(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

SATURDAY, Saint Patrick’s Day, found me making the trip to pick up H and M. We have a new meeting place now. This place is a small mall with several large stores and a few smaller ones. When I set out from home on that morning, I did not think that a few interesting adventures awaited the girls and I at that mall.

When I go there, H was still in her pajamas and robe since they left their home so early. So our first little adventure was to get her into some publicly acceptable clothes so that we could go into one of the stores. I have been in desperate need of new pants for work. Some of the ones that I have been wearing are getting so worn out that in the right light I probably look like a skeleton from the waist down. Well, I wished as hard as I could for men’s clothes to be on sale, took M by the hand, inhaled deeply and entered the store.

I was pleased to find Levi’s Dockers on sale at 33% off the insanely high normal price. I began digging through the piles to find my size, accompanied by the tunes of “Daddy, I’m hungry” and “I want to look at the toys” and “Oh, we will never get out of here!” As the chorus swelled, we danced our way throughout the men’s department; Levi’s draped over my left arm, M twirling from my right. We waltzed through the dress shirts and polkaed past the underwear, performing daring tango dips to prevent M from crashing headlong into stage props and auxiliary performers, and H fox-trotted along as we exited stage left to the dressing room. I tried twisting my way into a few pairs of Dockers whose waist sizes I so optimistically selected. But they were not up to the dance and I had to return to the rack for the next size waiting for its chance to perform. At the end of the show I left with three pairs of pants, two shirts discounted at 75%, a pack of T-shirts, and two daughters whining for relief.

ON TO the next adventure…

At this particular mall there is a large bookstore, the kind that also has a music section and a coffee shop where one can pay an arm and a leg for Starbucks coffee and some very “yuppie” snacks with new age names. We headed straight for the children’s books to find another book in the series that H is reading. She is in first grade, reading like a fiend and currently in the middle of “Buffalo Before Breakfast” by Mary Pope Osborne. So, as her birthday gift, we added “Tigers at Twilight” and “Sunset of the Sabertooth” to her collection. M got a Hansel and Gretel book that came with a puzzle, a game and a witch mask all inside a case that looked like a candy house.

While we were there they had a story time. A very pleasant employee of the store read a story about an Irish guy named O’Toole and a bunch of leprechauns. I stood at the back edge of the crowd with the big people while all the children sat attentively at the front. Then the kids all colored pictures of leprechauns and pots of gold. I was happy to give into my childhood urges and grab a crayon and color too. Then we went over to the coffee shop where I paid several arms and legs for a Starbucks coffee that did not live up to its reputation and two yuppie slurpees for the girls. I picked up the latest issue of POETRY magazine and the “New England Review” before we left.

YOU KNOW I could spend forever in a bookstore! I would not even need food or anything else! It was Erasmus, a 16th century contemporary of Martin Luther, who said, “When I have a little bit of money, I buy books. Then, if there is anything left over, I buy food and clothes.” Now there is a man after my own heart! For you see, I am a BIBLIOPHILE. Yes, I admit it! I am a BIBLIOPHILE! And these large bookstores are my favorite places to prowl around. You might spot me there lurking about the classic literature and poetry sections. You might find me peeking into the latest journals on the periodicals rack. You might even catch me in the embrace of a fresh hardcover, my face buried in her leaves, intoxicated by the scent of her ink, caressing her spine. As I flashed you my best smile and confessed my addiction, you would scurry off to the reference aisle. There, with trembling fingers paging through the “Bs,” you would discover what a BIBLIOPHILE truly is and realize that I am not such a bad fellow after all! You would come running back only to see that you could never tempt me away from my true love. If the choice was between you and a good book… well… see you later, baby!

All right, I speak nonsense! We all know that if you were the right girl with pretty eyes, a good heart, and a mind to match, I would be asking you to accompany me over to the coffee shop. There I would pay my remaining arm and leg for the pleasure of having another cup of overrated coffee and some conversation with you. But, of course, we would talk about books! “Did you know that I also love old books? Did you know that I have a hardcover edition of ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress’ with a publishing date of 1863? Did you know that that was right in the middle of the Civil War? Did you know that I especially like hanging out in dusty old used book shops? Hey! Wait! Where are you going? Okay. Fine. I’ll just stay here with my bad coffee and read!”

OKAY, back to reality…

In the car on the way home the girls and I munched on Twizzlers. I really do not care very much for licorice. It has the consistency of half-finished plastic or something. But it was there, so I ate it for the hundred miles home. Of course, we sang to the radio, played air guitar and drums, danced in our seats at 70 miles per hour. The girls had fun with the witch mask that M got.

Later in the day we went to Mom’s house. Since it was an Irish holiday, we had corned beef and cabbage. We made everyone wear funny green hats and took pictures. I baked a cake and we had a belated birthday celebration for H. We laughed. We joked. We stuffed ourselves with corned beef and cake. We went home.

Past midnight I fell asleep mid-poem. Some things never change.

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

HEY! Where’s the snow??

(Remember the old Wendy’s commercial with the old lady that demanded, “Where’s the beef?” Heh heh!)

WELL, according to the weather reports on Friday and Saturday, we were supposed to get clobbered with the biggest snowstorm in over 50 years. So everyone in our area crowded into the grocery stores. We stocked up on hot chocolate mix, potato chips and Coke. We bought enough bread to feed four armies for a month. But the prize was the milk! Everyone had to have more milk! We bought enough milk to drown those four armies! The lady in front of me in line for the check out bought four gallons! What are these people thinking? How taxing all this must be on the poor cows! Just because the weatherman starts squawking “Snow! Snow!” does not mean that the cows start producing more milk. When the udder is empty, that’s all the milk folks!

YOU KNOW, for 13 years I worked in a milk processing plant. Let us refer to this establishment with the affectionate term of “dairy.” I remember those days when snow was on the way. Production demands would go through the ceiling! And we did not deal with gallons of milk. We dealt with “cans” of milk. A can is ten gallons. We were not sissies! We were men! And we did not deal with small amounts of cans either. We dealt with cans by the hundreds and by the thousands. One of our machines alone could pasteurize 600 cans an hour. 6000 gallons an hour! (Yes, 100 gallons per minute. Very good, Einstein!) Now we are talking army-drowning capabilities! But when the snow panic struck even this rate of production was not enough to satisfy the milk-craving consumers.

So, as an ex-dairyman, I would still like to ask you, a civilian, why do you need so much milk just because it is going to snow? Is it just to wash down all that bread that you bought? Did you buy that much hot chocolate mix that you need a tanker truckload of milk for it? Is it the whiteness of the snow that makes you think “Man! I gotta drink milk!”? Do you go on milk binges out of sheer boredom when you are snowed in?

Well, whatever the reasons are for the milk rush before a snowstorm, I am happy to report that I bought only two gallons. That was a calculated purchase too. I figured that three teenagers and one growing father cooped up in a two bedroom apartment for possibly three days, divided by two containers of hot chocolate mix, multiplied by the possibility that the landlord could allow the heating oil to run out during the storm, and divided by the square root of pie (either cherry or apple) comes out to two gallons of 2% milk. Always the smart shopper I am!

SO back to my original beef: where’s the snow??

It began snowing yesterday afternoon as they reports called for. The initial wave of snow seemed to have the promise of being a large storm. It appeared that we might truly get the 25 inches they were calling for. It got icy and slippery on the roads. But by morning there were only a few inches of snow and nothing but more threats from the weathermen that we were going to get it today. And now it is 5:00 PM and no precipitation has fallen in hours! All the schools were closed in anticipation of what the day was to hold. Many businesses were closed. I even decided to stay home from work. Now it feels like all I really did today was waste a vacation day! Who can I hold liable for this??

In reality it was not a waste of a day though. I was able to reorganize much of the clutter in my bedroom closet. I opened several boxes and found a bunch of old memories. I even found my favorite denim jacket that I wore constantly as if it were a natural part of my skin. Now it is too small. I cannot button it. Funny how clothing shrinks when it’s packed away for a few years! At this point the closet is clean and there are only two piles of extraneous clutter in the room: one completely covering the bed and the other covering half of the floor in front of the bed! I knew I should have gone to the office today!

I was able to take a walk in the snow late in the afternoon yesterday and click off a few pictures. It is such a peaceful thing to do! No worries about ice on the road. No rushing. No cares about milk or bread or crazy people in the stores. All around is just the sounds of snow falling softly, shovels beginning to scrape the sidewalks, children playing in the yards. I am very happy with the picture of the mourning doves that I was able to capture. Which reminds me. I also saw a flock of snow geese migrating overhead as I was walking. At this time of the year there are many Canadian geese flying through our neck of the woods. But this is the first that I have seen snow geese. They are beautiful white with black tips on their wings. I was not able to take a picture of these geese. But I did gaze up into the falling snow for several minutes and admired them as they went on their way.

AT this point I am sitting tight and holding down the fort here in New Jersey. The reports are still calling for a lot of snow, cold temperatures and windy conditions tonight and into tomorrow. I say, “Bring it on!” I got milk! I got bread! I even have a nice little tray of shrimp and cocktail sauce in the fridge! (A definite necessity in inclement weather!) Let it snow! I’m so excited that I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa to arrive! I hope it snows. I will just bundle up, grab my camera and go hunting! Sounds like a plan! Now, if only the sky would cooperate!

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

AS we pulled up to the house around 8 PM on Tuesday, S declared, “Hey! Someone took our parking space!” Then, with a smile that I did not notice at first, she added, “Oh, it’s Aunt C!” The gears of my brain jumped into overdrive. “What is my sister doing here at 8:00 on a school night?” J was not with us that night and my first thought was that something happened to him. But in a moment I noticed my nephews pouring out of Sister C’s van. I noticed her boyfriend and Baby B. As my mind was trying to piece this puzzle together, S and T shouted, “Surprise! It’s a birthday party for YOU!”

Well, I certainly was surprised! This is only the second time in my adult life that someone has thrown a surprise party for me. The last one was over ten years ago. And I will tell you that I remember feeling the same emotions then as I did this time. I felt both excited and somewhat imposed upon at the same time. You see, I am still just a “little boy.” So the whole “let’s have a party” idea just elates me! But, I am also a father, and a single one at that! So the daily schedule is tight, the workload is often overwhelming, and the time allotted for relaxation or even plain old sleep is minimal.

It was exactly at this point that I felt the imposition. I was so dead tired that day! H and M had been here for the weekend, which was an extended one because of the Presidents Day Holiday. I made the trip to Harrisburg to take Hand M back on Monday night, returning home at a heavy-eyed 10:30 PM. I walked through the day on Tuesday as a zombie. My eyes were blazing red. My head hurt. All I kept thinking was “Today is my birthday. All I want is to go home and sleep! That will be my present to myself!” But, alas, these hopes were dashed and swept away by the breaking shouts of “Surprise! Happy Birthday!”

But, since I am more of a kid than an adult, I thoroughly enjoyed this party once the initial shock passed! There were big, yellow, smiley face balloons on the wall. We had plenty of chips and soda to enjoy. And “brownie cake.” Poor S! The sweet girl went through all the trouble to arrange for this spur of the moment surprise party for me and we had nothing in the house to make a cake with! But we did have a Pillsbury brownie in a foil tray that only required some quick baking in the oven. So, S, being rather ingenious, popped that in the oven, baked it, covered it with candles and “Happy Birthday” and we all stuffed our faces! The digital camera was out and filling the room with flashes. Soon the balloons were covering our faces and we posed for pictures. Then I took the party up a notch by passing out whoopie cushions to the boys. The synthetic flatulations were flying! The great thing about a whoopie cushion is that you get the same auditory satisfaction as you do from an actual windbreaking without the offensive aroma! What a deal! It was so funny to see the boys grunting and groaning and scrunching there faces as if they were really in some kind of pain while they made the whoopie cushions squeeze out the most disgusting sounds. We all laughed until we almost cried! It’s good to be a kid!

SO, on February 20th, I turned thirty-something again. For the past few years I’ve been trying to get away with telling people that I am twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Each year I am finding that fewer people are willing to believe that. I am not sure if it is because of the thinning area on the top of my head (No it is not a “bald” spot! I am not “going bald.” I am just becoming increasingly “follicly challenged!”), or the lines near my eyes, or just the sheer mathematics involved in a twenty-seven-year-old man having a sixteen-year-old son. Whatever the reasons for their doubts, when people try to guess my age now, I am feeling more and more comfortable accepting thirty, thirty-one or even thirty-two as these ages now seem “young” from my current vantage point.

But I will tell you that “young” and “old” are more a state of mind than anything. Yes, truly the lines on your face will lengthen and deepen. Your bones will ache. Your memory may start to fade a little. Those physical changes will come. But that does not mean that you have to BE “old!” No way! I myself refuse to BE “old!” There is too much to see and do in this life. There is so much beauty to behold all around! There is so much to marvel at if we would just open our eyes! How much there is to accomplish and create in this life! There are flower gardens to be planted, poems to be written, letters to friends to be mailed, words of appreciation to be spoken, and jokes to be told! Oh God, let me die laughing! Let me die with pains in my belly from a good hearty chuckle! Let me die trying! Let me die loving! Let me die giving my all to something noble! Let me die with all of my heart! Let me die… But don’t let me BE “old.”

THIS birthday turned out to be a surprisingly good one. When I arrived at work there was a card from a friend on my keyboard. Another friend took me out to lunch. When we got back from lunch there was a big “Happy Birthday” banner over my desk. But my little S surpassed all of these things. I must say a big THANKS to her for all of her efforts to make me happy on my birthday! She had all the dishes washed, the kitchen floor scrubbed, the living room vacuumed. She even cleaned the windows! Talk about being caught by surprise! Quite a job for a 14-year-old! Now I will have to plan a good surprise for her upcoming party. Keep the whoopie cushions handy boys! More fun awaits us!

Click HERE to see the Surprise Party pictures.

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

SO yesterday I had to make the trip to pick up H and M. It rained the entire time. And to make matters worse, I missed my exit near Harrisburg. This was the first time that X.2 and I were to meet at a new location. I knew that I was getting close to the place. But then something just did not feel right. It was at that point that a minor miracle happened: I stopped and asked for directions! I still arrived on time and X.2 was actually there on time. Another miracle!

The girls and I had not seen each other since January 1. So we were all so excited! The hugs and kisses were flying! Both H and M were talking full speed at the same time. There was so much news to tell! “Do you know who Amanda likes?” “Guess what I made in art class!” “Daddy, did you know that Adam and Eve died in the flood? That is what my teacher said!” “So you want to taste my peach lollipop?”

AFTER about 20 minutes of driving, H decided that she was going to go to sleep. And sleep she did! She was out all the rest of the way home. She even slept through M’s high decibel sing/shout, “and BINGO was his name, oh!” Her clapping and her singing were completely out of sync. But she was having a great time and I was almost in tears laughing. While H slept through it all!

After “BINGO” came:

“This old man, he played one, he played knick knack on my thumb,
With a knick knack paddy whack, give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home!”

And the little girl’s question, “How can a man roll home, Daddy?”

As the old man was rolling home, the little girl’s decibels began to rise again. Then the words to the song began to change:

“This old man, he played woggin, he played knick knack on my noggin,
With a knick knack paddy whack, give the dog a sploggin,
This old man came rolling home.”

And on the variations went for miles and miles! To make it even funnier, M kept changing the pitch of her voice between high and low. She was a riot. It was so funny that I even clicked off a few pictures over my shoulder in the dark while I was driving. (Just do not tell my mom. She will yell at me for doing that while driving!)

YOU KNOW, all this paddy whacking reminds me of a funny joke:

A FROG goes into a bank and walks up to the window. He can see from the teller’s nameplate that the teller’s name is Patricia Whack. So he says, “Ms. Whack, I’d like to get a loan to buy a yacht and go on a cruise.” Ms. Whack asks how much money he wants to borrow. The frog says around $55,000. Ms. Whack asks the frog his name and he replies “Kermit Jagger, it shouldn’t be a problem, I know the branch manager.” Ms. Whack explains that $55,000 is a large sum of money and that he will need to put up something as collateral against the loan. She asks “do you have anything as collateral?” Kermit says, “Sure, I have this,” and produces a small pewter cricket, about an inch tall. Stunned, Ms. Whack explains that she’ll have to speak with the branch manager and walks into an office at the front of the bank. She finds the branch manager and says: “There’s a frog by the named of Kermit Jagger out there who says he knows you and wants to borrow $55,000. He wants to use this as collateral.” She holds up the small pewter cricket. “Like, what is this thing suppose to be?” So the branch manager looks back at her and says:

It’s a knick knack, Patti Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man’s a Rolling Stone.”

Pretty funny, huh?

WELL, it looks like this weekend will be a fun one- plenty of singing and probably some dancing in the kitchen. I recently got a few CDs by Buddy Holly, Bill Hailey and Roy Orbison. Plenty of dancing tunes there! We have already been taking lots of pictures. Some will be posted here in a few days. Plus we are going to have a party for M’s fifth birthday. Man, I better go! I’m missing all the fun! “So with a knick knack paddy whack I’m shutting off the ‘puter, this young man keeps getting cuter!” (Oh, it’s true! It’s true!)

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

RECENTLY, I was rummaging through one of my many boxes of books trying to find my volume of Shakespeare that contained “Romeo and Juliet.” S has been reading this play in her English class. This is her first exposure to Shakespeare and I have been helping her through the “thees” and “thous” and “what-have-yous.”

It is quite an effort to dig out books at times. Our apartment is so small that there is just not enough room for all the shelves that I would need to hold my books. Therefore, only my very favorite books are out, some on a small shelf in my room, some on the night stand, some under the night stand, a few piled on the desk, some under the desk. You get the picture. All the rest of my books are packed in boxes and stored either in the attic or in S’s closet.

Well Hamlet and Othello were in the attic. But Romeo and Juliet were not. So they had to be hiding in S’s closet. No wonder the poor girl gets spooked in the middle of the night sometimes!

I started pulling boxes out of the closet. How many titles got me sidetracked! There were science fiction works calling me to fantastic adventures in far off lands. Many biographies announced the names of their admirable characters. The theological volumes requested my attention in dignified manner.

WHILE digging through the third or fourth box, S exclaimed, “There’s our book!” “Romeo and Juliet? Where??” “No, no. There’s our ‘Book of Thanksgiving!'”

In an instant my emotions ranged from the feeling one gets upon seeing a dear old friend to the creepy sensation of seeing a ghost! In my hands was something which had been a bonding instrument for our family four years and more ago. It was a bittersweet find, a reminder of peaceful days. Yet it carried with it the harsh reminder of a family that has been torn apart. I could nearly hear our past voices echo forth from its pages: the laughter of children, the warmth of family prayer, the barking of the dog, the hush of affectionate approval. As I opened the book, I was as a long-stricken amnesia patient finally awaking to the realization of his self-identity. I was like a “self-stranger” who was just introduced to the person that I instantly recognized as my true self.

NOW let me explain. Our “Book of Thanksgiving” is a small, hardbound journal in which we wrote short sentences of things for which we were thankful. I do not remember now where I got the idea for such a thing. But X.2 (while she was still Wife.2) and I shared a concern to teach good values to our children and to instruct them in things concerning God. We wanted this to be a practical, real life sort of learning. So we would often read the Bible with the children, allowing time for questions and discussions. We would sometimes have the children memorize portions of Scripture. We ourselves, along with the children, also learned much of the Westminster Shorter Catechism. Very often we would sing hymns together. Each of us would take turns picking out a hymn and we would all sing. There were certain favorites of the children, which we sang over and over, and over again! All of these things were good and positive aspects of our family. To keep an informal account of our thanksgivings was one more positive means of helping us all to focus on the things that are really important in life.

Here, let me show you some of our entries. I will even leave the children’s spelling just as they wrote it.

10/06/1995 – I am thankful for my family. -S

10/06/1995 – I am thankful for God. -J

10/06/1995 – I am thankful for my family and my house and my friends. – T

10/09/1995 – I am thankful for good oral surgeons! – Dad

10/11/1995 – I am thankful for my brother. -J

10/11/1995 – I am thankful for my pets. -T

10/18/1995 – I am thankful for the Bible and food. I’m thankful for my “parenets” and my cats and rabbits. -S

10/25/1995 – I am thankful for the whole world. -J

11/26/1995 – I am thankful for the pretty day God gave us. -S

01/03/1996 – I am thankful that we can “selebrate” Christmas. -T

01/09/1996 – I am thankful that God kept us safe through the recent blizzard. -Dad

01/31/1996 – I am thankful for bananas. -Dad

02/01/1996 – I am thankful for H and that the new baby is coming. -S

02/01/1996 – I am thankful for myself. -T

02/04/1996 – I am thankful for my dad because he is sick. -J

02/19/1996 – I am thankful that M’s jaundice is getting better. -Dad

02/23/1996 – I am thankful that I got an A on my math test. -T

05/06/1996 – I am thankful for my hands because we need them to help us work, pick up stuff, so on… -S

05/28/1996 – I am thankful for my new baby sister. -T

07/19/1996 – I am thankful that I did not die on the roller coaster at Great Adventure today. -Dad

As you see, I have not quoted any of X.2’s entries. They are so many points of paradox to me. How does one move from light to darkness, from sweet to sour, from peace to anger, from thanksgiving to ingratitude, so quickly, completely, and unashamedly? I will never understand it and have concluded that it is an exercise in futility to expend my energies any longer in trying to do so.

I AM happy to say that this little “Book of Thanksgiving” has been returned to its position of usefulness in the Snyder home. You see, S suggested that we start using it again. As she flipped through its old pages and read aloud from many entries, I could tell that an old note was being struck within her heart, a note that has not been sounded in very recent days. I made the protest that I really did not want to have to view X.2’s entries all the time if we started using the book again. I suggested that we purchase a new journal and start fresh. But with a tone in her voice as if she were protecting an old friend, S insisted that we use this very same book. How often does a 14-year-old American girl have such a strong desire to instate such a noble habit as giving thanks to God among her family? Rather than lose the opportunity to promote such a positive exercise, I agreed to use our original “Book of Thanksgiving,” under the condition that we simply leave a blank page after the old entries. S agreed and said that the blank page would represent “The Wonder Years” – people will see the blank page and “wonder” what happened to those years!

I gave the honor of making a new entry to S. She asked me not to read it in front of her. When I read it later I found that she gave thanks for her boyfriend of so many months, days, hours, as well as thanks for her mom. What else was I expecting from a 14-year-old American girl??

IF YOU ever visit our home, please be sure to browse our “Book of Thanksgiving.” It is right on top of the fridge! We will be honored if you will make an entry of your own!

Now I think it is time to close this entry and this day. I think a few words of thanksgiving need to be written in our book before I sleep this night. I am thinking of something along the lines of, “Dear Father, I thank you for Your faithfulness through all these years and I thank you for my children – especially for S at this time.”