gone by. There was hopeful talk of what might be around the next bend in our life's road and my heart welled up inside me in such a way as to say "ahhh, this is what we were meant for. This is love." Each one of my kids has left and is leaving an imprint in my heart. Each one of them is uniquely wonderful. Put them all together and I can scarcely take it all in. If there is such a thing as your heart aching with joy, then I know what that means.

As I drove my way and they drove theirs, my eyes filled with tears. Not tears of sadness, but tears of overwhelming beautiful joy. My tears were my heart--overflowing. My face wet with tears was dressed like it was an occasion.

Because it was.

Sixteen. (and 364)

Tomorrow my son turns seventeen.

Let me tell you a little about him.

He is very inward. There are lots of things about him that people just don't 'get'. His humor is very dry (and I doubt it'll ever get wet). His mind is always in gear. He can work circles around most anyone. He is intensely competitive. He is kind. He is generous. He cracks me up. He infuriates me. He is strong. He is brilliant. He uses few words. He loves to learn. He hates to lose. He's protective of his mom and his sister--not so much his brother. He is my son.

Tomorrow he will receive a handful of gifts and he will smile warmly. And in that exchange between his eyes and mine we will both be the recipients of the greatest gift-- love.

Happy Birthday my boy!

Bright Son Shine

All three of my kids are very bright (I think they got it from their mother). My daughter set the bar pretty high. At the high school she attended they have 20 of the best parking spots reserved for the senior students with the highest GPA's. She had spot number 19 (they're alphabetical).
Now, the school isn't huge, but it isn't tiny either. I'd say there are about 900 to 1000 students attending, so that's pretty good, I'd say. She graduated with a 3.9 GPA.

My oldest boy will be a senior this next fall at that same high school and it has been his goal to get one of the coveted parking spots his sister had. So far it's lookin' good. His cumulative GPA is 3.88 as I sit here now. Which is quite an accomplishment. (No, not the 'sitting here now' part!) He broke his thumb on his right hand late in the fall while playing soccer and had pins inserted to repair it. That meant he had to do everything with his left hand for 8 weeks. Not only that, but he took a week and went to Washington D.C. to attend a National Young Leaders conference and, since it was an event not sanctioned by the school, but completely independent of it, he wasn't allowed to make up missed work. Did I mention 'bright'?

And then there's my youngest. He is bright of a different color. He loves baseball, but he LOVES politics and current events. Politics to him is what baseball cards were to me as a boy. When he has a free minute he will get on the computer and hit two or three political sites to see what the pundits are saying. Not only does he know all the leaders' names of most every country in the world, he can pronounce them too!

Two of his favorite worlds recently collided; Baseball and politics. His Babe Ruth team qualified for the state tournament and, as luck would have it, it is being played right here in my home town. On Tuedsday night they had an opening ceremony where each team was announced one player at a time. While he and his teammates were waiting their turn, the mayor of the city--who I know--was waiting to help throw out the ceremonial first pitch. While waiting, the mayor sauntered over to me and we engaged in some small talk about this and that. In the course of our conversation he told me that he was sharing the first pitch duties with a local 'boy' who had played on this same field who was now pitching in the majors for the Philadelphia Phillies and while we spoke the 'guest' walked in and the mayor went to greet him. Now, my son was watching all of this so I ran over to him and told him all the particulars about who the guest was and what he was going to do. The news spread like wildfire amongst his teammates and soon there was a lot of whispering and pointing going on.

On the ride home, after a few somewhat quiet moments, my boy says to me, "Dad, you know what I noticed?" To which I answered, "A lot of things, I'm sure, but...what?" "Well," he said, "one minute the mayor was talking to you, and the next he was talking to a big league pitcher! It seemed like he was much more himself with you." It was as if a light went on. As a politician, not only do you get to talk to cool people, but you might meet professional athletes, too!

:)

Dear Sun,

I just wanted to tell you how nice it's been to see you these past few days. Life just feels better when you're around. Well, you're always a 'round', but you know what I mean.

About a month ago I was wondering if you were EVER coming back. But, now you have and it's a good feeling. I don't even mind so much when you play 'hide and seek' up there behind the clouds, as long as I know you won't be gone for long.

I guess it's just because I think you're brilliant and warm and your presence just lights up my life. Sometimes when I look right at you I get tears in my eyes. You have that affect on me, sun.

I'm not sure this is true, but it seems like you stay away for long periods of time--like months--and then you reappear for such a short time. If you only knew how much I miss you when you're gone! Don't go away, okay? Not this time.

Oh I totally understand the nighttime thing. It's cool. But, it's that extended leave thing that you do that gets me. I mean, why would you want to leave this place? It's beautiful. And even more so when YOU are here.

I guess I've made my point, haven't I?

I'll see you in the morning.

Just you and me.

We'll have coffee!

~John

Eye Can See Clearly

On days like today, when the sun is bright and life itself seems to be hi-def, I find myself wanting to slow down and let the brilliance soak into my very soul; To close my eyes, point my face toward the sun and just enjoy the feeling. And the fact that I can feel at all. But when I do open my eyes I can't help but notice a myriad of things that make me want to thank God for implanting in me this thing called enjoyment. Here you will see a few of things I enjoyed today:
The first one is one of my favorite roads--it's virtually a tunnel and when it's warm and sunny everywhere else it's cool in the 'tunnel'.
In the second one, if you click on the picture you'll see there in the middle an older gentleman working his garden. It just looks so 'Americana'.
The house is an old one built around 1860 and is now a bed and breakfast. I just love the impeccable paint job and the way it seems to have been frozen in time.
The last one is simply a bunch of flowers growing wild and bowing to the breeze if for no other reason than out of respect.

What's not to enjoy?

Summer nights (and some aren't)

As a kid growing up in southern California, summer mornings usually started out with a layer of marine air--aka fog--followed by a midday burn off and some haze and warmth. Here however, the mornings of summer are mostly like the rest of the year--a guessing game. The sun may come out or it may not. But lately we've had summer days like the ones I remember as a kid. The fog. The burn off. The warmth. And here? There's an added bonus. The sun stays up till 9 p.m. and we get sunsets like this! (and the rivers aren't made of cement)

Simple Joy

I am a simple man, as you can tell by my blog design, but I am not simplistic. I have found there is no need for grand extravagance to find joy. All you need do is to notice what makes you smile. For me, it is these:

The smell of the coffee beans when you first open the bag.

A breeze that lingers in the blinds.

The way my daughter sings/says "aww" when she thinks something's cute.

The tenacity in my boy's eyes when he runs the basepath.

Seeing the steam rise out of my coffee cup while sitting in the morning sun.

The way my son works.

Throwing rocks at the lake.

Being woken by the brightness of sunshine.

Realizing that I am loved.

Watching my kids be themselves.

The promise of a day with sunshine AND heat.


I am a simple man, but joy is also simple. If you find it you will have found grand extravagance.

Allergy Schmallergy!

Okay, so what if I'm allergic to summer, I've got to live with it. So today my youngest and I went to one of our favorite summer spots which is this freezing cold water stream with an amazing waterfall. Not many people even know about it around here. At least, that is what I surmise each time we go there and we are the only humans there.

The entrance to the creek is just a few feet away from the road, which is a meandering somewhat uninhabited country road that is flanked by the river on one side and woodsy hillsides on the other. The drive itself is almost worth the effort, but really it's the creek that makes it worthwhile for us.

For the first minute or so we try to traverse the edge of the water so as to keep our feet out of the frigid water. And when I say frigid I mean it's the kind of cold that makes your ankles ache right there in the back where your Achilles meets your heel. Bone chilling cold. But after your foot slips off the top of a mossy, slippery rock you simply succumb to the the facts. You will get wet. Your bones will ache. For a while.

We had a great time today realigning the flow of the water. That is to say, moving rocks and limbs out of jambed up crevices to allow the water to rip through in a new direction. Once we reached the waterfall we sat in the sun on the mist-soaked rocks and enjoyed the awe of it all.

Suddenly I'm not so allergic to summer after all.

It's Official...

...I can tell by the my scratchy throat, my runny nose and watery eyes.

I'M ALLERGIC TO SUMMER!

How it really happened

Once, in the town of Joyville there lived a man named Jimmy John Joseph Kruk. Although that was his given name, if he had a preference--which he rarely did--he preferred to be call simply 'Kruk'.
Kruk was a recluse that lived on the east side of Joyville. It is said around town that what caused him to hide away in the cabin he called home was a childhood scare. It seems that when he was a boy and the Kruks lived over on the west side near the river, Kruk had wandered off by himself as boys are prone to do. His wandering led him down to the river's edge where he happened upon a mud bog. Well, as boys are also prone to do, he got a little too curious there and before he knew it he was waist deep in mud. Stuck he was. He was stuck some say for hours. Finally, as night was tripping into a full fall, his brother found him and rescued him. From that day forward Kruk was more likely to be found indoors than out. He did not like out. No matter how hard the town's folk tried to entice him, he did not venture out. After a while they gave up trying.

Now in this same town lived a diminutive girl named Stacey. Stacey may have been small, but she was large in spirit. In fact, she was known to skip around town saying, "I may be tiny, but I am mighty and someday I will do what not one of the rest of you can do." While she herself wasn't sure what that meant, the rest of the town was convinced she was right.

One summer night near the end of a summer that was peculiarly dry and hot, Little Stacey was seen running full-speed from the river straight way to Kruk's house. All the while she ran, she sang "I may be tiny but I am mighty, I may be tiny but I am mighty". No one is sure why, but on this particular night the way she sang it piqued the curiosity of all who heard it. She sounded as if she had a mission and tonight was the night. The curiosity was such that the townfolk followed her all the way to Kruk's house. When she arrived she ran right in without so much as a knock, much less a hesitation. A few moments later, to the surprise of all that had gathered--which included by this time a photographer for the Chronicle--Stacey emerged with a smiling Kruk on her arm. Someone shouted, "what happened Stacey? How did you do this??" To which she happily and triumphantly replied, "There's no mud in Joyville. The mighty Stacey has Kruk out!"

Shingle and Re-tired

I have some interesting people on my route. I guess in some way or another everybody is interesting. To somebody. Anyway, as has been my practice in the past I'm going to show you a picture of somebody's house. The interesting somebodys that live at this particular house are artists...can you tell?? Check out the shingle work!
(Look closely at the roof. It's made out of tires. Yes. Real tires.)

Things I Don't Get

Many times during a day I will find myself saying this to myself: "I wonder why that is." I mean, let's face it, there are lots of things I just don't get.

For instance--today, in a field that had just been cleared of it's wind rows of grass for silage, I saw 21 bald eagles. Twenty one! They were scattered all about a field of about ten acres or so and every one of them was facing the same direction. Not one of them looked as though it was going anywhere anytime soon. It was as if one of them--the leader, I suspect--called a meeting and they were waiting for it to begin. Weird. Very, very cool, but weird nonetheless.

Another little something that I don't get, and it bugs me to no end--why is that anyone would go UNDER the posted speed limit? After all, the road has been specifically designed for a vehicle to travel at a particular speed. They post the speed on a sign. Pretty simple. Essentially, the sign is saying 'It's safe to travel 55 MPH on this road' and yet people take it into their own hands to mistrust the engineers who studied and computed the speed limit and proceed at a snail's pace. To me, it's like going to the store with a 50 percent off coupon and telling the checker, "No, really. I only want 30 percent off. Whoever handed out these coupons must be nuts, you'll never make any money this way. 50 seems way outta line! 30 will be fine, thanks." It makes no sense at all to me.

And lastly....what ever happened to courtesy? Where did it go? How did it become passe? I sat at a crosswalk in front of a high school for what seemed like an eternity today because most of today's kids have no courtesy. None. They meandered in front of me like those cows that never come home; like ants that couldn't find their farm. To say that they were oblivious would be giving them too much credit. They were ignorant of oblivion. Maybe one of the new courses next year should be "How to behave in a society full of people that care about others." I doubt anyone would care to sign up.

Rain Rain Go Away

Washingtonians don't tan, we rust.

Here it is the 6th day of June and the sun has yet to be seen this month.

We have a rain festival here in Washington. It runs from January 1 until December 31.
It's not exciting, but 50 million slugs can't be wrong.

May we rust in peace.

I Got The Music In Me

I found this fun little widget today on another blog so I thought I'd try it.

They say you can learn a lot about a person by the music he/she listens to...but who are "they" and what do they know anyway??These are a just a snippet of some of my favoritest songs.

I hope it works.

On Being Content

See this picture? Of course you do, I doubt I have any blind readers. See that mountain? It's beautiful huh? Yes it is. I took that picture not all that long ago of Mt. Baker, which I can see from my front window many, many days....Okay, maybe if you subtract that second 'many'. The thing is, I can't see it today. It is gray and drizzly and by most standards--dismal. But the mountain is still there.

Beauty is still beauty even when covered in gray.

Being content takes a lot of work. It takes knowing that what you see is not all there is. There is so much more to the picture. That's called faith. I can imagine many things, but I can't imagine a life without faith, can you?

No More Weeding for Me

There are lots of things that bug me about things I've heard in church in my lifetime. Ever since I was a wee lad (I just love saying that in an Irish brogue, by the way) the fact that the Bible says that the streets of heaven will be paved with gold just hasn't landed well in me. I mean the whole of the holy book is about life beyond here and in 'the kingdom come'. So why would the place we long to go to be advertised in such a materialistic way? Where's the anticipation in that? Trading one materialistic world for another?? Well, today when I was pulling weeds in my backyard ( I know, what a lame time to be thinking about such things, but hey, I was thinking about the curse of man and how it is our lot to toil all of our days on this little green Earth God gave us. So it's lame....consider the source) it hit me. Are you ready?? The reason the streets will be paved with gold is because the stuff is so plentiful and of so little value compared to the rest of heaven, they're going to use the stuff as asphalt!!!

Talk about an epiphany :)

I think it's a good thing every so often to sit and ponder what it is in your life that you take for granted. Because when you begin to appreciate the little things, you can no longer accuse yourself of taking them for granted.

I like to play softball. I've been playing for around twenty years and I still enjoy it a lot. Not that I want to get all braggy on myself but, I can still play. On my Monday night team (I play on a different team on Friday nights) I am 'the old guy'. It's a co-ed team with players ranging from 19 to 48--which of course would be me. I play outfield. Wherever they want to put me is fine. I love to run and dive and catch and throw. All of it is just excellent!

Essentially, what I'm saying is: I am glad that even though I have an extremely physical job, I still have a healthy enough body to play a game that I enjoy that lets me feel like I'm still a boy every time I play it. It may just be a little thing, but it IS the little things we take for granted.

As you might well know by now, I am a big fan of words; how they fit together, how they come apart and why we use the ones we do when we do. I have never studied these things formally--I don't even own a suit--but they're a part of my thinking and since this little blurb is about my mind, well....what did you expect?

For example, if you study theology you're a theologian, but if you study geology you're a geologist.
If you make a comment you're a commenter, yet if you comment on television you're a commentator. Well, I may just be a common tater, but I can tell you that it just doesn't make sense.
If a fly flies by and then flies out a window, you say, "It flew out the window." But if a baseball player hits a fly and someone catches it, he flied out. Some of these things just don't fly with this here guy.
When you drive too fast it's called speeding and you, as the driver, are a speeder. But if you drive in manner that is reckless you are not recklessing, nor are you called a recklesser.
These are the silly little things that go through my mind all the time. It's nothing to lose sleep over. But then again...how does one LOSE sleep?

Just a boy in the woods

I grew up going to church, singing hymns and listening to sermons. I was taught that this was worship. And while I still believe it to be true, as I have grown in my spirit and in my want to be closer to God, places like these have become my cathedral.



Where robins sing in rounds and the silence in between sounds like grass waiting for wind. Where the color of green against sky blue pales to the splendor of the heart in you.