Gabe's 9-10 year old all star team had their first game and it turned out as we had expected, unfortunately. The team lost 11 - 1 against the East Lake all stars. Personally, Gabe actually had a very good game. He was one for two, with a line drive to the left field fence for a double and was the only run driven in for the team. He caught three innings and pitched one shut out inning.
Unfortunately our team just did not hit well and made some mental errors which, at this level, is the difference between winning and losing. At one point we gave up six runs with two outs.
So, we hope to do better tomorrow.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
We're The Government, We're Here To Help!
Got a letter from the IRS yesterday saying we owe them multiple thousands of dollars from 2004. A bunch in taxes, plus, because they just "figured this out," we get the honor of almost another 50% in fines because it's been two years since.
Made for a great evening in the Bauer household. Lucky for me I happened to have multiple thousands of dollars in my sock drawer just waiting for such an emergency...
(searches drawer)
Okay, I only found socks in my sock drawer. Disappointing.
Do you think if I leave the notice under my pillow the IRS fairy will come and leave me a check?
I guess we'll go for Plan B.
We're making an appointment to understand their reasoning. I'm sure the process of working with the government will be nothing other than pleasant and effective. I mean, it's the IRS, after all! And it's my taxes (or lack of taxes in this case) that make their very existence possible. I'm sure they'll see me as a customer instead of an offender.
Right?
(no response)
Right?
Made for a great evening in the Bauer household. Lucky for me I happened to have multiple thousands of dollars in my sock drawer just waiting for such an emergency...
(searches drawer)
Okay, I only found socks in my sock drawer. Disappointing.
Do you think if I leave the notice under my pillow the IRS fairy will come and leave me a check?
I guess we'll go for Plan B.
We're making an appointment to understand their reasoning. I'm sure the process of working with the government will be nothing other than pleasant and effective. I mean, it's the IRS, after all! And it's my taxes (or lack of taxes in this case) that make their very existence possible. I'm sure they'll see me as a customer instead of an offender.
Right?
(no response)
Right?
Goin' Out To Cally – Part 38, U.C.L.Laid Back
As I approached Tim’s car on the U.S.C. campus I was frustrated to find a parking ticket located under the windshield wiper. Our unwelcoming excursion into Trojan territory was now complete. I angrily pulled the ticket off of the windshield and scanned it as I entered the car.
“How much is it?” Sunday asked.
I looked at it and tossed it into the glove compartment.
“What difference does it make? We’re not coming back here and Tim’s not coming back here either. If they mail him a ticket, I’ll pay for it. If not, then screw ‘em.” I said I as started the car and sped out of the parking lot.
Our trip to the U.C.L.A. campus was relatively quick by Los Angeles traffic standards. As we pulled into one of their parking lots Sunday and I decided not to ask for a tour, but just to walk around until we got kicked out.
As we bummed our way around campus we ran into a guy from the theater department, dressed in ragged clothes dotted with paint. I can’t remember his name, but we’ll call him Andy to make it easier.
We told Andy about our trip out to California and our experiences at USC. He nodded with a knowing smile and offered to give us a personal tour of the UCLA fine arts portion of the campus.
As we walked in and through the theater, around the film school and screenwriting departments, Andy gave us the real skinny, the truth that you wouldn’t find in a school brochure.
“They’ll tell you that the writing department and the film department work seamlessly together, but that’s so not true! The department heads hate each other! They’d rather eat their own young than help each other out. It sucks, but there’s not a lot we can do about it,” Andy said.
Andy had a great, subtle sense of humor. He found as much excitement in our trip to Cally as we did in his school. He was nice and charming and treated us like a regular person. He detailed all of the pros and cons of their school and what I could expect if I made the leap. After our impromptu tour I was certain of one thing, if I did end up going to film school in Los Angeles, it was going to be at UCLA.
Time flew by quickly and we found ourselves back where we started. We thanked Andy for the informative and honest tour. He said he was going to visit his friend who lived in Gainesville in a few months and asked if we could get together while we were there. I told him I had since moved from Gainesville, but, to my surprise, Sunday openly gave him her phone number. That seemed a bit reckless to me at the time, but it was Sunday’s call.
It would turn out that four months later, Andy showed up in Gainesville. Sunday called me to tell me he was coming, but my schedule didn’t permit me to meet them there. Apparently they had a nice time at the Winnjammer.
This evening, I lied on the floor and, again, failed miserably trying not to look at Sunday’s latest evening wear… a silky blue number with ruffles around the legs, by the way.
I closed my eyes and focused on the growing sense of relaxation inside me. After just two days I had accomplished most of what I had intended… I met a fellow Florida Gator working in the biz and I visited the two prominent film schools in the city. I could officially take a breath and relax.
Over the next two days we would aggressively pursue our relaxation at rival theme parks.
And so ended the eighth day on our trip to Cally.
********
“How much is it?” Sunday asked.
I looked at it and tossed it into the glove compartment.
“What difference does it make? We’re not coming back here and Tim’s not coming back here either. If they mail him a ticket, I’ll pay for it. If not, then screw ‘em.” I said I as started the car and sped out of the parking lot.
Our trip to the U.C.L.A. campus was relatively quick by Los Angeles traffic standards. As we pulled into one of their parking lots Sunday and I decided not to ask for a tour, but just to walk around until we got kicked out.As we bummed our way around campus we ran into a guy from the theater department, dressed in ragged clothes dotted with paint. I can’t remember his name, but we’ll call him Andy to make it easier.
We told Andy about our trip out to California and our experiences at USC. He nodded with a knowing smile and offered to give us a personal tour of the UCLA fine arts portion of the campus.
As we walked in and through the theater, around the film school and screenwriting departments, Andy gave us the real skinny, the truth that you wouldn’t find in a school brochure.
“They’ll tell you that the writing department and the film department work seamlessly together, but that’s so not true! The department heads hate each other! They’d rather eat their own young than help each other out. It sucks, but there’s not a lot we can do about it,” Andy said.Andy had a great, subtle sense of humor. He found as much excitement in our trip to Cally as we did in his school. He was nice and charming and treated us like a regular person. He detailed all of the pros and cons of their school and what I could expect if I made the leap. After our impromptu tour I was certain of one thing, if I did end up going to film school in Los Angeles, it was going to be at UCLA.
Time flew by quickly and we found ourselves back where we started. We thanked Andy for the informative and honest tour. He said he was going to visit his friend who lived in Gainesville in a few months and asked if we could get together while we were there. I told him I had since moved from Gainesville, but, to my surprise, Sunday openly gave him her phone number. That seemed a bit reckless to me at the time, but it was Sunday’s call.
It would turn out that four months later, Andy showed up in Gainesville. Sunday called me to tell me he was coming, but my schedule didn’t permit me to meet them there. Apparently they had a nice time at the Winnjammer.This evening, I lied on the floor and, again, failed miserably trying not to look at Sunday’s latest evening wear… a silky blue number with ruffles around the legs, by the way.
I closed my eyes and focused on the growing sense of relaxation inside me. After just two days I had accomplished most of what I had intended… I met a fellow Florida Gator working in the biz and I visited the two prominent film schools in the city. I could officially take a breath and relax.
Over the next two days we would aggressively pursue our relaxation at rival theme parks.
And so ended the eighth day on our trip to Cally.
********
Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Goin' Out To Cally – Part 37, U.S.C. Me When You Have More Money
Beyond my lunch with Pete Producer, another major reason for this trip to Cally was so I could visit the two famous film schools at the University of Southern California (USC) and their rival school at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA).
I’d wanted to be a filmmaker since I was nine years old and, while at the University of Florida, I wanted to minor in film. This was difficult for two critical reasons. One, the Fine Arts department did not allow minor degrees. Two, the University of Florida did not have a film school. So, if I was going to get an official film education then I had to look elsewhere and what better place to look than at the film schools responsible for turning out today’s giants.
USC was known for having help start the careers of many great filmmakers such as George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola. My favorite director, Steven Spielberg, couldn’t get into USC so he earned his filmmaking chops at UCLA, so, with their track records I surmised that either place would be fine.
Sunday joined me on the day’s excursion and our first stop was USC. The campus was very impressive… so much so that I felt like I was suddenly in debt ten grand just by driving on their pavement.
We parked in the first open parking spot we could find and got out. The buildings were daunting, the grounds well groomed, the people well dressed. We asked passer-bys where the film school was and they looked at us like we were carrying some lower-class contagion.
We eventually followed the campus signs and entered the school of film’s impressive building. We went up to the second floor where a few faculty and students were mingling. For some reason, I again felt under dressed or under valued. I felt as if everyone had monetary psychic abilities and, upon seeing me, could immediately scan my bank account and determine I was someone with which it was not worth making eye contact.
I meekly approached the receptionist.
“Hi, I’m here from Florida and I was wondering if there was a tour of the film school that I could take?” I asked.
I knew from my experiences at Florida that, if someone drops by, they’ll ask a Teacher’s Aide or someone to give a quick tour. The USC receptionist looked up to me as if my question had thrust her over some irrecoverable threshold of annoyance.
“Do you have an appointment?” she jabbed.
“Ah, no… we drove all the way out here and I wasn’t sure which day we would arrive… so….” I stammered.
“Well, you need an appointment” she returned snootily.
“Can I make one?” I continued.
“For today?” she asked with disbelief.
“Yeah… if possible.” I said.
She chuckled slightly to herself and said “No, not today.”
It was at this point that my Give-A-Crap ratio immediately collapsed. This was how they talked with potential students? This is how they welcomed interest in their institution from someone who drove all the way from the other side of the country? This is how they treat people?
“Nevermind!” I said with a scoffing laugh and an obvious “people like you deserve your own special place in hell” attitude and walked out.
“What a bunch of jerks.” Sunday said as we headed back to the car.
“Yeah, screw ‘em!” I said, trying to heal my wounded insecurities.
It’s amazing how perception changes everything. On our walk back to the car the campus that filled me with awe just minutes earlier seemed plain and uninviting. Perhaps it was that I was seeing it for what it really was. Or perhaps I was layering my own frustrations onto the visible environment. Either way, my childhood urge to visit this school had officially been eliminated.
My frustrations at the morning’s events were only exacerbated by what awaited us in the parking lot…
A bright orange parking ticket stuffed under Tim’s driver’s side windshield wiper.
Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
I’d wanted to be a filmmaker since I was nine years old and, while at the University of Florida, I wanted to minor in film. This was difficult for two critical reasons. One, the Fine Arts department did not allow minor degrees. Two, the University of Florida did not have a film school. So, if I was going to get an official film education then I had to look elsewhere and what better place to look than at the film schools responsible for turning out today’s giants.USC was known for having help start the careers of many great filmmakers such as George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola. My favorite director, Steven Spielberg, couldn’t get into USC so he earned his filmmaking chops at UCLA, so, with their track records I surmised that either place would be fine.
Sunday joined me on the day’s excursion and our first stop was USC. The campus was very impressive… so much so that I felt like I was suddenly in debt ten grand just by driving on their pavement.
We parked in the first open parking spot we could find and got out. The buildings were daunting, the grounds well groomed, the people well dressed. We asked passer-bys where the film school was and they looked at us like we were carrying some lower-class contagion.
We eventually followed the campus signs and entered the school of film’s impressive building. We went up to the second floor where a few faculty and students were mingling. For some reason, I again felt under dressed or under valued. I felt as if everyone had monetary psychic abilities and, upon seeing me, could immediately scan my bank account and determine I was someone with which it was not worth making eye contact.
I meekly approached the receptionist.
“Hi, I’m here from Florida and I was wondering if there was a tour of the film school that I could take?” I asked.
I knew from my experiences at Florida that, if someone drops by, they’ll ask a Teacher’s Aide or someone to give a quick tour. The USC receptionist looked up to me as if my question had thrust her over some irrecoverable threshold of annoyance.
“Do you have an appointment?” she jabbed.
“Ah, no… we drove all the way out here and I wasn’t sure which day we would arrive… so….” I stammered.
“Well, you need an appointment” she returned snootily.
“Can I make one?” I continued.
“For today?” she asked with disbelief.
“Yeah… if possible.” I said.
She chuckled slightly to herself and said “No, not today.”
It was at this point that my Give-A-Crap ratio immediately collapsed. This was how they talked with potential students? This is how they welcomed interest in their institution from someone who drove all the way from the other side of the country? This is how they treat people?
“Nevermind!” I said with a scoffing laugh and an obvious “people like you deserve your own special place in hell” attitude and walked out.
“What a bunch of jerks.” Sunday said as we headed back to the car.
“Yeah, screw ‘em!” I said, trying to heal my wounded insecurities.
It’s amazing how perception changes everything. On our walk back to the car the campus that filled me with awe just minutes earlier seemed plain and uninviting. Perhaps it was that I was seeing it for what it really was. Or perhaps I was layering my own frustrations onto the visible environment. Either way, my childhood urge to visit this school had officially been eliminated.
My frustrations at the morning’s events were only exacerbated by what awaited us in the parking lot…
A bright orange parking ticket stuffed under Tim’s driver’s side windshield wiper.
********
Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Goin' Out To Cally – Part 36, Brainwaves And Magnetism
That night as we ate dinner I shared my Pete Producer lunch experience with my travel companions and hosts. Sunday was very excited, Tim and Beth a little less so and Paul and Anne, who worked behind the magical curtain of the mouse, far less so, but were more enthused about the opportunity that the lunch could one day hopefully provide me.
After dinner, as we readied ourselves for bed, I could overhear Sunday talking to David on the phone again. Part of me wanted to give them their privacy, the other part of me wanted to eaves drop so I could understand the driving connection between them.
At first glance, David and Sunday just didn’t seem to be the ideal couple. David was older than the rest of us, having gone to high school abroad then traveled a bit before finally going to college. He wasn’t the most motivated guy, but he wasn’t overtly lazy either. He just approached everything with a very mellow mindset.
Sunday was both sexy and flighty, driven yet scatterbrained. She was much more particular about things then David and seemed more naïve, almost vulnerable, in many ways.
Perhaps that was the magnetic force that pulled them together, their opposites. It was the second time while in college that I found two people from seemingly opposite sides of the personality fence ending up together. The other couple was Jay and Leslie. Jay was over six foot, not too graceful, very funny with curly hair that was already thinning. More than anything else, Jay was goofy. Leslie was a stunning beauty of a woman with the looks of Grace Kelly who radiated confidence and strength. By their senior year they were dating seriously.
It seemed weird really. No one in the theater department could figure it out.
One day Leslie and I were walking together between classes and I told her, with as much disarming humor as I could generate, that everyone was confused by the success of their relationship.
She turned to me and said “He’s the only person I’ve met who thinks the way I do.”
Out of all of the possible reasons for their mutual attraction, brainwaves and approach to life seemed the farthest from our minds. But, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
So, maybe there was some sort of mental attraction, some similar viewpoint or approach to life that had drawn Sunday and David together.
Whatever the reasons, I knew one thing… if Sunday kept wearing those sexy lingeries to bed, something much more basic would be drawing me to her… and it wouldn’t have anything to do about thinking.
Before they could finish their conversation, I decided to avoid the inevitable struggle of trying not to look at Sunday as she went to bed and, instead, slid into my sleeping bag early. This night as my mind began to float as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if, one day, I too would find my opposite with who's relationship would make sense to no one but ourselves. If I could, then I could join the ranks of Jay and Leslie and Dave and Sunday... a happy odd couple.
And so ended the seventh day on our trip to Cally.
After dinner, as we readied ourselves for bed, I could overhear Sunday talking to David on the phone again. Part of me wanted to give them their privacy, the other part of me wanted to eaves drop so I could understand the driving connection between them.
At first glance, David and Sunday just didn’t seem to be the ideal couple. David was older than the rest of us, having gone to high school abroad then traveled a bit before finally going to college. He wasn’t the most motivated guy, but he wasn’t overtly lazy either. He just approached everything with a very mellow mindset.
Sunday was both sexy and flighty, driven yet scatterbrained. She was much more particular about things then David and seemed more naïve, almost vulnerable, in many ways.
Perhaps that was the magnetic force that pulled them together, their opposites. It was the second time while in college that I found two people from seemingly opposite sides of the personality fence ending up together. The other couple was Jay and Leslie. Jay was over six foot, not too graceful, very funny with curly hair that was already thinning. More than anything else, Jay was goofy. Leslie was a stunning beauty of a woman with the looks of Grace Kelly who radiated confidence and strength. By their senior year they were dating seriously.
It seemed weird really. No one in the theater department could figure it out.
One day Leslie and I were walking together between classes and I told her, with as much disarming humor as I could generate, that everyone was confused by the success of their relationship.
She turned to me and said “He’s the only person I’ve met who thinks the way I do.”
Out of all of the possible reasons for their mutual attraction, brainwaves and approach to life seemed the farthest from our minds. But, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
So, maybe there was some sort of mental attraction, some similar viewpoint or approach to life that had drawn Sunday and David together.
Whatever the reasons, I knew one thing… if Sunday kept wearing those sexy lingeries to bed, something much more basic would be drawing me to her… and it wouldn’t have anything to do about thinking.
Before they could finish their conversation, I decided to avoid the inevitable struggle of trying not to look at Sunday as she went to bed and, instead, slid into my sleeping bag early. This night as my mind began to float as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if, one day, I too would find my opposite with who's relationship would make sense to no one but ourselves. If I could, then I could join the ranks of Jay and Leslie and Dave and Sunday... a happy odd couple.
And so ended the seventh day on our trip to Cally.
********
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
My Kids Are Smarter Than Me
This is the first year my wife and I tried home schooling. Our number one goal as our children entered the education system was to give them a quality Catholic education. When the cost of Catholic schools grew to more than we could afford, we decided to give home schooling a try.
At first I was concerned. We didn't know how you created a curriculum and I was very concerned about the social education children require that may be more of a challenge when home schooled.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a large number of high quality Catholic home schooling associations out there with approved and accredited curriculum available. Secondly, there are a large number of classes that can be taken through the city for home schoolers, including physical education, which gave the kids a chance to get out of the house and interact with a lot of other children on a weekly, regular basis.
Third, we are very blessed to have a number of great families in our parish that are also home schooling, so there were plenty of social opportunities for our children to interact with 20 - 30 kids on a consistent basis. Plus, those families are a great support group as, they too, are facing the same challenges that we have.
Fourth, instead of spending four hours a night doing homework when they went to private school, they instead complete the entire school day in five hours when home schooled. All training in a class setting is set at the slowest child's pace. When home schooling, you can teach at your child's pace and they grow as their abilities allow. This extra time also allowed us to add more classes, such as Spanish, Piano and Science Through Cooking with tutors and they took a lot of educational field trips as well.
All this aside, the proof is in the pudding, as they say. At the end of the school year our kids had to take a CAT 5 (California Aptitude Test) within very strict time limits in order to evaluate where they are in comparison to the rest of the nation. The CAT5 covers Reading, Spelling, Language, Mathematics, Study Skills, Science and Social Studies. Those two days when the tests were taken were pretty intense at the homestead. Our children joined other home school kids in taking the tests while the parents walked around the room, like our teachers did when we were growing up.
Well, we got our test results yesterday and were very surprised at the results. My son, entering fourth grade, is at sixth grade level in almost every subject. In language expression section he was equivalent to an eleventh grader.
My daughter, entering eight grade and who last year tested on par with her grade level, tested at 12th grade level or above for every subject. Part of this is the one on one interaction during class, but a bigger part for her was that we worked with her on calming herself when taking a test. She would get so worked up that she rarely finished the tests in private school. It took all year to train her on how to manage her emotions and focus on the questions. It finally paid off when taking the time limit CAT5 tests.
My wife and kids were very excited to see the results and know that all of their hard work this year has paid off.
I'm very proud of them.
At first I was concerned. We didn't know how you created a curriculum and I was very concerned about the social education children require that may be more of a challenge when home schooled.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a large number of high quality Catholic home schooling associations out there with approved and accredited curriculum available. Secondly, there are a large number of classes that can be taken through the city for home schoolers, including physical education, which gave the kids a chance to get out of the house and interact with a lot of other children on a weekly, regular basis.
Third, we are very blessed to have a number of great families in our parish that are also home schooling, so there were plenty of social opportunities for our children to interact with 20 - 30 kids on a consistent basis. Plus, those families are a great support group as, they too, are facing the same challenges that we have.
Fourth, instead of spending four hours a night doing homework when they went to private school, they instead complete the entire school day in five hours when home schooled. All training in a class setting is set at the slowest child's pace. When home schooling, you can teach at your child's pace and they grow as their abilities allow. This extra time also allowed us to add more classes, such as Spanish, Piano and Science Through Cooking with tutors and they took a lot of educational field trips as well.
All this aside, the proof is in the pudding, as they say. At the end of the school year our kids had to take a CAT 5 (California Aptitude Test) within very strict time limits in order to evaluate where they are in comparison to the rest of the nation. The CAT5 covers Reading, Spelling, Language, Mathematics, Study Skills, Science and Social Studies. Those two days when the tests were taken were pretty intense at the homestead. Our children joined other home school kids in taking the tests while the parents walked around the room, like our teachers did when we were growing up.
Well, we got our test results yesterday and were very surprised at the results. My son, entering fourth grade, is at sixth grade level in almost every subject. In language expression section he was equivalent to an eleventh grader.
My daughter, entering eight grade and who last year tested on par with her grade level, tested at 12th grade level or above for every subject. Part of this is the one on one interaction during class, but a bigger part for her was that we worked with her on calming herself when taking a test. She would get so worked up that she rarely finished the tests in private school. It took all year to train her on how to manage her emotions and focus on the questions. It finally paid off when taking the time limit CAT5 tests.
My wife and kids were very excited to see the results and know that all of their hard work this year has paid off.
I'm very proud of them.
Goin' Out To Cally – Part 35, The Lunch and Mathematical Gymnastics
I arrived at the Chez Nous restaurant flustered because I had a hard time finding the place and because I had no idea how to pronounce the name of the restaurant itself. As I entered the restaurant I was greeted by a host who immediately acted as if I was under dressed and under classed to be engaged in a conversation with someone as lofty as himself.
Perhaps it was residual doubt from the night before that accentuated my interpretation of the host’s bitter attitude, but no matter the cause, it was not a great way to start out with what could be the most important lunch of my young life.
I scanned the restaurant and caught eyes with a man in his mid to late thirties with dark wavy hair and physically fit.
“Are you Pete?” he said.
I walked over to him and extended my hand, replying “Yes!”
“My name is Pete, too,” he said as we sat at the table.
The host looked down on me literally and figuratively as he handed me the menu. I glanced through it and found myself flabbergasted by the prices of each item. I was on a very limited budget and I had assumed that I would pay for lunch… after all; Pete was doing me the favor.
I feigned that I had a late breakfast and was not overly hungry, ordering a relatively inexpensive appetizer instead. As Pete Producer ordered his meal I silently added up the cost of it in my head… it was times like this that I wished I was more like my brother John, the accountant, who could perform mathematical gymnastics in his head without breaking a left-brained sweat. I was all right-brain, all the time.
My best guess was that I would have just enough to cover the meal. If he ordered dessert, I could be in trouble.
As we sipped our drinks Pete Producer started talking about his movie projects. It turns out he was a writer as well… something we immediately had in common. I quickly realized that he was more interested in talking about himself than asking about me. This wasn’t a bad thing, really. It seemed to be the way Hollywood worked. Plus, it gave me time to work off my nerves without having to speak… or misspeak, as the case may be. So, I listened intently, asked probing questions and learned a lot about his project and his hope of landing Robert DeNiro for the lead role.
DeNiro was an A list actor. The top of the A list actors. To land him to his project would be huge. That’s would be an impressive feat, if he could pull it off.
After the latest and greatest news about his project was completed the conversation eventually turned to me… my current activities, my goals, etc. I told him I was and actor and also working on writing a couple of screenplays. Any good producer is always on the lookout for young talent, especially young writers. With this in mind, he offered to peruse my screenplays when they were completed, give me constructive feedback and so on.
That was a huge development for me. Up until that point Show Business, with a capital S and B, seemed like some impenetrable fortress where, within its walls, held my Holy Grail… my movie career. To have a way in passed the heavily armed gates, spot lights and gun turrets, well, it gave me great hope.
Our conversation then veered toward our mutual friend, Doc Shelton, and our shared experiences at the University of Florida. It was then that our mentor/tutor relationship evaporated and we simply became Florida Gators who visited the same bars, hung out at the same university hot spots and chased the same types of girls.
We started talking like frat boys about girls and theater parties and college life when, in what appeared to be a man suddenly aware of his marital limitations pleading with a young lad with none, Pete leaned toward me and said “Pete, if you’re the type of guy, sleep with as many girls in college as you possibly can. For the rest of your life you’ll NEVER be surrounded by as many beautiful and available women as you will in college.”
An interesting comment considering the confusion I was dealing with in my current travel situation. However, I wasn’t raised to treat women as selfishly as that, so I took his advice with a grain of salt.
Our chatter came to a close as the check came. I offered to pay, but Pete wouldn’t allow it. “Let me get the tip at least,” I replied. He agreed. It was gesture of good faith on my part, but had I known Pete was picking up the tab I would have eaten a lot more. I was starving! I decided to stop through a McDonalds drive-thru on the way back to the house.
Funny… I traveled all the way to Los Angeles to have lunch with a producer at a fancy restaurant only to actually eat my lunch at McDonalds.
As I munched on my cheeseburger on my drive back to the house I felt reinvigorated, like the dreams I had created in my head when I was nine years old were now, somehow, more attainable.
I couldn’t wait to share my experiences with my travel companions.
Perhaps it was residual doubt from the night before that accentuated my interpretation of the host’s bitter attitude, but no matter the cause, it was not a great way to start out with what could be the most important lunch of my young life.
I scanned the restaurant and caught eyes with a man in his mid to late thirties with dark wavy hair and physically fit.
“Are you Pete?” he said.
I walked over to him and extended my hand, replying “Yes!”
“My name is Pete, too,” he said as we sat at the table.
The host looked down on me literally and figuratively as he handed me the menu. I glanced through it and found myself flabbergasted by the prices of each item. I was on a very limited budget and I had assumed that I would pay for lunch… after all; Pete was doing me the favor.
I feigned that I had a late breakfast and was not overly hungry, ordering a relatively inexpensive appetizer instead. As Pete Producer ordered his meal I silently added up the cost of it in my head… it was times like this that I wished I was more like my brother John, the accountant, who could perform mathematical gymnastics in his head without breaking a left-brained sweat. I was all right-brain, all the time.
My best guess was that I would have just enough to cover the meal. If he ordered dessert, I could be in trouble.
As we sipped our drinks Pete Producer started talking about his movie projects. It turns out he was a writer as well… something we immediately had in common. I quickly realized that he was more interested in talking about himself than asking about me. This wasn’t a bad thing, really. It seemed to be the way Hollywood worked. Plus, it gave me time to work off my nerves without having to speak… or misspeak, as the case may be. So, I listened intently, asked probing questions and learned a lot about his project and his hope of landing Robert DeNiro for the lead role.
DeNiro was an A list actor. The top of the A list actors. To land him to his project would be huge. That’s would be an impressive feat, if he could pull it off.
After the latest and greatest news about his project was completed the conversation eventually turned to me… my current activities, my goals, etc. I told him I was and actor and also working on writing a couple of screenplays. Any good producer is always on the lookout for young talent, especially young writers. With this in mind, he offered to peruse my screenplays when they were completed, give me constructive feedback and so on.
That was a huge development for me. Up until that point Show Business, with a capital S and B, seemed like some impenetrable fortress where, within its walls, held my Holy Grail… my movie career. To have a way in passed the heavily armed gates, spot lights and gun turrets, well, it gave me great hope.
Our conversation then veered toward our mutual friend, Doc Shelton, and our shared experiences at the University of Florida. It was then that our mentor/tutor relationship evaporated and we simply became Florida Gators who visited the same bars, hung out at the same university hot spots and chased the same types of girls.
We started talking like frat boys about girls and theater parties and college life when, in what appeared to be a man suddenly aware of his marital limitations pleading with a young lad with none, Pete leaned toward me and said “Pete, if you’re the type of guy, sleep with as many girls in college as you possibly can. For the rest of your life you’ll NEVER be surrounded by as many beautiful and available women as you will in college.”
An interesting comment considering the confusion I was dealing with in my current travel situation. However, I wasn’t raised to treat women as selfishly as that, so I took his advice with a grain of salt.
Our chatter came to a close as the check came. I offered to pay, but Pete wouldn’t allow it. “Let me get the tip at least,” I replied. He agreed. It was gesture of good faith on my part, but had I known Pete was picking up the tab I would have eaten a lot more. I was starving! I decided to stop through a McDonalds drive-thru on the way back to the house.
Funny… I traveled all the way to Los Angeles to have lunch with a producer at a fancy restaurant only to actually eat my lunch at McDonalds.
As I munched on my cheeseburger on my drive back to the house I felt reinvigorated, like the dreams I had created in my head when I was nine years old were now, somehow, more attainable.
I couldn’t wait to share my experiences with my travel companions.
Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Monday, June 19, 2006
All Star Uniform
Gabe got his all star uniform Saturday for pictures. He was very excited.
It includes pin strip pants with a belt... the belt is key. To a nine year old, wearing a belt means you're dressed like a major leaguer.
Ahh, wasn't it great when the little things in life meant so much?
It includes pin strip pants with a belt... the belt is key. To a nine year old, wearing a belt means you're dressed like a major leaguer.
Ahh, wasn't it great when the little things in life meant so much?
Goin' Out To Cally – Part 34, The Quick Route To Self Doubt
“Comfortable?” I said looking at Sunday in her partially revealing nightwear, my voice inadvertently cracking as if I was suddenly thrust back into puberty.
“Very,” she said as a statement of fact as she walked passed me, wearing her form fitting olive green silk nightie, and over to her bed on the couch.
As Sunday gently slithered under the covers I tried not to look, yet was drawn to look, yet tried again not to look, but ended up looking as much as I could without being caught looking at her as much as I could, that is until the blanket had completely covered her scantily clad body.
I had never noticed what a shapely body Sunday actually had before that moment. Her normal choice of clothes usually covered her in various layers. With nothing more than finely woven silk between her and her birthday suit, well, like any other male in his early twenties my interest was piqued.
My baser instinctual fascination with her was immediately stymied, however, by her very next sentence.
“I just got off the phone with David. He says ‘hi’” she said.
With that I was immediately voted off Fantasy Island and thrust back into the harsh light of reality. I shook my head. What was I thinking? Dave is a very good friend of mine. Sunday is his girlfriend. “Get your head straight,” I said condescendingly to myself.
A moment later I thought… “But, boy, she’s hot.”
“Stop that!” I yelled to myself.
And thus my internal struggle began; evil vs. good, dark vs. light, Vader vs. Skywalker.
Over the past day or so, this playing with my mind and my pathetically uncontrollable hormones had increasingly become the standard series of events when it came to Sunday and me. She would flirt, I would get confused, she would bring up David and I would feel guilty for misreading her intent… all of which greatly elevated my utter confusion and insecurity when it came to Sunday, specifically, and women, in general.
“How’s he doing?” I asked, trying to play along, attempting to feel out her intentions.
“We miss each other,” she sighed.
Well, that put the nail in the flirtation coffin.
“That’s sweet,” I chimed in with as much false sincerity as I could muster.
“Yeah. Well, good night,” she followed and turned out the light.
I lay on the floor, my head swimming in various levels of self doubt and internal frustration. Granted, I never started out having any intention of interfering with David and Sunday’s relationship, but now my primal emotions were getting kicked in the balls and I wasn’t wearing a cup. I needed to figure out a way to protect myself. Various thoughts collided with each other as they raced through my mind…
“Is she attractive? Yes.”
“Am I attracted to her? Yes and no.”
“Is she attracted to me? If I knew that I wouldn’t be talking to myself.”
“What should I do? Fall back to Plan A… Roll over like a toddler, pull your blanket over your head, close your eyes and act like nothing happened.”
“Has that worked for me before? Nope.”
“Should I talk to her about it? And risk the embarrassment that would follow if I was wrong? No way!”
“What other options do I have? None. Back to Plan A.”
“Will I get a good night sleep tonight? Not if you keep obsessing about this… Think of something else,” I pleaded with myself
My mind floundered at picking another subject more important that my decreasing self worth and evaporating dignity.
My eyes bolted open. “Lunch!” I exclaimed to myself.
I suddenly remembered that tomorrow I had lunch with my fellow University of Florida graduate who was a working Producer in Hollywood! My internal machinations over my self worth would have to wait until later. I had my immediate future to think about.
With that my mind suddenly cleared. However, my agitation with Sunday quickly migrated into anticipation about my impending meeting with the Producer. This left me struggling with a fitful sleep at the end of the sixth day of our trip to Cally.
“Very,” she said as a statement of fact as she walked passed me, wearing her form fitting olive green silk nightie, and over to her bed on the couch.
As Sunday gently slithered under the covers I tried not to look, yet was drawn to look, yet tried again not to look, but ended up looking as much as I could without being caught looking at her as much as I could, that is until the blanket had completely covered her scantily clad body.
I had never noticed what a shapely body Sunday actually had before that moment. Her normal choice of clothes usually covered her in various layers. With nothing more than finely woven silk between her and her birthday suit, well, like any other male in his early twenties my interest was piqued.
My baser instinctual fascination with her was immediately stymied, however, by her very next sentence.
“I just got off the phone with David. He says ‘hi’” she said.
With that I was immediately voted off Fantasy Island and thrust back into the harsh light of reality. I shook my head. What was I thinking? Dave is a very good friend of mine. Sunday is his girlfriend. “Get your head straight,” I said condescendingly to myself.
A moment later I thought… “But, boy, she’s hot.”
“Stop that!” I yelled to myself.
And thus my internal struggle began; evil vs. good, dark vs. light, Vader vs. Skywalker.
Over the past day or so, this playing with my mind and my pathetically uncontrollable hormones had increasingly become the standard series of events when it came to Sunday and me. She would flirt, I would get confused, she would bring up David and I would feel guilty for misreading her intent… all of which greatly elevated my utter confusion and insecurity when it came to Sunday, specifically, and women, in general.
“How’s he doing?” I asked, trying to play along, attempting to feel out her intentions.
“We miss each other,” she sighed.
Well, that put the nail in the flirtation coffin.
“That’s sweet,” I chimed in with as much false sincerity as I could muster.
“Yeah. Well, good night,” she followed and turned out the light.
I lay on the floor, my head swimming in various levels of self doubt and internal frustration. Granted, I never started out having any intention of interfering with David and Sunday’s relationship, but now my primal emotions were getting kicked in the balls and I wasn’t wearing a cup. I needed to figure out a way to protect myself. Various thoughts collided with each other as they raced through my mind…
“Is she attractive? Yes.”
“Am I attracted to her? Yes and no.”
“Is she attracted to me? If I knew that I wouldn’t be talking to myself.”
“What should I do? Fall back to Plan A… Roll over like a toddler, pull your blanket over your head, close your eyes and act like nothing happened.”
“Has that worked for me before? Nope.”
“Should I talk to her about it? And risk the embarrassment that would follow if I was wrong? No way!”
“What other options do I have? None. Back to Plan A.”
“Will I get a good night sleep tonight? Not if you keep obsessing about this… Think of something else,” I pleaded with myself
My mind floundered at picking another subject more important that my decreasing self worth and evaporating dignity.
My eyes bolted open. “Lunch!” I exclaimed to myself.
I suddenly remembered that tomorrow I had lunch with my fellow University of Florida graduate who was a working Producer in Hollywood! My internal machinations over my self worth would have to wait until later. I had my immediate future to think about.
With that my mind suddenly cleared. However, my agitation with Sunday quickly migrated into anticipation about my impending meeting with the Producer. This left me struggling with a fitful sleep at the end of the sixth day of our trip to Cally.
********
Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Father's Day - Home Movies
About twenty years ago I had come home from college to visit my parents and spend the weekend to celebrate Father's Day. Everyone was out of the condo when I arrived. As I put my things away I found an old small movie reel on top of my father's desk. Being a movie nut, I recognized it as an 8 mm film. Curious, I pulled out my Super 8 movie projector and tried to thread the film, but it wasn't working. I had to shift the setting to Regular 8 and the film threaded successfully. Regular 8 film was very old, so my curiosity was only increased.
Alone in that dark room I watched an old black and white movie with quick images of my father in a navy uniform, meaning this film was from the 1940s. Around him were numerous other people that I did not recognize. Knowing my parents didn't own a movie projector I knew that they could not have seen this film. I decided to work with my Mom to surprise my Dad and my family by showing the film that night at the party.
Just then I heard the door open. Assuming my father was playing golf I yelled "Mom, come here!" Into the room walked my father. Unable to come up with a good excuse as to what I was doing, I said, "Sit down... I found this and don't know what it is."
I turned out the light and my father and I watched the frenetic black and white moving images on the wall of his office. At once he was transported back to his youth. He was a teen when the film was taken. His voice regressed forty years when he spotted his dog. He spotted relatives, long since past, including his father... my grandfather that I had never met.
When the short movie was over I turned on the light and there were tears in his eyes. I asked him what was wrong. He looked at me and said "On Father's Day, it's nice to remember I have a father too." As we hugged I realized just how special this moment was between father and son, remember a father and son. I was grateful that my plans of presenting this movie with the entire family had been changed so that I could spend this moment with my father alone.
Happy Father's Day Dad. My love for you grows everyday.
Alone in that dark room I watched an old black and white movie with quick images of my father in a navy uniform, meaning this film was from the 1940s. Around him were numerous other people that I did not recognize. Knowing my parents didn't own a movie projector I knew that they could not have seen this film. I decided to work with my Mom to surprise my Dad and my family by showing the film that night at the party.
Just then I heard the door open. Assuming my father was playing golf I yelled "Mom, come here!" Into the room walked my father. Unable to come up with a good excuse as to what I was doing, I said, "Sit down... I found this and don't know what it is."
I turned out the light and my father and I watched the frenetic black and white moving images on the wall of his office. At once he was transported back to his youth. He was a teen when the film was taken. His voice regressed forty years when he spotted his dog. He spotted relatives, long since past, including his father... my grandfather that I had never met.
When the short movie was over I turned on the light and there were tears in his eyes. I asked him what was wrong. He looked at me and said "On Father's Day, it's nice to remember I have a father too." As we hugged I realized just how special this moment was between father and son, remember a father and son. I was grateful that my plans of presenting this movie with the entire family had been changed so that I could spend this moment with my father alone.Happy Father's Day Dad. My love for you grows everyday.
Father's Day - Pictures
Here are some pictures of my father and my wife's father. Funny how few pictures taken with our fathers... I guess they were the ones behind the camera.
Father's Day - The Press
In 1988, as I was graduating college, my parents lived in a condo in St. Petersburg. One of their neighbors, Maggie, used to freelance write for the Florida Catholic. As Maggie got to know my parents she decided that my father's story would be a good article for the newspaper. She interviewed him and took his picture. The story focuses on my parent's ability to put God first in all things during their marriage. About the challenges of raising eight kids and making sacrifices in order to do so. Having just re-read that article I realized that I too have made similar decisions, sacrifices for my family, and that my Father's story reinforced my own decisions. Sad that it takes so many years to come to appreciate one's father.
You can read the story here.
His example as a father has lead to a growing and very large family through his sons. Joe has three children. John has three children. Stephen has four children. Paul has one child. Charles has eleven children. Dea and I are blessed with two children. His daughters have married great fathers as well. Loretta and Bob have three children. Mary and Steve have six children. And among those sons of the father are more sons and daughters having children of their own.
Love creating love.
No better example than that.
You can read the story here.
His example as a father has lead to a growing and very large family through his sons. Joe has three children. John has three children. Stephen has four children. Paul has one child. Charles has eleven children. Dea and I are blessed with two children. His daughters have married great fathers as well. Loretta and Bob have three children. Mary and Steve have six children. And among those sons of the father are more sons and daughters having children of their own.
Love creating love.
No better example than that.
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