48 Hours To Shed The Cane

Our grandkids Jack & Isabel are flying in with oldest son Michael for a 5 day visit beginning this Friday. They're all pumped up, as are we.



Here's the problem - I can't walk, sit, drive, stand or lie down without major cuss-word bad pain. My back is waaaaayyy out of wack (2 herniated discs - a 15 year problem). It just went out on Saturday & kept getting worse. I finally had to leave work yesterday - something I never do. (Driving was so painful, I was trying to figure out ways to avoid using the brake pedal. Fat chance of that on an 80-mile one-way commute.) Heck, all I was doing was reviewing drawings. Brought the stuff home & made an attempt at working from home today. Couldn't accomplish much in 15 minute intervals & gave up after a couple of hours. So for the first time in a few years I'm using my cane (my old friend) to get to & fro.

(I'm typing this standing at the kitchen bar - can't tolerate sitting at all. Everything compresses. Needless to say, I'm also not writing & was on a really good roll for the past few weeks.)



Now I'm chokin' down high-powered painkillers like the ones a real-life celebrity physician would prescribe. I'm packed in ice like a freakin' salmon. Dr. Butcher (my real doc) would have a heart attack if he knew what I was up to with my 'home' treatment. Hey - gotta do what I gotta do. This old beach tiger has 48 hours to either feel better or somehow fake feeling great. Hope the kids don't ask me to body board with 'em. Wish me luck -

Characters

I'm gonna get in trouble for this post.

Lots of writing blogs stress the importance of developing your characters - making them real. Personally I prefer mine (when reading or writing) to be good guys. Tough, Smart, Independent, Adventurous, Funny, Loyal, Good Hearted & Down to Earth.

'Creating' my characters has been a blast, but I might have had an advantage. I got to watch a coupla 'characters' grow up so I used these chuckleheads as inspiration for my story's 'good guys'.




These are my boys a looooonggg time ago. The older of the two is Mike (now 32) & the kid in the chair (probably being tormented) is Chris (now 28). I'm proud to say they've always been best friends. Other than the time Chris (then 2) hit Mike in the head with a doorstop (a stupid looking needlepoint covered brick) they always got along. Hey, it was dark, Mike was in bed & never saw it comin'. I suspect Michael got even..... eventually.




They've always hung out together. If one was in trouble, the other jumped in to help out (or hide the evidence?). I don't think they ever threw each other "under the bus" - despite the bus-colored yellow pants & suspenders in this picture. (They're gonna hate seein' this pic!!!)




Both were very coordinated (NOT a reference to the yellow britches), good at sports, especially baseball. Good hand-eye coordination, made them terrific hitters, but both were ridiculously slow runners. I was faster than they were & I'm probably STILL faster today - even with a bad back.... usin' a cane... wearin' flip flops..... n' givin' 'em a head start. A BIG head start.

Like me, they're in the construction management business. They can read drawings & manage the process of putting things together to end up with a very nice finished product.... unless they're working on LEGOs. LEGOs must be so much more complicated than office buildings.




Today they're all grown up. Whaddya mean you couldn't tell from that last photo?

Rugrat Wisdom

Our oldest son Michael sent us a video of our granddaughter Isabel "reading" - She's 3 & doesn't actually read. She knows the story well enough that she goes page by page pretending to read the words. The jist of the story was - someone was getting married & she wanted to be the flower girl. Too bad I can't include the video. Bossy lil' thing that she is - Belly announced, as she finished, that "you can clap now" followed 5 seconds later by "Okay - that's enough". End of video.

Here's a bit of rugrat 'wisdom' - Someone sent this to me. I didn't write or collect any of it.

My young grandson called the other day to wish me Happy Birthday.......he asked me how old I was, and I told him, '52.' He was quiet for a moment, and then asked, 'Did you start at 1?'

After putting her grandchildren to bed, a grandmother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin. Finally, she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings. As she left the room, she heard the three-year-old say with a trembling voice, 'Who was THAT?'

A grandmother was telling her little granddaughter what her own childhood was like: 'We used to skate outside on a pond; I had a swing made from a tire that hung from a tree in our front yard; we rode our pony; we picked wild raspberries in the woods.' The little girl was wide-eyed, taking this all in. At last she said, 'I sure wish I'd gotten to know you sooner!'

A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather's computer. She told him she was writing a story. 'What's it about?' he asked. 'I don't know,' she replied. 'I can't read.

I didn't know if my granddaughter had learned her colors yet, so I decided to test her. I would point out something and ask what color it was. She would tell me and was always correct. It was fun for me, so I continued. At last she headed for the door, saying, 'Grandma, I think you should try to figure out some of these yourself!'

When my grandson and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the lights off until we were inside to keep from attracting pesky insects. Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did, he whispered, 'It's no use Grandpa. Now the mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights.'

When my grandson asked me how old I was, I teasingly replied, 'I'm not sure.' 'Look in your underwear, Grandpa,' he advised. 'Mine says I'm four to six.'


Children's Logic: 'Give me a sentence about a public servant,' said a teacher. The small boy wrote: 'The fireman came down the ladder pregnant. 'The teacher took the lad aside to correct him. 'Don't you know what pregnant means?' she asked. 'Sure,' said the young boy confidently. 'It means carrying a child.'

A nursery school teacher was delivering a station wagon full of kids home one day when a fire truck zoomed past. Sitting in the front seat of the truck was a Dalmatian dog. The children started discussing the dog's duties.' 'They use him to keep crowds back,' said one child. 'No,' said another. 'He's just for good luck.' A third child brought the argument to a close. 'They use the dogs,' she said firmly, 'to find the fire hydrants'.

Grown Up Kids

This picture was taken outside the Phillies Stadium - it's my son Mike & grandson Jack.... which leads me to today's modified post.....



















I was copied on a very sad email today. It was sent from oldest son Michael (32) to younger son Christopher (28). The content was fine - all about investments & what to move where & how safe was this n' that & what kind of returns could be expected. Why is that sad you say? (Maybe you didn't really ask anything but play along with me here.) They're just too grown up now! They don't need me anymore! Well, they do call for advice related to construction issues & contract lingo but, beyond that, they're doin' fine without me n' Deb. Kinda makes me miss the days when good old Dad made loans knowing full well they wouldn't be re-paid. Uh, on 2nd thought, no I don't actually miss that part so much. So let me introduce everyone to my KIDS - Mike, Chris & Christine (Mike's wife). (Sigh) They're all doing so great - without me.



For starters here's Chris (the guy seated in the light blue shirt with arms folded -He's obviously winning) playing poker at a company sponsored function. This was at the last table. His boss had to take him aside & tell him to lose, since it was set up for their clients. Chris was bummed. He was up by quite a bit of Cha Ching.


















This is Chris with Christine. They get along more like bro & sis than in-laws. We're very blessed that our kids are so close. Our grandkids LOVE Uncle Chris.

















Here's Michael with Isabel (taken last year when they visited us in Florida - she's much more grown up now). She's nuts about her Daddy!!!


















This is Mike & Christine. The picture was taken in New York. They're doing a great job raising Jack & Belly. I'm really proud of 'em.


















Well, I suppose we must have done a few things right. We gotta get back to Pennsyvania for a visit real soon. Maybe I'll check on airline tickets today. They're still our not so little boys.

It's What We Do

Both of my boys are in the construction business, like me, like my dad & like my great grandfather. Both of MY grandfathers were mechanics so they screwed up the link in the family history just a bit.

The other day, oldest son Mike emailed me a few pictures of a project he's doing at the state capital in Pennsylvania. It's a pretty cool job, a major repair to prevent further damage to the historic building itself as well as the protection of the priceless murals inside. I was very impressed, but then, I'm always extremely proud of my boys anyway & love them both like crazy. Here's one from Mike.



So, I got to thinkin'. Maybe I could do a blog post about what THEY do. So I emailed younger son Chris, asking him to send me some pics of one of his projects. Here's what I got from that chucklehead.





It seems that about 2 weeks ago, Chris' company had a problem on a project (on the outskirts of Philly) which resulted in a 'little' fire (20 engine companies responded) that wiped out a couple of buildings & damaged some others that were already completed. It just figures that he would send me THOSE pics instead of something displaying fancy millwork or funky multi-tiered ceilings, but then, like me, & my father before - my boys are a coupla smart alecks that just happen to build things.

Oh geez.... I just realized, I included only one of Mike's pics & two of Chris'. Now Mike's gonna be mad at me & Chris will think he's the favorite. Uh Oh... Sorry Mike.

Thanks Dad

I get irritated when folks make the excuse that they're the product of their environment & therefore have no hope of ever escaping their circumstances or bettering themselves. It's such bull.

It's another Father's Day - the 4th one to come along since my dad passed away. My grandson was born one day - Dad had a stroke the very next. Can you say rollercoaster? My dad died a few weeks later, unable to speak or move anything other than his left hand. I remember standing at his gravesite during the funeral, like I was in some kind of fog, while my 2 sons practically propped me up between them as I held my new little grandson. Four generations in a tight little grouping - the 'men' in the family, together for one last time. Bittersweet.

My dad was fantastic in every way. He was loving, kind, patient, good natured & one of the funniest people ever. EVERYONE liked him, sometimes it was downright annoying. He was a great teacher, was very ethical & couldn't have been a better example or role model. On a scale of 1 to 10 - he was a 20. Great guy. We were extremely close & ALWAYS got along. He was big, strong, good lookin' - a man's man & I always wanted to be just like him.

He reminded me over & over, from the time I was little - "There's no such a word as can't". Later in life he had the chance to prove that he believed what he preached. He proved it - without question. It was amazing.

Here's the thing - He didn't have parents.
His mother abandoned him when he was 3, along with his baby brother, who was an infant at the time. Left them alone in an apartment over top of a bar for days until someone found them. His father was a drunk & nowhere to be found. My uncle was taken in right away by a good family (everyone wants the puppy) & eventually he took their last name as his own. Dad wasn't so fortunate. He went from place to place - never staying put more than a year. When he made it to the ripe old age of 6, he had to earn his room & board, working on farms from Pennsylvania to Kentucky. At 15 he joined the service. He figured lying about his age was justified in order to get out of his situation.

So how did someone with that kind of start in life become a terrific dad? It's a rhetorical question - I know the answer. It gets even crazier.

He was a builder. His business was doing pretty well & he was enjoying a measure of success, when, at the age of 47, he fell off a building, broke his back & was paralyzed from the chest down for the rest of his life. He never gave in to it - never quit. It changed what he could do physically - but it didn't change him. He was physically, mentally, & spiritually - the strongest man I've ever known. He was my teacher, my friend, my hero - my dad. THE BEST. He's the one that taught me to dream, to never put limitations on myself & to believe that I could accomplish whatever I put my mind to. I miss him like crazy.

He beat a bad start - tough circumstances & did it again when tragedy struck later in life. I never heard him complain about what was fair - ever.

So - I'm not a big fan of this holiday. Don't think I ever will be.

Thanks Dad - You did a fine job.

Basements In Florida??? Nah!

When we first met with our awesome real estate agent Niki Lee Hurst, I mentioned that it would be strange buying a house without a basement. She replied matter-of-factly that "in Florida we call basements swimming pools". Of course she was right. Dig down 3 or 4 feet & you're likely to hit water, but I still can't help but think that kids down here are missing out on a real Yankee experience.... gettin' the crap scared out of 'em on a somewhat regular basis.

The basement in my parents house, where I grew up & where my mom still lives, was one spooky nasty place. It would have been the perfect hideout for Lucifer himself. My parents were pack rats, and the basement was where every oddball thing landed, hidden away for me to 'find' at the weirdest times, always an urgent assignment of course. (I've never been a pack rat - maybe this is why.)

We had these rickety wooden stairs that plunged to the depths below. The ductwork was low enough to restrict headroom wherever it criss-crossed. The lighting was lousy, a couple of bare bulbs spaced far enough apart to ensure falls & broken limbs. It smelled old & musty. Mixed with strategically placed spider webs it was very Vincent Price-like. It always helped that my mom mentioned many times that some old lady passed away in the house before I was born & that she (the old dead lady) visited us frequently. (She was kidding - but didn't admit it until years later.)

There were 2 & sometimes 3 things that I could usually count on. 1st - My mom always needed something from 'downstairs' in the middle of a thunder storm. 2nd - The light bulb would burn out, or power would fail, as soon as I was far enough away from the 'safety' of my lifeline, otherwise known as the stairs. 3rd - The heater would kick on with a loud bang once all was dark & I was disoriented. PERFECT. All of which led to me wordlessly freaking out - tripping, falling, cracking my head on duct & stumbling my way up the pitch black stairs in a breathless state of unbridled terror. My mom thought it was funny. Me? Not so much.

Consistent with my mom's sense of humor, I've been informed that her will names me as the sole beneficiary - entitled to everything in the basement. Sheesh.

The fact that my sister never had to run any basement errands was never lost on me. Then again, I always wondered why she never had to do any chores either. Hmmm... that would be a good topic for a future post..... She would hate it.

Da Boyz In Da Pixture

Before moving to Florida, we lived in Pennsylvania & had a house at the beach in Delaware, where we spent our weekends & most of our vacations. This picture was hung in the living room of that house. Now it hangs in the sitting room off the master bedroom down here. I remember the day we bought it, but won't bother with that particular story.

The first rule to remember as a buyer is never let on just how much you really want something when there is no price tag attached, especially when the seller is within earshot. This picture had no price attached &, since we were so eager, I'm positive we were hosed. In this case, it didn't (doesn't) matter - I would have paid double.

It's certainly no great work of art BUT - we had to have it. This could have originated from a photo of our boys when they were little guys. The size difference between the boys, the hair, the build of the 2 kids.... For us it absolutely captured the typical affection & brotherly 'best friend' body language of our kids. They were just like this when they were young - best friends. They're like this today - though the younger one is now a tad bigger than big brother. It's been one of our greatest rewards as parents to know that our sons are still best friends.

Sigh... This picture helps us keep those memories fresh.

A Matter of Perspective

This is a picture of my granddaughter Isabel. (I annoy my mother by calling her 'Belly') Something has caught her attention. She seems amazed. Whatever it is, it has her totally spellbound. Sometimes I wonder how little kids think. They don't have a large vocabulary. Their experiences are limited as are their little memories. So what 'words' go through their minds. How do they differentiate good, bad, funny, strange, etc.? Most of 'em get the big/little idea early. They usually get the names of people, pets & objects that they're around often, BUT, when there's a surprise, something foreign, something never ever seen before - what registers?












Then of course there are little boys, like my grandson Jack, pictured below - Now this is where I relate a bit better - having been one & raised two. This is how I suppose most of us boys would tend to look at things that are new. We approach things we don't quite understand, a little differently. See, understanding could be just a simple matter of perspective.