Written by I don’t remember any of the sounds from that day…no particular words or conversations…the memories just begin in silence as my mind plays the repeating images of smoke and buildings and planes and ash. Not the peaceful silence associated with contemplation or reflection, but the sudden silence that follows the loud noise that wakes you in the middle of the night. It is thick and ominous. It represents the removal of sound rather than the mere absence of it. It is colored with hate, confusion, sorrow, and uncertainty. Ultimately, the images of destruction from early in the day yield to recollections of acts of selflessness and heroics demonstrated by individuals from all walks of life who responded to a call to help and to fight. In the end, I remember courage. READ MORE »
What’s that up ahead?
It seems like there are events in life that are triggered by the most random catalysts. The impacts are subtle. So much so that in the midst of the event and in the early aftermath you aren’t quite sure what just happened… but you know there is a difference outside of the obvious change that took place. I can always identify them in retrospect, but I am rarely able to see them coming. READ MORE »
I loved my friend
I stepped outside. The miserable heat was slowly losing its grip on the day as the sun inched downward toward the horizon. I watched the boys on the trampoline for a moment; laughing heartily, and all dripping wet from having just soaked one another with the hose. This was the late summer ritual. The evenings would cool just enough to make extended outdoor play tolerable, but the trampoline surface would be too hot for bare feet. The boys would spray the surface to cool it down, and each other just because. I continued on. I crumpled up the newspaper pages as I headed to the edge of the patio. Activity on the trampoline slowed a little, and the laughter began to die down. I lifted the lid off the Weber and removed the top grate. The boys fell silent. The stress of a few springs bringing the trampoline to rest was the only sound. I stuffed the newspaper in the bottom of the chimney and set it in the bowl. I turned to see them standing still with broad smiles as they watched me pour the coals into the cylinder . I reached into my pocket to retrieve the lighter, and as the smoke rose from the fire igniting the paper, one of the boys yelled out, “Barbecue!!” READ MORE »
…while we are absent, one from another…
One hundred eighty. That is roughly the number of days dedicated to the school year. Those days are spread out over several months, and the year-round school schedule we follow helps distribute the load across the seasons. Still, that is almost half of the year spent within the walls of a school, and outside the immediate influence and oversight of parents… I take a step back and try to think of it in terms of actual time spent. The school hours associated with those days come to about 1,170 for Jaden and Dillon; 1,260 for Logan. Even at first glance, it seems to me like a lot of hours. When I consider the time I spend away at work during those same 180 days, I figure I get to spend about 270 hours with the kids (If I don’t travel). I add another 600 hrs if I include 12 hours per day on the weekends. I’m still losing ground. READ MORE »
Just a little farther
When I was around 4 years old, I convinced a couple of my friends to join me in eating a few berries from the plants that grew on the grounds of our pre-school. We would pass the orange/yellowish berries on the way to and from recess most days, and also on the walk to the main center where we awaited parent pick up. I rationalized that they must be safe to eat. These looked like berries a forest creature would love, so why not give them a try, right? I believe my official position was something like, “well, bears eat ‘em” (Hey, they bought this argument too, so…). We hesitated initially… then the, “You first. No YOU first. No you. You. How many?” exchange ensued. READ MORE »
