Browse Category: Stories

I LOVE NEW YORK

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

(CLICK PICTURES TO ENLARGE)

NOW, more than two full weeks since the unbelievable attack on the Twin Towers in New York City, my feelings are still those of shock, sadness and anger. Over these past two weeks, I have attempted to write several times but was not able to get my thoughts out. My thoughts were two chaotic and emotional. They ran into each other and overlapped each other. The attack on the World Trade Center feels personal to me. There are several reasons for this.

I have lived almost my entire thirty-eight years in New Jersey. The few times that I have lived out of the state, I have still retained my New Jersey identity and have always preferred to be here (as strange as that may sound to some). In 1982, I attended a college in Minneapolis, Minnesota for about five months. As people stood in line to register and began to make conversation, it was soon discovered that I was from New Jersey. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by lots of kids from Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri and other Midwest states. Immediately the interrogation began. Question 1: “What do you drink for lunch?” Answer: “Soda.” Response: “Yuk! Yuk! Yuk! It’s POP!” POP? That’s a name for my grandfather! Question 2: “What do you pack your lunch in?” Answer: “A paper bag.” Response: “Yuk! Yuk! Yuk! It’s a paper SACK!” A SACK? That’s for potatoes! Question 3: “How do you say DOG?” Answer (in my best NJ accent): “DAWG!” Go ahead, laugh if you want. I think your winters are too cold and it has damaged your brains. I’m going home! I also lived in Easton, Pennsylvania for a few years. But I worked in Jersey and most of my friends lived there. So it felt like I still lived in Jersey. I also spent a few brief months in Nowhere-ville, West Virginia. That is a story for another day.

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When you live most of your life in northern New Jersey, New York City just feels like part of your “neighborhood.” I live about 70 miles (driving miles) west of Manhattan. Without traffic, I can make it to the city in just over an hour. (No comments on my speeding addiction right now. Thank you.) It is common to see the New York skyline from many points in eastern New Jersey. Of course, the Twin Towers were the first and most noticeable objects of that skyline.

Now all has changed.

I FEEL robbed. Something personal has been taken from me. No, I cannot lay claim to a tragic loss of a loved one who was in one of those buildings, or a brother who was a New York City fireman lost while trying to save others, or even a close friend who was injured on September 11. However, I still feel a sense of loss. The feeling of loss was immediate when I heard the news. Do we all not feel that loss, those of us who are American? Tell me my Hawaiian and Alaskan brothers so far from lower Manhattan. Did you not feel some kind of loss as soon as you heard the news? Furthermore, do we not all feel the loss, those of us who are human and decent? Yes, we do.

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For me personally, it is not only the loss of a spectacular and familiar skyline. I have certain attachments to New York City, some of which go back many years. I love New York!

Sometimes when I go to New York I have very strong remembrances of my dear grandfather. I remember going to see a rodeo at Madison Square Garden when I was young. For a souvenir I got one of those little flashlights on a plastic cord that you could swing around over your head when the lights went down in the Garden. (I think they are outlawed now because too many little sisters got beaned in the head by overly excited older brothers at rodeos.) I also remember my grandfather taking us to see the New York Rangers play hockey at the Garden. One time I brought a friend and our seats were a few rows away from Pop, just far enough for him to be unable to distinguish our 14-year-old voices screaming out the “F-word” (of which we were very fond at that age) from the roar of the rest of the fans.

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New York City was also instrumental in developing a rather humanitarian and compassionate side of my character. At least 10 to 12 years ago, while going through my first divorce and raising J, S and T on my own, I was made aware of the terrible situation of the homeless in New York. A friend of mine from church was working at an inner city mission. He took me to Manhattan to help him distribute clothing on the streets at the Port Authority building. I was speechless at the condition of such poor people. I was somewhat ashamed for complaining at all about my own condition. I returned home that day with a pounding headache and a changed heart. After that day, my friend and I were able to mobilize our small church of about 40 people to send groups of people every Saturday through the winter to bring clothing to the homeless. That was not good enough. We also began bringing bagged lunches to these people. A group from the church would meet on Friday nights, sort through donated clothing and make sandwiches assembly line fashion. That was not good enough. It was cold and people needed hot food. So we made homemade chicken noodle soup (which my grandfather taught me to make), packed the soup in individual cups with spoons and packets of crackers taped to the sides, and distributed those too. That was not good enough! These were humans we were dealing with. There should be a certain amount of dignity that goes along with being human and with helping a fellow human. We gathered Band-Aids, Chapstick, combs, and other personal items. We put them into plastic bags and called them “dignity packs.” What a difference that made to someone who was used to sleeping on a piece of cardboard on a dirty New York sidewalk while many people walked by without even noticing, without caring to ask their names. Sometimes the only attention they got was to be spit on, cursed at or shoved out of the way. Sure, I have some moral quandaries that I struggle with over the issue of helping the poor, especially those who are able to work but are just too lazy. “If a man does not work, neither let him eat.” But I personally met many that for one reason or another were in a position where they could not help themselves very much, especially the elderly. My experience among these homeless people changed my heart in a permanent way. It was all done in the context of a city that is huge and often cold. Still, I love that city.

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OVER the past several months I have made some good friends in New York City. I have spent time there in business meetings, site seeing, and visiting with friends. Since July, I have spent nearly every Sunday in New York City. I was there on Sunday, September 9, just two days before the Towers crashed to the ground. A mere two weeks before that, a close friend and I had dinner at Windows on the World, the restaurant that was on the 107th floor of Tower One. Neither of us could believe the news on September 11. Not only Manhattan, but also the Twin Towers themselves had come to have special significance to us. When we drove to the city on Sunday, September 16, the absence of the Towers was glaring. We had been robbed, and worse.

I WAS almost to work on September 11, driving on Route 78 in New Jersey when I happened to turn on the radio and caught the tail end of a news report saying something about the World Trade Center. I thought, “Gee, I wonder what’s going on.” I changed stations and heard that a second plane had just crashed into the buildings. Instantly the faces of waiters and waitresses who had served us at the restaurant came flashing into my mind. Two minutes later I came over the mountain near exit 33 and I could see the smoke rising from over 20 miles away! I could not believe it! It was not real! It had to be a mistake! But when I entered the office there was nothing but somber faces. Someone had a radio on and all were listening in disbelief. Then Tower Two fell. Something happened at the Pentagon but no one was quite sure what. Tower One fell.

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Most of us left work early that day. We went home to talk with our children and watch the news. We could not take our eyes off of the images on our television screens. It was too awful, too huge, too unexpected. We waited for the President to speak that night while our perceptions of our country shifted. Are we as strong as we always assumed? Are we truly the people that we always told ourselves that we were? Within minutes the heroism began to shine through the smoke and rubble of destroyed buildings and airplanes. As the flags unfurled, a national consciousness was awakening. Many petty differences crumbled along with those buildings. Our courage and our patriotism rose. Unity was strengthened and we were comforted when our leader spoke that evening. Now we are awake. Now we are determined. Now we are even more American than we were when we retired for the evening on September 10. Now may God guide us in making our country and the world safer.

I PERSONALLY hold the sentiment that I have heard expressed by many of my fellow Americans. I will continue to live as a free man. I will continue to pursue my goals and dreams. I will not let some low-life, evil-hearted bastard cause me to give up my freedom out of fear. Certainly I will be more careful for my safety and the safety of those that I love. But I will walk on. I will support the efforts to rid the world of terrorism that this country will make. I will teach my children about the world that we live in. I will teach them to let the stark realities of the cruelties of this world drive them to become better people. Just as murder and heinous brutalities are realities, so are courage, excellence, kindness, goodness, compassion, and success. I will teach them to pursue these things with just as much devotion and seriousness as the fanatics who crashed those planes and killed our people. I will inspire them to love with all of their hearts, mindful that such love often leaves one’s heart open and vulnerable to attack by those who have no heart. I will instill in them the belief that in the end, whether it has been betrayed, murdered or simply ignored, love will always rise again and will endure forever. “Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

SO WHAT are my plans for this weekend? You got it! I am going to New York! In fact, I will be in New York City before most of you even read this article tonight! I just cannot stay away!

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I WROTE SOMETHING IN AUGUST

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

Check out this one: “Alright Already !!!!! Its almost the end of August and no entry!!! I know you and what you have been doing!!!! Get with the program and write something!!!! NY, DC, X-Games, Bowel Movement, anything!!! Come on!!!”

OKAY THEN! I will give in and write “something.” That’s what everyone wants. Right? I need to write “something” for August. Right? Okay. S – O – M – E – T – H – I – N – G. Everybody happy now? I wrote “something.” “Something” is better than “nothing.” Right? And it is a little more to the point than “anything.” Right? So to write “something” is a pretty good idea. Now I am glad that I wrote it. I hate writing “nothing.” It’s so disappointing. “Nothing.” What is “nothing” anyway? What does it look like? Can it even have a look if it is “nothing?” Hmm. Depressing. “Something” is definitely better than “nothing.” Wouldn’t you say? And I really do not like “anything.” Wow! That just made me sound rather negative! But really, I don’t like “anything.” It scares me. It’s too wide. Too undefined. Anything could happen when writing about “anything.” Who knows where a guy could end up if he starts writing about “anything!” Writing about “anything” undoubtedly leads to “anywhere.” And that is not a safe place for a guy to be. I need to be “somewhere,” not just “anywhere.” Maybe it’s my desperate need to be “somewhere” that compels me to write “something” so that I don’t end up just “anywhere” if I start writing about just “anything.” Man! I feel much better that I wrote “something” instead of just “anything!” Whew! At least now I know that I am “somewhere” and I feel a whole lot better! I was starting to scare myself just thinking about “anything.” It’s not good to think about just “anything.” There are some things that you really should not let your mind think about. “Anything” is one of them. You will end up in trouble most of the time if you allow yourself to think about “anything.” Trouble is “somewhere” that you do not want to be. Now I hear someone object: “But you just said that ‘anything’ leads to ‘anywhere’, yet trouble is ‘somewhere.'” Ah! You see, if you persist in thinking about “anything” and end up “anywhere” you will eventually sink to the bottom and find yourself “somewhere.” That kind of “somewhere” is never a good “somewhere.” So when you find yourself drifting on the currents of thoughts about “anything” and floating along “anywhere” you have to quickly come to your senses, think about “something” so that you can end up “somewhere” where you really want to be. Get it? It always comes back to “something.” “Something” is the answer. “Something” is always the answer. So don’t just settle for “anything,” reach for “something.”

NOW about the other things suggested in the about mentioned email. NY? DC? Nope. My heart tells me that it would be sacrilegious to write about that. Besides, dear anonymous emailer, just by mentioning those things I know that you already know. Why do you want to hear it again? Sure, I love to talk about NY and why I go there. But it will be better if I tell you again in person so that you can see the glow on my face. The X-Games. Yeah, that is kind of “something” to write about. What a cool time that was in Philadelphia today! I might even post a gallery of photos from the X-Games. But really, your suggestion to write about Bowel Movement, now that is S – O – M – E – T – H – I – N – G! That is “something” with substance! That is “something” that would make for a real juicy entry! “Something” for everyone to sink their teeth into! Uh… Maybe not. Besides, I’ve written about BM a few times before. Check out December 30, 2000 – “Snow and Chinese Food” and January 3, 2001 – “The Battle of Snydersburg.”

OKAY EVERYONE. I have written “something” in August. It’s not much of “anything,” but it is “something.” A little “something.” At least I can not be accused of writing “nothing” now. So that is that.

RANDOMNESS

sam09302000

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

YOU KNOW WHAT? It’s hot in here. The place is a mess. Clutter everywhere. Dishes piled high. It’s five kids against one dad right now. Dad is losing the battle. My strategy? Through my hands in the air. Mumble some words that I wish were not in my vocabulary. Turn up the music and WRITE! I am listening to a great band from Philadelphia called Isle of Q. Blistering tunes! Funny thing is that the cover to the CD player is broken. The player won’t play if the top is up. So I have a big ol’ 28 ounce can of “unpeeled crushed tomatoes” on top of the thing to keep the top down! Such is my life.

Now, I have to get caught up a little bit here. I always have lots of things that I intend to write about, lots of pictures I intend to post in the picture gallery and not enough time or energy to pull it all off sometimes. So I thought I would write an entry of random things that have been on my mind. You may click on some of the photos below to see larger versions. There are a few links to new photo galleries. Plus there are a few links to some great websites. So here I go, off to write… right after this song, “Bag of Tricks.” Oh man! This band makes me want to grow my hair, buy a new drum set, quit my job and play rock-n-roll until the end! Okay, so we all know that my hair will never grow very long again now. (There’s an idea, a picture gallery from my old long hair days.) So I think I’ll shave my head, shave my beard (except for a thin little goatee), pierce my ear (again), wear nothing but black leather and speak only in grunts. That’s pretty rock-n-roll, huh?


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ICE CREAM IN A THUNDERSTORM

We had so much rain on Saturday, June 23! Thunderstorms kept rolling through all day long. Of course, the first one started just moments before I was ready to carry all of my nice, clean, DRY laundry out to the car after spending two hours at the laundromat! Then the “photo bug” bit me while I was driving home. That happens to me now and then. I just get an inspiration for some good photo shots or just a crazy idea for a photo theme (as you will see as you read on). I am learning to live with this “photo-spontaneity” by carrying my camera with me nearly everywhere I go these days. I am also the crazy idiot driving in front of you in the morning who pulls over to the shoulder of the road, jumps out and clicks off some pictures while you are still cursing at me for not using my directional signal! Well, yes, sometimes I pull over. Other times I just take pictures while I am driving. (Yes, Friend D, I know you yelled at me for doing that while driving to Harrisburg in the rain. I just can’t help it!)

On this particular Saturday, M insisted that we stop for ice cream. I, being the “nutrionally-minded” father that I am, insisted that we eat lunch first. So, we went to KFC and the girls had some good ol’ greasy chicken. (I was saving room for my lunch.) When we got to the ice cream place, it was raining so hard. We sat on a little patio behind the ice cream stand. The patio had a tin roof which made the rain sound incredibly loud. But after a few good thunderclaps, the girls were scurrying to the car and they finished their ice cream there. (I was still saving room for my lunch.) Then, with the girls’ bellies satisfied, we made our way through all the rain so that Dad could finally eat. Bring on the sushi! (see below)

So, here is a gallery of RAINY DAY PICTURES that I took that day.


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CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG?

Check out this guy! I took this picture while at a standstill in morning traffic. This guy was just flying along in the opposite direction than the traffic was headed. I was wondering if he got fed up, got his little plane out of the trunk, left his car on the highway and took off! (I apologize that the larger pic is not so clear. It got messed up when I was resizing it.)


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MY KIND OF GIRL!

Now check this out! T and I were out one day during the 4th of July week. We were looking for a new bike for him. This is what he wanted for his eighth grade graduation/birthday present. While we were driving through downtown, we saw this couple walking along. Something just did not look right as we went by. I said to T, “Did you see that?” He said, “Yeah! She has a tire in that baby stroller!” So, we quickly turned around and I clicked off this “drive-by photo.” (Sorry for doing that again, Friend D!) We laughed ourselves sick as we drove away. I thought to myself, “Now that is the kind of girl I need – a girl who will not only take care of my child but my wheels also!” This one gets the prize for photo of the month!


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I DID IT ALL FOR THE SUSHI!

What a find! Friend J discovered a new Japanese restaurant not too far from his house and right on my way home from work. You have to understand that Japanese restaurants are not very common in our area. I’ve been there more times than I will honestly admit to over the past month. It is a very nice place for several reasons, and for one in particular. (Some of you know what I mean.) I have even gotten brave enough to eat some pretty funky stuff! Eel is a lot better than I had imagined. And octopus! Oh my! Now I understand why Yen mentions sushi so often! Once you start you just can’t stop! Oh my! I have a raw fish addiction!

Okay. Here are the vitals on the place. If you live nearby, stop in and tell them I sent you!

Sa Ku Ra Japanese Restaurant
(at the King Buffet)
190 Center Street
Clinton, NJ 08809

(908) 238 – 1788 or (908) 713 – 9292


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TEEN TALK AT 2AM

You just never know when the “important” conversations in life are going to arise. Most of them are not scheduled or planned. They just happen, usually when you least expect them. One of those conversations happened at an hour when I did not expect it and was not in the mood to deal with it. It was a weekend when my boys had a few friends staying overnight. I fell asleep around midnight, only to wake up to the sounds of teenagers laughing outside at 1:15. I got dressed. Put on that “Dad-means-business” face and chased them all inside. 30 minutes later, a few more kids showed up outside and appeared to be up to no good. So, I put on that “Mr.-Snyder-means-business” face and chased those guys away. 15 minutes later, conversation struck.

While cooling off outside for a few minutes, my recently-turned-15-year-old daughter came outside and sat on the steps. The next thing I knew, I was faced with some heavy teenage questions about drug abuse, alcoholism, divorce and more. My first impulse was to just say that I was too tired and run away from the situation. But I realized that this may be one of the only opportunities that I might have to discuss such things with my girl. We had a very honest talk about experimenting with marijuana and alcohol. It was such a flashback to my days as a 15-year-old when I tried these things a handful of times. I remember getting high one time and listening to Foreigner’s “Cold as Ice.” What a bad experience! I was so completely paranoid that everytime I close my eyes, my mother and her three sisters were singing background vocals! Yikes! You could count the times that I tried that stuff on one hand and the times that I had a little too much alcohol on the other. It was never really “my thing.” I was always so afraid that something would happen to my brain and I would not be normal – or even less normal than I already was. These thoughts actually helped me to talk about these things with my daughter at such an ungodly hour. I remembered what a confusing, lonely, empty time 15 was for me. Hopefully some of my words will stay with her and help her through her tough years. I often feel that most of my efforts in guiding and instructing these three teenagers are almost in vain. But I just have to continue on. Speak the words. Make the rules. And listen to their hearts. I am learning to read between all the “F-words” and see what may be actually going on inside of them. To shut them down because of bad language or anger is not going to help them work through things. Certainly, they need to be held accountable for bad or hurtful language. Words do matter. But the heart of a teenager matters more.


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ANOTHER BIRTHDAY PARTY

We had a surprise party for the above mentioned recently-turned-15-year-old back in June. It was a little hard to pull off the surprise since she has a mind of her own and planned her birthday totally different than what was already planned. On the way to Sister C’s (where we had the party), S was even mumbling how the rest of the family did not remember her birthday and did not even call. The typical teenage “I-hate-my-life” attitude was thick in the air! It took her a few minutes to lighten up once we got there and she saw the rest of the family. Then we all had a great time. All except for poor M. She was so exhausted that she slept through the whole party. Of course, Pop and the boys played outside. They had an all out battle going with several different balls being thrown at anyone who walked through the yard. I claimed immunity since I was with “the press” just taking pictures.

Here is a gallery of photos from S’s BIRTHDAY PARTY.


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NIGHT PICTURES

Another “photo-spontaneity” experience happened during the 4th of July week while I was off from work. We had been visiting my mom. It was around 10:30 PM when we got home. H and M were asleep. The idea struck me to go out and take pictures of neon signs. So I got my bike ready, grabbed my camera and took off. I rode around until 1 AM. After passing the second drunk guy weaving down the sidewalk, I realized that riding around on a brand new bike at midnight with a digital camera hanging from my neck may not have been the best of ideas. But I survived and here is a gallery of pictures: Neon Signs, Etc.


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THE NEXT KARATE KID

Check out who got the leading role for the next “Karate Kid” movie! (Just click the question mark.)


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IT’S ALL ABOUT THE pezflag50

Okay. In reality it is NOT all about the PEZ. But you have to admit that PEZ is cool! I have a bunch of cool PEZ guys: Spiderman, the Incredible Hulk, a smiley face guy, a Santa (from Friend D). This PEZ was an especially cool find. Lucky Charms has always been my favorite cereal. (I always eat all of the oats first and then eat the marshmallows when they are soft on the outside and still crunchy inside. Mmmm.) So to have a “Lucky” PEZ guy is totally cool.


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A BEAUTIFUL SITE, A BEAUTIFUL PERSON

Here is a really nice journal and art site by a super nice lady. Please check it out and sign up on her notify list. I encourage you to read her entries and get to know Jarta.




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T’s SKETCHES

Here are a few sketches that T did in school. They are pretty good! I thought I would put them up here as a way of saying, “Hey! I am proud of you!” T had some bad experiences in school this year with a few teachers who are simply asses. (Yeah. I said the “A-word.”) I am just glad that he is done with that school now and will be moving on to the high school with S and J. Sister Ch is tutoring T over the summer and we all hope that he will get a good start on his freshman year starting in September.

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THE B-CARD

Want one? Just think of their value on ebay_up one day! If you would like one, just CONTACT ME. Give me your name and address and I will mail one to you. Oooo! Free stuff!

BIKING AT ISLAND BEACH STATE PARK

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

I HAVE to do some catching up here. Last weekend, on Saturday the 9th, I went biking at Island Beach State Park here in New Jersey. On Sunday the 10th, I was determined to write this entry and even posted the page with a short blurb to greet a few people that I met on Saturday and gave my business card to. But, being in the “Jersey shore mode” after being there by myself on Saturday, I took the kids to the boardwalk at Point Pleasant on Sunday afternoon, got home at 10 PM and had no energy left to write. Then, of course, life continued to happen the rest of the week. That’s the funny thing about life, it won’t wait for you to write all of your journal entries before it decides to move right along while you are looking the other way. Now, here it is, a full week since last Saturday. I was going to do a long bike ride again today. But the thunderstorms have me trapped inside so far. So, I tossed the new Black Crowes CD into the player, made myself a few slices of frozen pizza. I have to finish this entry before it gets too stale and dies in my “Drafts” folder like a dozen others.

AS A FEW of you know, I had intended to go away to Mystic, Connecticut for the weekend last week. I have been in desperate need of a break and a few days away! This little trip would have been a first for me. I have never taken a weekend off to go away just for the sake of having a little vacation. For so long now life has been work, kids, work, kids, work, kids- not to mention work and kids! I just need a minute to catch my breath! Since Connecticut is not too far from New Jersey, I thought I would go there. I had been to Mystic Seaport on a high school band trip in my junior year. I have a vague memory that it was a nice place. I also have an embarrassing memory of getting suspended from the band along with a lot of other kids on that trip. Ask Pastor B! He was the band director then. He will tell you! Better yet, let me tell you a little.

That was a crazy trip! It was like a good portion of the kids in the band just let loose! I remember seeing one kid falling down drunk on the stairs at the motel. A group of us took the sheets off our bands and ran around the motel in “togas.” When we went into a bar at the place and were confronted by the motel manager, we knew we went a little too far. I ran outside and came into our room through the window. I made the bed, went back out through the window, came into the front of the motel. It just seemed like chaos at that point. The manager was running around yelling, “Where are the chaperones for this Warren Hills group?” I simply said to someone as I walked in, “Hey, what’s going on?” I escaped trouble for the moment.

Later that night a lot of kids did more crazy stuff. One girl climbed out of her window and into the window of the room next to hers, which had been empty earlier. Well, someone had rented the room and grabbed her as she came in. Busted! A lot of kids were drinking and getting stoned out in the woods near the motel. The four of us in our room were pretty tame that night. But we ended up in the most trouble! Our room was on the ground floor. At some point close to midnight, two girls banged on our window and begged us to let them in because the cops were out looking for the kids that were partying. I remember that I was asleep but woke up when one of the other guys let these two fugitives in. All I remember was seeing two girls climbing in through the window and Johnny Carson’s face smiling on the television. The girls slept in our bathroom. I went back to sleep. In the morning the girls left and within minutes our phone rang. They were busted! We were busted!

When one of the guys answered the phone that morning, we could all hear Pastor B yelling so loudly that it was as if he were in the room! When we reported to his room we were all scared. This guy served in the Marines! This guy has a scar that is so mean looking that it makes Frankenstein’s scars look like beauty marks. I will never forget when Pastor B kicked the corner of the mattress on the bed and half of it lifted about four feet into the air! He sent us backed to our room and ordered us to be confined there. No breakfast. Nothing. Just sit in the room and wait for further orders. We were dead! We sat in that room until all the rest of the marching band had eaten breakfast, packed up their things and loaded onto the buses. A few merciful souls brought a few leftovers from their breakfast. At least there were no bars on the windows! Then the four felons were led out to the chartered buses filled with the somber faces of our band comrades. The decision of the court marshal was that the four of us were suspended from the band for the rest of the year. This was not a good thing since two of us were the bass player and the drummer for the jazz band, which had a competition yet while we were on that trip! But Pastor B, since he is one of those warm hearted Marines, lessened our sentence and decide that we were only suspended from the marching band, not the jazz band, and only for the duration of the trip, not the whole school year. Whew!

Time to change CDs. How about the new Electric Light Orchestra CD, “Zoom?” Be right back!

SO why didn’t I go to Connecticut last weekend, you ask. Well, the weekend before that, T started getting sick. His throat was sore. His head was stuffed up. By Monday he was feeling pretty miserable. By Tuesday he was hacking up colors that I have never seen on this planet before! So I had to skip a day of Java class to take T to the doctor. The doctor was nearly convinced that it was mono. T’s glands were huge, even in the back of his neck! He gave us antibiotics and the assurance that mono was viral and the medicine would not work. The doctor was betting money that we would be back in three days. Thankfully, T was much better by Friday. I should have taken the doctor’s bet! But in the meantime I had to cancel my hotel reservations before I was charged. On that Friday, the day I had originally planned to leave for Connecticut, T was well enough to go to school. I was glad for that. But I was rather disappointed that my trip was canceled.

ON Saturday, while the kids were visiting their mom, I was determined to get away for at least that day. I got a New Jersey map out and finally decided to head to Island Beach State Park. The weather was perfect that day, not too hot, lots of puffy clouds in the sky. I took the scenic route down routes 611 and 32 on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware River, crossed over into Milford, New Jersey and followed route 29 down to Trenton. The rest of the way was all freeways. 120 miles and 2 and a half-hours after leaving home, I was at the gates of the park.

There was a very pleasant girl working at the gate. She saved me $7 by informing me that I can park my car outside of the park entrance, ride my bike in and not have to pay a thing. I got my bike ready, prepared my camera, put on my red Old Navy hat (my official biking hat), and chatted with the nice girl at the gate for a bit. She gave me some tips as to what to look for in the park. I gave her a smile and my business card with the URL for CONTINUUM… on it. Then I rode away into the park, realizing a quarter of a mile later that I did not think to ask the nice girl what her name was! Duh! Moron! In the “Single Guy Manual,” finding out a girl’s name is like the second most important thing to do, the first being “Do not spit on nice girls while speaking to them.”

NOW the road through Island Beach State Park is one straight stretch for 8.2 miles. The park is mostly wild, lots of flowers, shrubs and small trees on the sand dunes. On one side of the park is the Atlantic Ocean. On the other is the Barnegat Bay. As I was riding along the road, I could catch glimpses of both now and then. It is not a hard ride to the end of the road by bike. It is straight and flat. The funny thing is that the road ahead of you in the distance always has the appearance that it is uphill. On my way in I was puzzled as to why it was steady uphill all the way. I thought, “Boy, it will be an easy ride back!” But on the way back it was the same thing- seemingly uphill! Weird!

Along my way through the park I took plenty of pictures. There were many nice flowers along the way. I got some nice shots of boats on the bay. About three quarters of the way through the park there was a pair of osprey high in a nice on a stand. That was the first that I had seen osprey. They were beautiful. While I was taking their picture, the male flew out of the nest and circled overhead while the female looked at me and screeched quite a bit. On my way back there was a fox trotting along on the opposite side of the road. I did not have my camera ready and could not get a good picture of him. I turned around to follow him in order to get a better picture. Then I decided that chasing down a fox might not be the best of ideas. What if he was one of those man-eating fox? What if he dragged me into the brush and ate both my bike and me? I let him be.

I spent about two hours biking and taking pictures in the park. It was refreshing to ride the 16 miles on such a nice day. The nice girl without a name was gone when I got back to the gate. If she ever does check out my website and see how crazy I am she will probably be glad that I don’t know her name!

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AFTER biking I was starving! So I walked over to a place next to the beach called the Atlantic Bar and Grill. It is a nice place, just a little on the expensive side- especially for a guy on the single-father-with-five-kids-budget like me. I ordered a margarita and a huge glass of water to start with. An older gentleman named Mike Gallo was playing the piano. “Play us a song! You’re the piano man!” It was nice. Although I was still sweating from my bike ride, I did manage to sweat a little more when I saw that the cheapest dinner on the menu was $19.95- pan seared scallops with ginger/carrot sauce. I ordered that and another huge glass of water. It was served on an oversized plate. In total there were seven scallops and three tiny boiled potatoes surrounding a clump of cooked carrot, zucchini and yellow squash strips. Delicious, but definitely not filling! I thought to myself, “Man! I’m paying about $3 per scallop here!” But in the end the waitress did not charge me for the margarita. So I only paid $2.50 per scallop!

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I finished eating just in time to walk back to my car, get on my bike and ride over to the bay. Within a brief 10 minutes I had clicked off 40 or so pictures. It was the perfect ending to the day. The sunset was beautiful! It was like God was writing His signature at the end of the day. I was satisfied. I had gotten away for at least a day. Then my cell phone rang. “Daddy, where are you? How soon will you be picking us up?” Work, kids, work, kids, work, kids. I wondered if God ever tired of making sunsets day after day. He did not have to answer my question. I went home refreshed, ready to add a little color to my children’s lives.

PICTURE GALLERIES:

FOR PEACE

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

Where do I begin? Shall I address you as “Friend,” even though we have not been such for some time? Shall I address you with a bland “To Whom it May Concern,” as if there were never any tenderness between us? Should I address you as “Brother,” “Sister,” “Lover?” Pride and disappointment encourage me to call you worse. Heartache compels me to name you more kindly.

I thought I would write to you because you have hurt me. I have bruises and scars. Yes, I know it has been a long time since. But I still hear your words, clearly. I remember the anger in your eyes and the hoarse words you sent my way. They linger with me, still. Sometimes I hear your voice distantly shouting in the night, like a tired old monster under my bed. Then I lay awake and wonder if you even knew that I was hurt.

And is not that part of the problem? How little do any of us truly communicate! We tread lightly and skirt the issues. We say, “All is well,” when we know deep inside that it is not. Time does not heal all wounds. Some of them fester and become rancid. The longer we hold it in, the worse it becomes. The web entangles and the quicksand swallows and we drown in our own bitterness. As far as peace goes, sometimes I think that the person who was wounded is as much at fault for the lack of peace by maintaining their silence. No, I am not blaming the “victim.” I am just saying that peace is a little higher of a goal, something bigger, and something deeper. If we could just get past our fear and pride and speak up when we are hurt in order to restore peace. If only I was brave enough.

I have been trying my best to forgive you, to let it all go. God knows how I have asked Him to help me to do so! It is amazing that the anger and the pain have not consumed me. I have loved you while inhaling and hated you while the breath left my lungs. I have cursed you over and over and over. Truth be told, I have killed you a thousand times over. I have skinned you alive, dismembered you and cut you into tiny pieces, shoving you into a garbage bag; then put on my Sunday best and danced through endless fields of daisies as your pieces were strewn about by my white gloved hands. Shocking? No. We all have it in us, if the truth were told. “Adam, dear, our son has killed his brother!” The earth cries out as the blood soaks in. We all inherit the stain.

And now I am sorry too. The Book is right: “In many ways we all offend.” No, I cannot think of many ways in which I took the offensive and hurt you. But I can think of a multitude of ways in which I could have loved you and did not. Omission is an offense too, a passive offense. I could have loved you in spite of you. I could have tried to do good for you, even in the face of your meanness. I could have forgiven you from my heart before you were even finished inflicting your pain. But I did not. Now the sands of time are rapidly filling the gap between us and I do not even know where to begin to bring back peace between us. Seems like such a shame that two creatures created in the image of a loving Father should live so far apart, as if He placed us on two different worlds. Please forgive me.

So now I am trying to forgive. No more fields of bloody daisies in my mind. I do not want to live in bitterness. It will only consume me and ruin those around me. I want to live in peace. Plus, Jesus said that if I do not forgive others when they have wronged me, neither will the Father forgive me. Ultimately, I suppose we have to leave all of these things in His hand. Maybe these things will all be made right at the last day when we all stand before His throne and the books are opened. Yet somehow I fear that it will be too late to make things right at that point. My, how much time we waste on that which is unprofitable and hurtful! How little any of us truly love another soul in this world!

Let me close by saying that if this article has only angered you and made you indignant, thinking of many specific ways that I have personally offended you, then it was not written to you. If you read this and say, “That guy is such a hypocrite! He has hurt me many times over!” then this article was not intended for you. You deserve another one devoted to you, asking for your forgiveness. But until that article is written, would you grant me a loan of forgiveness?

For peace…

Sam