It’s a Saturday morning and I am in a strange place.
I am not in a McDonald’s drive-thru, or waiting for my eggs and bacon at “The Café” in Laurel View Village where Kim’s mom lives, or sitting at the table watching the tide come in, while my mother is in the kitchen making me a pork roll and egg sandwich.
What is this place?
It’s your house, you moron…
It is?
It is my house.
Yes it is!
It is a Saturday morning and I am home?
It feels so strange.
Kim is out walking.
But before she left I asked her, “is this maybe the third time this summer we have been home on a weekend?”
But wait, it’s not even summer anymore.
It’s the fall.
Where did summer go?
The last time I sat under the palm tree, the first Feet Faddish, it was July 13, 2019, and I had just opened up the pool.
Today is September 25, 2021, and the pool I bought in the spring is still in the box in the shed.
But here I am having coffee under the palm tree that has grown a bit since I last sat under it.
For the first time since we have lived here, we didn’t buy any new plants for the gardens this year.
The banana trees grew big again, and Kim harvested some lemon balm and elderberries for her potions.
But other than cutting the grass, we did nothing.
We haven’t been here.
But not today!
“Oh but anyway, Toto, we’re home! Home! And this is my palm tree, and this is my backyard, and I am not going to leave here ever again!”
My cousin Debbie has a daughter named Mallory who is very talented and sings for a living. Earlier this summer Mallory posted a video of her singing with my Aunt Joan, Mallory’s grandmother while visiting with her at her assisted living facility in Florida.
The song they sang was “You Are My Sunshine.”
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away”
It was special.
At the very end of that video, my aunt says something I didn’t hear the first time I watched it.
“Unfortunately He did, He did. Yup.”
Take her sunshine away.
Likely she was referring to the loss of her husband, my Uncle Theodore, in 1982 at the young age of forty-nine.
Kim and I finally got around to sharing that video with my mother just recently. I have mentioned this before, but my Aunt Joan, my mother, and my father are the last of that generation of my family.
I am with my mother again this weekend and I watched this video again this morning.
It was even more special today I think.
This is such an emotional day for all of us on many levels.
If you are of any age to be able to remember the events of 20 years ago, you remember the detail of that day and the days following and how it played out in your own life.
I was walking up the back stairs of our Rockville, Maryland office that morning when Alexa called from her University of Maryland dorm room to say a plane had struck one of the Twin Towers. While on the phone and discussing the probable unfortunate aviation accident the other tower was hit while Alexa was watching live.
No unfortunate aviation accident.
I remember in the days that followed, watching the TV as the aftermath unfolded with Donny, and how he was all fired up to join the military and go off to fight terrorists at the age of fourteen.
I can remember a time of national time of prayer that occurred in the days following when all houses of worship opened their doors in the middle of a weekday for a time of prayer. I dipped into a very large mostly African American church in the Landover, Maryland area where I was working that day and prayed with many others in a packed sanctuary as a nation united and grieved together.
I can remember not being able to buy an American flag anywhere in the large territory I covered at the time. The American flags were all sold out.
Now twenty years later I watch the ceremonies, hear the names read, listen to the personal stories, watch the video of the attacks, and I am reminded just how much sunshine was taken away in a literal and spiritual sense
This September 11, 2021, will be memorable for me because I got to see my dad for the first time in a couple of weeks. After a week or so in the hospital with no visitors, my dad was finally admitted to a short-term rehab facility in Easton yesterday. So today my mother got some clothes together for him and she and I went up to visit. We were advised that due to Covid, we would only be able to speak to him through the glass, okay we thought, they have a room with a glass partition. Once we got there however we were unable to even enter the building, handing off my dad’s clothes to a worker, as we received our instructions on how we could find his room and wave at him from outside the window of his room, standing out in the grass.
It was very sad.
It’s not going to be a good memory for me.
But I guess this day in these times is just going to be sad any way you turn it around.
It’s sad, that only twenty years after this tragic day in history that united our country, we maybe stand to be the most divided in 150 years or so.
We are divided by a virus.
We are divided by masks and vaccines.
In some cases, we are divided by miles, and in other cases just feet.
We are divided from our loved ones by the window we get to wave at them through from outside. Like visiting your human at the zoo.
We are divided by race.
We are divided by politics.
We are divided by the cable news station we choose to watch or not watch.
Divided, by the Godly and the un-Godly.
We have those who display the flag, those that would never, and those who are afraid to.
Yet in spite of this division, we all share the reality that in life there will be death, and with death grief.
We all have had or will have our sunshine taken away at some points along the journey.
Maybe we need another national day of prayer to unite.
Maybe some resolution of this virus to at least allow loved ones to know we are there.
Maybe we need…I don’t know…
God maybe.
I do know we have enough sadness.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
He did, and He does, and that is reason enough to believe and to be united.
Because we need each other.
To restore our sunshine when it’s needed.
Postscript:
The song You Are My Sunshine according to what I could find on the internet was released in 1939 by songwriter Paul Rice. Apparently, Rice sold the lyrics to Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell for $35 and in 1940, Davis recorded the song and it became an instant country music hit.
Check out Mallory Moyer at https://www.facebook.com/TheMalloryMoyer
The photo above is of the sunshine being taken away on the eve of 9/11/2021.
She had red hair, blue eyes, and she was beautiful.
And she was different.
Not like anyone I had ever met before.
I remember we were at a bar.
She was sitting on the barstool, I was standing.
We were talking.
At some point in our exchange of nervously structured sentences, I must have told her that I really liked her.
Then she must have said something back to the effect of “I really like you too.”
Because then I remember laughing awkwardly and saying out loud back to her, “someday you may not like me, someday you may change your mind.”
Why would I say such a thing?
Why didn’t I just go on and accept the moment we were having?
Because I knew.
I knew the truth.
The truth about me no one ever talks about.
I am just like my mother.
Fast forward twenty-four years.
It’s the summer of ’21.
Two thousand twenty-one.
She is blonde now.
And of course, her eyes are still blue.
She is still very beautiful.
She is still not like anyone I have ever met before.
And we are married now.
I am standing far out on the dock fishing.
She is kneeling down digging in the garden up closer to the house.
My mother is standing behind her as works on her knees digging with the hand tool.
And my mother is questioning what and how she is doing it.
After a time of this, she stands up.
“UUUUGGGGHHHHH,” she yells out loud so I can hear her from the dock.
“CURT! YOU ARE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHERRRRR!”…holding the “ER” sound for a while.
“WOOOOGGGGHHH!”
There on the dock, I turned towards the loud voice.
I managed a faint smile as in my mind I returned to that barroom twenty-four years ago.
Out loud I said to myself.
“I told you.”
“I tried to warn you.”
I still really like her.
I think she still really likes me though sometimes I am not so sure why.
I am, just like my mother.
And the nice thing is…
She is just like her mother too.
And she loves my mother.
And I love her mother too.
And since I am just like my mother,
She must love me too.
Postscript:
For my birthday, my kids got me a subscription to this writing prompt called Storyworth that on a weekly basis sends me a topic to write about and I think at the end of the year compiles the writings in a book, but they also thought it might provide me some “Musings” material. The topics are questions like “Have you ever won anything,” “did you have a favorite teacher in middle school,” or “what is your idea of perfect happiness.” Last week the challenge was “Are you more like your father or your mother? In what ways.” This is my first public post from those weekly writings.
It is a rainy Friday evening as guests arrive early for what is to be a surprise event at Clyde’s Restaurant in Ashburn, Virginia. The guests filter into the restaurant and begin to fill the rows of long tables in the private reserved dining room. Finally, Cookie arrives bringing her mom Dorothy, the guest of honor.
Dorothy is surprised as she enters the room and takes her place at the head of the table.
Her seemingly ageless face has a big smile and guests take advantage of the photo opportunities.
Dorothy Lockett looks beautiful and classy as always.
Today is Dorothy Lockett’s 94th birthday.
She is known to many as Mother, Mother Lockett, and Momma, all truly terms of endearment for one incredibly special person.
Before the meal, with the guests now settled into their seats at the tables, a blessing is offered by one of the guests:
“Our father we thank you so much for this opportunity to gather tonight to celebrate a woman who has lived life well.
Thank you oh God for what you have done in the life of Dorothy Lockett yesterday,
Thank you for where you have her today.
Thank you oh God for where you are taking her.
Thank you for the deposits of love that you have made in her life, that she has been so willing and so bountifully willing to share with so many of us.
Those of us that she has adopted into her family as she has shared her motherly love and wisdom, and council and discipline with.
God, we give you thanks for this life.
God, we thank you for Cookie and all the grandkids, thank you oh God for their willingness to share their mother with so many of us.
And now oh God, even in this season of life, we pray oh God that you would continue to pour a sense of purpose into Mother’s life.
That you would continue to keep her body.
That you would strengthen her spirit.
That you would provide her continually with opportunities to continue to minister.
God, we thank you for this woman of God.
We pray oh God, that you would bless this food, that you bless it for the health of our bodies.
And even as we celebrate oh God, we pray that you would allow our conversations and celebration to honor You.
Thank you for Dorothy Lockett.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen”
Amen.
That Blessing was delivered four years ago by a guest at Dorothy’s 94th birthday. Unfortunately I don’t know the name of the man who authored that prayer.
This day, August 11, 2021, we celebrate Dorothy Lockett’s 98th birthday.
To my family Dorothy has always been “Momma.”
She has celebrated many Christmas Eves with Kim and I and our kids and family and friends.
She has sat at the “family” table at one of our weddings.
She even made the trip to western Pennsylvania to attend Kim’s mom’s 80th birthday party.
And though in the more recent years we haven’t been able to have those times to share together, we know we are all still family.
Dorothy was born on this day in the year 1923 in Meridian, Mississippi.
One Christmas Eve, after everyone had either gone home or gone to sleep, Dorothy told Kim and I the story of how she met James Chaney, Michael Schwerner, and Andrew Goodman, the three young Civil Rights workers who would end up murdered not far from Meridian, while working at the Star Theater. The Star Theatre was an African American only theater.
One day the three young men, who worked for COFO, the Council of Federated Organizations and had an office close by, came to the box office window where Dorothy was working. Since the theater was black attendance only and Michael Schwerner and Andrew Goodman were both white from up north, Dorothy didn’t know what to do.
So she called her manager and explained there were two white boys and a black out front and they wanted to come to see a movie and what should she do?
Her manager, who was white, said “let them in Dorothy.”
And so, after that, on days when they didn’t go out in the field to help register blacks to vote, the three young COFO volunteers would come to the movies at Dorothy’s Star Theatre.
On June 21, 1964, members of the Klu Klux Klan assassinated Chaney, Schwerner, and Goodman. The Klansmen shot them and buried their bodies in a dam. They weren’t found for two months.
Dorothy would work at the Star Theatre for twenty-six years. Her experience with managing the theatre’s deposits landed her a position as a bank teller at the Farmers and Merchant Bank where she worked until she retired and moved up to Northern Virginia to live with Cookie.
Dorothy also claims to have been the first African-American crossing guard in Meridian and I don’t doubt she was.
Dorothy’s story of the theatre and the young civil rights workers is only one example of the experiences that Dorothy had growing up, living, and working in Mississippi that shaped her life and gave her the gifts that the rest of us now benefit from. With wisdom and grace, and her strong faith in God, she rose above the hatred and exemplified love.
“Those of us that she has adopted into her family as she has shared her motherly love and wisdom, and council and discipline with.”
Dorothy’s son Doug once described his mom as “one of God’s ambassadors for mankind,” and “because of her, our family doesn’t see color.”
My family, for one, has been truly blessed to have had the opportunity to get to know one of God’s ambassadors.
That’s the gift given to us on this day of celebration.
For the first time since her dad passed away last October, Kim and I stayed on the farm this past weekend.
I remember the first time I went up to the farm. I had driven up the Pennsylvania Turnpike to the city of Somerset to surprise Kim and run in a 10 K race that was sponsored by the local newspaper, the Daily American. Though still kind of early in our relationship I think we originally had plans to make this trip together that got messed up somehow. And after some regret, I got directions from a guy I worked with who used to frequent Seven Springs Ski Resort, and off I went.
The race start and finish were at the Somerset High School football field. I got a hotel room just off the Turnpike exit for Somerset, went over to the Daily American office to register, then I had dinner at the Pizza Hut. The next day I rolled on up to the race and surprised Kim as she was walking up to the field with other members of her family and Donny and Savannah.
Out of 270 runners, Kim’s brother Kerry finished 32nd, her sister Kate 136th, and Kim finished 151st. Donny and I ran together and he finished 199th and I crossed the finish line as the 200th runner. Of course, Donny beat me as he always did. Our times with 1:02:08 and 1:02:09 respectively. Donny was eleven at the time.
After the race, Kim brought me back to the farm to meet her parents. Kim’s family owned a fairly large dairy farm in the village of Kingwood which is about twenty miles southwest of the city of Somerset on the Laurel Highlands. At the time her parents lived in the farmhouse directly across from the barn where they kept the dairy cows and where the milking parlor was located. A couple of years later they would build the house we stayed in this past weekend on another part of the farm adjacent to the house where Royal, Kim’s father, was born in and on land his father had farmed.
I don’t know whether it was me surprising her at that race that sealed the deal or just being my charming good looking self but as a result, I would go on to take many more trips up to the farm after that because of course we got married and I now had lots of in-laws. I learned how to milk cows, fed pigs, and rode in a combine.
If you are like me and grew up near the ocean in New Jersey, you might not know that the black and white dairy cows are called Holsteins.
On one of those visits, I came around the corner of the barn to find out it was Holstein toenail trimming day. There, working behind the barn were Kim’s brothers Keith and Kerry, the veterinarian, and a cow. The vet had this hydraulic table on the back of his truck that would come out and stand upright next to the cow. Then the cow was secured to the table while standing there on her four legs. Once secured, the table thing would lift up and flip sideways. Now with the cow laying down on its side and its legs sticking out, the vet busted out a circular saw proceeded to zing off the unwanted part of the cow hooves. Once the trimming was done, Kim’s brother pulled out a hypodermic needle the size of a turkey baster and injected some antibiotics into the pads of the hooves to keep the cow from getting an infection. Once all that was done, the cow was flipped back right side up again and unattached and back in the barn she went.
It was an experience I will never forget, but it made me appreciate toenail clippers much more.
As you might expect with cows, and manure pits, and muddy fields and such, trips up to the farm and especially the barn were hard on my Northern Virginia shoes and boots. So early on I got smart and went out to some discount shoe store in Somerset (maybe Walmart) and bought the cheapest pair of shoes I could find and deemed them forever to be my “barn shoes.” They were kind of funny looking but I didn’t care, they were just barn shoes. They would live in one of the cabinets in the garage and be there whenever I needed to make the trip to the barn.
Over the years the cows got sold and the dairy farm got converted to crop farming. Without the cows, my barn shoes got a little less important, and spent more time in the cabinet, though I think I did wear them once last October to feed the pigs.
This weekend I decided to bring my barn shoes home. With Kim’s dad gone and her mom now living up in Davidsville, closer to Johnstown, in a nice assisted living, I probably won’t be spending too much time at the barn.
I will keep them though.
Just in case the manure ever gets a little too deep around here.
And as a nice reminder of past times together with Kim’s family up on the mountain.
I don’t who any of these folks are but this is at the beginning of the race at Somerset High School.Meet the Holsteins! Donny and I meeting with cows. Donny holding a barn cat.Me showing my future mother-in-law how to cook in the kitchen of the old farmhouse. That is Kim’s sister Kate to the leftThat was my vehicle at the time parked near the area of the barn with the milking parlor. The farmhouse is to the left of my vehicle.
Curious, I went to my Bible and found that the license plate couldn’t have meant Mark 17 because there is no Mark 17.
Mark ends at Chapter 16.
So then I decided it had to be Mark 1:7.
“And this was his message: After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie.”
“Not worthy.”
That was John the Baptist who wasn’t worthy, prophesizing in this early Chapter of Mark about the coming of Jesus.
A week or so ago I got one of my daily devotionals through my email that I must admit I don’t read much anymore. It was titled the Angel of Strength. Thinking I could maybe use a little of that right now I quickly skimmed the message.
First, it mentioned Paul, imprisoned in Rome, and his letter to the Philippians. In spite of being imprisoned Paul maintained a positive perspective, ”I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Then the writer mentioned Gideon and refers to him as a “nobody” in Israel, yet Gideon was called on by the “Angel of the Lord” to save Israel from the Midianites.
The writer goes on to say that even in the Old Testament, these theophanies, these visible appearances of God were in fact, Jesus.
.
John the Baptist, “not worthy.”
Paul, down on his luck.
Gideon, a “nobody.”
Man, I thought, this stuff is right up my alley.
I have had a good week.
Sunday was my grandson Ethan’s birthday.
He turned four years old.
Kim, who had to work over the weekend, encouraged me at the last minute to book a flight to Florida and attend Ethan’s party.
So Friday I flew to Florida spent the weekend and returned on Monday.
It was awesome.
For the first time ever, this year I was able to attend the birthday parties of all three of my grandkids, Christian and Cameron’s in June, and Ethan’s on Sunday.
God is good.
I don’t ask for much.
I am not a messenger preparing the way for Jesus’ return.
I am not the most influential leader of the early or modern Christian church.
And I am not a mighty man of valor whose mission is to save a country.
And to my knowledge, I have never been visited by an Angel.
But I have been blessed.
I have the strength to get up every day and do the best I can.
And most importantly, I know where that strength comes from.
Not a sermon, just a blog.
Postscript:
After saving Israel Gideon lived a long and happy life.
Not so for Paul and John the Baptist who were both beheaded.
And the Angel of the Lord appeared to [Gideon], and said to him, “The Lord is with you, you mighty man of valor!” (Judges 6:12)
It is written in Isaiah the prophet: “I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way. A voice of one calling in the desert “prepare a way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.” (Mark 1:2-3)
…as it happened to Gideon who was called to deliver Israel from the Midianites (Judges 6). Gideon was a “nobody” in Israel, but he learned, like Paul, he could do all things through Christ (the Angel of the Lord) who strengthened him. (David Jeremiah)
Ethan, who turned four on Sunday.ChristianCameron, who is on vacation in the mountains this week, eating ice cream.
I’m going away at eventide
Across the wild and the rolling sea
I bid you stay, stay here by my side
And share a last farewell with me
(From Last Farwell, written by Randy Sparks)
Today is Monday, July 19th.
As is typical for a Monday, we had a little harder time waking up, and maybe on this particular Monday an even harder time getting motivated to get out of bed.
So after a longer than usual time drinking coffee and reading emails, we finally got going.
I woke up this morning as I often do with a song in my head.
Randy Sparks wrote the Last Farewell and it was featured on the New Christy Minstrels’ album Ramblin’ in 1963.
I remember this album as a kid because my dad had this album, and because I really liked it.
The New Christy Minstrels were a folk band established by Sparks in 1961. It included at times Barry Maguire (“Eve of Destruction”) and Gene Clark who went on to join the Byrds.
We had one of those huge stereo pieces of furniture with the sliding tops and the record player and AM and FM radio under one of those sliders and a bin for records under the other. It had a couple of speakers behind the decorative cloth and walnut front.
By the time we were old enough to leave home my brother and I pretty much had those speakers blown and by the end all you could hear was vibration and distortion.
The photo above is one that sits on a dresser in the room that Kim and I most often stay in when at my parent’s house.
It’s a photo of Donny with my father on my dad’s boat.
I have gone through lots of photos recently at my parent’s house that have brought back lots of memories and feelings.
This photo reminded me of the few days that Donny spent with my father and mother in between the Fourth of July that summer of 2002 and the next week when my parents took him to his soccer camp in Salisbury, Maryland. Although this pic was taken on a different weekend, my dad and Donny did go out fishing during that stay just a couple of weeks before the accident.
I know my dad valued that short time spent with Donny.
And I remember at Donny’s funeral my father telling me he just wanted to remember Donny as he was the weekend they went fishing.
And though today I guess we are more sensitive to reminders, and in fact may receive more reminders, but the truth is it’s a day to get through.
Because tomorrow will be the same in the obvious sense but a little different. The memories will be more pleasant and enjoyable. We can choose those differently.
As we would like to remember.
Today we can’t always avoid that.
I know I spend a lot of time writing about how much time I have spent with my dad, in particular this past year, and even this past weekend.
It’s been important for him in this period of his life and it has been important to me.
Because I know the time will come when I will value that time spent, even more than I do now.
A wandering song is all I know
Yet, I love you more, more than words can tell…
I leave you now, with a last farewell
(from Last Farewell)
Me and my dad getting into The Haskell spirit this past SaturdayHere is the whole photo
In a post on my website called A Sentimental Racetrack Journey on May 1, 2019, I retold the story of a racehorse named Sir Sidney who I had originally written about in 2014, and how this horse kept popping up in my life’s journey.
In Sir Sidney, My 2020 Horse of the Year, written last August I told the story of how a nice lady named Tiffany found my sentimental racetrack journey story which helped her decide to buy Sid and give him a good home in retirement.
For reasons unknown to me but I am sure understandable, Tiffany had to give Sidney up so I lost track of him once again.
On Monday morning, I got an email. The message line said “Update on Sir Sidney.”
Sid? I thought.
I quickly opened the email and began to read:
Good morning! I recently purchased a lovely OTTB by the name of Sir Sidney. He is absolutely the love of my life and I was doing some research on him hoping to find pics of him in different homes etc. I came across your blog. I have no idea who that Tiffany M lady was, but that’s not who I bought him from so he must have bounced around to a couple more homes before he came to me. I’m emailing you to let you know he will NEVER go anywhere after me. He is the most gentle soul, just looking for someone to love him unconditionally. I’ve started eventing on him and have competed in a couple of small shows already. I’ve hauled him off property to go on trail rides and lessons etc. I dote over that horse,.he now prances around a 10 acre pasture sporting hot pink fly boots, accompanied by an obese Shetland pony (smiley face). I’ll include a few pics of the sweet guy. I hate that he has had such a long journey, but so thankful it led me to him. It feels like he was made for me. This horse is one in a million.
Marilyne
Just like last August with Tiffany, I didn’t know Marilyne.
But I sure knew Sid!
It was a Déjà vu experience.
It was my Groundhog Day!
I had to go back and read Sir Sidney, My 2020 Horse of the Year again!
Then I went back and I read A Sentimental Racetrack Journey again.
Then I emailed Marilyne back.
I thanked her for sending me the email and told her that yesterday was my birthday and hearing about Sid was a great birthday present.
She emailed me back and said she was glad and that Sid brings joy everywhere he goes. She told me how she renamed him Jonas because of her love of the Jonas Brothers and to just know he is super loved and finally has been given a chance to live out his life because he sure had earned it.
Yes, he has.
He’s worked hard all his life and touched many people.
And as Marilyne so nicely put it he brings joy everywhere he goes.
It’s been a nice week, filled with family and memories.
And Sid’s kind of like family now.
So now I have another memory.
And like me, he is semi-retired and doing something fun in his old age with lessons and trail rides.
He can prance around his pasture, and I can prance around my backyard!
(But I’m sorry Sid I am not sporting any hot pink fly boots even if it is only in my yard. No sir!)
And though Marilyne can call him whatever she wants, even Jonas, he will always be Sir Sidney to me.
I remember a time in my life when I prayed for someone to come into my life.
I prayed that in some detail I might add.
Kim was that answered prayer.
Yesterday was Kim’s birthday.
I found this birthday card that said “You’re a Special Gift from an incredible God.”
I liked that.
Because it was true.
Sunday was my birthday. I turned sixty-five. A big milestone I guess.
We had split up for the weekend again, Kim with her mom, and me with my parents.
I had some time to go through a lot of old photos they had packed away in many photo albums.
Lots of memories in those photos, I made as many copies as I could.
Some nice photos of all the kids, Donny, Savannah, Hayley, and Alexa together and some with extended family we didn’t get to be with too often
More gifts from God…my kids.
Though one we had to give back.
Last year on Father’s Day I wrote about a special one from 19 years ago, the last one with all the kids together.
This year was another special one in that I was able to spend it with my dad. Not everyone turning sixty-five is lucky enough to be able to say that.
Another gift, our parents.
Though we had to give one of them back in October.
But I think for me, especially in the last year or so, I have been able to be good son.
I have been blessed with that opportunity.
Though I don’t have any regrets, as a result, however I can’t always say I have been a good father, or a good grandfather.
Grandchildren as you may know, are another gift from God.
Time, priorities, social distancing, travel restrictions, whatever, all made it difficult to focus on more than our parents it seemed.
Of course, we were able to have some grandparent time with Cameron.
And some family time with Savannah and Hayley (and Leon and Malcolm of course),
including celebrating Hayley’s birthday on June 7.
But I still hadn’t seen the Florida kids, Ethan, Christian, Alexa, and Namaan since December of 2019 and that was really starting to get me down.
Then a few days before Christian’s sixth birthday on June 13th, some stars aligned and though Kim was scheduled to be with her mom, she encouraged me to book some flights surprise the kids.
With vaccines and the world returning to some form of normal, it’s been really nice to hug and kiss my local kids and grandchild.
But I must admit it was especially nice to hug and kiss the daughter and grandkids I hadn’t seen in twenty or so months.
And I got to attend the birthday party as well.
As you can tell, June and July have always been eventful months in our lives.
In fact, Monday June 28th was Cameron’s birthday, and we all went out to dinner to celebrate his eleventh birthday.
And in July sadly we remember giving Donny back on the 19th.
But we celebrate Savannah’s birthday on the 20th and Ethan’s birthday on July 25th.
But today sadly, I also remember another gift from God.
My brother Carl.
Because a year ago today we had to give him back.
I am grateful for the gifts God has given me.
And though I don’t always understand, I accept that there will be those times I don’t understand.
It is nice to have memories when you need them.
And it is nice to be able to make new ones for when you need those.
I will share some, some new ones and some old ones:
The photo at the top is one of my brother Carl flying through the air in his backyard. He always had the coolest stuff in his yard. Donny had a soccer tournament in Trenton and we were all able to get over to celebrate my nephew Jason’s graduation from college.
These are from another milestone birthday, my 30th. Hayley was my birthday present that year.
Hayley was about 3 weeks oldThat’s my nephew Johnathon on the right and neighbor Laura Marson on the left helping me outI had to show this one of my niece Chelsea, my dad, and Alexa. Look at Alexa’s face, have you ever seen anything like that?
This was my 46th birthday in 2002. My last with Donny. Savannah is in the refrigerator.
Hayley’s 35th birthday this month.
Here is me on my birthday this week.
Kim and Cam at his birthday celebration and making a wish.
Ethan and Christian packing up after Christian’s party and hugging my kid for the first time in 20 months.
Here are a couple of photos of family in New Jersey. Donny, Savannah, and Hayley in the first one. And a rare one of the whole family with all my kids in it.
My dad this Father’s Day
And here is one more of Carl holding Chelsea and Alexa
Memories.
Gifts from God.
Got to have them, got to love them.
“Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father…” (James 1:17)
Kim and I got up early and walked five miles along the Sugarland Run Trail.
After lunch, we decided to keep moving and ride our bikes, so I loaded up the bikes and drove to downtown Herndon to jump on the W&OD bike trail.
Today, not feeling the cycling cool, I opted not to wear my bike shirt, just a sleeveless tee-shirt and I put my bike pants on under my shorts.
Besides being more practical since I could carry my wallet and phone, though not my goal, the bike pants under my shorts made my butt look bigger.
When you are me, that’s a plus.
I have never been to the Belmont. I have been to the Kentucky Derby, I have been to the Preakness, but never the Belmont. Growing up in New Jersey, not that far from Nassau County on Long Island, I had plenty of opportunities.
I remember a bunch of us watching the Belmont race one year at my friend Ricky’s house back in the 70’s. As we watched the winner being brought into the winner’s circle for the photos and the interviews, there on our TV screen was another good friend and classmate from Oceanport, Chris Nagel smiling and wildly waving his tickets, winners I guessed, while pressed up against the winner’s circle fence and on national TV.
Since I am not normally that lucky when it comes to betting on these races, the 2008 Belmont Stakes is another memory. A long shot named D’Tara won the race at odds of 38 to 1. A horse named Dennis of Cork ran second. Anak Nakal and Ready’s Echo ended up in a dead heat for third. I had all four of those horses boxed in a trifecta (the first three horses) and the exacta (the first two horses). As a result, I landed two trifectas, one with each third-place horse, and the exacta.
Kim got some new patio doors and a front door out of that one.
The problem with biking along the W&OD bike trail is there are beer stops. Heading towards Reston the first stop was The Bike Lane, a bike shop that also brews their own beer. They had a great Kolsch and we sat outside at a picnic table. I asked the guy pouring my beer if Tommy, an awesome young man who attends my church still worked there. “Tom Brown?” he asked, “yeah we call him ‘T Bone,’ he is off today for his sister’s graduation party, I’ll tell him someone was asking about him.”
Another four miles and one very large hill later we stopped at The Caboose, a brewery in Vienna, Virginia adjacent to the bike trail. There we had a Czech and a Citrus Pilsner.
Then it was eight miles and that one big hill back to Herndon, ending at the Green Lizard, our local bike shop, for one more draft beer.
Then home to watch the Belmont Stakes.
It was a good race, though I didn’t get as lucky as I did in 2008. The horse Rombauer who won the Preakness beat my pick, Known Agenda, for third place knocking my trifecta out. But I did have the exacta. Not bad since I just played my birthday numbers and threw in Hot Rod Charlie because he had a good story.
No Triple Crown winner this year, some unneeded drama, now we look forward to next year.
At one point on the way home on the bike trail, Kim and I had gotten separated a bit.
I was riding slow, now tired from the long day.
A bike rider came up behind me and gave the courtesy warning before passing me, “passing on your left.”
Only this guy said, “passing on your left, ma’am.”
I had to laugh.
It was a nice relaxing day.
Lots of exercise.
Lots of sun.
A few beers.
Lots of racing.
And the question,
Was it my hair?
Or my new butt maybe?
That earned me a…
“Passing on your left, ma’am?”
Guess I will never know.
Postscript:
Our feature image is a selfie taken at The Caboose Brewing Company and Tavern in Vienna, Virginia.
