The only thing I know for sure, is that in an odd way, I was glad he was dead when the Walter Reed Scandal broke.  Because since he would collect money for Disabled American Veterans from the day he came home from Korea right up through the year he passed, I am sure that reading about it would surely have killed him.

Other than that, rarely a day goes by that I don’t miss him.

Though she will not really remember him when she gets older, I am glad that LatteGirl did get to spend time with him.  She loved him a lot as well.  When she was a toddler, the only people that she would go to without a fuss would be Mommy, Daddy or “Poppie.”

I have never been big on going to cemeteries.   I think this stems from the time when I was a tween (though they hadn’t come up with “tween” yet), when it felt like I was at a wake or funeral on an all too regular basis.  Now however, since LatteGirl is not quite ready to let him go, we go almost once a month to “visit” him.

The best we can do now however, I guess, is just to keep him alive in our hearts, and always remember him.

There are several reasons for this. The biggest one of course being that there is just so much more available now than when we were kids.  It is rare that our television is tuned to something other than the Disney Channel, with the rare exception made usually for Scooby-Doo on Boomerang or Cartoon Network.

The second reason being that of course many of the Classic Looney Tunes were of course pulled off the air because they are “too violent” (a rant I will go into separately tomorrow).

But in either case, we found it quite sad that she has been denied exposure to this so far. It didn’t really take away from her enjoyment of the park, but I think that the Tivo is going to have to get a few new “Season Passes” so that she can find out why exactly Daddy was so excited to see Marvin the Martian, that he actually was willing to be on the other side of the camera for a change.

What did you watch as a child?  And do you want your children watching it now?  Why?  Why not?

Something that we as adults often lose or forget. In this case, it is how important these characters are in her life. She appreciates them “being there” for her, to entertain her, to inform her whenever she wants them to be. They are there for her. And she makes sure she shows just how much she loves and appreciates them for it.

And she does it with us as well. She will just cuddle up at times with me or TheWife, and make a point to tell us what great parent’s she thinks we are, and how much she appreciates us. And most of the time, I am very thankful that she feels that way, and we “have a moment.”

But there are times that I am sad to admit, that I am less than receptive. I am busy doing something, cooking dinner, or sending out an e-mail, or reading the news, when it is inconvenient for me. Not only that, I know I also tend to expect other’s in my life to “just know” how much I love them, or how much I appreciate them being in my life, for what they do, or for just being who they are.

And as I looked through this pictures, I realized that maybe I should take the time, or a bit more time to make sure my daughter knows how much I love her. I could stop what I am doing for just a minute to get that hug or smooch she so wants to give me at that moment. I should remember to not only tell my spouse that I love her, but that I appreciate her, what she does, and who she is, and how important she is to the life I have and the person I am.

Now, I am not saying that we need to have a “love in” and you need to run out and hug every family member, and neighbor, and friend you have. You don’t need to make a scene of it, or even really go out of your way. Just when the opportunity arises, take it, and let the people in your life know just how much they mean to you. And I will bet, you will find out how much you mean to others as well. Another nice feeling that you will wind up getting as a bonus in return.

Yes, Disney World is expensive, but there are ways to cut corners and keep your expenses to a minimum if you try. Yes, it can be hot (it was in the mid 90’s with high humidity the week we were there), but you can also plan your trip when it isn’t as hot (Heck Wendy was complaining how COLD is was when she went back in February). Lines can be long for some rides, but thanks to FastPass (this wikipedia entry is a bit dated, but gives a good overview of FastPass), you can get a ticket and return at your specified time for the ride later allowing you to explore more of the park. So what is it really? What did I get to experience that these people didn’t?

The only thing I can come up with is, that beaming smile.

We had just stood for a half hour (to get a good seat) in the sun, we had been walking through the park for about 4 hours by this point, she was hungry (because we were going to lunch after this show), and yet look at that smile. Look at the anticipation as she was awaiting the appearance of some characters (in this case from the Playhouse Disney Shows).  Yet hot, sticky, sweaty… it didn’t matter.

Now, I will admit, I had a great time in my own right, so that only makes it better for me, but even if I found Disney less that what I had anticipated, I can say for sure that no matter how much I spent on a vacation, it was all worth it, to see that smile.  To experience every morning the sheer joy of her unbridled enthusiasm of the upcoming days events.  To listen to her regale others with her journey’s.  Even people that we knew were at the same park.  In amazing detail she could recount every step, every character she met, and of course how much fun she had in doing so.

So, were other people not paying attention?  Did they miss this with their own kids?  How could something that brings that much joy to a child be something that you don’t crave again and again?  Sure for some reasons, financias, time constraints, whatever, I may not be able to do this “all the time,” but anything that can bring that kind of smile to her face… Yeah, I want as much of it as I can.  Because I am addicted… to her beaming smile.

The Sands was the first Casino to open in Atlantic City in 1978, but it was 10 years old by the time I first set foot in a Casino. In 1988, I was working on Wall Street, and decided it was time for me to make a trip down to the Atlantic City Casinos and try and play like a hotshot. I did, and I lost… big. But that is not the point.

When I selected where I wanted to go, I picked the one that sounded the most “Vegas” and the Sands which had a much more famous counterpart in Vegas fit that bill. It had that charm and feel of the Casino best depicted on television (an era that is unfortunately long gone). Even the nightclub was more of a Rat Pack style Lounge than the large theaters that now are used in most locations.

Over the years, I have lost more than I have won, but rarely did I leave the Sands over the years, without a smile on my face, having had a good time, in a place where the staff was friendly, as were the other gamblers/guests that frequented it.  It was my kind of place.

And now this relic, the piece of nostalgia is no more.  Scheduled to meet the wrecking ball for a newer, fancier and bigger casino.   It is the end of an era.  One that I will miss.

LatteGirl after her 2007 Dance Recital.

Some Pictures, don’t have a story. They just are the story.

Joking aside there is nothing funny about the fact that a fire that burned more than 22,000 acres of Pinelands in New Jersey over the past couple of days was reportedly started by flares dropped from an F-16 fighter jet during a training mission. (But for a large thunderstorms yesterday, the area consumed by the fire would have been much greater).

Now admittedly it is not like some random act, since there is a firing range in the area. But this definitely highlights the risks of having a military training range in an area that not only is highly flammable (Pine is apparently naturally very flammable), but also with residences not terribly far away.

I’m not trying to lay blame here, it was an accident and nothing more. Fortunately (at least according to everything I have seen so far), there have been no deaths or immediate reports of injuries from the event. But I will tell as somebody that lives 12 miles from the World Trade Center Site, and who travels that area frequently, it is an uncomfortable feeling. A feeling I don’t like, and this is the second time in less than a year, this first of course being when Cory Lidle’s plane crashed in New York City last year.

This time however, after considering what my time is worth, the fact that I am older and less patient, I decided to have a professional install the pool this time. Needless to say he was able to get the job done in far less time (4-1/2 hours to be exact).

Now I was only too happy to get rid of our temporary pool that we had for two seasons after our original one upped and decided to just split. But I think I may have gone a bit overboard. The new pool is 18′ round. Which doesn’t sound all that big, but when you stick it in my yard… well…

Let’s just say that there isn’t really all that much yard left at all. I guess that is what I get for sticking too much to a city area where lots are small.

But I’m not complaining, because I know when we eventually get this sucker filled up (can I tell you, that some 23,000 gallons of water through a garden hose can take quite a while), LatteGirl will be thrilled.

I have already chronicled that she loves the water. So I know it will certainly get plenty of use. And since this pool comes with a 35 year warranty, this will be the last pool purchase, I ever have to make. (I certainly hope and expect that it will be anyway).

And who knows, if I am good, besides having the honor of cleaning and vacuuming it, maybe I will even get to use it once in a while.

If you haven’t done so yet, Go over and Check out The Meatrix I.

Back?  Good.

The fact of the matter is, that in many instances, what is depicted here is not how it is done today thank to Big Agri-Business over-running the local farms, raising animals in deplorable conditions, using (at best) questionable practices such as debeaking chickens, over use of anitbiotics, keeping animals in cages where they simply cannot move, using rBGH/rBST in cows to increase production despite the potential health effects to both the cows and humans that consume the milk produced by cows injected with these synthetic hormones.

I will once again be raising money for Farm Aid, which helps small farmers survive (and try to thrive) in this world that is sadly slanted towards the Big Corporate Entities.  Hopefully, the wonderful people, (and perhaps a few new ones) will again join me in attempting to raise money for this worthwhile cause.

It really can’t be stressed enough, when you want to take into consideration your health, the health of your family, and even the health of your community and the world, supporting your local farmers is good way to get good tasting food, get it from a source your know, keep the money in your local area, and all while helping to reduce carbon emmission that are inevitable when food is shipped from around the world.  Now of course not everybody has everything naturally grown close to home.  I know I am sure as heck not giving up my coffee and other products that aren’t grown around here.  But when it comes to the things, the fruits, the vegetables and where possible even some meat, I will find a local source or shop at the local farmers market.

We will all be happier and healthier… even the cows.

Now, I am not talking about illegal immigration here, that is a whole other topic, for another time. No, I am talking about plain old racism. And it burns me to no end, when people whine about the “PC Police.” Because these same whiners would be the ones up in arms if something derogatory was said about “their people.”

I have head people ask, do you teach your child how to not be a racist? This is of course, the silliest thing I have ever heard. Of course I don’t. I have no need to. Not because my child is special, or has some sort of difference than other kids. No, she is exactly the same as all kids in this world. Racism is not “baked in.” The seeds of racism are planted by adults, nurtured and cultivated, as the children learn from the actions of adults.

Now to be fair, it is not all the adults. There is enough blame to go around, since children can also be influenced by teachers, friends (who have racist parents), and even television. Not that I would ever condone a child watching Faux News Channel (or anybody else for that matter), but what kind of a world do we live in when you have “News” reporters saying thing like, the Iraqi people are knuckle dragging savages from the 10th century. You have many people who believe that Barack Obama can not be President. Not for any reason of his qualification, but because, “America isn’t ready for a BLACK President.”

Have we really progressed so little? Can’t we just learn from our children that we are all really the same and that the color of our skin, or the nation from which we claim our roots, really doesn’t matter? Is it really that hard? And if not, why haven’t we done it?

Ipod saves Soldier’s Life
Originally uploaded by tikigod.

The iPod you see here was according to the accompanying story on Flickr, was carried in the shirt pocket.

“Kevin Garrad (3rd Infantry Division) was on a street patrol in Iraq (Tikrit I believe) and as he rounded the corner of a building an armed (AK-47) insurgent came from the other side.

The two of them were within just a few feet of each other when they opened fire. The insurgent was killed and Kevin was hit in the left chest where his IPod was in his jacket pocket. It slowed the bullet down enough that it did not completely penetrate his body armor. Fortunately, Kevin suffered no wound.”

If that isn’t a Picture Perfect ending to what could have been something awful, I don’t know what is.  (According to an update posted on the thread, an engineer from Apple showed the picture around, and Apple may be replacing it for the Soldier, which would be nice under any circumstances, but is even more outstanding since if you look at this iPod, it is actually a rare one that was actually from HP.)

(h/t to tikigod who posted the picture and story on Flickr)

I have to admit that when I read that Liz and her family had headed off to Hershey this past week, that I was a bit jealous.  Partly, because we are not doing any real traveling or vacationing this spring break.  And partly because, I am jealous, and wish I was returning again this year.

Oh sure, my wife can say well we are going to Disney this year, and that is more than we care to spend for a vacation ever again.  And that is true.  But it doesn’t make me want to go back again to Hershey.  Yes, I might reconsider whether or not, “Chocolatetown USA” is the brightest place to bring a child during Easter Weekend.  Because after all, it is obvious as this picture proves, LatteGirl sure does LOVE her chocolate.  And anything that makes her that happy, sure makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.  (Or is that heartburn from too much chocolate?)

I’m sure that if (when) we do go again, it will not be quite as special as this first trip was.  Even with an overcrowded park, it was a special weekend that will always be Picture Perfect.

Of course we do also still have that problem of finding a cure.  Though we are making strides, there is still so much we need to learn to help eradicate this problem.  Now places such as the Susan G. Komen for the Cure, have done a great deal to both raise awareness and help raise money for research, but we are not there yet.

If you are a woman and at “that age” or are a “high risk” person, then please take the time to get tested.  If you are aman, talk to your spouse, your girlfriend, you significant other about it.  If you can donate, please do so.  You never know, the person who benefits most someday could be you or somebody your love.

So when an article appeared recently in Good Housekeeping (shut up, my wife showed it to me) about the dangers of CCA Lumber, I was disappointed in myself for not knowing about this. However, in researching it further now, I have noticed something that I consider not only disturbing but downright wrong. Yes, I can find some information out there. Some of it actually fairly old, including this excellent article from Parents’ Press, that give a broad overview of the problem, focusing primarily on children’s wooden playsets. Although they do not go much further than repeating the EPA’s suggestion of make sure your children wash their hands after exposure, and to retreat the wood. Which is of course correct, but really de-emphasizes the problems and risks involved, and seems to take them too lightly.

Let me go back a bit for those that like me, may have been a bit lacking on information on this. CCA treated lumber (known as Chromated Copper Arsenate or “Pressure Treated” Lumber) up until 2003, was treated with a chemical compound of Chromium Copper and Arsenic (the phase out began at the end of 2003, but already existing lumber, playsets, etc were allowed to continue to be sold well into 2004 and beyond). CCA lumber is identifiable by its green (when new) or dull gray (older) coloring. When you see green coloring leeching out of the wood (as you can see at the bottom of the fence post in the picture), that is the toxic compound leeching out of the wood. Despite the deal between the EPA and the lumber industry that ultimately led to the “voluntary” removal of CCA, the Consumer Product Safety Commission REFUSED to ban the sale of CCA treated playsets. Of course these are the same people that did not think lead in children’s lunch boxes was a big deal.

This lumber, besides being the lumber that makes up wooden swingsets and playsets. It is also the foundation of many backyard fences and outdoor decks, and picnic tables. Now I am not saying that if you have any of these things that you need to throw them out or replace them immediately. But if you are going to use them and allow your child to play and or eat on or near these things, please make sure you have treated them with penetrating stains. Not paints, not top coatings, but penetrating stains (One that comes to mind is Thompson’s Water Sealer and Stain, but I am not advocating any particular brand, so long as it is the type that penetrates and seals the wood to keep the toxic compounds in the wood). Previously it had been suggested you usually only needed to do this “every few years”, but to be safe should probably be done annually. Understand Arsenic can be absorbed through the skin, inhaled or ingested. One-tenth of a gram accumulated over a two month period can produce death, and arsenic is carcinogenic at much lower levels.

To make this story even a bit more disconcerting that it already is, while reading up on this, I found two more stories that made the situation potentially worse. The first being that, while most of the focus on CCA lumber has been focused on the arsenic, it turns out the chromium may also cause lung cancer. And worse that that, the chromium industry knew and withheld that information. The second adds something else to the list to worry about. It seems that many mulches, used to decorate your landscaping, since it is usually made from recycled lumber is also showing a problem of Arsenic Leaching.

You would think that a something this significant wold have garnered much more attention than it has up until now, and probably would have if the CPSC was doing their job of protecting consumers. But in the meantime, if you have some of this wood used in your yard or around your house, please take the time to ensure it is sealed.

Update: As one commenter pointed out, there is an excellent gathering of information available at http://www.bancca.org, which has quite a list of information and articles (including mainstream media articles and news stories on it), and some awful stories of people that were victims of CCA poisoning.

Update II: Check out Ten safety steps to reduce your family’s exposure to arsenic from arsenic-treated wood. (Hat Tip to Dr. Lynne Eldridge M.D. author of “Avoiding Cancer One Day At A Time”)

The fantastical story that
inspires in children much imagination
and is read by all parents
with almost no consternation

You can been seen in book and cartoons
and clothes in many family dryers
Oh, but let me apologize for
that movie by Mike Myers.

At bedtime you always considered
on the shortlist the top
Though sometimes you do lose out
to the story of  Hop on Pop

All the children adore you
They find you quite fun
Along with the fish
and of course Thing Two and Thing One.

All together just 236 words
Put together in rhyme
But for young and old
Its reading is such a wonderful time.

I don’t know to end this
or what is proper to do
So I will end it by saying
Happy Birthday to you.

Now it is with much begrudging honesty that I admit my Brother-In-Law is a screw up. He has been for a long time, and he shows no signs of change. When his wife finally left him, most thoughts from the family were along the lines of “What took her so long to come to her senses?” and “It is about time.” Brutal but probably true.

What ensued though was not as well anticipated. Thanks to her deep rooted hated from her now ex-husband, and his inability to get his act together, naturally the mother tries to protect the child from any harm. Understandable. Any caring parent would do the same. But in doing so, she has also cut her daughter (I’ll call her Cremora, just to give her a name) off from his entire side of the family. And this both hurts and cuts both ways.

Grandparent’s, aunts, uncles, etc get to see Cremora, maybe once or twice a year, for an hour or so to give her birthday presents, Christmas presents etc. That is it. No invitations to events, no sharing of information except in the discussions that occur during those brief windows of opportunity. No relationship has any sort of ability to grow, on either part.

It has been especially hard on LatteGirl. Cremora and LatteGirl attended the same Pre-School, so they spent a lot of time together. When the brother-in-law split up, he came to live with us for a while (a whole other story that maybe I will go into another day about that debacle), and Cremora was allowed to spend some weekends with him since he was at our house and we were “trusted” (then). The were more like sisters than cousins, and shared a lot. They were very close, and still to this day love each other very much.

As the Brother-In-Law continued his downward spiral, we were eventually forced to ask him to relocate as it was getting to a point of having an adverse effect on our family. That is when the doors slammed shut. I can only guess (as she will not outright admit it) that she has concerns that we would allow her ex-husband to see Cremora, so visits are… well… now “supervised.” The mother and child come over for a play-date once every 2 or 3 months, usually for an hour or two at most, since she is always busy with something. Hey we are all busy at times, I understand that as well as the next person. But if you are so busy, and somebody offers to have your child over for the afternoon so that the children can play and you can go about doing whatever you need to do, then take them up on it.

I understand divorce is messy, and that at times there is “collateral damage” that occurs. But, I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like the kids should have to suffer because of their bad relationship. They really are just little victims of circumstance.

I consider myself blessed most days. I have a child that does not make a scene (most of the time) when she doesn’t get what she wants. She never behaves badly in public. She is polite, courteous and well mannered. It is a situation some parents only dream of having. However, underneath lies something more sinister. And unfortunately I probably have nobody blame but myself. Oh sure, it is possible that these behaviors would have come along anyway. But if I had not been such a sucker early on, perhaps she wouldn’t have mastered these techniques so quickly, or quite so well.

You see, her I guess you could call them survival instincts have taught her that tantrums never get her what she wants. It was something that TheWife and I stood firmly on from the offset, and it seemed to work out well for us. So, what she has apparently learned is the art of manipulation in a very passive aggressive nature. And worst of all, it is not always the lead it, so I have to watch out for falling into her little trap.

Most times when she doesn’t get what she wants, it starts in phases. The first phase is the semi-pleading stage. This is mild, and sort of a way to test to see if I am really saying “No” or if I am pulling one of those parent types No’s that come from just not wanting to give in to everything. So she will say, “but I really want it.” If this works (and it does on occasion). She is done. If not, it is on to phase 2.

The Negotiator. At this stage, she will see if she can bargain her way into getting her way. “What if I use my own money?” or “Can I have it if I …” This will sometimes also be backed up (for reinforcement) with the “because I really want it” (I presume to show sincerity).

Phase III (Or Phase I for things she already knows the previous methods won’t work on), is the passive aggressive, self-deprecating, pull on Daddy’s heart strings method. Here she give me the pout with her faux understanding and explanation where she will tell me what she wants followed immediately why she “already understands” why I will say no, even before I get the opportunity.

A perfect example of this happened last evening. She dragged her heals and played when I was trying to get her in the tub. She played in the tub, and on several occasions requested the magical “5 minutes more” to play. I relented, warning her each time that she was losing something else that evening (which is ME I guess, teaching her that the Negotiator strategy is a winner). The First time, it was “OK, but no more TV tonight.” The second was, “OK, but no snack-time” and finally it was, “OK, but you are getting out, but then it is right into bed.” Each agreed upon willingly and without question. That is until she finally got out of the tub.

It was then the game began. As she was getting dressed, she gave me the sad face, as she said, “I know I have to go right to bed, because that is what I agreed to. However, I wasn’t hungry then, and now I would like snack. But don’t worry about it, because I know I am not allowed to have one now.” {Big Sigh}

You’d think I was sending the child to bed without her supper. Perhaps she has watched Cinderella one too many times. It is a trick, that I have admittedly have probably subconsciously works many times by automatically giving in to such tricks in the past. “Oh, honey if you are hungry, of course you can have a snack before bed.”

Now I need to train myself to turn it off, to tune it out. Because while it is still mostly small things at this point, I know the day will all too soon be upon me where she is using it for much bigger things.

“Oh Daddy, I would really like to take the car to the mall, but I know it is ….” And I can’t still be weak when I get to that point, now can I. I won’t still be falling for these same little games will I? Or is it my little daughter, and will I cave forever to her passive aggressive will?

But Molly Ivins is different for me.  More important to the type of person I have become, and the type of person I strive to be.  She helped me realize that there is no nobility in keeping quiet and just wearing blinders to not see what is troubling in this world.

“If you think his daddy had trouble with ‘the vision thing,’ wait’ll you meet this one,”
     – Ivins on George W. Bush in “The Progressive,” June 1999.

She was a woman, that not only accepted the label “liberal” but wore it with pride.  She was an amazingly talented columnist and writer.  She could be biting and humorous at the same time, but never demeaning herself to the cheap joke or nasty pot shots that lesser people use.  And unlike those on both sides of the political spectrum, she was not afraid to criticize what was wrong, regardless of who was saying it.

“If left to my own devices, I’d spend all my time pointing out that he’s weaker than bus-station chili,”
      – on Bill Clinton, from the introduction to You Got to Dance With Them What Brung You

Molly’s writings served as a sort of wake up call for me.  That if you want the world to be a better place for us and our children, you can’t sit back and “hope for the best.”  Regardless of being a Democrat or a Republican we need to stand up, be counted and be heard.  I have always chastised people that I know who don’t vote because of their “what difference does it make” attitude, because I have always known that if you don’t participate, you don’t have a right to complain. 

“You can’t ignore politics, no matter how much you’d like to. “

What I had failed to grasp, was that I was forgetting to actually use that right to complain.  To speak out, and to speak up when things are not going right.  I want this world be as good, if not better for my daughter, as it was for me.  I will not stop fighting for that goal.  I will speak up.  And I will always have Molly to thank for showing me how important that is.

Thank You Molly. 

It has been a dramatically warm winter this year in the North East. We have had very few days that have actually even reached freezing, and except for a weird rogue snow shower that passed through a week ago leaving a dusting, snow has been more than rare.

This of course is much to the dismay of LatteGirl who LOVES snow. She commented after that brief snow that left, that we had better get some “serious” snow soon, because she needs to go sledding. She went on to remind us that, “I’m not gonna be little forever. And when I get big, I will probably not want to go sledding anymore! So I need it to snow NOW, so I can get full use out of my sled. When I get big it is just gonna sit there downstairs until I have a little girl”

Now several things freaked me out there. One, that she is so aware of how things change when you get older, Two, that she is in fact growing up just too darn fast for my preferences, Three that she plans on having stuff stored in my basement until she has kids of her own, and Four… Well just the though of my baby having babies is enough to send any father into shock.

But, she does love her snow. This picture was… Oh Good Gravy, this was Three Years Ago! And I tell you I had to beg, plead and BRIBE her to come in out of the snow that day.

But the darn smile, the sheer joy she exhibits… well it almost makes it worth breaking my back shoveling and wish for snow. Almost.

Some things seem to be universal truths. One of them is, unless you have a pet, you probably do get why people who do have pets get so attached to them.

I never had a pet growing up, so I to a certain extent know both sides of the spectrum. I have heard many people (including my mother, who is not a pet person) say things like, “I don’t understand why people will spend so much money on their pets” or “They treat their pets like members of the family.” (And I must admit that when I was younger, and before I had a pet, I did not “get it”)

And you know what. It is true. A great many of us, we do treat our pets as part of the family, we do treat them very similar to how we treat our children. And when they get sick or injured we do worry about them, and take care of them like a member of the family. Because they are.

Our dog Sweetie is 9 years old, and has been with us 7 years. She has been around my daughter’s entire life. Sweetie is like a friend to her, that doesn’t disagree with her, fight with her, or get jealous of her new toys.

And not only to LatteGirl, I have come to look forward to her warm greeting when I get home at the end of the day. I sit on the floor with her and LatteGirl when we are watching Disney Channel at the end of the day. She helps get my butt in gear (at times) to get out and be a great companion when I get on what my wife calls my “walking kicks.”

I love her like a second child, as does my wife. LatteGirl loves her. She is a member of our family. And there is nothing we wouldn’t do for her.

So what was my problem? I really don’t know.

I’d like to blame it on the unseasonably warm weather we have had here in the northeast. But alas, that has been true for the past three or four years now, so I don’t really think that is it.

I could blame it on Internet Shopping, but I have been doing that since before the Dot Boom when Bust. As a matter of fact thanks to last minute cancellations and backorders, I may have purchased more in stores this year than I have in some time. Although I did “shop” a bit less… as in browsing stores and such, just to be out and mingle and look and… you know… actually touch something before purchase.

I guess, I should try and look on the bright side. I made it through the holidays and only the masses of the Internet know how I really felt… how empty this season just seemed to be. Because I was able to pull of appearing like everything was just the way it should be, so well that the Grinch himself would be proud.

With this coat and this hat… I look just like St. Nick.

Last year at this time I was mad as heck. Why? Because I was unable to attend LatteGirl’s School Christmas pageant. Why? Because it was held at 10 o’clock in the morning!

When I arrived home from work, TheWife and LatteGirl were getting ready to leave, and quite dejected she said to me, “We are leaving to go to my Christmas pageant.”

I told her that I knew that, and that I was going too. Her face lit up. She started cheering and jumping up and down. She was as thrilled that I was attending as I was.

I know it may be more convenient for the schools to hold these events during the day. But I think both the parent and the child miss out this way. OK, last year I thought that was the case. Now, after having missed a year, and knowing how thrilled I was to be able to see her this year. I KNOW this is the case.

I can’t get last year back. But I know damn well, I am not going to ever miss another one.

The magic of Christmas. Ever year as parents we work hard to keep that spirit alive in our children. We work to keep the belief in Santa Claus alive… if just “for one more year.”

When this picture was taken back in 2004, it was a really special time. While LatteGirl had already shown an understanding of the holidays with the anticipation of toys. That was really as far as it went. But in 2004 it became more. The “anticipation” became palpable. Her thirst for information, first a bit concerning to me, because I was afraid she was “outgrowing” it already, was soon put at ease, as I discovered that simply more detailed information about the stories was really all she wanted. She also started to really understand the spirit of giving that year. That you got just as good a feeling (or in her case “almost as good”) from giving as from receiving.

It was also that year that I learned something new. That as much as I was trying to keep it “alive” for her, she brought it all back for me. Christmas wasn’t a chore, or a season to “survive” any longer. It wasn’t about “dealing” with family. She had given me back the spirit of the holidays.

And now, a couple of years later, as I ponder once again if this will be the final year of Santa Claus “mystery”, I wonder who I am more concerned about. Who am I trying to “save” Christmas for… her? Or me?

Because, now I feel like I am Santa Claus. Because after all isn’t it the “job” of Santa Claus to spread joy? To Bring happiness? To Give? Well, I enjoy those aspects more now than I ever have. And I give her all the credit in the world. She is Santa’s Little Helper. She helped MAKE me Santa Claus.

As parents we all have become Santa for our children. And if we can remember that, while the “belief” may fade, the characteristics that we learned through our children do not have to die. We can always be more cheerful, more giving, and more loving to others. And after all isn’t that what the spirit of the season is all about?

Every time I look at this picture I took at the Bronx Zoo earlier this year, the first thing that pops into my head is Senator Inhofe (R-OK) and his brain dead remarks calling the EPA “The Gestapo”, labeling global warming “the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people.” Or how he pushed so hard for Bush’s “Clear Skies Initiative” which was nothing of the sort.

I mean, when Polar Bears are drowning because of insufficient amounts of ice at the North Pole, I don’t care how pro-business you are, it should at least give you pause to consider that perhaps something should change.

This really shouldn’t be a political issue. I mean, hell they may act like robots but these people have children too don’t they? Don’t they care at all what kind of a world we are leaving them with, or is that stock option really worth mortgaging their future for?

I am not talking about about the whole world turning into a bunch of , “Wheat Grash Drinking, Hemp Wearing Hippies” (not that there is anything wrong with that), but taking steps to at least begin to curb the damage we are doing.

More and more kids wind up (or are born with) asthma and breathing problems. Do we really need to wait until some Senator has a child die some horrible death before we start to act? Blue Skys, clean water. Is that so much to want for your children?

It seems like only yesterday, I was there for everything. Including “Tubbie Time.” Sure I knew that this like everything would end. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t all that upset when I could just “keep an eye” on her rather than having to bathe her. I managed to stay much more dry that way.

But, I didn’t expect to be tossed away quite as quickly as I have been. She has now reached the age where she needs privacy.

Not only is Daddy no longer needed for bathing, showering, getting dressed, etc. But now, I am not even wanted in the same room during these events (nor is TheWife, it is not a male/female thing, she needs her privacy from everyone). Yes, I knew this day would come. But I never expected it to be so dramatic… or so soon.

Isn’t there a way to just slow ‘em down sometimes? Do they have to keep growing up so dang fast. Am I going to be completely unneeded by the time she is 7? Am I “all washed up” already? I really hope not.

I am so never going to hear the end of it if she ever finds out I put her naked picture here.

by George M. Cohan

You’re a grand old flag,
You’re a high flying flag
And forever in peace may you wave.
You’re the emblem of
The land I love.
The home of the free and the brave.
Ev’ry heart beats true
‘neath the Red, White and Blue,
Where there’s never a boast or brag.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Keep your eye on the grand old flag.

You’re a grand old flag,
You’re a high flying flag
And forever in peace may you wave.
You’re the emblem of
The land I love.
The home of the free and the brave.
Ev’ry heart beats true
‘neath the Red, White and Blue,
Where there’s never a boast or brag.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Keep your eye on the grand old flag.

Despite being tired of much of the shenanigans that has (and is) going on, and the disappointment with the current administration (to put it lightly), I still believe in this country, and I believe that it is so great that it can and will overcome. Just watch. We survived the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, we survived the infighting of the Civil War, we survived FDR and all jailing of Japanese-Americans, and we will survive the current stupidity of G.W. Bush as well.

But we can not become disillusioned, we can not become disenfranchiesed, we must do our duty and stand up for our democracy. We can not sit back and believe that “it doesn’t make a difference” because it certainly does. One Person, One Vote. It is not a right, it is a responsiblity. Do not shirk it, next Tuesday, get out and vote. Set an example. Make a lesson out of it. Make your children proud of the country they live in and the freedoms it affords. And of course… Keep an eye on that Grand Old Flag.

Chris over at Rude Cactus, has a very nice post about Legacies. And it got me thinking about how a child can change so much in you. How you see the world around you, and how while you are trying to help that little person grow into the person you wish him/her to be, they that they are in fact actually help you grow as a person as well.

If however, you never take the time to share, then both lose out.

Sure there are times, when I miss having a little more me time, and the chance to do more of the things I used to enjoy doing. But. There of course will come that day that my daughter will be less than enthusiastic about sharing her time with dear old dad. I dread that day of course, but rather than dwelling on what will happen then, I appreciate and savor the time we can share now.

Why is this called “Picture Perfect Thursday”? Well you have to go visit Liz over at This Full House for more details. If you do join in, please let me know)

Sorry I was so late. More on that tomorrow.

As I looked at this box at the Hershey Museum, I couldn’t help but be amused. At what? Well, at how perceptions taint things.

My father was born in 1928 right at the beginning of the Depression. Like many people from that time period he developed what could be considered most likely a form of OCD. He became a hoarder, a packrat. Somebody who if he could find some value in something would not throw it away, because that was wasteful.

Right up until his passing, it drove my mother absolutely bonkers. She couldn’t understand why he needed to keep so much “junk” in the house. Admittedly I have picked up on some of those frugal tendencies from him, but TheWife never really lets it get quite out of hand the way my mother did. Cleaning up and clearing out some of this old “junk” is still going on now, a little more than two years after his death. There was that much to go through.

You may have noticed, I have put “junk” in quotes each time. Now of course the old adage goes, “One man’s junk, is another man’s treasure.” But I have always thought of that as meaning, what is useless to one person is a valuable item to another. But as I looked at this box in the museum, I realized that it is more than that. That junk/treasure line can be quite blurry, and in some cases downright non-existant when you take perceptions into account.

Now, allow me a quick example. Every year throughout this country, there are millions of garage sales. At those sales are millions (if not billions) of pieces of stemware, glassware, etc. that people try to sell. Usually fairly unsucessfully, because “who wants that junk?” But allow those glasses to get a bit older, and put them on sale as techniques, those glasses that you couldn’t sell for a dime a piece at a garage sale, are now hunted after treasures selling for good money. Sure you will say, “But that is because they are old. Antiques. From a gone by era.” And you would be correct. However, to reach that stage, they were the ‘junk” that somebody just never rid themselves of.

Now to a certain extent money plays a role as well. At least that is what I was thinking as I strolled through the museum. As I looked at old boxes, original chocolate molds, tattered briefcases, and such, I couldn’t help but draw some comparisons. I saw, Mr. Hershey much like my father, never throwing anything out. He kept those old molds, and such because he couldn’t see the point in throwing them out. Now, one day Mrs. Hershey demands that he start to clear out some space and get rid of that old “junk,” but instead of throwing it out, he buys a building, puts it on display, and calls it a museum. People come then (and now) from all over to see Mr. Hershey’s old “junk” because now it is not “junk” but “a piece of history preserved in a museum.” So how does money come into play? Well, my father certainly could have taken his old stuff and put it on display. But without the notoriaty of being a weathly man like Mr. Hershey, who is going to come see, “some guys pile of junk.” In this case, the perception of the value of the items on display, is directly attributable to the affluence of the person that owns them.

The opposite of course also is at play at times, and it is the affluence of the buyer that give the item its perceived value. Case in point, clothing. Go to a Salvation Army, Goodwill Store or other thrift shop. You can find things like 1980’s style designer jeans, and maybe a suit or two from the 1950’s that was donated when somebody passed away (or in the case of my father, 1970’s sport jackets). Tags on these items will offer you to purchase them at prices ranging from a quarter to maybe, just maybe $5 (if it is a particularly good item). Now go to a “vintage clothing” store and look for those same items. “Rare, hard to find, 80’s Pop Era Jeans” will sell for $50 or more.

As I thought about this, besides amusing in a way, I found it comforting. Because, as we sorted through that old stuff that my father kept all those years, some of… yes was junk. Not even close to that junk/antique line. But some of it. Some of it without any real “value” are like bits and pieces of his life. In a way, a sort of museum piece dedicated and always linked to him. And for me, that perception, makes them completely priceless.

Like many people, I was to say the least unnerved on September 11th. It was 4 years before I set foot back in New York.

Becoming unnerved at the sound of an airplane can be a difficult think to overcome when you live not all that far from a major International Airport (In my case, Newark Liberty).

In a way it was quite odd. Those few days after September 11th, I remember how spooky it felt to not have the sounds of planes around. Nobody taking off, nobody landing. In the evening I can almost always see a tiny string of lights in the sky, the planes that are circling the area that lining up for their turn to land. But not on those days.

Then flights resumed, and I became consumed with anxiety. I nervously watched many planes taking off and landing. Watching for any sign that things were amiss. Is that plane flying too low? Too slow? Too Fast? Does it look like it is banking correctly? (As if I had any way of really knowing).

Not long after (and forgotten by most outside this area) was a second incident that occurred over Long Island. Immediately at the time of the accident, it was feared terrorism, but that was quickly deemed an accident, so most people just turned away and said, “Thank God it was an accident, and not terrorists.” Of course that fact didn’t make the people in the plane, or the people on the ground that the plane landed on (and their homes) any less dead or devestated from the events. After that, I never allowed LatteGirl far from me when I was home. Just in case something came raining down from the skys and we needed to evacuate the house. I often allowed her to fall asleep on the sofa in the living room, because I didn’t want her to be upstairs all alone at night while I was downstairs. Only when I was ready to go up for the evening would I put her to bed.

It got worse after the company I was working for closed up shop the following January. I had less to keep me distracted. Plus now I was home more, with those “flying gas cans” circling all day long. Topping that off were funerals, or more precisely memorial services for people I knew. People that had their services put off, with the hopes of finding a body, or even part of one to put in a box. But by this time, recovery efforts were for the most part over, and the greiving went on without them. I attended several. Several more than I wanted to, but less than I perhaps should have. I avoided some, because I just couldn’t handle attending them all. I made excuses, sent condolences, but had to just save some sanity.

Several years of anti-depressants, and anti-anxiety medication got me through and somewhat back to normal. As normal, as normal can be for me anyway.

In 2005, I found myself back in New York City. I managed to keep my wits, but everyday I had to remind myself that those were events of the past, and that I needed to move on. Fortunately my anxiety never really got the best of me, and by the end I didn’t really realize how much that stress was actually still with me.

That is until I left there earlier this year. As much as I was disappointed at losing the position, I don’t think I was ever quite as relieved leaving a job, as I was when I finished packing up the last of my things, and left the 42nd floor that day.

Which of course brings us to yesterday’s events. No, it wasn’t a terrorist attack. By the time, I had gotten wind of the story, it had already been deemed an accident. But that uncomfortable feeling returned. And last night, as the rain fell, I caught myself straining to listen against the background noise of the drops hitting the house, listening for the sound of a plane, that wasn’t flying “quite right.”

I amazed myself, when I was able to fall asleep and stay asleep last night (without any outside assistance thank you very much). But I guess, if you live out your nightmares in your head during the day, there is not much left for your unconscience can do to you once you fall asleep.

The funny thing. I am not afraid to fly. We are planning on going to Disney World next spring, and the thought of getting on that plane doesn’t scare me in the least. I just don’t want to be under one of them.

(Why is this called “Picture Perfect Thursday”? Well you have to go visit Liz over at This Full House for more details. If you do join in, please let me know)

Perhaps it is because I was raised by a man that enjoyed organic gardening. Perhaps since my grandfather was also a gardener, it is just the way I assumed everybody did things.

I have always enjoyed vegetable gardending. And although thanks to the overrun of toys from Little Tykes, and Step 2, and so on, that I have not been able to maintain much space for myself in keeping my own garden, I still have a certain affinity for… (lacking a better term) farm life.

I make no bones about supporting family farms… heck I participated with some wonderful folks this year at Blogathon to raise money for Farm Aid. I prefer shopping at Farmer’s Markets whenever possible, and when the cold weather shuts most of the local farms, we gravitate towards places like Whole Foods, shying away from pesticides, Genetically Modified Foods, and the like.

It is a love that I have shared with LatteGirl and one she has really taken to. Despite the allergies she inhereted from me and Asthma from her mom, she has never let this interfere with her enjoyment of going to a farm, seeing the animals, picking fruits, vegetables, and finding just the right pumpkin for Halloween.

It really stuck with me, when the last time we got some fresh apple cider from a local farm, that after drinking some, LatteGirl commented, “It tastes like you are drinking an apple,” and followed that up with the million dollar question, “Why don’t all apple juices taste like this?” And as I searched for an explaination, it really hit me. Why doesn’t it? Why don’t we all demand better? Why have we settled for less, and accept it as OK? When I was done, the best I could answer her was, “I don’t know.”

What I do know is that I am happy that I have been able to share this all with her, and that she gets it.

(Why is this called “Picture Perfect Thursday”? Well you have to go visit Liz over at This Full House for more details. If you do join in, please let me know)

This photo that I took a year ago (a year ago? really? Geez) occurred during another one of those times that LatteGirl helped remind me to stop and appreciate what is around me.

She loves, picking up colorful leaves, making her version of decorations and center-pieces out of them. But just as important to her is her seemingly unabashed love for nature. No expensive toys needed this day, no huge plans or trips. Entertainment is as simple as jumping in a huge pile of leaves.

She is not alone of course in this. Kids everywhere love that opportunity to just dive into that pile of leaves. Unfortunately many times, the adults of the world, forget too easily the joys of such things, only concerned with getting chores done, or not wanting to have to “rake all those leaves again” to let these simple yet wonderful chances to take place.

Autumn offers many people, who do not give it a second thought most of the time to sort of get reconnected with this planet we live on. It is a time for Apple Picking, Pumpkin Picking, enjoying a warm glass of apple cider on a crisp autumn day and many other simple pleasures that we tend to ignore in our techno-rushed world we live in.

As I have gotten older, autumn started to lose some of this for me personally. It became the time of year for Antique Shopping (OK, TheWife was shopping, I was just the “bag man”), “winterizing” and other things that made the season dreary for me, as by the time I finished everything else, I missed it. Autumn was gone and winter was already upon us.

This year, I hope to take more of that in. Stop to see the color. Look at the world again like a kid. And maybe, just maybe take a leap into a pile of leaves. Won’t you join me? I’ll have the warm cider ready.

How convenient for me to have practically in my back yard the symbol of Liberty and Freedom. It helps remind me of why I spend too much of my “free” time paying attention and taking action.

(Credit to my wife for getting this excellent snapshot, from a moving ferry on the way to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island this summer.)

I am the son of a a very patriotic man. A man that forever held the spirit of freedom and respect for this country near and dear to his heart. While some of that certainly rubbed off on me, it was not until my daughter was born, that I decided that change didn’t start by saying, “What are you gonna do?” or “That is just the way it goes.”

It was in those days that I learned to understand the saying, “Freedom is not free.” That in order to keep this country right, it takes the work of the people. It takes each and everyone of us to hold accountable those that would be our leaders for their actions. It is up to us to demand that which is right. We can not just expect it, we can not just shrug our shoulders and say, “oh well” when things are not going right.

No doubt, things have gone terribly wrong. In many ways. But so long as this country still stands it is not too late. When my time is done, I want the world to be a better place than the condition that I found it. The only way to do that is to participate in that change wherever possible. Which means literally anywhere, not just in Washington DC but in the city that I live, the neighborhood that I call home. It is getting out to vote in elections. It is paying attention to what is going on in my town and school systems, and being ready to challenge when things go off course.

It is not what I would like to do with my time. But if I want this world to be a better place for my daughter and other children in the years to come, it is something I do not believe I (or any person) can afford NOT to do.

(Why is this called “Picture Perfect Thursday”? Well you have to go visit Liz over at This Full House for more details. If you do join in, please let me know)

After beating myself up for a week playing volleyball, softball, swimming and more, the last thing I was looking forward to was hiking along some trails, but the wife and child were adamant and off we went.

As we looked out on this somewhat foggy morning and looked at the falls, the sense of tranquility that overcame all of us (yes, surprisingly me too) was quite palpable.

By the time we ended the trail, even I with sore legs, didn’t want to leave.

(Why is this called “Picture Perfect Thursday”? Well you have to go visit Liz over at This Full House for more details. If you do join in, please let me know)