(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

ON NEW YEARS DAY I did what Friend J refers to as “driving home.” This time it was a longer drive home than usual. Basically “driving home” refers to traveling out past Harrisburg, PA to pick up H and M. I normally do this on a Friday night after work, going straight to Harrisburg, tossing the girls into the car, and driving straight back home. Then, at the end of their visit, I “drive home” again, this time tossing the girls out of the car. (Fear not! Children are resilient!) This particular “drive home” was longer than usual because X.2 asked me to meet her in Frederick, MD. Being the nice guy that I am, I agreed to drive farther this time to give her a break. Besides, Frederick is close to Gettysburg, and I thought I could do a little site seeing on the way back.

So the story begins…

I AWOKE with plenty of time to get on the net for a bit, have my tea and then shower. I was determined that I would be ready to leave the house with time to spare this time. All was progressing according to plan until just after the shower. At that point the “Battle of Snydersburg” began with a bang.

Just as I was finishing my shower, one of the little ones knocked on the door and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.” I replied, “I’m getting out now. Just let me dry off.” “Ok, Daddy.” I dried off, put my shorts on, opened the door and beheld the aforementioned little one peering up at me through a pained look.

“Daddy… I couldn’t help it!! The **euphemism** just started coming out!!”

At that point I looked a little lower to see that this little one had no pants on and the **euphemism** was still “coming out!” She tried to take a step and I said, “NO!!! Don’t walk!! Stop the **euphemism**!!”

I panicked my way into the kitchen for paper towels. And sure enough… There were only three sheets left and it was the last roll. Typical. Bowels never burst forth when you have a warehouse full of cleaning supplies!! No, they wait to catch you off guard and then “BLAM!!” Well… As the saying goes, “**Euphemism** Happens!”

So I cleaned the child and the floor with napkins as best I could. I survived the “enemy’s” first onslaught, but the second attack was only moments away…

HAVE YOU EVER ever tried to wake up a 16 year old son after he stayed up to watch the ball drop on New Years Eve and tell him that he had to get ready to go on a 6 hour “drive home” with you? Yes, that is just asking for a battle! And a battle we had! It was loud! It was heated! It was life or death! I will spare you the agony of reading the gory details. I’ll just say that I was able to subdue the rebel and drag him along for the trip as my hostage. By the end of the day, he had had a great time. But I can still hear the shots ringing from this early morning encounter.

BY THE TIME we finally got on our way it was 11:30 – one hour behind schedule. Plus we still had to stop for lunch and **euphemism** medicine. We didn’t leave our hometown until 12:30. We were pretty late then. I don’t know which I worried about more: the hassles with X.2 when I showed up late or my own disappointment if I couldn’t make it back to Gettysburg before it got too dark to take pictures.

More than half of our trip went without event. But a little past Harrisburg, I heard a young voice from the back seat say, “Daddy, I think I have to use the bathroom.” I turned to see that pained look grimacing back and we jumped off at the next exit. We spotted a Burger King straight ahead. I drove 90 mph and straight into the ladies’ room! I waited outside the door while my little one answered “nature’s scream”. (Thank God for restaurants with bathrooms!) After several minutes, the door to the ladies’ room opened. There stood my little one saying, “Daddy… the **euphemism**…” with her undies hanging from her pinched fingers.

“Throw it away! Throw it away!! THROW IT AWAY!!!”

We had to make one more emergency pit stop along the way. We finally made it to Frederick, late but without hassle. X.2 was late herself.

J AND I made it to Gettysburg around 4:30. The sky was cloudy and there was an icy wind blowing across the battlefield. The whole place felt haunted. It felt like we were trespassing. We had enough daylight to drive around the southern end of the battlefield, through the Round Tops, past the Pennsylvania Monument, the Angle and Bryant’s Farm.

Once you reach Bryant’s Farm you are on the edge of the town of Gettysburg. The cemetery is near that point. I parked the car and ventured into the cemetery alone. J was too cold and hungry. He waited in the car. There was hardly any daylight then. Dusk was waning and the night was yawning over the place. I ran through the cemetery in order to stand where Abraham Lincoln stood when he delivered the Gettysburg Address. Nearby, there was a row of graves classified as “Unknown.” I stood for a while, staring at one of the markers, wondering who was beneath me, wondering where he was from. Did he have a wife? Children? Where on this battlefield did his blood seep into the ground? My thoughts were getting icy like the wind. If I believed in ghosts I would have sworn that you could sense restlessness rising from those graves. It was time to retreat to the car.

Before we left Gettysburg, we stopped at the only gift shop that was opened. It is called An Early Elegance. We were greeted by the owner, a very pleasant woman named Mary. J picked out a “souvenir” to which my only comment was, “You came all the way to Gettysburg, this historical place, and that was what you chose for a souvenir??” He was happy nonetheless. (Click HERE to see J’s souvenir.) I picked out a book. (I can always rationalize my need to buy a book at any given time.) Mary packed our items and also gave us a big bag of celery and carrots, a nice bag of pretzels and assorted chocolates for our journey home. Her kindness is much appreciated! When you get to Gettysburg, give her my regards.

SO… after 360 miles, 7 1/2 hours, 3 public restrooms, and a spent tank of gas, I had literally gone full circle and was finally home. But the day was not over. I still had to drive another 20 miles to pick up S and T…

“Tighten the ranks, fellas! A soldier’s duty never really ends!”

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

ONE of my careless tendencies is to forget about changing the oil in my car. Stepfather is very alert to this and seems to have an internal clock that sounds an alarm when MY car is about due for an oil change. It’s amazing! How many times has he asked me, “Change your oil lately?” right when my odometer is at 2,999 miles? As I respond, “It’s about due now. I’m going to do it soon,” with procrastination lurking behind my words, Stepfather begins his very slick lecture about the need to maintain the purity of my oil and the miseries that will ensue if I fail to do so. He’s the Dr. Koop of auto mechanics. He will probably demand that some sort of label be placed on the side of my car. As all good doctors, he has nothing but good intentions.

WHEN I look back over the years, Stepfather’s reminders to take care of my vehicles are one of many styles of melodies that emanate from his heart. I think of how he has consistently played those melodies over the noisy crowd of my rebellions. Believe me, there have been times when the two of us have nearly pushed each other to insanity! I remember “hating” his guts in a teenage sort of way. I remember blatantly giving him the finger (with my bedroom door slightly open) and he seeing me. I hurled sarcasms, insults, taunts, and near denials of his existence. Yet the symphony played on! Surely, certain sections of his ensemble had their weaknesses. But the overall effect is something so positive and beautiful. It is music that has become part of the soundtrack of the movie of my life. His courage to walk onto the stage time after time and raise his baton to conduct the orchestra again amazes me! How does a man enter the life of an angry 10-year-old boy and continue to perform with overall consistency for years? I applaud him!

NOW TODAY he should be proud of me! Today I accomplished a something that neglect with diligent procrastination. Today’s accomplishment consisted of having my car inspected and finally receiving a current inspection sticker on my windshield. (Proof of which is displayed on this page for the entire world to see!) It’s not that having my car inspected is a big problem. My current car is only a year old. It’s the time involved and the hassle of doing it that are the problems. I rationalize my avoidance of car inspections by saying that we single fathers have no time for these things. There should be a law exempting us from the obligation of car inspections! However, today, after 13 months of driving with NO inspection sticker on my car (and much longer than that with my previous car), I have attained true conformity with the rest of society and submitted my Toyota to the mundane ritual of official state car inspection. My single father comrades please forgive my betrayal of the cause. I may have let you down, but Stepfather is smiling!

What was that you asked, Stepfather? My oil? Uh… Well… I’ll get to that tomorrow. I promise!

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

FUNNY… I woke up this morning with my sanity intact! I did it! I survived! A full day snowed in with five kids, and I’m still sane! Just a little bit of drool on my chin and a passively crazed look in my eye – not too bad!

We all fared fairly well yesterday. S had a few moments there when I thought she was going to be the first one to jump ship. I guess it’s tough being a 14 year old girl living with two teenage brothers and a dad. I can’t say that I can relate to that exactly, having never been a girl myself. S was a great help in keeping H and M occupied much of the day, especially while I was taken hostage by my pc and forced to finally produce this site! J was fairly mild through the day. There were a few incidents when he and S tangled with each other. That brought back some memories…

I GREW UP WITH a younger sister, C, two years younger than I. I love her to death… But there were times as a teenager when… Well, I remember saying things like:

“Stop singing!”, while we were in the car. And, of course, Mom always said, “She can sing if she wants to. Leave her alone. She’s happy.” Yes, happy to be torturing me! But, I will confess, I find myself repeating Mom’s words in similar situations with my own children.

“Don’t walk so close to me!”, while we were walking in the mall. Walking too close to your teenage brother in the mall just isn’t cool! He doesn’t want anyone to mistakenly think that you are his girlfriend and not just his sister! That is one of life’s injustices that most teenage brothers are forced to bear. Some day I’ll make a law about that too!

ANY WAY… Besides the few squirmishes between J and S, we had some fun while being snowbound yesterday. In fact, we got by with a little help of our friends, The Beatles. M saw a commercial on television for a new Beatles CD. When I told her that I had that CD, she got so excited and said, “Can we put it on? I want that one, ‘I want to hold your hand,’ Daddy!”

So we danced our way through most of the 27 tunes on the CD! At one point S, H, M and one of S’s friends were all holding hands and dancing – on my bed! Then “Penny Lane” was ringing out through the halls at the top of someone’s lungs. “Eight Days a Week” was a little confusing for young minds. As an adult, it sure feels like most weeks have enough work for eight days! My bed was quickly transformed from a dance floor into a “Yellow Submarine.” M was the captain. She and I sat on the bed, facing each other with or feet together, singing and making silly faces at each other. There’s nothing as silly as a four-year-old yellow submarine captain!

I’ve been thinking of changing one of the tunes to “JavaScript Writer.” I wonder if it would sell??

THROUGH MOST OF MY LIFE, I really haven’t had much of an interest in the Beatles. But, for whatever reason, I recently had a “hankering” for their music. That’s a funny word, but I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s a “hankering.” For the past few years, I’ve been getting these “hankerings” for music that I never wanted to listen to when I was younger. Some of the CDs that I now own I would not have been caught dead with in my possession as a teenager! And I’m finding that I’ve been getting “hankerings” for the music my Mom listened to while I was growing up!! Somebody save me!! Neil Diamond… Elton John… Carly Simon… Carole King… And I’ve got such a “hankering” for one of the old Chicago CDs! I must resist! I must fight it! I must put some cool music on! Alice Cooper! Give me Alice! Alice will help me!

So what is the moral of the story? Is it, once you have kids of your own you end up with “hankerings,” talk like your Mom and listen to her kind of music?? Maybe it’s, once you have kids of your own you start to appreciate your parents more. You begin to realize how much of their own life they gave up for YOU. As you pour yourself into your children you see that a good portion of what you are pouring has come from your parents. Then you may even get a glimpse of how so many things – both good and bad – have been pouring down from parent to child for generations. Hopefully you also have the determination to correct some of the low qualities that may have been passed along and to strengthen the higher qualities. Now, before I get way too philosophical on you, I think I better put some music on!

Neil Diamond anyone??