The last long walk home...

Senior moments and scallywags

2011-12-20T12:14:00.000-08:00

I am now finishing up my fourth year back in Mudville, having come back to help care for my mom, and some of the moments we share from day to day are just so funny that I can't help but laugh. At the same time it is these very moments that make me feel just a bit sad having to watch my mom go through them. It is part of life though and we cope as best we can.

Recently we were getting ready to leave the house early on a Monday morning. I was scooping up the last of my junk I carry on a daily basis and mom was already headed for the car. I was turning out lights and making my way to the front door and I get there to find her trying to unlock the front door with her keys.....

....from the inside.

There is no key hole on the inside, just a deadbolt. I am grinning like a Cheshire cat, speechless, just grinning. I reach past her and turn the deadbolt and let her out. I lock the door behind us as we leave and take her to her physical therapy session. Once I get to the office, I email my sister to relay the funny moment.

The worst part about this whole situation is knowing full well that my mom, having to endure this natural aging process and the onset of forgetfulness and confusion, is now very vulnerable to my two less unscrupulous brothers who share her home with her. She may be sweet and kind and generous, but that doesn't mean that they won't use it to their advantage. How one would take advantage of the same little old lady who opens her home to you is beyond me.

Another day and another adventure.

Long time coming....

2011-05-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

Has it really been this long? Where have I been and what have I been doing to keep me from my duties for so long? Why such a substantial break in the posting of the pleasantries?

Pull up a chair, grab a cold one, sit down and let me tell you all about it.

Since the 1st of September of last year, we have seen my children come and go a few times, my mom travel to Florida to meet her sisters, an entire rugby season pass by, a complete bathroom remodel, a puppy pass and a new year start.

Mom met with her sisters up in Michigan for a wedding and again down in Florida for a week on the beach. That is (from left to right) Betty, Bridgit, Bonnie and Bubbles. Some sweet ladies. Wish I could hear the stories they have to tell. From growing up in the North, migrating to Texas, marrying and scattering, raising families and becoming empty- nesters and grandmothers; I'll bet they have loads of great memories to share. I have interviewed Betty once (to be posted still), and would love to interview the others as soon as I get the chance. However, geography works against me, in that regard.

I am told that they had great visits at both locations, playing games, having a stiff drink and swapping laughs and memories well into the nights.

Thanks to my incredible sister and my goofy brother for helping my mom get to see her sisters.

On a more somber note, Rucker the puppy got out of the yard and wound up on the bad end of a collision with a car. He now rests under the front tree with my boy, Brutus. It made for a sad weekend, but life goes on and we have. He will be missed, though.

The new bathroom looks great. Pictures of the process are in the works. And the rugby season has come and gone. The Bard sings about it elsewhere, but for now, suffice it to say, we went 3 and 7 and fared okay with plenty of room for improvement and some new faces.

That's it for now. See you in a couple.

I looked for you all morning....

2010-09-01T09:14:00.000-07:00

....but you're just not there.

Every now and then I remember when

those times we shared, we cared, we dared.

And even though you're not here

I see you in my mind so clear.

Most days it brings a smile, some days a big ol' tear.

As this crazy life keeps keeping on

and we all dance to our own song,

I find myself searching this crowded throng

of people for a glimpse of you....

a glimpse of you....

a glimpse of you.

I don't want mounds of silver and gold.

I don't want heaps of treasures untold.

I don't want to drive a big fancy car.

I don't want to travel either near or far.

I don't want to try to hang the moon.

I don't want to be called home too soon.

I don't want to conquer this world.

I just want my little boy and my little girl.

I just want to shake my dad's hand,

hug him tight and say, "I understand."

I just want to share a beer

with my friends who can't be near.

I just want a little more time

to spend with you....

What I Want

by stu pidasso

1Sept2010

I find my kids come and go as they please like a....

2010-07-16T09:50:00.000-07:00

Bumblebee

by stu pidasso

16July2010

Oh, you damned bumblebees!

You flit, you dart, you come so close

with your humming, buzzing melodies.

Then you disappear like a ghost

You catch my eye

as you fly by.

I follow your every move.

Your dainty, deft dancing

is beautiful, I must confess.

The way you seduce each flower

in your black and yellow dress

should be a crime

in any one's time,

but we all love your groove!

Yes, my sweet bumblebee,

You, solely have grasp over this father.

I will watch you from glen to lea,

so as to admire my wonderful daughter.

I'll offer up my hand,

on which, for you to land.

I swear I will not move.

Statuesque, I will stand,

even if stung by she whom I love!

I will endure, as is planned,

by The One sitting high up above.

I will play my part,

until your heart

is given to a man to lose.

So fly away, oh bumblebee!

Seek out each and every bloom!

Take in all that this world can offer thee,

then come home to rest, I have the room.

I will stay steadfast,

here until the last,

patiently awaiting to hear news of you.

I dreamed about dreaming while sitting at work

2010-06-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Trancing
by stu pidasso
14June2010

I stare into my coffee cup
Vivid mental images in my head
Days gone by or days wished to be

Hand sketches and vendor blueprints
piled like pick-up sticks on my desk
waiting patiently for attention to details

Hodgepodge of school portraits and paperclips
pushed from reach into the corners
beckoning for a touch or spare glance

But my mind flip flops, cartwheels, barrel rolls
through space and time to other dimensions
ripping at the fabric of present day reality

a summer day in mountains at a boy scout camp
an autumn morn in piny woods watching deer
a winter train trip to Virginia for a Xmas holiday

I see my kids in everything around me
I dream about the "what if"s and the "if only"s
I long for time and opportunities to come again

but reality strikes back hard
The Boss says, "Don't screw it up this time."
I let her paint a room and he gets to go zoom-zoom

Driving lessons and house repairs
two teenagers with summer jobs
an evening cooking a meal together

it isn't slaying dragons or riding unicorns
it isn't scaling redwoods or the Himalayas
but it is moments together, shared and enjoyed

life may be slower than I dream
but it sure is sweet when dreams come true
a movie and doing dishes sure can make me smile.

I can't keep it in any longer...

2010-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

Incomplete
by stu pidasso
25May2010

Its as if I have
a phantom limb.
It haunts me.

I can feel it,
but I can't see it.

I get tingles
as if fingers are
traipsing
back and forth.

I can smell
the sweet aroma
of the flesh.
So close I can
almost taste
the perspiration.

I can hear
the scritchity
scratch
of fingernails
across skin
far to dry.

If I were to be
pinched,
would I feel
it?

If I slept
too long
in the sun
would it burn?

I feel as I have
lost a limb,
but it was my
family,
and I just don't feel
like me anymore.

Helping to "publish" a friend's long past work...

2010-02-04T05:51:00.000-08:00

UNEMPLOYMENT

by HGW III

Sausage sizzling on the grill,

Hash brown potatoes, hot corn pone,

Hungry men consume their fill,

Remembrance of a country morn.

Biscuits floating in a sea of gravy,

Like ships of Nelson's navy;

Cups of black coffee steaming,

Idle oilfield workers dreaming.

Now the sun has chased the dark,

The air is warm and sky is bright;

The idle men go to the park,

There to sit and wait the dark.

Note: the picture is random, of an oil worker, from East Texas. As always, work on this site is original and subject to all copyright laws.

At this late state I'll hesitate to meditate, so please don't wait...

2010-01-28T06:31:00.000-08:00

Gone Fishing.

Might return.

Dare to soar with the eagles

2010-01-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

Most young men fight with their fathers, off and on, throughout their lives or at least at one point or another. Some of these relationships are more turbulent than others, but for the most part it is pretty common among all father/son relationships. My son is having his problems these days with the resident "father figure" in his home, just as I had mine with my father. We'll get back to my son, Miles, though.

The way my major argument with my father played out is very similar to what my son is dealing with right now. It boils down to a difference of opinions over priorities. When I turned fifteen back in high school, I was still involved in boy scouts. My father was a scout, my older brothers were all scouts and my younger brother was a scout. In fact, my father, my older brothers and my younger brother were all Eagle scouts, the highest rank you can achieve in scouting. Between them all, we had eight eagle scouts in the family. I would have made the ninth. The problem was that it was not a big priority to me.

The reason for that was that at the time I had found something else that captured my attention. Soccer was the thing that held my waking moments. I enjoyed soccer, I excelled at soccer, all I wanted to do was to play soccer and I was good at it. I ended up getting college scholarship offers to play. But my father wanted me to be an eagle scout. He even gave me an ultimatum. Finish your eagle scout or you will never set foot on a soccer field again.

So much for that. I still play soccer, but didn't finish my eagle scout. All my brothers let me know about it too. But I have to say, looking at the way some of my brothers have turned out (being eagle scouts and all) I am not so sure that being a member of the "eagle scout" group is all it is cracked up to be. Don't get me wrong, I know that I messed up. I know that if I could go back and change it, that I would finish that eagle work and get my rank. I know now that it would have been a small task that would have meant the world to my father and most of my brothers. For if I had gotten my eagle, we would have had nine eagle scouts in one family. That would have set the world record for eagle scouts in one immediate family. We would have gotten to go to Washington and meet the President. It meant a lot to my dad and I torpedoed it right out of existence. Never to be done.....ever.

Well, it took over twenty years to get over that fight, but my father and I worked past it. I am not sure how he let it go, but he did. I just wish I could get it and show him I got it.

Hind sight really is twenty-twenty.

So, now back to my son. He is wicked sharp. Sharp enough to not study and still ace his tests in school. And as much as I and his step father tell him his grades count for a lot, he doesn't feel the need to focus on them. I now how my dad tried to communicate with me to get his ideas across and they didn't work too well. So I am trying a different approach to my son. I hope it works.

It would depress me to know that he had the same regrets that I do later in life over a failed communication. So to all you dads out there, don't give up. Keep talking to your boys and love them no matter what. I know I am going to do so.

old news posted way late....

2009-11-30T10:41:00.000-08:00

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.....

2009-11-19T09:43:00.000-08:00

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....

2009-11-09T07:55:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-23T12:57:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-19T13:09:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-10-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

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......

2009-09-22T11:45:00.000-07:00

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....

2009-08-07T10:03:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-07-29T06:36:00.000-07:00

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!!

2009-07-13T11:33:00.000-07:00

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.....

2009-06-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-06-18T05:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-17T09:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-03-18T13:12:00.000-07:00

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......

2009-02-19T05:21:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2009-02-10T12:51:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-04T15:58:00.001-08:00

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....

2009-01-27T12:41:00.001-08:00

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

2009-01-22T13:15:00.000-08:00

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......

2009-01-14T15:00:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T14:26:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2009-01-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-07T15:36:00.000-08:00

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....

2009-01-07T07:06:00.000-08:00

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....

2009-01-06T13:52:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-06T10:54:00.000-08:00

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.......

2008-12-05T10:31:00.001-08:00

One of the latest commenters I've come across is a fine fellow with the wit for words, Mr. J. Cosmo Newbery. He and I traded blurbs about an eatery that is known around parts of Texas as Freebirds. It is a burrito shop that is just wonderful. They offer great food, great prices and a great environment. They have locations in Houston, Austin, Dallas and Fort Worth (and maybe more); but originated in College Station (home of Texas A&M University). He could not understand my deep devotion to their wares, as I stated that I would actually die for one (I wouldn't, but don't tell them that). So, for Mr. Newbery; I offer my own creation attesting to their grandeur. I hope it pleases.

Freebird!! Freebird!!
from College Station you did spring
expanding ever outward
'tis my palate you make sing.
first taste that doth tickle which
with what type of tortilla fare
flour, wheat, or spinach
(of the cayenne please beware)
loaded with the diner's choice
steak or chicken if you please
the white or dark meat oh so moist
or combination with loads of cheese
On to the fillers down the line
rice and beans, mighty fine
four different sauces could be mine
all for the price of 6.99
wait there's more lend an ear
four different sizes can be had
wash it down with choice of beer
the pair will leave you feeling glad
A half bird or a full is all
that i can handle personally
the double or the monster, gawl!!
those would force me to one knee.
And after my hunger I do sate,
entertain myself with poor man's art
shiny silver wrapping left on my plate
mash and twist it or tear it apart.
fold it and add to it another
piece of that foil to complete
a shiny sculpture like no other
my own creation, very neat.
Having migrated home back west
with your absence I want to cry
of all the burrito shops you are best
for yours alone I would die.

Free at last, free, free at last.....

2008-12-05T08:22:00.000-08:00

My daughter and son have been grounded recently, and justifiably so. They each received horrendously bad grades on their last progress report. So they have been without computer privileges for a few weeks. Now they are free and what does she do?? She comes straight to my site and reads the wicked little ode I wrote about her mother for the new boy toy. She leaves a nice little sarcastic message in the comments and then drops her own submission for the last Caption Contest (incredibly late but quite good I may say). She even used the word contortionist, which is a mighty fine word. She continues to impress me at every turn. She is wonderful. Vana Lea, I am sorry for upsetting you with my written gift to your step-father. Should I mail it to him?? I think not. However, there are quite a few lady bloggers out there that are going through the similar situation I am. I have seen how they vent and get upset with their once significant others, as I do and am. So I am curious as to their take on this. I am taking suggestions and comments, no offense will be taken so spill your true feelings about any part of the whole spitsville mess. And with that in mind, I offer up another of my minds twisted little word-works. I hope you enjoy it or that it touches or helps anyone else in any way.

My father never taught me
My father taught me a lot of things
In his time before he passed.
About the way were supposed to live,
Until the time we breathe our last.
Things like love of nature,
And striving to be best,
Respecting those around you
and saving to invest.
Talking to God everyday,
Striving for something better
Solving problems your own way
and preparing for bad weather.
But of all the things of which I learned
From he whose loin I came,
Some of the lessons that I learned
are bound to bring him shame.
Fiery temper, and tongue of acid
And mean streak a mile wide,
Crassness and a wandering eye
Are traits I wish too hide.
How to be argumentative, and
Throw around your weight.
Intimidating everyone with
Careless words of hate.
Which brings me to the things
Of which he did not dare
Share any of the wisdom
That gave him no gray hair.
Like how to cope with loss
of wife or taming something so wild
as the anger in my heart at
loss of beloved child.
My father never taught me
How to handle so, these things that
Trouble my lonely heart
And tear me down so low.
And I pray that in my days
I spend with my children over time
That they learn from my mistakes
And don’t have to write or live this same rhyme.
Stu Pidasso February 8, 2004

Speaking of taming wild inner beasts, we travel to Dallas this weekend for one of our cup rugby matches. I fully intend to vent my inner anger on some poor unsuspecting fool from the DFW Metroplex. It is my anger management program, because I feel so much better (mentally not physically) after grinding some other person's head into the mud and having the same done to me. In reality, it is as close to being in a warrior's battle in this day and age as most men can get. It allows me to test my physicality and mental resolve against others in a semi-hostile environment. Because of my moments on the rugby field, I am fully confidant that I could chase down , catch, kill and bury any criminal that would make the mistake of targeting my family (and that is if I buried him instead of cooking him and serving him to the crack addicts downtown). Gone are most the reasons and opportunities for the young men today to be the hunters, warriors and protectors that God intended us to be. I relish my time on the pitch as I know my advancing age is bringing those days to a quick end. But until I can play no more, I will strive to be like the most awe-inspiring rugby warrior I know, Stirling Mortlock. Enjoy the picture ladies.

Looooooooong weekend

2008-11-18T07:38:00.000-08:00

I spent the majority of my weekend on the road again. This time it was a trip to the revered halls of College Station. I got to see my kids in a swim meet for the first time. It was an all day affair, and the setting was spectacular. The student recreation center on the campus of Texas A&M is magnificant. The mass of kids representing all of the high schools there to compete was enormous. My kids, being a freshman and a sophmore, did well; but did not advance to any semi-final events. But they did get to see the campus and experience some of the local life during the day. We ate at one of the original Freebird's burrito shops (to die for). We got to see the original Dixie Chicken. They got to see the A&M alumni war memorial (apologies for not capitilizing that or spelling it wrong or even identifying it wrong as I am sure it has a very specific name). This place is in respect of all the alumni who have given their all for country. There is no walking on the grass and there is no wearing of hats inside the building, and the current corps members are more than eager to admonish anyone to stupid or careless to read and understand the signs. It was a good experience for my kids. If they are to chose T A&M for their higher education, I'll be glad to work my ass off to help them earn a degree from that fine establishment.

But the trip was long (7 hours one way trip) and tiresome. It was up at 6am and in bed at 11pm and go, go , go all the way. Then another two hours to Houston to drop them with the duck and schmuck, then nine hours back to home. All in all, I'd drive a million miles for my kids and I like to travel, but I do pay the price. Pictures and more news on that later.

Now, let's talk tomboys. As a rugger in this fine nation where girls and women have more opportunities than anywhere else in the world, I see a lot of womens' sports and especially rugby. Browsing some of the rucking womens' blog pages, I came across this post about being a tomboy. It seems that Nike has a new ad campaign out concerning the athletesism of women. It comes with a little poetic statement about one girl's knees and the effect it has on whether she will ever get married. It is posted below with my own response to any woman who may feel that way.

From a Flanker

My knees
are tomboys.
They get bruised and
cut everytime i play rugby.
I'm proud of them
and wear my dresses short.
My mother worries
I will never marry
with knees like that.
But i know
there's someone out there
who will say to me:
I love you
and I love your knees.
I want the four of us
to grow old together

Just do it.

If the choice were mine to make,
a tomboy o'er a princess I'd take.
Give me scrapes, cuts and a bruise,
A hard nosed woman I would chose.
Simply for the respect of it,
I'd know she wouldn't take any shit.
A short skirt and a shiner to
anything less just wouldn't do.
Tell your mother "Have no fear.
I've found a hooker to bring me beer.
No. No, mom; not that kind of hooker.
He's a rugger and a damn good looker!!
He's content to sit and watch,
as I make the other team my bi-otch!!
Baby, I beg "Don't quit, please!!"
Because I love you and I love your knees!!
So let's to the pitch no matter the weather,
just say you'll grow old with me, together.

Just do it!!

Tues....wait....Wednesday Caption Contest

2008-11-12T05:06:00.001-08:00

It's Tuesday again!!! Because it is my favorite day, we will run another caption contest. This will be the ninth installment of the Tuesday Caption Contest.

A quick review of the rules.

1. Entries must be posted by Saturday evening, 11:59pm.
2. Entries must be no longer than one sentence if it is a regular caption contest. If it is a mutated caption contest, then I am looking for no more than a thousand words, and poems of any form will get extra consideration.
3. I am the sole judge of who wins each week, but may give special recognition/prizes to unusual entries.
4. One entry per contest per person.
So without any further delay, the new photo is up top. Have fun and good luck.

And the winner is........

2008-11-12T04:41:00.000-08:00

I had some really good submitters for last weeks photo (which may have been the best photo so far). It was hard to chose once again, but I must say that it came down to two. Melissa, with her entry "All to protect my nuts"; and J. Cosmo Newbery (check this guys sites out) who wrote "This ain't so bad! You should see the other guy!" (being a rugby player....how true, how true!). But I must go with J. Cosmo (sorry Melissa, but keep playing you got good ones too!!). So J. Cosmo, leave an address in the comments along with three picks for music and I'll get one in the mail to you ASAP. And I know you are in Australia (I think you are anyway). That's cool, I like your rugby teams. Now off to post the new photo.....

Ode to the Schmuck

2008-11-11T14:05:00.000-08:00

I am not sure how Satan entered,
into my life, which lay here splintered.
All I know is she now must go,
She has wreaked her havoc and laid me low.

And now she's gone whence she came from,
back into what horrid monster's bum?
There she can rot and deteriorate,
until once again she may emanate.

Crawling, oozing, free at last,
she may repeat her sins of the past.
Taking another man's soul on her plate,
her fiendish appetite she must sate.

I watch in horror so completely utter,
as she sucks his marrow, I give a shudder.
Had I known it would mean his life,
I'd have kept the succubus as my own wife.

Sorry, but you deserve her, Tory.

Writers Workshop Assignment....Childhood games

2008-11-07T07:27:00.000-08:00

I.LOVE.MAMA.KAT's.WRITERS.WORKSHOP!!

She prompts me to write (and I love drawing on my life experiences to do so). Let's cut through the chase and get down to the meat of this thing!! I give you a fictionalized day in the life of Francis, Michael, Will, Andrew and Anthony.

The boys hated babysitting. It was bad enough they had to endure these brats they knew as little brothers, let alone take care of them. But what are a couple of teenage boys to do? They had explicit instructions from mom and dad to keep a close eye on their brothers, so no one would get hurt or into trouble. But as they sat around the house pondering the social scene at the youth hall, their active imaginations got the better of them.

"What if we were to isolate the brats so they can't get into trouble? asked Francis.

"I dunno, as long as they are safe and out of harms way, I guess that would be okay." replied Michael.

"Then we could go hook up with the guys, and as long as we are home before mom and dad, no one else will know." said Francis.

"I'm down with that, fo shizzle! What do you have in mind?" queried Michael.

"For starters we can put Will under the sink in the kitchen. Andrew can be locked in the footlocker, but we will have to make sure he can get air." suggested Francis.

"And we can put Anthony under the toy box, there is no way he can lift that thing." added Michael.

"Cool. You get your bicycle chain and padlock, I'll empty the toy box and footlocker." said Francis.

"How are we going to get the brats to get into these things without a fight?" asked Michael.

"The same way I get them to make me sandwiches when I am hungry, kick their asses." sneered Francis.

"Yeah, I guess. Works every time, huh? Well, let's get this ball rolling." suggested Michael.

They take a little time and effort to get their pieces in place, but all goes as expected for them. With the three younger brothers playing a really cool game of "Prisoners Of War", the older two siblings set out for their rendezvous with the other local kids at the nearby junior high school. After an unspecific amount of time has elapsed, they return home to find all the doors and windows to the house locked.

While they were away, the prisoners escape!! Anthony sits in total darkness under the wooden toy box. Will sits in the cupboard below the sink. He is peering out through the small amount of space which the doors will open under the slack of the chain and lock. He is watching Andrew, who is latched into the footlocker. Andrew is getting restless with this game and has started kicking and thrashing about.

"Hey!! You almost popped the latch on the footlocker. Kick it again and try to undo it!!" squeals Will.

Bam. Bam bam. Bam bam bam. the kicking finally works, and Andrew crawls from the footlocker. He surveys the scene in the kitchen. The older siblings have used toy wooden building blocks to wedge the toy box against the footlocker and wall. A quick kick to the blocks and Andrew is able to tilt the toy box off of Anthony, freeing him from his incarceration. The two of them turn their attention to Will.

"Oh. They have you chained and locked under there. Do you think we can pick the lock (I think it was a key lock??)? asked Andrew.

Anthony replied, "I dunno know." (he was young, very young)

"Get dad's hacksaw out of the utility room. We can cut this chain. It isn't real big." begged Will.

Andrew and Anthony head outside to get the saw. They return with the required tool, and make short work of the imprisoning item. Having freed all the prisoners, they turned toward securing the compound. They checked all the windows and locked all the doors. They even wedged the doors shut, which the others were sure to have keys for, using their ingenious little minds to get the task done. Then they ate and watched television. Will and Andrew even exacted some revenge by peeing on cherished items of their oppressors. But then, right around lunch time, the oppressors returned.

"Hey!! The door won't open." exclaimed Francis.

"That's strange. Let's try the back." added Michael.

"This one is locked, too!! Look the brats are loose. How did they get out?" cried Michael.

Time passed as the older boys tried any and every trick they could think of to get in the house. Eventually they used the lamest trick they could muster.

"Come on guys, I really need to use the bathroom. Let us in and we'll forget about this whole thing." begged Francis.

Against their better judgement, the three younger brothers relented and gave access to the older boys.

"Now you are in for it!! Who sawed my chain in half??? You are all going to get the treatment now. Get under that sink." growled Michael.

Abandoning their separate (but equal??) prison quarters, Francis and Michael relegated the three younger boys to one temporary jail cell. All three boys were placed under the kitchen sink, locked inside the cupboard, and treated to several minutes of hot water flowing through the drain pipes. After which, they were chastised for escaping in the first place, assured that they were being watched, threatened with even harsher punishment if they escaped again (or tattled to the parents) and left locked up again.

All was as the oppressors wanted it to be, until Dad came home early from work. Let the beatings commence.

This post was brought to you by the letters "F" and "U", and is dedicated to Francis and Michael (don't trust me to watch your kids!!).

Tuesday Caption Contest (on Wednesday, again)

2008-11-05T04:29:00.000-08:00

I think I am starting to see a pattern develop here, Nevertehless, it's Tuesday again!!! Because it is my favorite day, we will run another caption contest. This will be the eighth installment of the Tuesday Caption Contest. Many are the numbers now that have been winners for the caption contests so far. As the last official winner, Quita was allowed her choice of minor prizes, and she will be getting the Walk The Line movie soundtrack CD (I love The Man In Black). She won with the entry, "STEWEY", as my new nickname (let's run it up the flagpole and see who salutes!).

A quick review of the rules:

1. Entries must be posted by Saturday evening, 11:59pm.

2. Entries must be no longer than one sentence if it is a regular caption contest. If it is a mutated caption contest, then I am looking for no more than a thousand words, and poems of any form will get extra consideration.

3. I am the sole judge of who wins each week, but may give special recognition/prizes to unusual entries.

4. One entry per contest per person.

So without any further delay, the new photo is up top. Have fun and good luck.

Caption Contest Winner news and rugby zulus

2008-11-04T03:47:00.000-08:00

The last Caption Contest went pretty well. I had a lot of responses concerning the four interesting photos I threw up for you all to use to give me a new nickname. There was a lot of speculation as to which person I was in two of the photos, and that would make a huge difference as to the nickname with which you adorned me. Having identified myself in each of the four photos, after the deadline for entry submissions, I love the responses to each of the photos. Some of the suggestions were Cuppy, Pidasstrian, Stu-Pid-Ass (twice) and Stewey.

My choice of awarding this weeks prize goes to Drama Mama for her submission of Stewey. I will therefore add Stewey to the long list of other names people have and still do call me. Drama Mama joins, Angie, Wendy, myself and Melissa in the past winners circle. I do want to give an honorable mention to Jennifer P., who coined the name Cupsy for me. Any of you that saw the third photo of me in that post can understand. As unpleasant as it may sound considering, it too would be one that I would wear with pride. I will take into account any input the past winners want to give for future selections of the top honor for any of the future Caption Contests, I know who you are so just leave any suggestions in the comments. I want to thank all who have stopped by to play or even just to give some comment love. Keep coming back and, please, spread the word; the more playing the better. And as a parting gift I give to you a picture of the rugby tradition called "zuluing"! But if Becky's Top Ten List came with a picture of all her top ten choices zuluing, you girls would probably never leave her site!! And I laugh that some of the guys are still wearing their cleats. Drama Mama please leave a list of three CDs and an address to mail one of them. You can leave it in the comments or email it to me, your choice. Look tonight for today's new Caption Contest photo!! God Bless!

Train ride tankas....

2008-11-03T09:01:00.000-08:00

So Ce, I must bounce!
As much as I like to be
in your loving arms,
Houston calls unto me now.
I yield to my daughter's charms.

SCREAM LIKE A BANSHEE!!
Howl through the wind swept oak tree!!
Air with direction,
carry my voice of frustration,
to Miles, my wonderful son!!

White is the color,
Like sincerity and peace.
Such is my surname.
My anger I must release.
Thank you father for my shame.

A month with my brood,
lonely Sunday when they go.
Now I'm in no mood,
I seek solace with my bro.
He can fix my attitude.

Some say God loves us.
He wants us to be happy,
and so it is thus,
rugby is my therapy.
Sevens on sand in Corpus.

Nubian princess,
known only as Divina.
An angel no less,
glides like a ballerina.
Not for me, I'm such a mess.

Young Miss Yurika,
beautiful Japanese girl
sitting next to me,
but could I speak your language
or kiss your lips so softly.

All of these were written riding on the train (duh??), but the dates vary from March of 2005 to July of 2006. They are in the tanka poetry style. Don't know what that is?? Try this site for more poetry forms. Thanks Angie for setting my spelling in the write direction!!

Dreamin' of Eden

2008-11-03T07:58:00.000-08:00

Sitting in this train's lounge car
blurs of green and purple streaking by
sun setting slow but bright
puts a squinting in my eye
all this gorgeous Texas scenery
filled with trees and brush and green
long stretches of flat pasture land
with wild brushline in between
a head of cow here and there
a game feeder or a blind
barbed wire fences and old windmills
along dirt roads that cease to wind
through the peaceful countryside
where nature grows unkempt and randomly
where God still walks in his own garden
unspoiled by sons of Adam and Eve
there are no toll booths or HOV lanes
no IHOP, Starbucks or Wal-mart
no ATMs or gasoline stations
to help tear this Eden apart
gone are all the SUVs
the roaring of the traffic
the smog and all those damn cell phones
the ugly city scenes so graphic
all that is out here to do
are the things God meant to be
the most relaxing and invigorating
no charge, untaxed and free
like long walks down misty country lanes
or climbing old gnarly trees
or taking naps on shaded swing
cooled by a gentle breeze
snuggling up next to a friend
after supper on a summer night
listening to the forest serenade
watching dusk morph to twilight
or catching sight while stargazing
of the occasional shooting star
wishing for true love to come
and find you where you are
so pack my things and sell my house
and move me out of that city
'cause if I waste another precious year here
it would be a crime not just a pity

I wrote this on the Amtrak, between Fort Worth and Austin back in 2005. I had been taking the train back and forth trying to secure an apartment in Austin so I could live. The four hour trip was nice, especially for eighteen dollars each way. I highly recommend it for anyone wanting some travel.

Opening up.....Part 2

2008-11-02T07:27:00.000-08:00

So, I talked a little bit about my nicknames, my inner fear of exposing my information (not myself, apparently), and my lovely sister. Now let's talk about the rest of my family in relation to those four photos I posted.

In the first photo, it was obvious which one I was, in between my sister and my mother.

In the second photo, again, it is easy to tell which one I am. The others are my son (in my lap), my daughter (beside me) and a girlfriend with her two boys. She has her own story which I may get to some day, but for now suffice it to say that her chapter is written, done, over with, finis, kaput, through. She will always have a place in my heart, but that is all she will have.

The third photo was taken after a rugby game, before I was married (I think, I'll have to confirm that later though). As incredibly embarrassing as that photo is for me to show to other people, it is dead on as to how my personality can be ultra-uninhibited. While all others are looking at the camera, I am intent on....well....you can see for yourself. It is one of those things that remind me to be true to myself. I am no pervert, but I am fun loving, open-minded, adventurous, and a carefree spirit.

The last photo is the one that I want to identify for all of you. It was our family Xmas photo from 197...something, I am not sure. Just look at my mom's hair-do and that will give you an idea of how old it really is. I am one of eight sons and nine children all together (not including the few extras who moved in with us over the years). We are Irish Catholic. My siblings, by initials, in order (and location) are: HGW-IV (left back row), MEW (right back row), PFW (middle back row), DRW (right kneeling), KMW (left kneeling), KMW (middle kneeling), WHW (seated left), GEW (me, seated middle) and KAW (seated right). There is a 15 year spread amongst us. I turned forty this year and my only younger brother is thirty-seven, which would make my oldest brother fifty-two this year. We have blessed my parents with ten grandchildren. One, who I will post about later, is kind of estranged from us by our lovely court system here in America. She turns eighteen this year and is a senior in high school, so the laws which prevent my brother from contacting her are about to lapse. We will be mass communicating with her at that point. We all so miss her and want her to know she has a whole mess of aunts, uncles and cousins that are just crazy to meet her.

So now you know who I am a little bit more, and I hope you can forgive me for being overly cautious on my hording of personal info, but I will come out of my shell and share all of my dirty little secrets (well maybe not all of them). So until then, adieu.

Opening up......Part 1

2008-10-31T13:40:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many bloggers out there use their real identities and how many don't??

As I get more and more experience at posting my thoughts, writings and photos; the original reluctance to put too much personal data on my pages has started to ebb a bit. Much in the same way a writer introduces readers to the characters in the story and develops those characters over time, I am slowly giving more and more glimpses into my family's and my life's inner workings and events. Is this something that all bloggers go through?? Are most web authors hesitant to divulge their personal information? I am interested in how many bloggers use psuedonyms. How many of them are concealing their true identities and locations to avoid having webtrolls invade their private lives? Not that we have any control over the countless trolls that are lurking out there in web-la-la-land, but I've seen some of the havoc these trolls can create. I personnally, am not bothered by the kind of people that are doing this, as I have grown up with seven older brothers and am quite thick-skinned.

However, I have seen how it affects some of the ladies who post such great stuff. Reading some of the comments posted on other sites (and watching a vblog of one young lady's courageous response to some of them) by trolls, I just rue the day when some unsavory browser posts his filth to or about one of my loved ones. My family is the only thing in my life that can be used to provoke me to unsavory behavior these days. It (my family) is the only thing I cherish more than my life itself. But, in all my fear of having someone else disrespect my family or use any information I post on my blogs against my family, I owe it to my family and myself to write from my heart and share with the blogging community the boundless euphoria that I call home and all the wonderful players in the drama unfolding in that home.

So with no further ado, I introduce one of the star attractions for my soul's relaxation, my sister. She is the one on the right, I am in the middle and my mother is on the left. She is wonderful. She is artistic and funny. She can cook, create, inspire and leap tall buildings in a single bound. She does custom furniture, makes dolls, and decorates interiors. She goes out of her way to reach out to everyone in our family at different times in a methodical rotating time schedule. She never misses a birthday or anniversary. She writes letters, too! Her imagination knows no bounds. Besides the picture frame with the portraits of myself and kids, she made me my favorite coffee cup. It came complete with portraits of both my kids, my favorite beer, my local rugby team logo, my favorite sport (soccer), my "name" (I've gone by Jerry for as long as I can remember), one of my nicknames and she signed and dated it. A master piece if ever I saw one. I will keep it forever (in case she becomes famous!!). Hand decorated with TLC, she had it glazed and fired in a local kiln for Xmas two years ago. I thought it had gotten stolen three weeks ago in Austin, Texas; but finally found it this past Monday. It was like finding gold in a riverbed. WOO HOO!!! She is not just my only sister, but my favorite sibling. She doesn't even know I have a blog site here (although my daughter just found me!!) on which I am singing her praises. So to answer some of the questions from some of my interested readers and fellow bloggers, my name is NOT Stu Pidasso. It is NOT Stewart Pidasso. It is NOT Jerry, but I have been called Jerry for most of my life. My name (in reverse to throw off the search engines) is etihW werdnA navE dlareG. I hope I have not offended anyone, I am just concerned about internet bad guys.

Writers Workshop - Glass

2008-10-30T03:31:00.000-07:00

I am soooo depressed. I have no idea why, but some days you just get in a funk. Maybe, it is because I feel dirty and used. Maybe because I feel half empty. Maybe it is because people treat me like I am transparent. I dunno. I mean, last night everything was going fine. There were a ton of people here, we were all having a good time. There were drinks everywhere. Wine glasses with merlot, shortballs with scotch straight up, shot glasses with the tequila flowing. Some idiot even pulled a "Flick Nynn" (tequila shot, snort the salt, squeeze lime in eye; WHOOOOOOOOOAA!! BABY!! THOSE BURN!!) The poor fool was hacking salt out of his nasal cavity for an hour and squinting like Popeye for almost as long. The party went on and on into the night. Eventually people started wandering out into the night to head home and Shaggy and Batgirl were doing some late night straightening. Tables got wiped down hastily, food got wrapped and stowed, drinks were poured into the sink and dishes put in the washer. Finally they cleared out up stairs to the Batbed.....and left me all alone down here in the dark. ALONE. FORGOTTEN. A.B.A.N.D.O.N.E.D. it was like they didn't even see me over here in the corner under the lamp that hasn't worked in ...I dunno...how long?! sometimes it is enough to make you contemplate......no, no can't think of that!! Well, I am reaaaaaallly close to the edge here. Screw it, I 'm jumping.

C R A S H!!

ooooooooohhhhhhhh. Sheesh that didn't feel good. Damn carpet!! Well at least they'll have to clean up the mess in the morning.....crap here comes that poodle.

Thanks, Mama Kat, puuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrr! I really like these workshops and some are pretty challenging..

Saturday, I will post about the pictures on the TUESDAY CAPTION CONTEST. Everyone has until Saturday to submit entries. Angie, I still haven't seen where to send this CD. Ask Melissa and Wendy if they like theirs (for references). I did buy two of the new Jack Johnson CD. I listened to mine already and it is on par with his other releases. If I can find one more song of his like "BUBBLE TOES", it will have me dancing on my hardwood floors for long hours into the night. And "MUDFOOTBALL", is still my pick-me-up before rugby games..

Gotta go for now. Have a good day all and God Bless.

Tuesday Caption Contest

2008-10-27T12:36:00.000-07:00

As I said in yesterdays post, Shroom is only one of my many nicknames. That is just from one rugby team with which I played for a few years. After spending my time with that group of guys, playing and bleeding, winning and losing, being carried home drunk and carrying other drunks home, how can I shed the moniker which they were kind enough to give me. They are my "brothers", and I will remember each and every one of them for the men and characters they are as I hope they will remember me when we are all old and worn out and sitting around our campfires at the edges of the world spinning our tales about younger days and conquests and such. As much as I might wish for a more attractive or manly nickname, it is not to be; for I AM SHROOM!! Shroomzilla, Shroomeister, Shroom-a-loom, Shroomie, Shroomella de Ville, Shroom the hooker of doom, and the list goes on and on into infinity. Into an infinity for that one clique of friends.

So why and how do we get nicknames?? Are they a label of affection?? Are they tied to some trait that exemplifies us?? Are they the product of a certain isolated memory to help us grasp that one moment for the rest of our lives?? Who can give us a nickname and do we have to wear it like a scarlet letter or is it a badge of courage to be worn like an eagle feather given to a brave Indian warrior??

Let's look at me (as a case study, not an attention whore- which is totally different from an attention craving poodle as poodles are cute and cuddly - not that attention whores can't be cute and cuddly- darn!! I digress). Over my life time (in as best a time line as I can put together) I have been called by the nicknames: Jerry, Jerry Jerry Brown Berry, Cooter, Johnny Meg, Pooky (that is reserved for "She who must not be named"), Captain Controversy, Uncle Stupid, Buddha, Shroom, The Hulk, Tio Stu and Stewart "Stu" Pidasso. Most of these I know the origins for, a few escape my memory at this time (convenient, huh??), but I accept all of them. There are a couple in there which with I have no idea how I got tagged. Again, I digress. The point is are there or should there be rules governing nicknames (what goes into a nickname and who and when do you get them)??

So, this weeks Tuesday Caption Contest involves me and nicknames. For this weeks contest, you get to post your best zinger and/or new nickname for me from ANY of the above pictures or all of them as a collage. I am easy to identify in the top two photos, and the third one shouldn't be too hard; but I will give extra consideration for all who correctly identify me in the bottom photo. I am also allowing ALOT of creative leeway here, so use your best judgement to make me (and everyone else) LMAO!! Good Luck!!

Stuuuuu Pidassooooooo, come on downnnnnnnnn!!

2008-10-24T03:24:00.000-07:00

Boy, Monday sure rolled around here quick. I am sitting at my mom's (helping her out for the day), trying to catch up on soooo many chores (the bills, the filing, the account balancing, basic cleaning, etc..). This much needed break is being put to blogging use, and on this front I am behind in my list of "to do's" also. So let's get these things done in a neat and tidy manner.

First, let us announce the winner of last weeks Caption Contest. We had our best participation yet, and I am glad to announce that all who threw a caption up did a good job. It was hard to choose, but that's my responsibility. The entrants included:

Drama Mama and Rachael, who didn't submit a try but did show up and that gets a thumbs up from me!! Maybe they will give it a go tomorrow.

Melissa who submitted "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight!" Which, when I see the mental picture, just makes me grin. You suppose this guy has a Viagra tattoo somewhere we can't see it??

Jori-o wrote in "Getting jiggy with it!" Same thing, I can see this guy dancing in my head or even funnier, on Ellen!! Hil.ar.i.ous.

But I have to go with Angie, who had "Made for shades." Which, I have to say, shades could take this picture over the top (think gawdy Elton John glasses)!! So Angie, comment me a list of three CDs you would like to have, an address to send one of them to and I'll get one of them in the mail to you as soon as possible. Great job all!!

Second, I just got called out by one of my peers. Seems I am doing something right on this lil' ol' site o' mine. Because, Melissa loves my blog. Now the directions say to thank the awarder (Melissa, I am glad you love my blog and hope you keep enjoying it, thank you so much for not only loving mine but writing yours which is in itself entertaining and inspiring). Next, I must nominate 7 blogs I love. I try to keep up with so many that I am actually hurting myself (the lack of sleep makes me delirious and then I find myself "coming to" in the middle of a rugby practice), and they are all pretty good which is why this is hard. But I would have to say that week in and week out I absolutely check out these seven blogs.

Sounding Forth
YourScrumhalfConnection
RanWithTheDevil,WalkedWithAngels
Matt, Liz and Madeline
LauraSalas
SarahGreenPhotography
TheFireAntGazette

Third, I've been blog rolled!!! Can you believe it?! I can't!! And I am not real sure how it happened. I mean, out of no where this stranger comes up to me in my comments section and actually has the nerve to tell me she is blog-rolling me!! I checked my pockets, looked around for my wallet and made sure my watch was still there. Is society really getting sooooooo seedy that the criminal element can assault you right there on the electronic web?? I signed in on all my financial accounts to make sure that no one else but the banking execs had gotten my funds (sure enough they had been back by the looks of my 401k). Wait a minute!!! Nothing is missing. HA!! Not much of a thief are you sweetie!? What in heaven's name are you blog-rolling someone for if you aren't getting any chedder?? Excuse me for a minute....(what? Blog-rolling is an on-line subscription?? oh, crap!!)....uh....sorry about that interruption folks, but my production assistant has just informed me that this blog-rolling is a good thing. Whew, that is such a relief!! I thought she was going to hit me in the head with a frozen trout!! Well, thanks for blog-rolling me Janie, and any one out there that likes good writing with some down home country flair should go over to SOUNDING FORTH and check out Janie and her wonderdogs, Zach and Zanna, for some great reading!! Now if you don't mind, I am going to go hold up my liquor cabinet and get some smokes.

And finally, last week, we (the entire blogging community, because Mama Kat doesn't discriminate) had another good set of prompts for the weekly Writers' Workshop. I chose to weave my responses to the four prompts all together in one omni-blog (I didn't really get the scrabble game prompt covered, but at least I worked it in there a little). It basically had to do with how I earned ONE of my many nicknames. WOW!! I had my best responses yet and received a plethora of comment love from many new on-line acquaintances. So tune in tomorrow for the Tuesday Caption Contest, which will deal with nicknames and more specifically the chance to win free music at my expense AND at my expense!!

The name is Zilla....Shroomzilla

2008-10-23T06:57:00.000-07:00

OH,
The words, they swirl, they flow,
nimble fingers dosey-doh,
typing frantic by alarm clock glow,
until my work is done, you know.
now time to greet my soft pillow,
and off to work again I go,
to try to earn my weekly dough,
eagerly waiting the whistle blow,
like every other working Joe.
but such is life, ain't it bro?
can I get a big "FO' SHO' "?

This may come as a surprise, but I'd walk a mile for a new nickname.

While living in Fort Worth, I was feeding my secret rugby addiction in the evenings after work. I would go to the northwest side of downtown Fort Worth (the seedy side, where all the rugby players loiter between Scrabble games and Ellen airings) and engage in lots of anonymous, unprotected touch rugby. I was becoming a regular there and all the other addicts were getting used to me being around. After one particular evening of some really hot, wet touch rugby, I was taking the post-practice recovery pretty hard. We played at a park that was kind of ignored by the parks department, because they were scared of the types of people who frequented the area (ruggers' reputations precede them many places, being the vicious scrabble players and dancers that they are), consequently the grass was unkempt and quite long. After my customary "blowing chunks" display, I laid down (collapsed?) beneath the massive oak tree on the side of the field and tried to catch my breath (while picturing myself dancing with Ellen and Mama Kat on their award winning episode, "Blogging ideas for keeping lunatics entertained). All the rest of the "recovering" rugby addicts, were discussing which bar we were going to grace with our support group meeting. They wanted to, finally, invite me along for the meeting. It was a huge break through for me, as I was at last being accepted by my peers. So, there they were looking for me, as I lay under the oak tree in the long grass; and I could hear one of the guys (Fuen-dog) ask, "Where is that new guy?". To which another answered, "Maybe he is behind the trunk of that tree over there by that giant mushroom"?! That giant mushroom was all you could see of me and my belly over the top of the tall grass.

And that's how I got the nickname "Shroom".

This writer's workshop production has been brought to you by the letter "O", and the numbers four, two and zero!

For more fun, check out this weeks Caption Contest below, Mama Kat's for the Writers' Workshop, and Seven Clown Circus for Wordful Wednesdays.

Tuesday Caption Contest

2008-10-21T11:03:00.000-07:00

TUESDAY IS MY FAVORITE DAY!!
Today, Tuesday is even more of my favorite than most.
Why??
I hear your plea.
Because nobody, AND I MEAN NOBODY, entered last Tuesdays Caption Contest.
I am at a loss. Really, I never thought that I would find so many people out there on the internet that didn't want to at least TRY to get free music. All you have to do is post a comment, funny or not, to have a chance at winning some great audible swag. So far I have run five, count them, FIVE contests and have only had two winners.
But I will not be discouraged!!
I am adamant in my pursuit of giving away some of the newest releases from YOUR favorite music groups!! I will not rest until I have personnally given each and every one of you a brand new CD!! Think of me as the al-Qaida of Santa Clauses!! I don't care if I have to hide in your bushes and slip it through the mail slot on your front door!! If I have to break your car window at the mall and hide them under your car seats, then I will deliver those new CDs to you!! If I have to surprise you in the park during your daily run and force you to take these CDs at gun point, so be it!! Please, please don't make me get violent in my quest to give away good tunes!!
So how does this make today my more favorite Tuesday than most Tuesdays??
Because I won and am treating myself to........drumroll please.........Gift of Screws by Lindsey Buckingham!!
Now, it is not that I don't like the latest and gretest of all the music being produced these days, but I want to give it away. I know, I know; he is crazy. Yeah, maybe so; but at least I am having fun doing it.
So help me out if you will. Email five friends, any five; hell they can even be your enemies if you would like. Just email them and tell them there is free music here.

Now for todays contest. You know the drill (or maybe you don't), post your best zinger for the photo above in the comments section, think of three CDs you would love to get for FREE, and then hope or pray that I pick your zinger as the winner. Or better yet, don't; because I am really enjoying Mr. Buckingham's latest release right now!!

See you over at Mama Kat's!!

My "ordinary joe" hero....Matt

2008-10-20T09:52:00.001-07:00

Ode to Angels Two
Gerald E. White
20Oct2008

Have I ever seen an honest true angel before?
Might they each have two wings or maybe more?
Do they have a glowing halo around their head?
Do they really rush in where fools fear to tread?
Do they walk with us on this earthly Eden?
Are they here as I type, silently reading?
Do they hear our prayers and cries in the dark of night?
Do they carry our burdens with all their God granted might?
Do they still look as we remember them then?
Will they seem as strangers or long lost friend?
When we finally get called to Our Fathers home,
will we get to see them in heaven as we roam?
Can they still feel our hearts' fond undying love?
Are they known to dwell both here and above?
Who knows whether these answers are yes and or no.
Until I reach the Pearly Gates I surely will not know.
But until the day when I find my coffin I am in,
I say there are two angels here, and one is Madeline!
And the other, hovering just out of reach, is
Matt and Maddy's missing love, and her name is Liz.

I was just over here, and again I was just left amazed at how a "normal joe" can endure the loss he has while still managing the stress and chores he has on his plate. Whenever I am feeling a little overwhelmed, I go back to his site and see how Matt is doing, say a prayer for them and write to my kids in my journal. If I could go back to the day I was married, I would strive to be more like the kind of man, father and husband Matt is. Fuck and double fuck (you gotta read his posts to understand, sorry if I offend, but sometimes it is the only word that sums it all up)!!

The weirdest thing happened....

2008-10-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday evening, just before midnight. I find myself chilling at my mom's. Dishes are done. Food is stored. Everyone else is gone home or down for the night. I go to the front room where mom sleeps, just to check in on her. The television is a little loud and is lighting up the room. I sit for a minute in the rocking chair. The movie is not bad and I stay for a moment (don't get many of those, do you ladies??). My mother starts in her sleep. It is such a big twitch, that it almost gets me on my feet. She is still asleep, but her jerks are quite frequent now that I am watching for them. It is like watching my dog chase rabbits in his sleep. I have no idea what she is dreaming about, but it has her moving pretty good. After a few minutes of watching her sleep, I finally notice that her feet are bare. I move to the bed and cover them, tucking them in with a little air but tight.

WHOA!!! WAIT A MINUTE!! I JUST TUCKED MY MOM IN FOR BED!!

That was sureal.

I can remember driving back and forth from the metro home to sit with my dad while he was withering away, but this is my mom. There is some family history there that I will get into later; but if I can do that for my dad, then I can sure as hell do it for my mom. My dad and I hashed out a lot of differences between us while he was bedridden, and I must admit that he was an asshole. However, he loved my mother and all of us kids. He did the best he could (as well as we all can on the run under pressure all the time with kids in tow through the snow uphill both ways). He did better than good, he did damn good. He was still an asshole, though!! But my mother......my mother was a saint. She put up with his machismo military way of life. She endured his stupid attempts to gain approval in his father's eyes at the expense of his own bride, the choice of his own as a partner and mate. She bore him sons; many sons and one beautiful, gifted daughter. she helped deliver unto to him ten gorgeous grandchildren. She ignored the crude insensitive behavior which he ignorantly manifested into the young men and woman in his charge. She rose up and overcame the many hours of absence that he had in his work providing for the care and nourishment of the nine children (and then some). She is not just a saint, but a trooper. She would be Saint Michael himself, if she were an angel. But she is my mother. And as surprisingly delightful as I found it to tuck in my children when they were young, I melted this evening when I tucked in my mother. How is it we come not only full circle child parenting child; but child taking care of parent as parent took care of child?? I never saw this coming, but then again I never saw my father's passing coming either (and I watched him wither right in front of me). Was it naive wishful denial? Was it just plain stupidity? Was it being caught up in all the bullshit details of the daily life we all lead??

Wishful naive denial. I really think that's what it was with me. They were my lifeline, my comfort zone, home base, safety. I'm not sure, but when she is gone, I imagine there will be a huge void in my life that I just won't ever be able to fill up. Don't get me wrong. They will always be there, but just beyond touch or communication. I already have sooo many questions for the father that is no longer here, losing my mother (as is inevitible) will require me to find a whole new inner strength on which to base my resolve to help my family on my own terms and in my own manner. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and I can already feel the weight.

But for tonight, I am just gonna watch my mom sleep and hope she is dreaming of something wonderful. I love you mom.

My assignment from Mama Kat

2008-10-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

I might be labeled a big KopyKat, but the truth is the truth; I like creating memories, too. I love pictures and I love telling stories.

I get visitation with my kids every first, third and fifth weekend of each month per the standard divorce decree. Unfortunately, my kids are 500 miles away. Consequently, my travel time is immense; but that works into my favor. My kids are trapped in the car with me for long stretches of time. Our favorite time killers we use during these trips are story telling and music appreciation. Whichever child gets "shotgun", usually commandeers the radio as soon as we enter the vehicle. I have been introduced to so many new bands that I would never normally listen to that I am finding my own taste in music morphing into some new sense of being. Bands like Paramour, Weezer, Fall Out Boys, Panic at the Disco, Jurrasic 5, Black Eyed Peas, and many more are finding their way into my Sansa player and onto my flash drive that I use at work with more and more frequency. As much as I am helping to pass my families memories onto my children, they are helping me make new ones.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of my kids company. I left Thursday evening, drove to Austin and spent the night. Friday I picked them up and we returned to Austin where I had their birthday gifts waiting in the hotel room. They each got the normal cards stuffed with cash; a calender for each with all the family birthdays, anniversaries and addresses, two Cd's (Fall Out Boy and Sheryl Crow for the girl, Offspring and Rolling Stones for the boy). Saturday we went to brunch at Trudy's, hit Toy Joy for some trinkets, went shopping for clothes (Austin fashion style rocks!!!), hopped over to the rugby field for a couple of games and then headed to Llano for a wedding reception. The reception was very nice. My kids got to see people they haven't seen for a few years and viceverse. Sunday morning was for us. We spent a few hours swimming in the Llano River, jumped off the dam a few dozen times, had some lunch and then started the journey home to Houston. All in all , a very nice weekend. Both the kids want to bring friends and visit the river again and that is fine with me. I just hope that when they have kids of their own they will remember that family times are to be cherished, friends with weddings and other milestones are dates to look forward to, and that no matter the distance you visit with the ones you love (and then let everyone else know what they missed). The hardest part of the whole weekend, as usual, was dropping my children off at another man's house. Men, please, love and cherish your wives and families; or end up like me, wishing you had.

Thanks for visiting and check out the Tuesday Caption Contest below for a chance to win music!!

Tuesday Caption Contest

2008-10-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

Welcome to another late edition of the Tuesday Caption Contest. Sorry, I have been so busy that I am getting behind on my "to do" list. So first, we will announce the winner of last weeks contest - drum roll please - Wendy of YourScrumhalfConnection was the only entrant (but probably would have won anyway with her quip). If you are looking for something a little more athletic, go check out her blog on rugby, life and the Austin scenes. Wendy gets a new cd and I'll make sure I get it in the mail to her soon (along with all the match pictures from the Austin Valkyries games I have been lucky enough to watch. Melissa at Life with 3 Boys and a Little Lady is still a no show on claiming her cd from the contest a few weeks ago. Melissa, I have a brand new Beck cd waiting for you here. All I need is somewhere to send it. So, having taken care of the house cleaning on that end, I now move on to the new caption. Leave your best zinger in the comments for the picture above (and think of a few wish list notes for some new music in case you win) and I'll judge all entries by next Monday and announce a winner on next Tuesday. Mama Kat is running her weekly writing assignment at Mama's Losing It, so stop by there and have fun with her prompts. I know I will.

Wordful Wednesdays???

2008-10-07T11:17:00.000-07:00

I was blogging recently about my incredibly gifted sister. I was trying to describe a gift she gave me last year for Xmas. It was a frame with three photos (see above). My son on top, I in the middle and my daughter on the bottom. She took all three photos in such a similar looking pose and quite sneakily I might add. When put together as they have been, the genetics just jump right off the page at you. It has been my favorite gift in recent memory. It and she and her family mean the world to me. I miss you sis!! Hugs and kisses to you and your men (husband and two sons)!! I am currently doing a similar set up, but with my mother, sister, daughter and an old photo of my mom's mom (the pose is sooooo close to being the same). I'll post it to show how it went later. And sorry about the flash glare, best I could do during lunch and with little time.

Caption Contest

2008-10-07T07:51:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday again!!! Because it is my favorite day, we will run another caption contest. This will be the fourth installment of the Tuesday Caption Contest. I have had very limited success running this so far, mainly because there is limited traffic on my blog to this point. But, by getting out and browsing others' blog sites, I have had a bit more traffic and (say it isn't so) ONE winner for the caption contests so far. Melissa had a delayed entry to the second installment to the contest. As the official winner, she will be receiving her choice of minor prizes, the new Beck cd, Modern Guilt. She won with her entry, "New rules for leap frog." Nice job Melissa, your caption was actually funnier than the picture (and that was hard to do!!).

A quick review of the rules.

1. Entries must be posted by Saturday morning, 12:01am.

2. Entries must be no longer than one sentence if it is a regular caption contest. If it is a mutated caption contest, then I am looking for no more than a thousand words, and poems of any form will get extra consideration.

3. I am the sole judge of who wins each week, but may give special recognition/prizes to unusual entries.

4. One entry per contest per person.

So without any further delay, the new photo is up top. Have fun and good luck. And Melissa, I still need an address to send you the cd. If you have a Hastings or Barnes and Nobles, I could send a gift card. Your choice.

Ten Things I think are worth saving

2008-10-01T20:44:00.000-07:00

The Writing of Ten Things Worth Saving

I've been by Mama Kat's again.
I like the prompts, so to the den.
I've chosen one and done my thinking.
Keys are clicking, cursor blinking.

Type it in and proof read,
another pass it will need,
not quite right, darn, take two.
That sounds odd, it just won't do.

Shuffle lines, replace that word
Another pass? That's the third!!
So, with no further ado,
I, humbly, submit to you,

the top ten list of those things I think
are worth saving. (Lord, I need a drink)

10. Your personal work. Face it, we all have our own calling. We do what we felt driven to do. After pouring yourself into your work for a lifetime, do you really want to see it disappear with you?

9. Love letters. Love thy neighbor as thy self. A good rule to live by, but if we are lucky, even for a while, we find love. True love. The kind of love that makes you googly eyed and dizzy. The kind of love that keeps you up at night, not only while you are under it's spell, but even when it is gone, burned out and moved on. The kind of love that has you writing silly poems and leaving them where she is sure to find them. The kind of love that keeps you walking that line, huh Johnny Cash?? The kind of love that makes you keep trying to be a better person, so maybe, someday, they might come home.

8. Your family history. This, despite the previous item on the list, is the one about which I want to write. All of the items on this list are significant and most are tied together, but this one sticks out for more reasons than I care to name, so I will hit a couple of the more significant ones. First, I like family photos. I collect them, I take them, I distribute them, I collage them, I power point them, I doctor them, I have even scrap booked them (don't tell the guys on the rugby team, I'll never live that one down). Second, I like genealogy. I like to hear stories of what our family has done, places we have been, people we have known. History is learning, and how do you know where you are going, if you don't know where you have been? Case in point, I submit to you the above photo. That is my mother at age two. Absolutely beautiful, eh?? It was taken somewhere around 1936, while she and her family still lived in Wisconsin. As she was the first of six sisters, I am not sure if any of her sisters had seen the light of day or not by then. But, I digress. If I had known of or seen that particular photo, I would have had one of my daughter made in a very similar pose. I now encourage all of my brothers to do the same with their children. My only sister beat me to the punch though. She gave me for Christmas, last year, a picture frame with three photos. I was in the middle, my daughter was on top and my son was beneath me. She had taken pictures of each of us in the same location, same pose, same light; and cropped everything but the face (and I mean she cropped it close). The likeness between the three of us was up-lifting. It really helps you realize that you are a part of them and they of you. I am trying to take it even further, though. I have found a picture of My mom's mom that matches one I have of my mother. I scanned the photo of my grandmother at the highest resolution I could get and went to work on it and my mothers photo. I have to get my only sister and my daughter to sit and I will have FOUR generations of the women from my family in the same picture theme. Should be awesome. I will post the results of my project and a close up of my sister's work in the near future. Much the same way as Becky was playing with her photos on her blog, I recommend this to all. You will be impressed with the outcome. Third, as you can see, I like to write. I try to record as many of the stories as I can from our family history. All kinds of stories, the good and the bad, touching or sad. I record them (secretly if I have to) and save them in my journals and writings, both blogged and hidden away. I even have all of my father's written stuff. Someday I will get his book published. Finally, I think family history is important for sentiment. And I find it hard to believe that some just don't get it. When my ex-wife left with the kids and all the boxes packed with stuff from our house, she did a pretty torough job. I'll keep it short, because I don't want to start sounding bitchy . As she was on her way out with the new tvs and the silverware and all the nice trappings that we had acquired over the span of our marriage, she failed to realize what she was leaving behind. She left her family bibles, childhood yearbooks, years of family portraits and timeless photos of many of her parents relatives. As I find these things in my house now, after living away for the last eight years, I am left wondering what to do with them as well as how she could possibly forget these things. I mean, when your house is on fire and you have time to run inside and grab a few things, what are you grabbing?? Are you grabbing the material items worth a few hundred or thousand dollars or are you grabbing those priceless memories that no pile of money can buy. At this time, I will keep them. I will even make sure they stay in her family in the future (she has one sister), but I am not sure if she will ever see them again in her life time. They say time heals all wounds, but I still have some time left apparently. And this is where I struggle with my love for self vs. love for her vs. love for her family.

7. Memories. When we think of our loved ones, whether they are gone on a trip or gone from this earth, they can never be taken from us.

6. Your family ties and friendships. Families are meant to be strong, as strong as we can make them. Blood runs thicker than mud, right? And then we all have friends who are so close they seem like family. Those are the kinds of relationships that make life memorable; solid and long.

5. Your marriage. After God and self, what could possibly matter more?.

4. The children. To me, love is willingly making sacrifices for somebody else's personal well being or benefit. "How cruelly these tiny fingers grip my heart." HGWIII

3. The environment. The Lord made this wonderful place, who are we to destroy it?

2. Your honor/dignity. A lot can happen to us in this crazy world, losing pride is one thing, but honor is the gift you give yourself.

1. Your soul. God gives each of us free will, so the task is up to each of us ultimately.

Mutated Caption Contest

2008-09-30T12:32:00.000-07:00

That's right kids; Tuesday IS my favorite day. That means Caption Contest time (and the crowd goes wild). This week I am going to try something different. The photo for the contest is from my personal collection. I took this during a road trip in the northern extremity of Texas. My son and I took my mother to the north. We were going to see my sister, but she and my favorite brother-in-law had high-tailed it to Mexico for the week. We found her teenagers hanging out at the house SOLO!! No big dealio though, they are smart good kids who seem to keep their noses clean. The Son had a blast with the cousins, I got some writing done and some photos taken, while Mom got to relax and spend time with the grandkids. Those two cousins were a good influence on The Son, he learned the inner workings of a potato cannon and a hover craft. He is now in full blown engineer mode, downloading stuff to build exciting new toys.

Instead of a caption, per se, I want all entries to be your own written thoughts on this particular photo. I will post mine next Monday and I will award a prize to the author I deem to have the best submission. They say a picture is worth a lot of words, so let's see what some of those words are. Good Luck and enjoy your time composing.

A Letter to Heaven

2008-09-25T13:04:00.000-07:00

So, as well as doing a bit of blogging myself, I like to browse others blogsites to see what is going on out there in the world. One of the local blogs which I like to read pointed me to a second blog that was featuring a writing exercise. The young lady at http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/ has posted a poem from her teen years (written to her dad) on the anniversary of his death. A really good poem written from the heart to a most worthy recipient. All a wrtiter needs (an audience, a message and a motivation) is apparent there. This type of exercise falls right (write??) into the theme of my blog, so here it goes.
Dear Dad,
it has been six years since you have passed. Sure miss you alot. I have moved back home to the house I left and am spending a lot of time with mom. She has now been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease too and I can already see the trembling in her hands more than I care to. I sure have a lot of questions for you. I could use some of that fatherly advice that I didn't have the smarts to heed while you were around. I know that we never really saw eye to eye when I was a much younger man, but I am coming around to see a lot of why you felt the way you did.
The kids are fine and we get to do a lot of camping when I have them on the weekends. Miles has really taken an interest in hunting. We haven't got him to bag any big game yet and to be honest, I don't care if he ever gets anything large. It is the love of nature and the wonders of this beatiful garden that I hop he comes to love. We have done some dove hunting and he can breast a bird as well as anyone. He doesn't shy away from any of the hunting chore work at all. We have a trip to the scout ranch planned for later this holiday season. It will be his first time to see where his uncles and I spent many of our summers and my first time back in twenty years. I never could get him to get involved in scouting. That is a real shame, because I think it gives a young man alot of positive life experiences. Of all my regrets, I would finish my eagle scout if I could go back and do it all over. I know that this disappointed you and although you have forgiven me, the guilt of it just won't go away.
Savannah (as well as MIles) is on the swim team this year. She also is in her third year of Spanish. We try to converse as much as we can in spanish just to help her out (Miles was shocked that I know quite a bit of French also). Last year she got to do a film school in Austin. She loved it and in one week, she and her four group partners made a twenty minute film complete with panning film shots and all. It was really good, especially because of the message (positive self-esteem).
Both kids really enjoy Austin. We spend a lot of our weekends together there. We like to take your old photos and writings and visit the places you liked to frequent during college. I don't think that your love of education missed them. They are both in honors classes and are doing quite well.
Next year we are taking the train to Missouri to visit where your dad and his family grew up. We are going for a whole two weeks and I already have a bunch of the gravesites and homesteads located for visitation. I had no idea that the old family hunting lodge was still there and in operation. We will be staying there for a few days. Mom wants to go and I want her along, but her health makes it hard for her to travel.
You missed your two latest grand children. Kurt and Lisa had Emma first, then Ian a few years later. He looks just like Kurt when he was young, and Emma is such a spoiled princess. You would love them as much as any, they are wonderful.
Tell all we love them up there, and we will be coming home in due time.
Love your son,
Stu

Tuesday Caption Contest

2008-09-09T09:28:00.000-07:00

Okay. Last week didn't go so well. I had only one reply and it just said "Hello". Bachelor Paul, by all accounts, won the contest, so I will notify him and send him a prize. This week I submit the picture below.....I know, isn't it awesome........for the caption contest. Give me your best one sentence caption, and I'll announce the winner nexr Monday. And remember kids, Tuesday is my favorite day.

Old Rockers and Old Books

2008-09-08T08:29:00.000-07:00

Bruce Springsteen rocks!!

He has amassed 15 studio albums, 12 other released live albums and compilations, 18 Grammy Awards, 1 Academy Award, 2 Emmys, and ranks #14 of all times in units sold (63.5 Million units), but most of all, he plays, writes, sings and lives from the heart. Living Proof that he means something to a whole lot of people.

I am cleaning my house for the first time in eight years (I've been gone, not lazy). Some of the things I am finding are out of this world. Case in point, a 1967 copyright edition of The Beauty of Motherhood, a Hallmark poetry collection. It is a nice book of collected works about, you guessed it, the beauty of motherhood. In addition to works by such well known people as Edgar Allen Poe, Victor Hugo, Lord Tennyson, Longfellow, Teddy Roosevelt, John Quincy Adams, Emily Taylor, Walt Whitman, Milly Walton and someone I've never heard of before, Ano N. Ymous; there are some nice illustrations by Frieda D. Senn. On the very first page front, facing the inside of the front cover, is an enscription. It reads:

To Barbara,
to be read in the quiet hours or at times when you especially need inspiration.

It is signed by Thelma Cullins.

Anyway, it is very important to me that this book, which was a gift to my mother, Barbara, makes it to the hands of my daughter for the birth of her first child. I am a huge believer in the family bond, it means everything. I want my children, nieces and nephews to know their grandparents. I want those kids to know their uncles and aunts. I want those kids to know each other and all the family stories that should be passed down from generation to generation. This sense of understanding of who we are as a family and where we came from and how we got to where we are today is important to me to pass along so they will know who they are. This book, eight inches by four and a half inches by a mere one quarter inch thick, with just 68 pages in total must be given to my little girl at the moment she stops being MY little girl, because the date under that enscription. That date, in that book, which I found in my house after being gone eight long years is just three days after I was born into this world. This book was a gift to my mother at the event of my birth. How it made it's way to my house I have no idea. I do not recall ever seeing this book before, but like Bruce Springsteen, it sure means a lot to me.

Some days....

2008-09-04T06:16:00.000-07:00

are better than others. After spending long hours in the dead of night by my father's bedside, watching his body slowly erode from under his cognizant mind. I have gotten quite used to the spectrum of quality in an aging person's life. Some days he loved the world and his life because he was still here. Other days....well, not so much so.

My father was afflicted with Parkinson's Disease. Some of you may not know what exactly Parkinson's Disease is, so I will give a brief explanation. You lose nerve impulse control between your brain and your muscles. He was diagnosed back in 1998, and lived with it until his passing in November of 2002. My dad was an intellect. He graduated high school over in lil' ol' Abilene. He then enrolled at Hardin Simmons in Abilene before tranferring to The University of Texas. He got his degree and enlisted in the military. Officer candidate school was just a stepping stone for him to start his long military career. He retired from the reserves a "full bird" and while completing his twenty, he managed a masters in education from Sul Ross. After all this and a second long career in the oil bidness, he still managed to obtain TWENTY-ONE more associate degrees from the local junior college. He was still enrolled and taking classes up to the point when his disease literally kept him from going to class. My father was also a very good athlete. Besides being a golden gloves boxing champ out of Abilene, he also excelled in basketball, handball, volleyball and more.

So when his body started shutting down, the doctors offered him two different types of medication to help with the complications of the disease. The first drug helped with the body's motor skills (walking, getting up and down, using the hands, etc.), while the second drug helped with the speech control. He had to choose between mobility and communication. He chose communication, which meant he had to sacrifice his independence in mobility. Not an easy choice. Now you might understand how I could watch his body erode, while keeping him company so that his razor sharp mind could still get some exercise. It was by his bedside in the dead of night, watching football games and old movies, that we hashed out a lot of our hard feelings over a few rum drinks. Many were our conversations and many were the regrets we each had, but we could both see clearly now that we loved each other very much. There is much I would like to redo in my life, as there was for him.

Fast forward to yesterday. It has been almost six years since my dad has passed. Now, my mother has been diagnosed with.....Parkinson's Disease. For the love of me, I can't remember the names of the drugs my dad took. I do see my mother's physical abilities withering away. Her mind is not quite all there sometimes, too. So, as I do some of the neccesary chores around mom's house, I got really depressed when I saw her with her head in her hands, just slowly scratching at her scalp. I asked what she was doing and she couldn't remember. It was like she was in La-La land. It just crushed me. Such is life, today may well be a better day. I hope for her that it is.

Tuesday Caption Contest (on Wednesday, no less)

2008-09-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, folks. This will be the first of many weekly Caption Contests. Tune in every Tuesday (because Tuesday is my favorite day!!) for the latest installment. Winners will be awarded on Fridays and the "Prize o' da Week" will be sent out after that. All captions used will follow a monthly theme, and the first to guess that theme each month will win the "Prize o' da month". So with no further ado, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeres the caption.

A Daily Dose of the Doldrum

2008-08-29T07:15:00.000-07:00

Alarm clock buzzing........huh??...........coffee pot starts brewing.......oh..........another early morning. As I rub my eyes and try to adjust to the darkness of the day, I can hear my older brother moving in the next room. He has to be at work at 5am. It is 4:30am now. I will give him a ride, because he has no valid license. Afterwards, it is back home to get myself ready for the day. Mom will be off to swimming and my other brother will be off to work, also. So, this is the bulk of the day that gets monotonous. I work for nine hours, which isn't bad, I do enjoy the work. My mom comes home and spends most of her day sitting around watching television. My older brother sits around and gets drunk. Same story, five days a week. I know that we all have resposibilities and I can't make those go away anytime soon. What I want to know is how to spice up our lives a little bit. I have my own few tricks up my sleeve, but I need to infuse this family with some different vigor, something to which we can all look forward. Acknowledging to myself, that my older brother is a liability in the homecare department, the bulk of the chores around the house fall to me. No sweat, I can delagate those out to someone else, even if it is hired help. What I want help with is providing my mom with some variety in her life. I want to mentally stimulate her. I want her to lok forward to things like a trip to see her grandkids, or a trip to an outdoor lawn concert, maybe even a tour of the museum. She has a few hobbies that she enjoys and I can help her with those too; but first the chores must be finished. Today, though, is a Friday. That means dinner and a cold beer down at the local watering hole. This is the place where my mom and I go to catch up with her and my late father's older friends. There is some cordial visitation, and talk on all the local gossip. Eventually, we get around to the latest political and economics talk. Thats where they lose me (and I think my mom too). I am interested, just not interested in bitching about it. Talk is cheap, do somomething. That is where the audience participation comes in. In the future, I will hold a suggestion competition for the next week for something to do with my mom (me, not you). This weekend I have a major digging project to try to complete, so I will start brainstorming for next weekends winners prize. I like the photo caption contests also, so I will start running a regular caption contest too. Until then, make a good day!!

The Last Long Walk Home....

2008-08-28T12:25:00.000-07:00

....started for me in January of 2000. As I was going through the worst experience of my life (so far), I felt I needed a change of scenery. So, I packed my John Lee Hooker record collection and I went. One of many poor choices. I got to watch my dad wither away, from a city three hundred miles to far to the east. Now my mother is falling on bad health. So, I came home to help her maintain as high a quality of life as possible before she heads home to her Lord. To me, love is sacrificing your own desires to give to someone else. After all my parents did for me, the right thing to do is honor them by helping them back. So mix a drink, grab your smokes, put the leash on the dog and join us for.....the last long walk home. Let's enjoy it.