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Hearing With Our Hearts

Hearing With Our Hearts

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Kim shared a message she received from Greg Laurie, a pastor,  this morning that kind of hit home to me of late.

“So many of us tend to run around in our self-made circles of activity instead of wisely and calmly sitting at His feet” and that “We need to be ready to hear what God has to say.”

The author goes on to use the parable of the sower from Matthew 13 where Jesus describes four reactions to hearing the truth.

First, there is the hard heart and the seed on the path or the roadside. The hard heart doesn’t receive the Word and therefore doesn’t produce any fruit.

Next is the shallow heart, which is the seed that fell on the ground filled with rocks and with shallow roots, the emotional who have no depth in their lives, thus bearing no fruit.

Then there is the crowded heart, the seed that goes into the soil embedded with weeds. This seed may take root and bear fruit initially, but the worries of life choke it out.

And of course, lastly, there is the seed that bears fruit, one that sows deep and therefore those will hear the truth in their hearts.

And it is up to us to decide whether we will have a hard heart, a shallow heart, a crowded heart, or a fruitful heart. We determine how we will allow God will affect our lives.  It’s up to us.

We decide if we want to hear with our ears, but not with our hearts.

 

Yeah, I get it.

 

I haven’t written in a while because I have been busy.  I guess I have been running around in my self-made circle of activity again.

 

That is not to say everything has been bad, not at all in fact.

 

Covid cases popping up in the Rehab facility my dad is in and at the Assisted Living where Kim’s mom resides has restricted our ability to visit our parents in the last month.

Though that has been hard we took advantage of our time off from worry and used one free weekend to bottle our newest vintage of Little Chickens Winery called  “Wedding Blend.”

Little Chickens Winery “Wedding Blend”

Then I had to accompany Kim on a trip to Orlando sponsored by her company. I will admit that was hard, but I got through it.

 

Once home from Florida, we had the main event, which you might guess from the “Wedding Blend” was, a wedding.

Yup, Savannah and Leon finally tied the knot.

 

Now, you have to understand in my family, weddings haven’t historically been events to celebrate over the years, and typically when we have a wedding in my family, that means there is a divorce coming.

However, I don’t really believe that will be true of this family wedding or ever again.  And in fact, I said in my father of the bride toast, that finally on this day, I feel like all my girls are in a good place, they are all safe, and they are all happy.

And that makes me happy.

Mr. and Mrs. Boone

Of course, the side benefit of having a wedding is having all my kids and all my grandchildren together at the same time which generally doesn’t happen but maybe every other Christmas, in fact, Christmas of 2019 was the last time we were all together.

And that made me happy too.

Me and my little guys

Normally this past Saturday, November 6th being both Alexa’s birthday and Kim’s mom Faye’s birthday, one or both of us would be traveling maybe in the same direction, maybe not.  Though we had planned to be with Faye on her birthday, the covid restrictions wouldn’t allow that and since Alexa was having to endure her own trip to Orlando and in her case, Disney World this past weekend, Kim and I stayed home.

Instead, we used that time to perform the annual felling of the banana trees.  With Harry Belafonte, playing “De-O The Banana Boat Song” in the background on YouTube, I felled the bananas…trees that is and stacked them in my truck for a trip to the landfill.

Then to end the weekend on a nice note we spent the late afternoon bowling with Cameron, Savannah, and Leon.

Cameron bowling in 2016

In February of 2016, I wrote about bowling in an essay entitled Bowling for Cameron. Being around all my grandchildren on the days surrounding the wedding and also with Cameron on Sunday and my bowling reflection, I realized how much time does not wait for you to find your way out of the weeds. You can miss a lot.

Cameron bowling in 2021

So this morning on my way to work I thought about where my heart has been the last couple of years, and maybe the last many years.

Somewhere between being on ground filled with rocks, and being embedded in the weeds is my guess.

 

But this morning I felt different.

Our parents are in safe places.

My girls are in safe and happy places.

My family shared some way overdue time together as a family (and will do it again this Christmas.)

 

And I am happy.

And best of all, I am calm.

And I am not used to calm.

It is very strange.

 

But maybe that will allow me to pay attention more.

Maybe that will allow me to hear better now.

And not just with my ears.

 

 

Banana trees before the felling
SIGHT WORDS

SIGHT WORDS

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WARNING: This post contains strong language and may use words that may be unsuitable for younger audiences. Reader discretion advised.

 

If you have read some of my posts, you know that my family and particularly my grandchildren often provide the inspiration for my writing.

You might remember Cameron and I sitting on the deck making fart noises into our walkie-talkies; or him telling me that “when I am not alive anymore, he wants my truck;” or the evening I was tucking him into bed after Christmas when he asked poignantly “Pop Pop, why didn’t Santa bring me a tuba?”

 

Then there was Christian providing me the profound “Everybody in Hollywood farts;” or the beating I took with his dramatic “Pop Pop, I haven’t seen you in years and years;” or the Easter Pageant when asked which part did his friend play and he said, “He was Matthew the cash register.” (But I think he meant tax collector).

 

This week it was Christian again who provided some comic relief and writing inspiration.

Christian, who is now in the first grade, attends Hollywood Hills Elementary School in Hollywood, Florida.  This is his first year in an actual live classroom.

After school he attends the Hollywood Hills United Methodist Church Pre School and After School program.  He has been attending this school for a few years now.

This week, he volunteered his time at the church aftercare program to provide some free classes.  His first class he offered was MAP CLASESS.  They were offered at 3:15 ESTERN to 4:00 PM on WENDSDAY & FRIDAYs. And he offered an area where you could SiAN UP HERE but he cautioned “DON’t CROSS the City BORDERS” and to “ASK Christian BEFORE SIANING UP.”

As you can see clearer in this second photo his sign-up white board was displayed prominently on an easel in the church.

 

Christian loves maps and loves tracking hurricanes on his maps and drawing maps as well.  I still have some drawings on my refrigerator from Christmas 2019, the last time he was at my house.

 

But it was the second class he offered this week that gained the most attention.

Those would be his Sh*t WORD CLASESS for grades K – 1 offered on TUESDAY ThURSDAY & FRiDAYS.

After some research it was learned that his intention was to have classes for Sight Words for grades K – 1, but innocently, of course, misspelled Sight as Shit.

I have to admit, I don’t know sh*t about what “sight words” are…I had to look it up.

But I do know some sh*t words!

 

Wouldn’t we all want to be holding a class on Sh*t words?

 

I can just imagine my class:

 

“Okay class, today’s word is “Sh*tshow.”  Would anyone like to volunteer to use the word sh*tshow in a sentence?”

“OOO” “OOO” (Bobby raising hand and waving excitedly).

“Okay Bobby, what is your sentence?”

“This Congress is a real “Sh*tshow!”

“Now, now Bobby, you know we don’t like to talk politics in this class.”

Bobby, thinking to himself “it’s about sh*t words…how do you not talk about politics?”

“Well okay then, how about ‘this class is a real “sh*tshow!’  “And not only that, you are a real “Sh*thead.”

“Very good Bobby! You will get extra credit for using two “Sh*t” words in your presentation!”

“Now class, before I lose my “Sh*t”…would anyone like to talk about maps?”

 

I would like to thank the Hollywood Hills United Methodist Church Pre and After School teachers for not correcting or removing Christian’s white board ad and encouraging his efforts.

 

I am very proud of all my grandsons; Cameron, Christian, and Ethan and I would encourage and support them in whatever venture they would like to pursue.

Yup, I am one proud Pop-Pop.

 

And that ain’t no bullsh*t.

 

Postscipt:

By the way that school photo of Christian above is hot off the press and received just today.

Feet Faddish Two

Feet Faddish Two

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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!”

Well, let’s not get too carried away.

I am just going to enjoy the day.

Banana trees
the back yard
my palm tree
You Are My Sunshine

You Are My Sunshine

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This has really been an emotional day.

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.

My sunshine fading away on 9/11/2021
Are You My Mother?

Are You My Mother?

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It was probably the summer of ’97.

There was this girl I liked.

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.

A Birthday Blessing

A Birthday Blessing

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It’s August 11, 2017.

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.

God, we thank you for this woman of God…

Thank you for Dorothy Lockett.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen”

 

Yes, in Jesus’ name, we thank you.

A blessing.

Another gift from God.

Amen.

 

Happy Birthday Momma!

We love you more!

 

Postscript:

The photo above is from Christmas Eve 2012. From the left, that is Hayley, Alexa, Savannah, Kim, Kim’s sister Kate, and Momma.

And if anyone reads this and knows the name of the author of that prayer please email me.

 

Momma and her daughter Cookie at the 2017 Birthday Party.
Momma Christmas Eve 2009
Christmas Eve 2013
Dorothy at the “family table.”
MWWK17 and Other Stuff

MWWK17 and Other Stuff

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I saw this license plate while driving this week.

It read MWWK17.

I took it to mean Mark 17.

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.
Christian
Cameron, who is on vacation in the mountains this week, eating ice cream.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day

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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.

 

It was a nice birthday present.

It brought me some joy.

My sentimental racetrack journey continues.

Sid is truly is one in a million.

In fact, he is one of millions.

Yet he keeps coming back into my life.

 

And so once again…

I found my Sir Sidney.

 

Sid and Marilyne. Thank you!

 

Nope, I ain’t doing it
It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, No It’s a Gift From God

It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, No It’s a Gift From God

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Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary.

Kim and I will be married 21 years tomorrow.

 

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 old
That’s my nephew Johnathon on the right and neighbor Laura Marson on the left helping me out
I 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)

Memorial Day Unmasked

Memorial Day Unmasked

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In my hometown of Oceanport, New Jersey, there is a parade held on Memorial Day each year.  Over the years  I marched in that parade as a Cub Scout, as part of the Maple Place School band, as a Boy Scout, and as an Oceanport Hook & Ladder volunteer fireman.

In my younger years, my neighbor Warren Del Vecchio always played Taps on his trumpet from the hill overlooking the town memorial located on a small island of grass with a monument and a flagpole at the confluence of three streets in the area of town known as Wolf Hill. His trumpet would sound from the hill behind us immediately after the honor guard from Fort Monmouth finished shooting their rifles in the air in salute.  It always brought on chills.  To me as a young person, Warren’s playing of Taps earned him celebrity status and I always felt like I was important because I knew him personally, kind of like “yeah, I know that guy, he is my neighbor.”

Like most events during the pandemic, last year’s Memorial Day parade in Oceanport, as it was in hometowns all over our country, was canceled.

This year, however, due to vaccines and our beginning to return to some state of normalcy, the parade goes on, though sadly in my opinion, since I have moved away, the route no longer terminates at Wolf Hill, with the monument and the flag pole.

The President told us earlier in the year, if we were all good, we could spend the Fourth of July with our families without distancing and even without wearing masks.

We must have been really good because its only Memorial Day and the masks are coming off all over the place and groups are gathering once again.

I am still not sure how to handle the change in mask usage and it’s obvious when you enter a store where masks are not required and everyone is still wearing one, the rest of the world is too.  After a year of socially hiding, I have grown comfortable with being unsocial and putting on my hat, my sunglasses, and my mask and going to the grocery store hoping no one will recognize me.

And then there are the situations like the time I was at the self-checkout and the loaf of rye bread I just waited fifteen minutes to have sliced didn’t show up under the bakery search as a price option and I finally had to get the attendant to assist me, all the while the blood was receding from lips and face as they took on a nice grayish color and tightened up tautly.  Thankfully, all this was happening under the cover of my mask.  As far as the grocery attendant knew, I was smiling even though at that point I was only able to point and grunt at the rye bread and the touch screen.

And I can’t ignore the fact that I can’t remember the last time I had a cold or have been sick.

 

Then just when you think it’s safe to go out of the house, THEY’RE BACK!

Like an old 1950’s science fiction movie, they come crawling out of holes in the ground every seventeen years.  They fly across the sky clumsily like Flash Gordon’s spaceship from the 1930’s serials. And the rhythmic whirring sounds in the air all around might as well be signaling a flying saucer invading Earth from outer space.

They get in your hair, they cancel out your cell phone audio, they just plain creep you out.  Like some prehistoric creature whose ability to naturally evolve has been robbed, they seem out of place in our new world.

Hey Cicadas…it’s the 21st century, we have Africanized Honey Bees and` Murder Hornets now. We drive electric F-150’s, and watch shows like Pooch Perfect and The View  on TV’s that have flat screens!  We have evolved!

You guys need to get to the gym.

 

It is nice to see Memorial Day weekend signaling the unofficial beginning of summer and returning to its traditions.

Oceanport will have its parade.

My brother  Carl’s annual Memorial Day party will go on, as he would have wanted.  He will be there in spirit I am sure.

I am able to kiss my mother and father this weekend without guilt, and most importantly, without a mask.

And I will admit it is nice to have at least the option to be social again.

 

And of course, we can’t forget the real reason for the day that gives us the three day weekend and the  excuse to parade, eat hot dogs, drink beer, and go to the beach:

Those brave men and women who gave their lives defending our freedom.

May God bless each and every one of them and may their families feel proud and appreciated for their sacrifice, in grief and in memory.

Thank you.

 

My brother Carl, Memorial Day 2020. May he be resting in peace, because he deserves to be.

Postscript:

The feature photo is from the Oceanport Memorial Day Parade in May of 1969 when I was in the seventh grade and is courtesy of my friend Kathy MacDonald.  That tall fellow at the end of the saxophone line is me.  That is Kathy’s brother Bob next to me.  Also in that line is Veronica Bradley and David Halpstein (not sure that is correct last name, if you are reading this from Oceanport help me out).