Birthday 22 – April 12, 2006 (Photos)
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
My oldest daughter, now 19, got her first modeling job this weekend! (Yeah, she’s beautiful like her dad! Smart like me too!) She had photos done by a modeling agency last fall. She finally got a call last week to interview for a modeling spot at a show near Philadelphia. She was chosen to have her hair colored and cut by a top hair stylist. These are the kind of people that charge $500 or more to do your hair. Well… probably not your hair. They charge people like Jennifer Aniston and Leondardo Di Caprio and Don King those kind of prices. (Yeah, I think Don King pays good money for that notorious doo!)
Sarah interviewed on Saturday evening. They loved her! She had to go back on Sunday for “prep” day. Today is the big day. She has to model her hair in front of crowds of people, walk down the runway and the whole modeling gig. Despite the fact that she had to drive almost two hours to get there three days in a row, got lost coming home the first night, and smashed her cell phone on the ground while trying to swat away a bee… she was so excited to be part of such an event. And I am just proud as shit! I wish I could have been there. I probably could have gotten a spot in the show! You know… with my great hair and all…
I suppose it’s safer for all concerned that I am confined in my cube in the office today.
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
The 9/11 memorial at Mt. Mitchill is striking. Significant times from the morning of September 11, 2001 are inlayed in the walkway leading up to the monument. Each of these is included in this gallery. These times are reflected in brief explanations to the side. They are also proportionally spread out, giving one a sense of the time span between them.
The monument is a beautiful, white, flying eagle that is clutching a twisted iron beam in its claws, part of the wreckage from the Twin Towers. The eagle is atop a black marble pedestal in which the names of Monmouth County citizens who died that day are carved beneath the names of their towns. In the distance below the eagle’s wings, New York City can be seen.
It is a moving scene which demands a certain amount of reverence and reflection. It was especially so the day we were there as the weather was very similar to that of September 11, 2001.
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
I have begun a massive project of typing my hand-written private journals. Currently, there are 19 volumes!
Seeing as my handwriting is so poor, I thought it might be best to take on this project. I always tell my children that one day they will be allowed to read these journals. The poor things! They won’t be able to decipher most of what is written! It’s awful! I had to laugh yesterday when my son, Tim, was writing something on the back of a business card while we were in the car. He looked at me apologetically and said, “It’s a little messy because the car is bumpy.” I said, “Dude! THAT looks a hundred times better than the way I normally write when I’m sitting still at a desk!”
So far, I have typed 17 pages in Word. That covers 38 hand-written pages in this old composition book with pages falling out that I call “Volume 1”. That’s not quite one-fifth of the notebook. I expect the Word files for each volume to average close to 100 pages. So, for the next several years, I will be sequestered away like a medieval monk transcribing Latin with quill and ink. Only Latin is probably easier to understand than my handwriting!
My writing experience sort of “morphed” into personal journal keeping by chance. At the start, volume 1 was a collection of devotional thoughts that I, as a Christian, wrote down as I contemplated various portions of the Bible. (Yes, I am the same guy that wrote all the raunchy swear words in the last entry on this website. Yes, that may be an indication of how my heart has declined since 1985. Actually, it peaked and then declined.) After several pages of these devotional writings, volume 1 suddenly becomes a personal journal. My writing style changed due to a book that I read called “Sandy, A Heart for God” by Leighton Ford. Leighton’s son, Sandy, was a Christian who kept a diary. He died at the age of 21 while undergoing surgery for a rare heart condition. I began my journal at age 21. After reading about Sandy, I decided to use my journal to capture my thoughts, emotions, experiences, etc.
As I’ve been working my way through Volume 1 over the last two days, I am confronted by differing emotions. At some points I am embarrassed by what I wrote. Some of it seems immature, presumptuous, self-inflated, 21-ish”. Some of the memories of that period in my life that have come back to me are good. I think of how Joel was only 9 months old, not even walking yet. I remember some of the friends from that period and smile. Some other memories, especially of my first marriage, make me happy that I am now 21 years removed from that time. Some of these memories are tainted due to circumstances that have transpired between then and now.
There is one person mentioned near the start of the journal of whom I had to make a note. His name was Joe. We worked together on the road department in Washington, NJ. His father was the head supervisor of the department. Back in those days, Joe was a rowdy pot-smoking guy. I was a Christian. While I often talked about Bible related topics with some of the guys on the crew, usually because they brought the subject up, Joe was a constant source of temptation and instigation. I distinctly remember one time, at the town dump where we disposed of residents’ lawn clippings and leaves, Joe decided to light up a big ol’ joint and get high. I said nothing and intended to say nothing. I minded my own business. One of the other guys said, “Hey Joe, what if Preacher Boy (me) tells your dad?” Joe didn’t know that I could hear his response when he said, “If he does, I’ll hit him in the head with a shovel!”
Joe didn’t stay on the job very long. Then I didn’t see him for several years. By the time I did see him again, I had three kids, was divorced, and about to be married again. I was surprised to see Joe under the circumstances. We were at a multiple church baptismal service along the Delaware River in Pennsylvania. Suddenly, in the midst of that crowd, before the service started, I bumped into Joe! I was so surprised that I blurted out, “Joe! What are YOU doing HERE????” Joe smiled and said, “Brother, I’m getting baptized today. My life is completely different.” Wow!
I saw Joe a few years ago in a local mall. He was married and had a child. By then, my spiritual situation had declined. I was a rebel. I had been through too much heartache. The amazing new Joe said, “Brother, Jesus still loves you and you can give me a call anytime.”
Funny how life goes. So much history has happened between Volume 1 and Volume 19! Reading Volume 1 now, I find myself thinking that it couldn’t have been me who wrote some of the entries. Did I really think in those ways? Did I really let such seemingly petty events upset me so? Where did many of those inward struggles go? Did I win them? Did I give up the struggles? Did I merely grow out of them?
How will Volume 19 look to me 21 years from now when I’m on Volume 38? Stick around. When we get that far, I’ll write about it on the website.
(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)
My 10 and 12-year-old daughters are visiting for the week. They are on spring break. Boy, those schools in Georgia! Spring barely starts and “WHAM!” they are on spring break! It’s not like New Jersey. Time drags on and on when you are in school here. Then, when Easter break finally arrives, they tell you the break is shortened because you have to make up for using a snow day or two. Well, that’s the way it used to be. With global warming and all, we are beginning to forget what snow is in New Jersey. I mean, we were on the beach, where children walked on the jetties in bare feet, on January 30, for crying out loud! Pretty soon we’ll have to close our schools to take a break in the beginning of April because it’s going to be as hot as August!
As I was saying, my girls are here. In the car, after leaving the airport, after a three hour flight delay, one of the girls had the idea of starting a story in which the four of us in the car contributed by adding a word in turn. The story got weird and crude. Yes, the childhood amusement that comes from bodily functions!
Alright… so it still amuses me too! Here is our weird little story. I’m sure I will be inundated with emails from publishers eager to print this in hardbound!
THE LADYBUG, THE DADDY, AND URANUS
Once upon a time, a ladybug crawled and peed yellow pee. So, as we wiped his urine, Daddy laughed, and cried, and pooped. Uranus was shining overhead. BM slipped, smelled, plopped, and squished on Daddy’s toes. The ladybug flew into Daddy’s body because his butt was very exposed.
Uranus visited the Earth.
THE END
I know, it’s weird. It’s gross. I’m sure someone will send me an email telling me what a bad Daddy I am, how I need to grow up and teach my kids some manners. Well… you send ’em. I’ll print ’em. And we’ll all wipe with ’em!