old news posted way late....

So I told you I was behind and that I was working on clearing that all up. So here is the first post of what we did over the course of the summer.

I had both kids for the summer and when my wonderful sister came down for the week, we took a trip to go swimming. Mom, Sis and I along with my two and sister's youngest piled in the car and drove two hours to this great swimming hole in the middle of nowhere.

We had a great time as the three kids swam to their hearts content. The swimming hole is a natural spring fed facility, a cool 68 degrees all year long. It is full of fish, which the nephew was catching with his bare hands, turtles the size of a hubcap (a large one at that). The pool also sported a high diving board and over two hundred yards of length. It is nestled in the foothills of the Fort Davis Mountains and a stone's throw away from the boy scout ranch where I grew up. Having lost my two best friends this summer and my lovely daughter being around for it, we carved their names in the bottom of the pool. It took us the better part of an hour to dive, carve, surface for air, repeat as required. Jerry Rheinlander and Brutus.....R.I.P. boys, you are missed.

I hope you enjoy the pictures as well as the music that accompanies them, as the song is what we did while there for the day.

Won't you come with me.....

Turk Murphy
Bob Scobey

....to tour old San Franciscy? We'll take a trip, to hear those men lip....

Ahhhh, 1955 and the jazz scene in old San Francisco was something to see back then...or so I hear in my mother's tales.

The year was 1955, late December. On the 18th, a +handsome young airman named Hugh wed a beautiful young nurse named Bubbles. They tied the knot and spent the night in the Houston area, then the next day started their trip west to California.

They stopped in Phoenix and spent the Christmas holidays with relatives. Somewhere between the 18th and New Years Day, Bubbles and Hugh conceived the first of many children.

After the holidays, they arrived in Sacramento, where the young airman was stationed to serve as a navigator in the USAF during the Korean Conflict. On weekends, the young couple would cruise down to San Francisco and catch the latest music shows and see the sites around the Bay. They would go to The Purple Onion or The Buena Vista. They would dance and drink and see musical phenoms like Turk Murphy or Bob Scobey.

When my mom started telling me these stories, I was pretty amazed. Not that they did it, but that my dad was so hep! I knew the guy could kick back or kick up his heels, but to take my mom to all the rad/mod/cool/phat hot spots was neat to hear about. Then my mom asked me to see if I could look some of it up on-line. Oh crap, I thought. This was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack!

Wrong!

Within the first two tries, I had found info on all of it. Not only was it there, but these websites are done up nice (follow the links!). The Irish coffee that they used to drink there in the Northside Fishermen's district is still being touted as "THE original Irish Coffee" in America.

We are trying to find my mom's old records (what the heck is vinyl??), so she can listen to Bob and Turk again. I'll try to get some up here later for all of you to hear for yourselves.

All in all, a nice stroll down memory lane for me and my mom!

Cheers!

Catching up....

While we all know that life is hectic and we get pulled in so many ways that sometimes it is just mind-boggling; this summer has been exceptionally crazy. With all the projects, writing, travelling, home repairs, rugby chores, family visits and such going on, I just can't keep up sometimes. So I am trying to catch up and I'll be using some odd ways to put it all together in the coming weeks.

With the holidays quickly approaching, things will get a bit more log jammed than less, so I better get on it sooner than later. Now, where is that camera connection cord to download things to my computer???

Anybody else already feeling the time crunch leading into the holidays??

The Prize

First, let me say that the photo above is not our family, just there for your viewing pleasure.

Back Before I was born, my grandfather, Hugh G. Jr. (aka Red), used to compete in a lot of pigeon shoots. A pigeon shoot is a shotgun contests that involves freeing pigeons a few at a time and trying to down them with minimal shots fired. These contests were staged quite a bit and a lot of people participated. He was quite a good marksman, both with a shotgun and other firearms.

In one particular contest, he took first place and the award for his winning was a set of three matching Remington shotguns.

We still have them.

Many years later, after my grandfather had passed and the guns were handed down to my father, my father would take all of us boys hunting on a regular basis. My brother Danny was an exceptional hunter, as it would turn out. Out of all of us boys, he and my dad would compete more than any other pair for title of "best shooter" in the groups that would go hunting.

One season, as we got older, my brother Danny asked my dad if he could use the longest barreled gun out of the set (my dad preferred to use this gun). It was preferable because it gave the wielder a farther range to shoot at birds. Danny proceeded to fell every winged beast which made the mistake of flying within his range.

Afterward my father wrote a short story about that day and the three things he was left to ponder upon the unfolding of the day.

He was not quite sure which of the three stood out as the "real" prize that day. The twenty year old, valuable shotgun as a family heirloom; the 15 dove (that's your limit for one day) that my brother shot which included two triples (three shots and three birds felled) along with a Scottish double (two birds with one shot), or the sixteen year old son who had his dad grinning from ear to ear with pride and amazement.

I am sure we all know which was the actual prize.

Last weekend I went dove hunting with Danny again, and I stood there on that fence line next to a pecan orchard and felt closer to God than in any church I've ever been inside. We were teasing Danny about his ability to not only shoot dove fifty to sixty yards in the air, but also so far in front of him that they dropped in front of him in the orchard. He then proceeded to not only shoot another sky high dove but took half a step forward and almost caught the bird as it plummeted toward his feet. Show off! Sure made me smile.....and miss my son and my dad.

Fathers and sons, turn off your TVs and game consoles, grab your boys and girls and take them out into nature for some good old fashioned fun like our father's fathers used to have.

God Bless!

A Saturday well spent

So another weekend had rolled by and the October trip for my mom approaches quickly. My sister will be here tonight to help prep for the trip and then they will fly out on Wednesday.

But this past Saturday is what I want to talk about. I got the invite to go out hunting and so we all loaded up and made the trek south of town. There is a friend with a pecan orchard nearby and six of us rugby players took our shotguns and headed out in the early morn. We all got there and parked our cars out of the way. We talked some quick strategy and then walked less than a hundred yards to where we took up positions. As the sun slowly peeked over the horizon and the wee bit of chill started to ebb, the elusive dove started flying. It was not long before the sharp pop of scatter guns started to fill the air.

Six hunters ended up taking twenty birds. Not great but not bad as the dove were passing at a higher than normal height. Even then we got the occasional low flying birds to shoot at and even the high ones didn't stop us from shooting altogether.

Funniest part of the day was my brother popping a dove fifty yards high and watching it fall almost into his waiting hand. Had he caught it and had it been on video it would be a youtube sensation. It was cool just to watch. I, myself, took three birds with my gun (passed down from my grandfather) and I took all the 20 birds home with me. Cooked them up nice yesterday with a half a jalapeno and an apple slice, wrapped in bacon and grilled. Cheese may have put it over the top. Next time I'll take pictures and post them and the recipe.

I just wish that my son were there to enjoy the outing. This is exactly the kind of things that we are missing by being apart. Next time Miles (you too Vana if you want to go along).

And this link to a video is why I want my daughter to play whatever she chooses.

Was having a rough day and tried to put into words...

Today, please bring tomorrow

The sprinkler is weeping in front of my house, tears falling on the face of the lawn.

The grass is missing those little footsteps, now that my children are gone.

Yes, the sprinkler weeps underneath the old elm tree, casting shadows from above.

The playground toys are rusted and falling apart, time eroding them away like my love.

Blowing wind sounds like crying as it shakes the leaves off of the trees.

Shutters slam and thrash about, it's enough to knock you down to your knees.

Yes, the howling wind cries their names, across these wind swept plains.

It's ripping all that's wholesome away from here, like these nagging pains.

No kids swinging on that old tire, no innocent laughing in the wind.

No giggles to lift my spirits higher, feels like I've got no friends.

No piggyback rides, no slip and slides, no leap frog again and again.

No hide and seek, no "Don't you peek." No way to make amends.

Dark clouds cover the sun from shining down around here, a dark mood prevails.

Cold wind blows, chills to the toes, revealing my pain and all it entails.

Yes, blue northern raging quietly down, blanketing with cold this whole town.

Driving all the warmth we need away, just leaving me to frown.

The flower beds are bare and empty, no beauty to be seen there.

The ground is hard and weed strewn, from lack of loving care.

Yes, the garden is sad and fruitless, not a thing there to be found.

Without love to help it produce, it sits just like barren ground.

No kids swinging on that old tire, no innocent laughing in the wind.

No giggles to lift my spirits higher, feels like I've got no friends.

No piggyback rides, no slip and slides, no leap frog again and again.

No hide and seek, no "Don't you peek!" No way to make amends.

But spring is here again, mockingbird sings from the budding tree.

His sweet melody floods this yard, brings a slight smile to me.

Yes, the dawn of a new season comes, let God's creatures roam.

Bringing me sweet hope again, that my kids might still come home.

Grand kids swinging on that old tire, innocent laughing fills the wind

Giggles lift my spirits higher, I'm surrounded by my kin.

Piggyback rides, slip and slides, leap frog again and again.

Hide and seek, "No, I won't peek." I've been forgiven for my sins.

by stu pidasso

9October2009

The two days I die......

September tenth has come and gone
and again I'm reminded of how I went wrong.
Sixteen years and countless tears,
as I watch you grow from afar.
A strong young man with a smile so grand
and a future just waiting to be planned
I rue the things I chose to do
and how I made your mother blue
but what can an estranged father give
to his son to help him live
what gift would mean enough for him to forgive
Photos? Memories? Money or more?
the keys to unlock a sports car door?
A second chance? a fine romance?
A limo and tuxedo for a prom dance?
A dog to be man's best friend?
A family heirloom to cherish until the end?
Or just my time and a few rhymes?
Or authentic sorrow for my crimes?
Or no more than a birthday wish
that we get to chill while we fish?
Son, I know that I am not there
but I see your face everywhere
and I tear my flesh and rend my clothes
and beat myself with remorseful blows
as I miss you more than any and all knows.
The worst is that, as I get through this
tis not the lack of peaceful bliss
but knowledge that as this too shall pass
another day approaches fast
fourteenth of October brings again
the memories and pain of my sin.
And as most celebrate a birthday date
not seeing yall's is my torturous fate.

Lonely house again....

Ode to a Boy's Dog

A friend has left

and gone away

and taken with him

my sunny day.

My boy, Bru;

who has stood by

has run his course

and had to die.

I carried him out

into the yard

and said my goodbyes

oh so hard.

He will missed

there is no doubt

those loving eyes

and cold, wet snout.

I wear his chain

every day

to remind me now

he's gone away.

I hope that he

is up with dad

playing catch

and feeling glad.

And when, like him,

may race is run

I'll join them both

in heavenly fun.

stu pidasso

7August2009

Take a walk on the wild side...

Well, here we go again!! My split with my ex was no fun. Anyone who has been through it can tell you that, even if it is amicable, it is still no fun. It messed with my head for years and still does when I let it. But we move on and we pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together like some damn vase busted at a teen party when the parents are away. And if you look closely enough, no matter how good a job of gluing you do, you can always see the little cracks and flaws.



Well, when I went through my split I gave up some things that I thought helped contribute to the problem. One of those things I gave up, which was a big part of my life for many years, was coaching. I played soccer in high school, after high school, and before I met my future ex. I was persuaded to take up coaching to help young kids with no coach and I liked it. I had a way with kids. I met two great girlfriends through coaching and my ex, too. All three were drawn to the way I was comfortable around the kids.


After the ex left with our kids, coaching lost its appeal. Seeing other families functioning well just was a constant reminder of what I was missing. It made me uncomfortable and depressed. I walked away. After coaching kids soccer and competitive club soccer for the better part of sixteen years, I walked away.



Until last week.



Somewhere after the coaching ended, I started playing rugby again. Something about smashing someone else as hard as I could lended itself to my mental state. I got to be a single, athletic man again ; with athletic friends who liked to run, stay in shape, socialize, drink, cuss and spit tobacco together. I was actually enjoying myself in a group environment again without feeling the depression of having lost my family. It took my mind off the things that troubled me.



Last week, I was chosen to be the head coach of my rugby club. I am not sure how well I will do, but I am looking forward to giving it a go. I have been pouring over rosters and field line-ups and drills and coaching materials for seven days now. I am, as Mama Kat would say, giddy. If I can get the guys who I want to show up for practice, we have a good shot at going far in the league this year. It has been a while since I ran a team, but it feels good to think that I am not only up for it, but wanted for it by the guys I call my teammates.



Plus, I am old and hopefully I won't have to play as much while coaching.

I am a rock!!

I am a rock!
I am born from the cauldron of heat and pressure, both of which I have withstood and vanquished in my prosperity to be here for you.
I am solid. I will not move. I will not wince.

I will not duck for cover or run away at the first sign of trouble.
I do not speak, but if I could it would be to praise you not to chastise you.
I stay my ground so that you may judge your position by where I lay.
I shall not waver even as nature's forces try to push me out of their way or lessen me.
You may take shelter in the lea of me.

You may hold me to anchor yourself to weather any tempest.
You may use me in defence against your enemies.
I am the projectile to slay your Goliath.
You may skip me across pristine lakes for your own amusement (but it would be nice if you would dive for me and bring me back to shore).
You may singe me in your fires and use me to keep warm through the bitterest of cold nights.
You may use me to hold things down where you wish them to stay, so you may come back again later to find them still there.
You may chip and fracture me to use me as a tool, for I am here for you.
I am your rock and for you I will roll, no matter where you wish me to alight.
Yet, if you paint a silly face on me, I will be your pet.
Rest assure that I am your rock and will be until time erodes me away.
With love, your father.

I am sooooo abused.....

If you have been reading this blog in any way, shape or form over the time I've been posting; then you probably know that I miss my kids.

That is, I miss them when they are not here. Now they are here for the summer and I get all the glorious things that go with living with teenagers in my house. Glorious things like not being able to keep groceries in the fridge, having to tell one of them to turn off the computer and go to bed at two in the morning, reminding them that only daddy gets to leave his dirty socks laying around the house, cooking dinner for four and expecting leftovers and then having six teenagers show up for dinner and not getting a meal myself, settling disputes over who is really acting like a turd and so on and on into the foreseeable future. Trying to raise these two is an act of futility on my part. Between work, household chores and juggling the social lives of one dad and two teenagers; this is just plain hectic. My gasoline bill has doubled. My grocery bill has tripled. I have yet to see the water bill but I am dreading it. And the electricity bill....forget about it......a small loan called a second mortgage.

But I love it!!! I actually get to meet their friends. I get to hear about their day and some of the zany things they find amusing. I get to hear someone else compliment my cooking and say thank you when I hand them a warm towel right out of the dryer. I get sent to the store for a trip down aisle eight. My son actually enjoys helping me with yard work (even if I weren't paying him eight dollars an hour) and my daughter is a photo scanning and photo shopping guru. Dang, just watching her swoon over any cute boy who wanders within eyesight is funny. The boy doesn't have girls on the brain yet, but all his buddies do and I imagine it won't be long for him.

This whole on hands parenting thing is what I miss. The last time I was doing this was when they were six and seven. And let me tell you, there is a HUGE difference between six/seven and fifteen/sixteen.

That being said, and tomorrow being the first day of July; I have one month left with my children this summer. Then I have to let them go again. That is the hardest job I've ever had to do. And I am not looking forward to it. Although it is getting easier and easier ever time.

This is why I do not envy "The Baby Mama". See, I have already had to struggle with the absence of my kids, and I am used to it. But she has it coming up by way of the college thing in a few years, and I hope she enjoys every moment of missing them day in and day out.

Anyone else out there already dreading the empty nest syndrome??

Got some time to stroll?

Walk With Me

When the Good Lord made each one of us
He gave each of us our own free will.
I aspire to teach my kids discipline because
it is a valuable attribute which to instill.

I strive not to control or push them
in any manner or direction I want.
Instead I teach them the minimum requiem
so that life, in its craziness, won't daunt.

I illuminate them from whence they came
of their forefathers and their struggles.
How they managed to excel at the game
and avoid some of life's big troubles.

I wish to show them the easier way
to make it from challenge to challenge.
How to manage and plan their day
so they may enjoy a healthy balance.

Most would say that it is our goal
to raise a healthy and wealthy brood,
but I say I aspire to be the best
at showing my kids a good attitude.

I laugh with them every chance I get
and I try to dance whenever I can.
I sing everyday (if you can call it that)
and I smile because life is grand.

But life is not all kicks and grins,
it takes work to make it through.
And each of us must pay for our sins.
We all know this to be true.

So as we walk along our chosen path
in this topsy turvy, crazy theme park.
I hope that both my kids somehow hath
my beacon to help penetrate the dark.

I want them to glance to either side
and see all of their family there;
walking with them, along for the ride
so they don't feel like they must beware.

They must learn and understand each day
that the lessons passed down from the wise
come from travelling with the old and gray
and by sharing with them smiles and cries.

For a time will come when we are gone
and our children will enter the fray
and at that time I hope they are strong,
so to teach their own children the way.

stu pidasso

17June2009

Be sure to check out the plethora of other writers at Mama Kat's Writers' Workshop. There are some really good posts out there waiting to be shared. And for the record, I did not fake my aging mother for cyber sympathy. She is real and she is old and we do love her very much. The above picture is also included in the zoo slide show on my last post over at Mudville Musings. Give it a view if you'd like.......or not......but have a great day and hug your kids.

Roadtrip, Interview, and Family History

I made the trip down to Houston recently to rescue my kids from their imprisonment. I also took my mom along. She wanted to visit her sister, my Aunt Betty. All in all, it was a great trip. We spent quality time with my aunt, visited the Houston Zoo, ate some fine seafood at an established seafood restaurant near the San Jacinto Monument, and got to visit with one of my brothers on both legs of the journey.

While we were there in Deer Park at my aunt's house, I took lots of pictures of the photos and family memorabilia in her house. I also conducted the first (of many.....hopefully) sit down interview with one of the elders of our family. It yielded some surprising results and fun facts that I would never have heard otherwise.

This trip and some of the activities we enjoyed on it, are exactly the kinds of things of which this blog was started for, to highlight and document these things and the people from our past. This journey I am on, helping my mother and trying to ensure that she enjoys as much of her life as she can from here out, took a huge step forward on this last trip. We are already planning the next trip and trying to include more people.

Some of the more interesting facts I learned from the interview include:

My mom's cousin, Al, introduced her to my dad and Aunt Betty to my Uncle Rob.

My mom's dad was the youngest of eleven siblings, nine boys and two girls.

My great grandfather Unger lived to be 101 years old and was THE Paul Bunyan's best friend (and here I thought he and his ox, Blue, were a myth) and he played a mean violin.

Last order of business:

Top photo - my son, Aunt Betty, Mom and my daughter

Second photo - My mom is standing and Betty is to her left, the other two are Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Bea

Third photo - My mom with the baby, Betty on the far left, Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Bea, and Aunt Bridgette is the baby. No idea of the dog's name.....yet.

Fourth photo - me and the kids for fun at a county line next to the Brazos River

Last Photo - Grandma Agnes, Aunt Betty and my cousin Evie

Writers' Workshop: Tears, fears and a shotgun ringing in my ears

I had a meltdown at work today. I had to get up out of my chair, leave my office, go outside of the building inside of which I work and weather the storm. Anyone who knows me would be asking, "who was he angry at this time?" I was angry with no one. I wasn’t angry, I was floored. I could not stop the grief from pouring out of me. It is known to happen more than I care to admit and has been for the last ten years. But I digress. When and where I have emotional meltdowns is not as important here and now as why I had this particular meltdown.

For once again I have been over to Mama Kat’s blog, Mama’s Losing It! I like to participate in the Writers’ Workshop she features each week, catch up on what she has been posting (she has some of the most creative posts I have read) and she has such a collection of interesting blog-stalkers and commentors. But today she has laid my heart so low with her post from her own heart, a poem written about one of the continual looping cycles of families. She has penned one of the most heart-touching poems about the metamorphosis of her life as a child. It spans the timeline from having a whole family, through the loss and mourning of her father, to her eventual adulthood including a husband and children, thereby bringing her situation back to the wholeness of a complete family once more, but for the next generation.

And she sums it up quite well by describing it simply as "a scary place to be."

I look at her pictures, especially the second one of her in her grief, and I rue that I may have caused such suffering for my own two children. I know that I caused it. I know that it is my own fault and that as much as I may rant about how my ex is treating me, that it is a direct consequence of my own failures as a husband and father. The thought and realization of this possible effect on my daughter and son is rending me. It has for ten years and it will continue. It is my invisible prison cell and a cell from which I will never be able to escape from or pay restitution enough to ease the burden of my cross. I am humbled and ashamed of my actions and lack of foresight.

Describing it is not good enough, you should read it for yourself and see the accompanying photos. It is simply beautiful.

What a/an (insert own appropriate descriptive name here – I used wench)!! I stop by her post to participate in the writing festivities and she sandbags me with own guilt. Women, we just can’t trust them guys. Sheesh.

But nonetheless, I am going to participate anyway! So here are the prompts:

1.) Define goodness...joy...sorrow...and anger using pictures you've taken.

2.) Tomorrow I will do it differently. Here's how...

3.) Describe a 'sound' from your childhood. What was it? When did you hear it? What does it bring to mind?

4.) I remember when...

5.) Right now is the best time to start. What's your first step?

Tough prompts this week. I will skip the first one because I don’t have my pictures available at the moment (but I thought Mama Kat did a good job of covering this one with her post, as well as prompt #4). The second one, maybe. The third prompt is interesting, but I don’t recall a lot of "sounds" that spark memories from my childhood. Wait, I do have one for prompt #3. I’ll come back to that. Prompt #4, Mama Kat blew it out of the water. It doesn’t even exist anymore. And the last prompt just makes my head hurt thinking about it. So I’ll write about the third one.

There is at least one sound that I do remember that has a lot to do with a big chunk of my past. That sound is loud and quick! It makes you almost pee your pants if you are not expecting it. Even when you are expecting it you jump when it happens. It yells "DANGER" at you when it sounds. It makes every bit of nature around you flee. It is a criminal’s worst nightmare and sweet music to an honest man.

It is the sound of a shotgun being fired.

I am one of eight brothers. And my grandfather was one of a number of brothers also. He grew up on a farm in western Missouri. He was taught how to fish and hunt at an early age. He joined the army right after graduating high school to serve in World War I. Even though serving in the war as a messenger, he was commended for trading his side arm pistol for a rifle, which he used as a sniper against the enemy within the Arragon forest in France. He was mustard gassed and had his backpack shot while on his back. He was lethal with a firearm. When he came home he took up wild-catting and made his home and living here in the desert of West Texas. He competed in and won a lot of sporting competitions for shotguns. He hunted a lot. My father hunted a lot and he was also quite lethal with a firearm. My father was also a retired full colonel in the military. Hunting and guns have been a part of my families heritage for as far back as I can find in my research. My grandfather and father passed on enough guns to us boys that we each have several. I am quite lethal with a shotgun. I hunt. I take my son hunting and will take my daughter if she ever shows an interest. They will be lethal with firearms too (call it a self-preservation skill).

And that sound, the sound of a shotgun being fired, brings back fond memories of many Saturday and Sunday mornings and evenings out in the fields around West Texas. Those trips, walking and whispering with my brothers or my father, were moments shared with the people closest to my heart. Moments with no worries or fears, just the excitement of stalking and successfully hunting game. Not hunting just for the sake of killing, but for food and sport, for the experience and the practice to be good with the tool that allowed our forefathers to break out from under their oppressors. This, to me, is the sound of freedom and security from the tool that allows an honest man to defend his home and family from intruders and criminals.

Mother's Day poem, summer plans and quasi-vlogging

I have been working on an "assignment" from Mama Kat's Writers' Workshop. She is nice enough to prompt us with a few choices each week to help us get our creative juices flowing and this week she did not disappoint. When I read the five prompts, I smiled as I had (unbeknownst to myself) accomplished one ahead of time. So I did two more with it and I am going to post all three. I probably should skip prompt 1, but I need to get used to posting videos. My vlog attempt is a bit embarrassing, but since it came from the heart I'll do it anyway. Pardon the bit of slurring, but I had a few cold ones by that point.



Now to begin. I wrote my mother a poem (it might be the first). I hope you like it.

DEVOTION

Devotion
is the single word to be heard
that sums it up for all.
It is what you've done for forty-one
of the years I can recall.

Devotion
is what my fortunate father received
when he took your hand.
How is it that he correctly perceived
you as the fairest of the land?

Devotion
helped build a rock solid home
for seven bros and my sis.
Perpetually chasing us as we all did roam
ready with a hug and a kiss.

Devotion
to your choice of life work to do
by becoming a nurse.
Opting to aid the sick and needy, too;
instead of stuffing your purse.

Devotion
is what your favorite priest finds
when you grace his eyes.
Your resolve is the kind that binds,
strong faith you epitomize.

Devotion
to being the type of kind soul
to turn the other cheek.
Forgiving trespassers no matter the toll
and striving to be meek.

Devotion
the same offered to welcome guests
calling at your door.
Open to filling any and all requests
while refusing to keep score.

Devotion
to husband, family, job, church,
foes and friends the same.
For the word, no need to search
I just use your name.

Devotion
to helping you enjoy your life
in any way I can.
If dad deserved it, doubly so his wife
the only mother for this man.

stu pidasso

7May2009

This summer, I want to take my kids across Texas. Every other day we will enjoy a different waterhole in this great state. We will start out west in Balmorhea, and proceed to work our way across Texas to the east on our trip to Houston. I intend to have stops in Christoval, Junction, Llano, Burnet, Austin, New Braunfels, Bastrop and maybe more. I hope to do some swimming, fishing, canoing, dam jumping, cliff jumping, river tubing and more. We may even get my sister and her three men to come along for part or all of the trip. We may have to split it into two trips and do half of it next summer. I'll keep you posted.

And the last bit of bidness, is the posting of my first attempt at video upload.

Strolling through my head

Work is slow and I twiddle (not Twitter) my thumbs most the day lately. With this much time to kill, I find myself rehashing a lot of things while trying to refocus and stay on top of all my crap. As I pour through my journals and other writings, I occasionally come across things that I had put to far back in my mind.

Recently I was thinking of my little brother, Anthony; whom I have been close to (by age too) for most our younger life but recently are too far apart. It shows in my poem.

The poem was actually written on his birthday in 2004 and that was before his young son was born. Alas, how time flies by us all.

Ode to my lil’ bro

I have got to say on this day
that my only younger brother
has done our family proud
by doing right by his mother.

He managed to find his way
out of Mudville, Texas;
all the way to Florida;
which, my mind, perplexes.

He sowed his wild oats.
He avoided serious trouble.
He got it out of his system
and snapped to it on the double.

He got his education, and
on track he got his life.
He found himself employment,
and a lovely wife.

He bought her a nice home,
and he started a career,
Then together they started
a family which to rear.

And with that little girl he does

the chores and duties which he outta.
He takes good care of Emma’s mother
and Bubbles’ third granddaughter.

stu pidasso

February 8, 2004

And last night, I stepped out for drinks with a friend and his wife. While waiting for them to show up and trying my best not to look like I had nothing to do, I started work on another poem for my son. I have been working on writing a collection of poetry just for him and I decided to write twelve of them on the subject of the Boy Scouts of America's Scout Law. It says, "A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." Scouts were a big part of my life growing up and I fret over the absence of that quality life experience for my son, but I can at least expose him to the ideals and principals that I learned from my involvement. While thinking upon the topic of "HELPFUL", my mind wandered across the term "a better man". I remember it from the Jack Nicholson movie, As Good As It Gets, where he tells Helen Hunt at one point that knowing her (and in desiring her) made him want to be a better man. Here is my poem, Better Man, about being helpful which I have written to and for my son.

Better Man

Some strive for a woman.

Some struggle for a child.

Some are doing all they can

while others lounge and smile.

But boy, I implore

that you understand,

it is worth it all the more

for you to be a better man.

As we live from day to day

and do all the things we do;

when you have the means and way

lend a hand when it's asked of you.

Endeavor to be helpful, son;

to others on life's road.

But help them by pulling your own,

before laboring with their load.

stu pidasso

April 29, 2009

People, perspective, x-ray vision and self control

It's late here in Mudville and I am catching up on some blog reading. I stopped by Jen's at Random Thoughts and read her musing on x-ray vision. She wishes she could read other people's hearts. As I was digesting this one particular post, I also made a connection between her desire and the large number of broken relationship bloggers I encounter as I browse. I mean the sheer numbers of people who are blogging about broken relationships in their day to day postings (myself included) is staggering. Well, I wish I could read other people's hearts too. The first one I would read would be my own. I want to be a stand up guy. I want other people to see me as a stand up guy. I want to FEEL like other people see me as a stand up guy. But why is that? Why do I care what other people see me as? Is it that important that we have a public persona that all the other people out there like? Or should we all be of the "can't please everyone all the time so I might as well please myself" mentality?



I have a brother who was trying to lecture me on perspective. He did a pretty good job of it. He got me to thinking about all the different types of perception. He engaged me in such stimulating conversation (almost makes you feel dirty when I write like that doesn't it?!?) that I literally went home and lay in bed and contemplated my own existence. GROOVY MAN!!! Well, he at least got me to acknowledge that there are a few different slants of perception to ALL our situations.



First, There is how you perceive things. You know how you think. You know how you vote. You know how you feel when you read all the horrific and mind-boggling news we see day in and day out in our world. You have a pretty good grasp how you see the world, right? Right. But how do you see yourself? Who do you consider yourself to be?



Now, compare and contrast (if you can comfortably do that) that self-perception with how you THINK others perceive you. Is there anyone you know that you think doesn't like you? Even a stranger you cut off in traffic? Anyone? Your boss? Your ex? Any enemies at all? Well, aren't you special!



Now, since you just mentally checked out that perception, you have perceived how others perceive you. That could be totally different from how they actually perceive you. Confused yet? Cool. So the whole "perception" thing is a crap shoot. You don't really know how others feel about you unless you are really tight with them and then you shouldn't even have to worry about it because they are apparently your mates, right? So, I guess we are back to the whole "can't please all the..", you know the quote.



That is exactly why we ask ourselves these questions. We want validation that we are good people. Not just validation that WE think we are good people, but validation that OTHER people see us as good people.



Back to that damn quote.



But the quote is true. We can't please everyone all the time. So we need to worry about pleasing ourselves and those loved ones we let share our lives. And to this end, actions speak louder than words.



I love my parents. I love my kids. I love my siblings. I love their families. I love my friends. I love my dog. And I strive to prove that love by doing the day in and day out things that SHOW I love them. Doing the dishes at six in the morning so that all have clean coffee cups. Coming home for lunch to make sure that my mom has eaten something nutritious and that my dog gets out for a walk. But as I suggest in this very post, actions speak louder than words. So ladies (and gents), you don't need x-ray vision; you just need time to actually watch what people do in certain situations.



It all comes down to self-control. Doing the right thing in the right situation at the right time is tricky. Actually it can be down right hard sometimes. And I know that I fail at it. ALOT. But that is cool because I know me, and I mean well, despite my own imperfections.



So, to heck with what you all think. I am going to tuck my mom in, give my dog a treat and have a beer. But I am watching you to see how you behave and if you are a nice woman with good values and show it by being yourself day in an day out, well; you rock!! And you heard it here as validation that I perceive you that way.



In fact, some of the bloggers I think rock are Diane, J Cosmo Newbury, Curl Girl, Mama Kat, Matt, Wendy, Janie, Black Hockey Jesus, C Beth, Laurie, Quita, Jenn, Angie, Melissa, and more than I can keep writing out. But I only see you on the web, so my perception is limited.

a few tidbits from my latest opium induced fantasy...

It has been a few weeks since I last posted and a lot of stuff is going on, but I am at a loss for any inspirational topics to blog about. My mom is doing okay, no back soreness or spasms. My drunk brother is, well...drunk. My perpetually young at heart brother is still trying to convince everyone around him that he is in no way approaching fifty. I still haven't gotten off my ass and completed any of the multitudes of projects I have started. My dog is still well, but his hips are quivering like a fat girl sitting on a running washing machine (no offense intended to anyone as I am one jellyroll away from 250 and 5'8"). Ahhhh, my sister. My sweet sister and her husband. My sweet sister and her husband and their two great teenagers. They all piled into the traveling vehicle and rampaged across Texas to get their sweet asses to Austin. There, older teenager competed in the state swim meet. He already set district records and excelled in regionals and was now trying his skill at state. They tanked. But not in a bad way. They (and I say they because he was there to compete with his school relay teams) were not sucky as in they had a chance to win and just flopped. No, they did their best and just got outshone by bigger, older, more prepared kids. My teenagers are swimmers too, and it would have been a great chance for them to support their cousins and see their auntie and uncle, but I was sick and my daughter was sick and my son had an art contest there in Houston. So a trip to Austin to see cousin swim was not in the cards. But this weekend I go to get them and bring them HOME for spring break. That has nothing to do with my sweet ass sister and her fam though. Anyway, said swimming cousin and his relay mates were ranked 15th in their first event and ended the meet in.......you guessed it, 15th place. They were ranked 14th in their second relay event and the finished there also. Whoever is ranking these high school swim teams has got one hell of a crystal ball in there pocket. Yo, high school swim ranker dude, can you give me a few stock tips??

For clarity, it must be noted that this was composed two weeks ago....before spring break. A follow up will be in the works tomorrow.

Before they were movies......

Growing up in my house, my dad was a little overbearing. I think it had a lot to do with the responsibility that he was shouldering. The man had nine kids and worked two jobs to help pay for our upbringing. In the evenings, he would come home and the tension would just be thick as soup. But when it came to dinner time (and we ate as a family most always), he liked to read to us. My dad considered himself a scholar and being a member of Mensa, I'd have to say he was pretty smart. He desperately wanted to pass that intelligence along to all of us. He was demanding. So, after finishing his meal, he would settle in and read us chapters of a book at a time. I remember him reading J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit", and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He even did the voices. How he kept all the voices straight from dinner to dinner was amazing. It was one of the neatest regular family events we had. SO long before they were made into movies, my siblings and I knew all about Frodo, Bilbo, Gandolf and all the others. Somehow those moments shared between my father and us got missed in the early teen years between my kids and I.

I survive!!!

It has been just over two months since my neck injury in Dallas during a rugby match. I have missed every practice except three, sat on my ass for most the two months and it showed. I played Saturday. I didn't play well, mind you; but I played. My coach penciled me in at fullback and I got to cover the deep and the wide ball. There is nothing like eighty minutes of rugby to let you know how old, fat, and out of shape you are! For comparison, the guy across the midfield line from me (the Dallas Reds' fullback) was about twenty five years old, in shape, and had his 'do dyed PINK with this cute little blue stripe from the nape on the left side all the way round to the temple. Let me tell you though! He ran. He ran. He ran, and while I was sucking wind with both hands on my knees from inertia kicking my ass all over the field, he ran some more. The Reds' threw this guy at us repeatedly. He was running blind side, he was running crashes, he was running loops around the outside center to give the wing an overload......when he felt like passing the ball. Mostly he kept it and did this nice power step cut to the back shoulder and went right by whoever was standing there to tackle him. But I played the whole game. I did not re injure my neck. And I had plenty of collisions and tackles to have enough of a chance to hurt it again. So although I think I will be alright and intend to start practicing a lot harder now; I still will be careful with my neck. For that which does not kill me, makes me stronger....but I still don't want a screwed up neck!

Ruck on brothers!

Flirtation with Frustration

Along each of our paths, while travelling our own separate journeys, many of us come into contact and make acquaintances with tiresome, tedious or just plain unsavory characters. Having been on the road for eight long years, now that I am finally home, I want to rest. Well, rest as far as life will let me. It is no picnic being a care provider, and although my mom is still quite self-sufficient, she still requires a lot of time and effort to keep her smiling and satisfied. At the ripe old age of 74, it doesn't take much to tire her out or make her body ache. Consequently, I (and some of the others in her life) find a lot of chore work to be done. Well, some of us anyway. In this little blog saga about my mom and our family, there are many characters. One of my brothers is definitely a character. He is ten years older than me and is quite exacerbating. He is a functioning alcoholic. He manages to drink a twelve pack of beer a day and sometimes more. Rain or shine, hell or high water, store bought beer or homemade wine; he is going to get drunk EVERYDAY. I knew this about him when I first started to get to know him two years ago. I mean I know him, he is my brother; but I didn't KNOW him. Now that he is sharing my house (and more accurately my mother's house as mine is in the process of modification), I am really getting to see how he is. He tends to get pretty drunk and after he is ten beers in or so, we have conversations. I am sure that he doesn't remember the bulk of these conversations, but I do. So the other week, we were having one of these conversations and he admitted that he intends to do as little as possible. I mean he looked right at me through those blood shot little weaselly eyes and professed that he has every intention of not doing a damn thing to help with any chore other than drinking his alcohol or getting fucked up. And he did it with sincerity. I asked him if he thought it was fair that I did all the work to get my house in order and then he was going to come right in and plop his drunk ass down and continue living the good life on my coat tails. He didn't have any problem with that at all. Does the story of the ant and the grasshopper come to mind?? It does to me. At fifty years old, he has nothing.....no house, no savings and no inner drive to better his current life or make arrangements for the future. It saddens me to see him waste his talents, because I know he is smart and he can write better than I can. I rue the day that he frustrates me so bad that I toss his ass out, because he isn't a spring chicken and the choices in his life are starting to take their toll and picking up speed along the way. I love my brother, but he really pisses me off sometimes!

Format change....

I have been posting so much stuff on here from my own life's desires, which although quite confusing is not a bad thing. But this blog is not about my feeble attempts at photography and writing, but as a means for me to communicate those feelings I think will help myself and others about sharing the journey of an aging parent or parents. So to help myself be true to the intended format of this blog, I have set up a second blog just for my creative projectile vomiting. The new blog, Mudville Musings, is up and running and already has it's very own first post!! I hope you enjoy it and I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I need to stay focused and this may help a bit.

Sorry, I just feel like I'm Dragon today

The Dragon soars once more,
freed by the greed of those with no need,
peaceful prosperity yields way to Horror's rancor.

The savage swoops o'er stoops and through peach basket hoops
preying upon peasants; man, woman or child.
Torn like a thorn by tarragon with horn,
forlorn families mourn through their scorn
tormented by scaly winged serpent so wild.

Idle slaves hoist their glaives with raves
against wyvern parlayed by pampered knaves.
How to conquer? How to defeat?
What treasure laid at monster's feet
will alleviate appetite with allure so sweet?

None knows what it is that eases the throes
of those dying horribly from basilisk blows.
But As hydra haunts, and future daunts
the heroes survive by delaying their wants.

And as behemoth retreats to rest from it's feats
I implore, you do not find the fiend at fault
instead chastise those with the keys to It's vault,
Instead buy up their lands while their blood's in the streets.

If I could only plagarize love......

Mandala's Divine Love Swing

For my assignment from Mama Kat this week, I chose to tackle the prompt she deemed hardest. Not because I love a challenge (which I do), but because the poem from which I am stealing the last line touched my life.

While living in Fort Worth after my marriage failed, the concept of a loving relationship was lost to me. I floated in and out of a long distance relationship which also failed and I was pretty down on the whole idea that I might find someone special to me that would find me special to them. I was having a hard time coming to grips with my belief about what love should be and encompass. Eventually I stumbled across a book of love poems written by Nikki Giovanni. I read most of it in one sitting in the nearest Barnes & Nobles to my house, and I purchased it before leaving the store. I still have it and reread it on occasion. Her style of writing, as well as her vivid depictions of how deeply she loved those who she was writing to and about tuned my heart strings in again so that I could make wonderful music within myself and feel once more the possibility that I might love again. As Diane says, it was a defining moment in my life. One particular poem reminded me just how innocent and light headed love could make me feel. Here is her poem that touched me in just the right spot in my heart to jump start me again.


I WROTE A GOOD OMELET

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem...
after loving you
Buttoned my car...and drove my coat home...in the rain...
after loving you
I goed on red...and stopped on green....floating somewhere in between...
being here and being there...
after loving you
I rolled my bed...turned down my hair...slightly confused but...I don't care...
Laid out my teeth...and gargled my gown...then I stood ...and laid me down...
to sleep...
after loving you

--Nikki Giovanni

After Loving You

After loving you.....
what else was there left to do?
All I could smell and taste and hear
could not ease or abate my fear
that true love wouldn't visit again
as prolonged penance for my sin.
Things that used to make me smile
no longer held power to beguile,
and the things once pleasing to my touch
chaffed and chapped as if much too rough.
At first the gaping wounds felt so deep
as if doomed to ooze and forever seep,
as a festering wound is known to rot
viler my disposition towards love got.
But as time would slowly tell it's tale
my anger ebbed and gradually fell.
I found myself with book in hand
at one lone stop in wandered land.
Twas a book of odes to love was writ
that my melancholy made me forget.
I bought the cute little hard back tome
and many days, reading I did roam.
And the joy and exuberance of words within
my forlornness and gloom helped do in.
And free once more my feelings flew
and the hope to love grew anew.
My spirit climbed and rose so high
cartwheeled, flipped and danced through sky.
Once more the feelings of possible love
let my heart barrel-roll above.
And as I free fall from skies of blue,
to Nikki I say, "God bless and keep you."
This time I know what not and to do
To give me a chance at loving.....who?
Who knows?? It may even be you.

Stu Pidasso 14Jan2009

Weekly Assignment

For this weeks assignment I am going to combine two of the prompts as they fit right together. My dog, Brutus, was actually my first bloggy friend. I remember it well. I was just starting my blog and put my settings together (with lots of green because I like green, not green as in money - but I like that too - but green as in nature, because nature just amazes me) and posted my first entry. The next day I came back and was shocked to find that I already had a comment. Cool!! So I clicked on in and read the first comment on my blog. It read like this:

Commenter: "Woof woof woof woof woof. Aroooooooo, woof"

Shroomzilla: "Well, that is sweet of you Brutus. I like the green, I think it looks good too!"

Commenter: "Woof woof woof woof."

Shroomzilla: "Yes, I am new at this. How am I doing?"

Commenter: "Woof arf arf arf, meow."

Shroomzilla: "Thanks and no, I will not post those kind of pictures and I don't care that you have a thing for cats."

Commenter: "Woof woof woof, pant pant pant, woof woof bark bark aroooooo."

Shroomzilla: "Yeah. I guess poodles are okay. What does that have to do with this blog?"

Commenter: "Bark bark bark, woof woof, arf arf , aroooooooo, meow."

Shroomzilla: "Wow. I didn't know that about poodles!?!? And when did you start watching Ellen?
Commenter: "Woof arooooo arooooo arooooo, bark bark bark. Yip yip yip, meow."

Shroomzilla: "Now I just don't believe that. Why would Ellen have a show on poodles and cats that love big strong dogs? And when did you learn to speak Cat anyway??"

Commenter: "Woof woof woof, arf arf arf bark bark meow yip yip yip. Pant pant."

Shroomzilla: "I don't care if you get bored easily!! Part of the reason we keep you around and feed you is so you will protect the house. If you are at the college, how are you doing your job??"

Commenter: "Woof woof woof bark bark yip bark woof."

Shroomzilla: "I really don't think that the squirrels are the same thing. How many scary squirrels have you ever met?"

Commenter: "Bark bark arooooo woof woof woof."

Shroomzilla: "I don't care if they go nuts on a stalkers nuts, you leave your post again and I'll have a bone to pick with you!! Now get off the computer and get back to your job, dog!!"

Brutus is my man!! He is my dog and my best friend. Not like a human best friend with whom you fight over something and then make fun of after you are victorious, but as in "man's best friend". He always is happy to see me. He can't wait until I get home and has trained his inner alarm clock to my schedule. He waits anxiously at the front window for my return in the afternoon. He wags his tail like a ninja swinging his katana; not side to side, but in every direction thinkable. And he is forgiving. When I first got Brutus from a rugby teammate back in 1998, he was a little more than a year old. He was shacked up in a house with five guys, four other dogs, an iguana, a calf and two baby alligators. It took two full years for him to get over his cowering fear complex, and he still is timid when confronted by a loud or aggressive personality. But he is soooo lovable. He thinks he is a lap dog and is not shy about pushing your hands to let you know that you should be petting him.

I still love rugby!!!

So I rail on and on about my love for this silly sport, but it has it's drawbacks too. Part of the reason that I have been MIA for the last month is due to an injury suffered on the rugby field. December 6th in Dallas, we played against the Dallas Athletic Rugby Club Knights and they handed us a pretty lopsided ass whooping. I mean it was a "drag us to the woodshed and switch us raw" whooping. 53 to 6 was the end score, although I didn't finish the game. We traveled light and had a team of players that was not our best fifteen on the field, but we showed up to play and play we did. Over half way through the game, the Knights physicality took it's toll on our numbers and I got rotated into the tighthead prop position. The tight-what???? I hear you cry. Tight head prop, usually your heaviest and one of your strongest players on the field. He is meant to be one of the work horses, and is expected to do a lot of rucking, mauling and tackling (as well as some smash mouth running). I have never played this position and got the call by default, and I payed for it dearly. I got pushed up in a scrum and my head got bent so far down that my chin rubbed against my spine. As I am there trapped in this sweating, stinking mass of manbeasts licking my own spinal cord, something had to give way. My neck popped. When I say it popped, I mean it sounded like a bone snapping. It got my attention immediately and as the scrum disengaged I knew that it was off the field for me.

Well, it has been a little over a month, three doctor visits, four prescriptions of muscle relaxers and pain medications and I can just now start turning my head from side to side. Neck injuries suck and I am seriously contemplating giving the game up for good; but alas, they do not call me Uncle Stupid for just any reason. I am anxiously awaiting my return to game fitness so I can deal out some severe payback to those vaginas in blue from the DFW area. It may have to wait until next season, but if I am lucky I will get to step on their heads (you pick which one) this season. ETD (estimated time of DESTRUCTION) is February 21st. Wish me luck I am gonna need it.

Discovery

I took up this writing challenge from Pictures, Poetry and Prose. I found this wonderful site by reading the offerings of the Bard from OZ, J. Cosmo Newbury. If you haven't stopped in and read his material, you are jilting yourself, but he does request that you visit with a glass of pinot noir in hand (I made that up, but he may adopt it in the future). So with no further ado, I present to you, my interpretation of the photo above, entitled Discovery.

DISCOVERY

My college professor for freshman English
assigned us the essay, "Look at your Fish".
I was so unprepared, my head he could squish.
To be anywhere else was my only wish

The story involved a scientific pupil once hesitant,
who had to keep reinspecting his droll assignment,
and each day he took up his mind-numbing regiment
he discovered a new symmetry or minute alignment.

I now find it simply amazing and amusing,
that for twenty-five years his insight I've been using.
The lesson which he strived to make so unconfusing,
was for us to be in a constant state of perusing.

Long ago, being the student who had finally caught on
I now look at my "fish" until dusk, from first dawn.

The paths my mind wanders....

I offer to you some random limericks, written for my own enjoyment, but I hope you find them entertaining too. I will preface these by saying that I am completely comfortable with the balance in my brain between my raw sexual appetite and the softer, gentler longing for affection and romance. The two are intertwined and if done right are experienced at the same time with a loving partner in a sharing environment. But my mind jumps around alot and those are not the only things swirling around in that stew pot of mine. So feast on my preaparations and savor every last drop of sustanance that I can convey to you, my hungry readers. As usual, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. And the winners of the last Caption COntest and the new photo will be offered up tonight.


I endeavor forever to find you.
In each nook I look, as is due.
Like a coon dog on a scent
My tenacity won't repent.
My pod is a pea short and won't do.

Like Icarus I soared thru the sky
In my exuberance at getting to fly
I buzzed the great ball of joy
my wax wings held up like a toy
As I spiral downwards I'm left to ask, "Why?"

Jesus walked for forty nights and days
trying to navigate his own mental haze
Even as Satan did try to detour
twas our Savior he just could not lure
into partaking in his decadent ways.

I won't deny the natural truth
that men are inherently uncouth
we like to burp, fart and fight
and shag day and night
changing us is like pulling your own tooth

I have two chips off the block not just one
A lovely daughter and a handsome young son
My first ex-wife I repeatedly implore
of their time, to relinquish me more
she resists and just twists the blade for fun

My hands get all clammy and cold
Every time I get close I am told
My heart starts to race
at an incredible pace
For me, love just never gets old

From the playground he did abscond
with a redhead, a brunette and a blonde
vigorous lucky young Georgie
had his sights on a four-way orgy
And finished "the tour" like Greg Lemond

beads of sweat tend show up yet
ever shorter as my breath does get
I embrace the quivering flesh
of the woman with whom I mesh
And I find I am not the only one wet.

After her succulent thighs did I sunder
With an Austrailian kiss did I plunder
If you have yet to have one of those
I assure you it will curl your toes
It's just like a French kiss but down under.

It's a long weary trek....

My true love, where are you found hiding?
Your prolonged absence keeps me deriding
my own resolve, which is now back-sliding
due to long lonely days so unabiding
to my psyche which seems to be gliding
along in its manic depression. I'm chiding
myself for believing I must keep riding
into the bleak dark night so uninviting.
Your possible existence fuels my minds' writing,
I pause to smoke in the wind so biting
and rest my eyes from dreary dim lighting
Ignoring the impulse to yield from my fighting
for my struggle, I, the queen should be knighting
until then I'll partake some more white lightning
to help keep my weary spirits from alighting
thereby crushing my hopes, how frightening!

10 Revelations of Stewey

It has been toooooo long since I have done the blog thing. I need to get back into it and so I am doing this little exercise that I gleaned off of someone else's blog. I wasn't awarded the award, but I liked the idea of how it worked, so here goes. I am revealing ten facts about myself.

1. I believe in a higher power. I struggle with my faith, but I do believe that all of this here on earth is just too damn complicated to have occurred at random. I am not sure what this higher power is, but I don't think that, as people, we are in control.

2. Out of nine males in my family, I am the only one who is not an Eagle Scout. And judging from the way some of my brothers have turned out, I don't think it was all it was made out to be. I would try harder to get it if I could have a do over, but we don't get many of those, do we?

3. As much as people think I hate my ex-wife, I don't. I am unhappy with the decisions she has made that have affected me, but I do not hate her. In fact, some people still think I have some love for her and they may just be right.

4. I would do anything for my kids, including take a life (even my own).

5. Although I love rugby and will support it and play it as long as my body will let me. I am even better at soccer.

6. I can't follow my career path because of convictions for assault and drug possession. In theory, nobody wants a coach for their kids who has a shady history.

7. I have been solicited many times to coach children's teams, even after admitting to my criminal convictions.

8. My son told me this holiday season that he wants a brother (he has a sister and a half-sister), and I would be willing to give him one if I could.

9. I have (in my own opinion) an over active sexual appetite, but I have a hard time starting relationships because I have something a partner wouldn't want. And I can't keep that away from a partner before sharing a romantic experience. Catch twenty two??

10. I have been in love with four great women and have managed to screw it up each time. Consequently, I am hesitant to give my heart away again, for fear of going through the grieving process anew. Maybe someday.......