I Forget

Every perfect now and then I get to feel like a child while being an adult. It takes some forgetting to get there, but you can make it happen. Forgetting that your age has nothing to do with how much child is left in you. Forgetting that what others think of you has nothing to do with who you really are. That only God knows who you really are. Or maybe it takes remembering. Remembering to stop and lay in the grass and watch clouds change into a hundred different animals in a matter of minutes, just for you. Oh, and the way the grass makes you itch and how much you don't care that it does. For that matter, you don't much care about anything but that very moment. You are lost in your imagination and there's no guilt or anguish for as far as you can see. Just blue sky, clouds and you.

When did we forget? Is is safer not to savor? Maybe I'm just childish, but I'm going to savor this day, this life.

Little Boy Thoughts

There's a lot of little boy in me, still. I recognized him this morning at church through the fuzziness that tears make when they hang there on the edge of my eye. I was missing my dad. He took us kids to church for the first sixteen or so years of our lives. Never mind that he did it religiously, he did it faithfully. I saw how much my lack of respect for this faithfulness hurt him sometimes. It made me sad.

What I wouldn't give to have him put his arm around me and let me know that I'm doing okay. This father thing is the hardest thing I've ever done. I would put my arm around him and tell him that he did well by me. With the perspective I've gained since being a dad myself, I would tell him how much I admire him now.

The little boy in me will never stop missing him. I have my dad's eyes, and right now they're full of tears.

Somewhere Between

One of my goals in life is to find balance. I know it seems like a rather vague goal. I mean, how does one measure balance? (Just ask that one-legged waitress at IHOP!) Seriously though. Notice. There in the parenthesis is something semi-laughable followed by 'seriously though'. Balance. I have to admit, though, that it's rarely that simple.

On any given day you can find me somewhere between galavant and mosey. Between ecstatic and depressed. Between pensive and thoughtless. Between Iraq and a hard place. (See! There I go again!) Between holding back tears and knee slapping. Between prayer and cursing. Between poetic and idiotic. Between careful and wreckless. Between selfless and self-absorbed. Between real and wannabe. Between useful tool and and useless fool. Between here and there. So, what's my point?? I find myself sliding around on these continuums sometimes at a pace that makes me dizzy. Can that be? Does balance make you dizzy? I don't know, I'm just curious.

A Day Just Like Any Other

If you know me at all, you know that I have a thing for words. A turn of phrase. A pun. A spoonerism. You name it, it's up here in this echo chamber I affectionately call my brain. Granted, it's not always the most calculated or well thought out mechanism in the world. Sometimes I just spew words without thinking that the person hearing them doesn't necessarily have the same thought patterns as me. It can be embarrassing. For instance, today I went into the coffee shop I go to everyday. I mean, EVERY day. So, of course, I figure these people know me pretty well, right? Well, actually I did it without thinking. I walked up to the girl behind the display case full of cookies, muffins and other assorted pastries and said, "I'll have one of those big dickersnoodles." Loud enough so that every soul in the place could hear it plainly. Seriously. I don't know if I've ever seen a brighter red face in my whole life. Oh, and the girl's face was red too!


It's been fairly nice and warm these days so I've been driving with both of my doors open. Feels good! Today as I returned back to my truck after a short conversation with a customer, there were two swallows sitting on the steering wheel. Now, I don't speak swallow fluently, but here's what I heard. Swallow 1: "So this is what it looks like...I bet it's cool being able to drive." Swallow 2: "Yeah! Wouldn't it be great?! I mean, no wind to fight, no getting wet, no cats to contend with? S1:"Can you imagine just pushing that pedal thingy down there and moving without effort? Look! There's a worm! We could squish worms!! S2:What do you suppose the pilot of this...whatever it is, dreams about while he's driving? Uh oh! Here he comes...I'll meet ya on the wire!" ...
...I jumped back into my seat and wondered what it would be like to fly.


The island I deliver on has oodles (there's a scientific word for ya!) of deer. Not just oodles, mind you, but oodles AND oodles! Which is kind of weird now that I think about it. How did all these deer get here? Late night bridge crossings and clandestine rendevous? Anyway! People here are very much into gardening. Not simply vegetable gardens either. I'm talking full-fledged (is there such a thing as half-fledged?) exotic flower gardens. Nothing spells the end to an exotic flower garden like an oodle or so of deer. Especially the famished-after-all-that-latenight-clandestining-deer. So, every effort is made to keep those pesky deer out. Last week I met up with one such effort. It's called a motion sensitive sprinkler! Don't read it again, I'll write it again...motion sensitive sprinkler! I happened upon it at the most inopportune time. Yep. I had a 75 pound package in my arms which, as luck would have it, blocked most of my vision. So there I am, happily making my way toward the front door when suddenly...pfffffft!!! I am mistaken as a deer by the friggin' idiotic moron sprinkler. I had no idea what was happening! Something was angry and I was getting wet! I couldn't see a thing. I dropped the package right there and bolted for the truck! No way I'm hanging around to get peed on by a...who the heck knows what??!!

If it weren't for all those packages my job would be nothing but fun and games :)

Promise

Today was a typical springtime day in the Pacific Northwet. Rain squall. Wind. Another rain squall. Then suddenly, brilliant, piercing sunshine that had been patiently waiting it's turn to show off...and that was just the first five minutes of the day. I loved it! I used to think that fall was my favorite season, but on days like today I've decided not to decide. The fall has it's gale force winds and dancing leaves and thunderheads. The spring has it's zephyr winds and bursting buds and winsomeness as counterparts, but spring carries with it one thing fall doesn't. Promise. The dark days of autumn are a precursor to the even darker days of winter, and around here that means: dismal. Ahh, but spring! Spring taps you on the shoulder and says, "You thought today was something? Wait 'til tomorrow!" That sounds good to me.

And, like the weather, my mind was busy if not equally unpredictable today.

I drove by the house where my friend Chuck used to live. It was about a year ago that Chuck decided his life wasn't worth living anymore. He parked his truck around the back side of the shed, hooked up a hose to the exhaust pipe and ran it into the cab of the truck and started it up. He was a seemingly happy man. Loved his wife and kids and grandkids. There were no outside indications that he was distraught, but I can't help but think he must have been. The last time I talked to him he was his usual, jovial self. I didn't know it was the last time I would talk to him. You rarely do. It made me wonder who I saw for the last time today, and do they feel promise?

My friend Mikey has a new, artificial femur (not that he ever had an old, artificial one...) If you've read my blog before, you'll probably remember Mikey. About a month or so ago he found out that the chemotherapy treatments he'd endured did absolutely nothing to decrease or even stagnate the growth of a cancerous tumor in his knee so he had to go in and have surgery. They removed the tumor, most of his knee, and 80 percent of his femur. He lost a lot of weight and is looking very pale but, that's to be expected, they said. He is using crutches to get around and is already back to working in the kitchen at the new cafe. I got to talk to him for a few minutes today. I made him laugh...that made me smile.

The last few mornings as I threw the covers off and planted my feet on the floor, I found myself singing a line from a Jackson Browne song that goes, "...I get up and do it again, amen." because sometimes the repetition of my life is a little bit tiring. But, today as I was thinking, I realized that had I not done this thing that I do day in and day out, I wouldn't have even known Chuck. At least not that well. And although it was sad, there would be no missing him today. I wouldn't know Mikey well enough to pray for (and ask for prayer for) him. We wouldn't have shared that laugh today. So, tomorrow, when my feet hit the floor, I'll change my tune slightly and I'll sing, "thank you, I get to get up and do it again, amen."

I promise.

The Injustice Of It

When I was a kid, one of our Saturday chores was pulling weeds. I hated it! While it's still not my favorite pastime, I know it needs to be done or soon my house will simply be known as ' the one behind the dandelions'. I remember back in those childhood days quite often saying, "that's not fair, why should I have to pull weeds?" To which my dad would reply, "nobody said life was fair." I'm not sure if it was his favorite saying or just a kneejerk response. I suppose with seven kids all clamoring and questioning the inequities of life, you've got to come up with a mantra and stick with it. But I digress in a forward manner (hmm, maybe that's the technical way to say "Back To The Future!? :) As I was pulling weeds I thought back on my week and some of the substance of it that struck me in one way or another, and my dad's words rang true in my ears once again.

A friend of mine pulled me into her office, with an expression that can only be described as -- beaming! "Check this out!", she said, pointing to her computer monitor in delight. She'd told me a couple of weeks ago that she and her husband were having a baby, so I sort of knew what to expect. It was an ultrasound picture of a baby. "Now check this out!" , she said. To me it looked like the very same picture, but remember, I'm a guy. "Twins!!" , she shouted. She was so excited and I was very happy for them, having known them since they moved here as newlyweds not long ago...fast forward to a few hours later. A different friend of mine was informed that she was never going to be able to have children. Never. Zero percent chance, according to her doctor. She's in her early 30's, not married, and a complete natural with kids by all accounts.
There are no words of condolence that can fill a hole so deep in despair. Words are empty and they echo in the cavern of hollow feelings. My God, how can this be fair? How can a woman who is more fit than others, seemingly, be made to suffer like this? Unfair!

Last night after my softball game, my nephew invited me to celebrate his 19th birthday with him and his family at home with cake and ice cream. This is my nephew that has been semi-attached at the hip to my daughter since birth. They're 3 weeks apart. Of course, I went. During the course of the evening, my daughter made her way over to her step-dad. The man my ex-wife married a year ago. She sidled up next to him, put her arm around him and remained there for the next ten minutes while I ate cake and ice cream. He's a good man. He loves her mom and her brothers. She should love him. That's how she is--she loves people and she's easy to love. But still. I couldn't help but feel the sting. Was he there when she was born? Did he rock her to sleep? Did he ever cry with her? Does he know the names of her dolls? Does he pace the floors at night when she's out later than normal? What right does he have to that arm around his shoulder? What right?! That's so unfair!

Open your dictionary to the word 'average'. There you'll see a picture of me. Blue eyes, a little too much gray at the temples, too much nose, a few wrinkles. Nothing fancy. Oh sure, there are a few things I can do that might be slightly above average (just don't ask me what they are), but those are certainly offset by the things that I do that are below average. Which lands me where I took off...average. I don't mind being average most of the time. It's a pretty cool gig, actually. You don't get your picture in the paper. Cops don't pull you over and ask you for your autograph. You wait in line at Applebee's unaccosted. Nobody even cares that you're the King of Average. Life is grand in averageland...except for this: The King of The Universe died instead of me. He didn't do anything wrong. It was me. He pretended to be average...no, he agreed to be criminal, so I wouldn't have to die. He didn't fight, or kick, or squirm. He did that for me. There has never been a more atrocious injustice, a more unfair act committed than this, ever. And I don't balk. I don't shake my head in disbelief. I act as if it was owed me. If I can live with this injustice, then I certainly can live with all the others. After all..."nobody said life was fair."

What's In A Moment?

I've heard it said that life is nothing more than millions of moments strung together. Some more significant than others. I believe that there is something significant in every moment if you pay close enough attention.

Today as I ate my lunch at the edge of the sound, with my feet sticking out in the wind, I pondered on some of my most recent happenings and picked out a few that made me smile.

Here they are:

A week ago my oldest brother got married in a small, intimate and charming ceremony at my sister's house. There were maybe 40 people there all tolled and 30 of those were members of our extended family. Siblings and their spouses and some of their kids and my mom. Both my brother and his new wife each have a daughter. They-the daughters- were each responsible for the lighting of one single candle which represented themselves as part of the union of their parents' lives. While everyone's eyes were focused on them, I looked past them to the tears welling and the lips quivering on my brother and his bride. There, suddenly, was a moment. The two of them simultaneously acknowledging the forever-ness of their new found love and wrapping their girls up tightly in it.

My son is 12 years old and plays little league baseball. He mostly plays catcher and LOVES it! From his roost behind homeplate he can see everything that happens on the field and is accutely aware of what needs to happen next. He would have it no other way. He is the field general and his personality suits the position to a Tee. Well, before the season began, his coach pulled him aside and told him he wanted him to pitch a little this year. He was not happy. "Dad" he said, "all you get to do is throw the ball and let people hit it. How fun is that?!" I told him if the coach wanted him to pitch, then he needed to pitch. So we've been practicing in the back yard. I pitched when I was his age so I feel like I can at least be a little helpful. He's actually very accurate and skilled, although he can't get much speed on the ball. So. Thursday night his team is ahead by 10 or so runs and the coach puts him in in the 5th inning. The first batter to face him is a boy he considers one of his best friends. First pitch...smacked into center field for a double. Next batter. Second pitch...right down the middle...smacked to right for a single. All this time, I'm nervously pacing back and forth behind the backstop, saying nothing. He got the next two batters to ground out (one of them a spectacular grab by my son--I might add!) and it's down to the potential last out. First pitch...strike one! Second pitch...swing and a miss! And then, suddenly there was a moment. My boy looks at me, gives me a little smirk, fidgets with the ball in his glove, and fires! It's a curveball that misses the plate by 6 inches but the batter swings and strikes out. As he walked triumphantly off the mound, my son looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if to say--what did you expect??

Today I got a simple text message from my daughter that said, 'Happy Cinco de Mayo padre!" If that's not a moment then I don't know....

Tonight my middle son decided to stay at his mom's so he could be there when his sister gets home from college. It will be in the middle of the night, but he'll be on pins and needles waiting for her. As I was pulling down the driveway to leave, he came back to the truck and leaned on my open window and quitely said, "Good luck at your game tonight, dad." A huge moment for me.

Life does happen a moment a time. I'm finally learning how to pay close attention.

Blue Cars, Blue Songs

Today as I was driving, I saw a 1970 Duster driving down the road and it jarred loose some nostalgia I had hidden in the layers.

You see, I once owned a '70 Duster-back in the day. I'd love to tell you that it was my first car, because then I could be spared the embarrassment of telling you what my first car actually was. My first car was actually a 'boat'! And when I say boat, I mean it was the quintessential car-that-could've-doubled-as-a boat. A 1964 Oldsmobile Dynamic 88. Oh baby! Burgundy exterior. White interior. Forty-two feet long. Four doors. Bench seats. AM Radio.(Is that drool I see dangling from your lower lip?...I thought not.) The only slightly redeeming value of it was, it was SO ugly that birds wouldn't even waste their time crapping on it. I mean, you know you've got a cool car when you can hear the birds flying over saying "whoa whoa whoa, not yet! If I can just hold it for another second or two..." Which brings me back to my first REAL car...the Duster. Now that was a car! Medium blue with a black interior. Four on the floor and wickedly fast. But, my favorite part was perched there in the dash. Yeah. A Craig eight-track tape player connected to four coax speakers that cranked out the best music the 70's had to offer. Aerosmith, The Eagles, Boston, Chicago, The Little River Band, Lynyrd Skynyrd, ELO, Bread, Fleetwood Mac, The Cars, The Doobie Brothers, Earth Wind and Fire, Kansas, Elton John, Billy Joel, Olivia Newton-John, John Denver, Steely Dan, Loggins and Messina, just to mention a few. And, at the time, ALL of these artists were just hitting their stride. They were not the oldies-they were just HOT! But my all-time favorite tape was James Taylor's Greatest Hits.

To this day, "Something In The Way She Moves" ranks right up there as one of my favorite songs. I thought James (he and I have been on a first name basis ever since, ever since I can remember) wrote that song just for me. For me to sing to my as of yet to be found beloved. Is that cheesy or what? Oh well, sometimes the truth reeks of cheese. Although I look back on those days fondly now, at the time they were lonely. I was a painfully shy kid in those days so I had few friends. Usually it was just me, James, and the Duster. Ole James never seemed to mind me singing along to his beautifully simple songs. If I messed up the syncopation here or there, or if I couldn't finish the line because of the sadness in my throat, he'd just oblige and keep on singing. I could always click the track selector button four times and join him the next time around. I dreamed that someday I'd find someone to 'look my way or call my name'. I dreamed of those 'Berkshires (that) seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting', I wanted to be that 'young cowboy'. I wanted to 'take to the highway', I was 'down and troubled and needed a helping hand', I pleaded 'don't let me be lonely tonight'. But I was okay because, no matter what, my friend James was there singing this to me: 'winter, spring, summer or fall, all you got to do is call and I'll be there, yes I will, you got a friend.' That's all I needed to know.

Isn't it strange how something like a car passing by can affect my thoughts like that? Does this ever happen to you?

The Night Is Young And So Is She

My daughter turned 19 years old today.

I'm not going to sit here and lament how old that makes me feel. You all know how old I am, and so do I. On the inside I'm still somewhere between 12 and 25.

Still. There's no need to lament. After all, I've been blessed to know what it means to be a father, and even better than that, to be a dad to three completely wonderful children. It's an immeasurable privilege that I thank God for.

There's something magical about a little girl, though. Or maybe it's hypnotic. Whatever the case may be, it drew me in from the very start and I don't suppose I'll know the end of it on this earth. She is the first person I've ever known since day one. Being the youngest in my family, I never had a younger sibling so this, in and of itself, was amazing to me. But being her dad is still amazing to me. Oh the things you can learn from a girl!
I learned how to sing soft lullabys. I learned how to rock us to sleep. I learned how to kiss a new way. I learned what it means to protect. I learned how to walk slowly, watching for big cracks in the sidewalk. I learned how to talk to a teddy bear. I learned how to listen to one too. I learned the warm feeling of girl tears on my cheek. I learned how to wave goodbye. I learned how to blow a kiss. I learned how to twirl arm in arm. I learned to kneel down while picking dandelions. I learned how to giggle. I learned to tell good bedtime stories. I learned how to be tickled. I learned how to sing into my hairbrush. I learned the good flavors of lip balm. I learned to love the sound of deep sleep. I learned that ears make great handles on shoulder rides. I learned that dreaming is the best part of living. I learned that "I'm sorry" needs to be real. I learned that "I love you" is best said softly and lived loudly. I learned that words can break your heart. I learned that patty cake is more complicated than baseball. I learned that girls can be studs too. I learned that I will never be done learning about my girl. I learned that being "dad" is the greatest honor I will ever have.

If I can grow up to be like her, I'll be happy.

Good Friday

Do tulips have eyeballs? Because if they do, they'd be up to them in rain today. Maybe they should get together --all of them-- and use their two lips and simultaneously look up to the heavens and yell "Close. The. Sky. Already!"

Life can be ridiculous. No. Really. It CAN be. I read it this morning in the book of Judas. Yeah, the one on the back of the Enquirer. Yep. It takes a little bit of getting used to those hokey 3D glasses but, eventually, you can do it. Anyway, right there in Judas 4:14 (which is weird cuz that's today's date...) it says, and I quote: "F" and then some really unrecognizable ripped parchment thing that looks like this:z/,mva'if and then: "o"......see? What it's saying is really quite simple. If you turn the script upside down and fold the left corner over your right index finger like so, it still says the same thing. "F"...."o". Yep. That's right! Judas was the first disciple with Tourette's syndrome. Which is clearly proof that life CAN be ridiculous, like I said.

Did you know that in Canada a lot of people get today off for Good Friday? Do you suppose they even know what that means? I mean, Canada is notorious for having at least one 'holiday' (even though that's what Canadians call a vacation) a month. If the Queen has bad gas they take a holiday. Seriously. Evidently she's got a thing for gassy foods because every other week there's a new holiday proclaimed. I mean, the day after Christmas is 'Boxing Day'. Picture that for a minute. A bunch of Canadians standing around punching each other. Wait!...isn't that called 'hockey'?

Well, this has to rank up there with one of my most useless posts ever, maybe it's because it's Friday. Or not.

Have a good Good Friday and a really really good good Easter! :)

A Colorful Day

I had a fun day today. I got to be with my son and go hiking and driving and taking pictures. He's so much fun to be around! And I am so blessed. Isn't it cool?

No Kidding?

On the eve of April Fool's Day I'm going to try to fool you. The following is a list of things about me and my life. Some of them true some of them not. See if you can pick out the ones that are NOT.

I bat lefthanded.

I throw righthanded.

I've proposed to two different women.

They both said "Yes".

I've been married only once.

My brother once threw out the first pitch at a Los Angeles Dodger game.

I've stood shoulder to shoulder with Sandy Koufax.

I once braided my wife's hair on a TV show...live.

I have auditioned for a Hollywood movie.

I have travelled 60-plus miles an hour in a car--backwards.

When my parents arrived at LAX from the Netherlands they and the eight people with them had a total of $12 to their names.

I can remember the license plate number of the car we drove when I was 6 years old.

I have called 16 different houses 'home'.

I still have my tonsils.

I can say "I love you" in four languages.

My dad never saw me get a basehit.

I've never been in a fistfight.

Being able to fly a plane has long been one of my dreams.

I've asked a Maybelleine model to dinner.

She said "Yes".

I weighed 89 pounds when I was freshman in high school.

I weighed 115 pounds when I graduated from high school.

Lobster is one thing I've never eaten.

I cry easily.

My favorite number is 7.

If I die at an age half-way between that of my dad at his death and my grampa at his, I will die when I'm 77.

My oldest brother is 7 years older than me.

In my 12 years of education (pre-college)I attended 7 different schools.

I graduated from high school in '77.

I was 17.

I am the 7th child born in my family.

I hate math.

My nose was broken by a friend of mine who was teaching me how to box.

I love words.

I sometimes think in spoonerisms.

At my core I am very shy and insecure.

My kids have been to more countries than I have.

I've attended three different colleges.

If requested, I can and have eaten live insects.

225 pounds is the most I've ever bench pressed.

I didn't attend my own high school graduation.

My first day of college I was 17 years old.

Once, I sang in a duet in front of my church.

I wouldn't think twice about driving to California for the weekend.


Okay. That should give you something to think about. Let's see how well you know me. See if you can guess what's NOT true and tell me. I'll give you a clue...NAH! I hate giving clues.

(Pete, you guess last:)

Whatdyathink?

Have you ever wondered what heaven is like? I mean, what will it really be like? Streets of gold, ya think? Pearly gates, ya think? Peter was pretty high up there (no pun intended) as far the saints go, why should he get the stinking check-in desk job? Come on!
Some people get more jewels in their crown than others? A caste system in Heaven??

What about dogs? I personally don't love dogs, so...what? I check in to the non K9 section? My kids love dogs, so now what?

What language will we speak? My dad always told us as kids it would be Frisian, the language we spoke at home.

What about all that singing? What if you HATE singing? I know for a fact that that's the very reason a lot of men won't go to church. All that singing. Why can't we shoot hoops during that part of the service? Or just listen to the Eagles "Learn to be Still"?

Me? I'm going looking for my dad when I get there. He'll probably be arguing doctrine with Paul or some other former ruffian he could associate with. Maybe we could go swingin' on heaven's monkey bars and swing so high when we let go we'd smack into the stars. Or go make ice cream out of the milky way and gobble it down in the shade of the moon. Or maybe, just maybe, he's finally got time to play a little catch. We could even have a little pick-up game. You know, Adam at first, Eve at second, Zacchaeus at short, 3rd John at third, a thief out in left, God in center, and everybody else in right. Oh and let's not forget catcher. Peter, James, Andrew or John could ALL catch! Jesus would pitch of course. Wouldn't that be fun? You'd always get a perfect strike.

I have no idea what to think when it comes to heaven. I mean, we are so small-minded compared to God. We think we have a clue what opulence is and that it will likely be that...opulent. A child in a third world country thinks eating everyday is heaven!

We can't even imagine what this ball we live on will be like in five years, how can we possibly pretend to know what the God of the universe has up his sleeve? We're limited to a finite mind and it's feeble capabilities. We're not able to fathom how completely unfathomable heaven will be. It's fun to think about though. And sobering. Makes me wonder why I do the idiotic things I do. Why I get so bent and behave so childishly about so many things that ultimately don't matter as much as I think they do. What matters most is my relationship to God and my relationship to YOU. Let's work on healing those, shall we?

I'm ready.

Adrift

My heart is heavy
here in the mire
much too heavy
to lift

My mind and myself
join to conspire
to let ourselves go
adrift

Crystal blue
clearness
and a constant
lapping sound

You and me
nearness
and a quiet
laughing sound

The wind is the song
and we are the dancers
we frolic along
with no need for answers
for the wind is the song
and we are the dancers

Seeds

Sometimes a follow-up entry is just necessary, don't you think? I mean, I could just leave you hanging. Let you draw your own conclusions. But if you know me at all, you know how much I despise silence when overt communication seems to clearly be the better option. So. Here's what happened Friday night when Jessica and I went out to dinner...


...I let her be her and she let me be me. There were no weird, pre-concocted questions. There were no forced issues. There was just a young woman and her proud dad having dinner together, enjoying each other's company, conversation, and laughter. We had a great time!

I'm learning what it means to be her friend while still being her dad. It sounds weird to me, so I don't mind if it does to you too. A part of me wants to protect her forever from anything that would cause her an ounce of pain. Believe me, it's a BIG part of me, but another part of me wants her to prosper and grow and gain strength and success and stand tall in the world. I know intellectually that pain is part of the growth process, so my desire for her growth seems like the antithesis of my wish to protect her. The reality is this: pain and protection from pain both have, as their finished product, growth. So, where does that leave me? It leaves me no choice but to admit that I'm going to struggle with this. And that 'this' is my struggle, not hers. I'm going to keep engaging her. I'm going to bumble along down this road some more. Sometimes I won't get it right and I know that, but I'm done doing only the things I get right! In the end, Jessica will forge her own way in this world and she will know that her dad loves her.

By the way, the name of the restaurant where we had dinner was: SEEDS

It's Springy!

What. You thought I was going to debrief you on the "Briefly..." entry? Come on. Good things come to those that wait.

In the mean time, check out these pictures. Most of them were taken from the seat of my truck...while rolling. (Notice: I said 'rolling' not driving, since driving implies that I was in control of the vehicle at the time.)

Flowers are growing so fast you can almost hear them...listen. Hear that? That's what flowers sound like when they're growing. Really.

(Those are flower beds built into the bumper on the blue truck)

Briefly...

...tonight I'm taking my daughter out to a nice dinner. We haven't had a 'real' conversation in awhile so I'm excited.

Here's your chance to give your input. Knowing what you know about me and about her, what ONE question must be asked before the night ends? It needn't neccessarily be a deep, serious question. I'm just curious.

Some of you have daughters. Some of you are daughters. Some of you fit into both categories. So...think about it and let me know!

Randomonium

A sampling of bits and pieces of my thoughts and views of today:

It's hard to take big strides when you're always putting your best foot forward. Every once in a while you've got to let them see that ugly foot.

Sobbing is kind of like a heart massage. Very painful at first, but when the pain dissipates you know it's done some good. The pain needs a way of escape. Let it out.

I think churches should install one of those old time bells-you know the kind gas stations used to have-only it should be laid across the street on which the church sits, and the bell should be right in the sanctuary, that way those sitting there 'growing their faith' could hear how many people are driving by on their way to hell.

Animals have done pretty doggone well without technology. I mean, birds still actually have to fly from point A to point B just like they did in the garden of Eden. Cows don't have any anti-fly mechanisms, just a good old fashioned tail. Dogs still chase cats. Cats still eat mice. No one has concocted a way of telling them that it might not be politically correct and yet animaldom seems to be doing alright, compared to us humans.

Eating tacos in a house full of laughing children is better than any four star restaurant anywhere, anytime. Hands down!!

There's much too much animosity between the sexes. Let's just get over ourselves shall we? My intent is to understand, not to claw your eyes out.

Big, white, puffy clouds is where I want to live. (As long as it's warm:)

On the other side of pain

I learned a little truth from my middle son this weekend. He taught me a lesson in bravery. We (Jess, he and I) were waiting for our order at Outback friday night when suddenly he started to get noticeably fidgety sitting across from me in the booth. He looked up at me and said "Dad, can we step outside a minute?" This is the same boy that has scarcely said two words in a row to me in a year. "Of course!" I said. We stepped out into the cold air. He nodded toward my truck as if to say 'let's go sit'. We did. At which point he spilled a bucket of words and thoughts and tears so vulnerable that I wept right along side him. The essence of what he said was that he was saddened by his own confusion about being a divorced son. He was sad. He was torn. He was real. He was more honest than any person has been to me in SO long that my tears were every bit as much in his honor as for his grief. I have been fretting and pulling my hair out about our relationship for what seems like years. Always wondering what more I could do. Finally, when I've stopped 'doing', the ice seems to be breaking.

He is teaching me to keep moving in a forward motion to the other side of pain and to say what's true, even if the outcome seems dubious. I want to be like him.

Bridge over the river...Why?

It's a beeeautiful day in the neighborhood! So today I took a little drive to take some pictures and as I was driving I had several thoughts. No, seriously, at least TWO thoughts. But they were both in Chinese and I don't speak or read Chinese so I have no idea what they were-or who sent them for that matter, but I do greatly appreciate them.

Do you ever brush your teeth and then go get a cup of coffee? Me neither, that would be stupid. Speaking of coffee, this blog is powered by my two favorite words... CAFF and EINE!...and possibly the giddiness that sunshine produces in our Vitamin B starved slice of the planet.

My 12 year-old son has to write a fictional narrative for school (duh! No he's writing it to get his pilot's license.)He named his main character, BillyBob Chang II (as in, the second). Okay, if that doesn't crack you up then maybe you've been sniffin' too many bus fumes. So far BillyBob has two sons named...Billy and Bob! (As long as the third child's name isn't 'The')

My 14 year-old made the JV soccer team at his high school. As a freshman!! And he hasn't played a lick of soccer in 3 years! No, it has nothing to do with the fact that his initials are JV.
I could get a personalized license plate that reads 'JV team' or 'Always JV' which of course assumes 'Never Varsity' but...one should never assume anything. I've come to learn many things in my life and, well, as of yet, I haven't learned any of the things I came to learn.

Something that makes me want to say "YE" and then "HAW" is the fact that my Jessica's coming home next week for spring break. Today I sent her an official invite to have dinner with me while she's home...I'm hoping she says 'yes'. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and boy is it ever hard to type wif yer fingers crost.

A bird just smacked into my picture window in my living room. What makes a bird think he can fly right through your house? As if! Do I drive right through a birds' nest? I may have to plead the fifth on that one. I thought it was a hay bale perched on the branch to tell you the truth. I mean, horse flys eat hay don't they?

Oh, and by the way, I figured out how to post the picture, finally! Even though you can't tell by looking at it, the bridge in the picture is a railroad bridge. The tracks discontinue at each end of the bridge, they go nowhere. Hence the title.
Bye.