Listening...sometimes it's what I do

My bride is one of the worlds best readers aloud. It leaves me in wonder at times how her voice, and inflection, and whatever it is that she does - just brings the pages to life. I love to hear her read. My daughters love to hear her read. So, despite the business of all that goes on these days, it's nice once in a while to just sit back and listen. This particular day it happened to be Max Lucado. If you don't know his work...you should. You'll understand what he means when he says, "No wonder they call him the Savior."

Only small things with great love...

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love." -Mother Theresa

She offered such great inspiration for each of us in our daily lives. It's the little things that matter. The consistent small acts of love that make others feel special...make us feel special. "Small things with great love." 8 pounds 9 ounces. Laid in a manger in a filthy stable in an obscure village in the middle east. Though He is not limited like we are, even God chose this example of such a small thing with such great love. And like our small acts, who could have predicted that this 8 pound "small thing" could give the greatest love of all...His life...for our eternal lives. There is a song, Mary did you know. 'Mary did you know this little boy you delivered, will one day deliver you?' There are tears in my eyes as I continue...because I believe she did know. A humble Jewish woman who "pondered these things in her heart," knew she was holding God in her arms. And yet He was so helpless in her arms.

This holiday season, this Christmas, take a quiet moment to consider to consider the humanity of Jesus. Born in a lowly way on a remarkable night (the angels and shepards thing). He lived a pretty normal life as a carpenter - I wonder how many times he smashed his thumb with a hammer? He experienced love and pain and trial. Moments of joy as well as sorrow. And then like Mother Theresa, like Mary, like all of us...he died. In this small package came the greatest gift of all.

Men and memories...it's what I do

I'm a project manager. That means I'm responsible for construction projects, and a whole bunch of other stuff. I like what I do, but my strength doesn't really lie in construction. They have more to do with building a team, assembling the right people and maintaining the right vision, keeping the sandbox safe to build castles in. That sort of stuff. Good construction has so much to do with good relationships, and if those relationships turn into good friendships...all the better. I talked to a friend today - he's an architect. And my other great friend is an engineer. We built this thing together out of bricks, and steel and MAPLE. The buildings are beautiful. Though the process was arduous, one day soon the three of us are going to have to stand between them, Starbucks in hand and just admire our good work...and our great memories. Sometimes that's what I do.

Lots of Love

Today we braved the ice and snow of central NY for the hair salon. Strange place to share love, you might think. Well, not if you know my wife's hairdresser (don't read too much into that)! Today Gavrielle (9) had a significant amount of her gorgeous long hair cut off in order to give it to Locks of Love. For those of you who have not lived this vision for the last 4 years, Locks of Love takes hair and makes wigs for children (and maybe others) who have lost theirs to cancer. It's a noble cause...especially for young ladies. I'm proud of Gavi...who I now call Bob because she insists that's what her new hairstyle is called? I wouldn't know a bob from a bee-hive. ..and Hadassah who will have her red hair cut in February...and Eliana who still has a few years to go. So today or family value of extending "Lots of Love" has manifest itself in "Locks of Love." You go girls!

Managing Engineers

The stuff that really matters

My littlest girl woke up this morning with a sore throat and a belly ache, "It really hurts daddy." Anyways, an hour later we headed for Dunkin Donuts before church. Eli got in the car and Hadassah said (as if she were in charge), "don't you think SHE should stay home - SHE's sick." I lectured her about attitude, and "I'm the dad, and, don't you think I know if she's in any shape to go with us..." She's a natural leader, but the fine art of compassion and diplomacy illude her...a work in progress! Half a mile down the road, Blaaaaaahhhhggggllllrrrrffff. "I told you she was gonna puke (sorry for the graphic) - what were you thinking." I took it in stride. "Hadassah, if you say another word I'm gonna slap your face." I still don't know which I was more upset about. The fact that she was right, or the fact that she was so uncompassionate. No, I know...I'm just not telling.

We skipped sunday school and I just held my little girl for an hour. It was an amazing experience. She was so helpless, so dependent. So sweet. It's the stuff like this that makes it all worthwhile. I love my girls...and yes, I did work it out with Hadassah later! It's amazing what bonding can occur in buying a lawnmower together.

The pursuit of little girls

My oldest daughter is 11. She melted down today. Overtired we think, and maybe missing her daddy. This daddy thing is complex. Women, as least in my belief, are in many ways products of their fathers or most significant man in their young life. And they have a need to be pursued. It's kind of a romantic notion isn't it?! So, she stayed home while her sisters played this afternoon and took a nap. Then she started playing with her house. H is kind of an alone player, and she was enjoying her time without her sisters. I understand this. I asked her to to go desert with me at Zuzu's. It was a struggle for her...alone play time, or time with dad. She was struggling, but what I could clearly see was her desire to go with me, and her need to be pursued...and so I pursued my little girl. I went after her heart, made sure she knew her daddy loved her, valued her, thought she was worth something. She lit up, dropped everything, and scurried for her shoes. We had a great time at Avacolies. Zuzu's was closed - their loss!

Post Script - A great friend of mine warned me about my title...and I appreciate his concern. So let me say this in case anyone is wondering. Until you understand how God pursues us, until you understand the love of Jesus, this pursuing may not make sense. But I assure you, it is the purest of love - a love of a Father for his daughter...a love of a father for his daughter - and his pursuit of her heart.

Rats...it's what I do

A while back I threatened to take my blogsite off the general population list. I was concerned about my daughters and my job. I just took some of the photos down instead. But alas...or perhaps I should just say, OH RATS! Courtesy of Local 435 Laborers Union. It's a long story that makes my head hurt.

Anyway, these are the kind of guys that I really don't want to know a thing about who I am...or what I do. So a big thank you to Shane Deal for saving the day and taking my presence off the web after a frantic cell phone call! I'd love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta go. Rat patrol...It's what I do! I should be back in the Army!

A little spiritual golf humor...

(the inscription, Psalm 31:4, reads: "Free me from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge.")

Moses, Jesus and an old man went golfing one beautiful sunny day. On the ninth hole, the green was located at the top of a hill with a pond in front. Moses hit an amazing drive, but the ball was rolling hard toward the water. He quickly raised his arms, the waters parted, and the ball rolled through and onto the green. He was putting from 2' out, and smiling proudly.
Jesus followed suit with an equally unbelievable drive, it too headed for the water. Just as he planned, the ball stepped off the bank and rolled across the top of the water and settled just 6" from the cup. He was beaming with excitement. Finally, after a very long time setting up, the old man took his shot. He duffed it towards the water, but nowhere near the green. Just before the ball splashed in, a large fish jumped out and caught the ball, only to be snagged by an eagle who had been hungerly waiting for this moment. As the eagle was flying over the green, fish now securely in its tallons, a brilliant bolt of lightning streaked down and startled the bird. The eagle dropped the fish to the ground and the ball and the ball rolled from out of its mouth. Seeing the ball and mistaking it for a nut, a squirrel picked it up and ran straight to the cup, hiding it cleverly before scampering away. Nobody said a word for a long moment, as Jesus and Moses just looked at each other in disbelief. Finally it was was Jesus who spoke..."Nice shot Dad!"

"Gather up as many good experiences as possible. It increases your chances of being a pleasant old person."

-Quote on the wall in the Red Robin

Four...it's what I do

The pre-game banter really is what the game is all about. Two foursomes. A roudy bunch of architects, engineers, and project managers. We eye each other suspiciously dressed in our shirts and ties 364 days of the year, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow is the grudge match day! Tomorrow started more than a month ago...reminding each other who won and who lost, and predicting who will win and lose this year. There are threats, insults, just a little off color humor from time to time...and a whole lot of fun. In fact, the pre-game antics really are what it's all about - at least half of what it's all about!

We work hard, think hard and play the politics. We lead our teams toward common goals that usually end with something brick and concrete, or pipe and rising hot air at the end. The stress is often high. I think it's the venting of the stress that makes it all worth it...it's the reason it's so fun. Oh...there's the trophy too. I'd insert a photo, but since lost last year, it's our turn to "improve it," and I don't want to give away the upgrade. Tune in tomorrow late for that.

And unless you think we're uncultured, may I offer a poem written just for the game.

A Golf Haiku
Golf, summer wind blows
Air whiffs past Ron's missed ball
Pink skivies scream HELP

I have no life...

...or, I'd rather be building a lighthouse. The students return to college in 1 week. For the last month, it's been a mad dash to get the place ready for them. Building, renovating, coordinating, coercing, motivating, praying...lot's of praying! That is my life these days. But if you ask me where I'd rather be? See below : )

Prayer

I got a call last week. It took me three days to get to it. My loss. My friend picked up - he was struggling to deliver a message. I thought, 'he's changed jobs - he's off my project and he's just letting me know that I'm now hosed, but that I can still run my job however I want to' (the hosed part was a joke). And then the beans spilled, "It's my wife's mom. They found something. Do that thing you do..." We hung up and I prayed. Then I called my wife and girls and they prayed. We pray every night. I don't know what the Lord will do - but I know prayer always helps. Sometimes that's all we can do...and it makes all the difference in the world. Sometimes that's what I do.

42...

I'm up to 83 posts and 1824 visits. 61 parachute jumps. 3 Children. And my oldest turned 11 yesterday. I don't feel old. But I do feel nostalgic. I toured a Frank Lloyd Wright house last week. It was an amazing thing...it left an impression. But the impression was not him or his work - it was something much deeper. Though perhaps misguided, his life had purpose and clarity and direction. He created something that would live on beyond him. I know the legacy I will leave must have to do with my children, but sometimes there is a longing for more. It is not valid or legitimate, but still it is an emotion to be embraced and taken captive. I'm not a grand architect, an artist, a legend. But still I find that it's important to me to assign value to what I will contribute. To define the goal and strive to achieve it to the best of my ability. I am a father of daughters. A diplomat. A mentor and a leader of men. It's taken too long for me to come to terms with those things - but that makes them no less true. Though the Meyer May house taught me about compression and release, about horizontality, about muted prarie colors...what Frank Lloyd Wright really taught me last Monday was how to become who I am.

Le Chat (Eliana)

Eli is 6. She's gorgeous like all my girls, and I tell her often... I tell them all often. That's what daddies do. I was reading while they were picking up for bed, and then the two older girls scampered. "What way do you read?" I pointed left to right and she nodded in understanding. "What are you reading?" Point Man, I answered. "What's it about?" It's about being a man. "But you already know how to be a man," she replied - though perplexed, there was resolve in her tone. I know dolly, I said. But it will help me to be a better daddy and husband, and a better man. "Oh, OK," she replied, matter-of-factly. The she pushed the book out of the way, crawled on my lap and stretched out like a cat. "You're the best daddy in the world," and then she fell asleep. I finished the chapter (ironically about children), and put the book away. I touched her soft face, played with her angel hair and then just listened to her breathe. It was like she was an infant again...only better. Now it was my turn to be perplexed as a wonder filled question came softly - was my heart more warmed more at being "the best daddy in the world," or because she felt so safe laying on my leaned back body, that within minutes she was sound asleep... I think the later, but they're both pretty great.

HBTM

I couldn't think of a witty synonym to ROTFLOL...it stands for Happy Birthday to me. And don't be confused by the date. It's the 29th here - my blog is on Fiji time - a place I'd rather be!

I'm a dad. That means I get REALLY cool birthday gifts. It starts with sneaking up on me little girls who have this 'I'm up to something look' just before the sing Happy Birthday with smiles as big as China! And then the formal stuff. A cool rock...bigger than most years...but equally cool! A glow in the dark hand to put on my ceiling (I think I'll put it at my office). And a necklace of beads with a silvery cross that is still in the repair stage (at 6, the fine art of tying isn't quite perfected...especially with thread!).

It's gonna be a great birthday today - I can tell already !!!

"Time" is "Priceless"!

So, what do you think the liberal media is saying when a Russian MI-24 is pulling away with America? I suspect that it's a silly media blunder where a clipart guy really didn't know what he was looking at...but then, these days you never know. I think it's great, I think it's funny and for them, I hope it's embarassing!!!

See what a few others have to say. Personally, I love the "Priceless" one!

http://www.smalldeadanimals.com/archives/006697.html

and

http://www.blackfive.net/main/2007/07/time-magazine--.html

Paranoia...it's what I do!

For all of those of you out there who actually read my pages (...all 3 of you!), I'll be making a change in a day or three. I work in higher education - liberal arts; the problem is - I'm not a liberal ;-)

The Lord has also blessed us with three very charming and beautiful daughters. I want to post images of them, but we're concerned with all the internet predator stuff. So as much I hate to do it, I'll be making my pages invitation only. Sorry : (

The first round of invitations have gone out. If you didn't get one and you read, let me know and I'll see about putting you on the list.

c.

Testing

Testing

People and moments

Life is about people and moments, isn't it? When it really comes down to it, aren't those the two things that matter. "Life is not measured by how many breaths you take, but by how many moments leave you breathless." Relationships and brethless moments... A moment is a deceptive concept. There are moments that last a second and seem like a lifetime. And there are liftimes that seem to pass in a second. Or a lunch that touches you in a way you could have never imagined, and now are unlikely to ever forget. My middle daughter had such a lunch, and such a moment. Let me tell you about it.

We were standing in line at a great restaraunt called Jestine's in Charleston, SC. There was an older than us couple standing just behind us. The woman had silver earrings with a larger shiney stone in them. Gavi commented on how beautiful they were. But let me segway about Gav for a second. My bride often says that a strange to Gavi is simply a friend she's yet to meet. Something connected between these two and they became instant friends. All the girls were engaged, but this was Gavrielle's moment. They talked..."you look about 36 she said." The woman gushed with approval at a childs inexperience with age! Soon, we were called to sit. We ordered, and then Gav colored a picture. It had to be perfect. Brown skin, blue shirt, the hair. She did a great job for an 8 year old. We delivered the masterpiece and sat back down. I watched her look at the crayonwork for a full minute...putting it down, picking it back up. I found it wonderful to watch the moment unfold. Though I don't know what was going on in her heart, my daughter had somehow filled a need. Isn't God cool!

The meal was southern and wonderful. Peanut butter with bananna for the girls (yuck!). Fried chicken, okra and sweet tea for me - Wow! The chicken was about the size of a small turkey. Corn fritters for the ladies (my wife and my mom). A charming hostess, a playfully sarcastic other waitress so much fun to watch. And ours was the posterwoman for good southern hospitality.

The woman came back to have Gavrielle sign her portrait. And then we returned to request a photo op. Out came the cameras and the smiles and the hugs. We exchanged e-mails and promised to exchange photos. And then as quickly as it started, with a wave out the window, the moment ended. They didn't share age, or friends, or a city, or even a skin color. But they shared something at the heart...and a love for beatiful earrings (now Gavi's most prized possession - she hasn't yet taken them off!). As for the woman, she summed it up well also, "Of all the souveniers I've bought on this trip, I will treasure this picture the most."

Magic happens in moments...and in places like Jestines. I have the photos to prove it.

Sai (sigh)

I arrived at the street my office is on two days ago, it was early and the intersection was covered with emergency vehicals. I drove through instead of trying to turn, noticing a tractor trailer near the intersection. As I passed the soccer field, I noted a fire truck and a helecopter flying out quickly. I assumed the chopper was a news craft. "There was an accident," she said. I thought just a little about it, but mostly about how I would get to work. "It was one of our housekeepers. Sai." I felt a little numb as my mind raced back to the size of the truck and the load it was carrying on the downhill. "Mercy Flight's been called." The helecoptor suddenly clicked. Mechanically I asked, 'how is she.' It was a stupid question.

The morning was busy despite the tragedy, but by 11 things settled enough. I wrote a letter to our churches prayer chain, and then prayed myself...in earnest. Small tears came. They surprised me as I pondered how someone I don't know that well, but see everyday, could have such a profound effect on my life in that moment. She was one of us. Unfortunately "was" is the right term. This afternoon the husband finally released what we all knew in our hearts...she had passed from this life. When I arrived home, I gathered my precious girls. Just held them for a moment. And then we prayed. For healing. For wisdom for the doctors. And that in some small ways God's will and glory might be revealed in this tragedy.

Life is so fragile...

You can tell a lot about a man...

"You can tell a lot about a man on a golfcourse." I'd attribute the words to the man who spoke them in a dry monotone and a smirk yesterday, but I think the quote is famous...or infamous by now. The point is - you can tell a lot about a man on a golfcourse. I have a theory, and it's this. That everyone cheats on the golfcourse. Everyone except those few who don't. We were standing on a fairway behind a tree. 4 person scramble. Player A (with the dry monotone) tossed the marker tee 3 or 4 feet away from the tree with some subtlty. Before he could pick up the tree ball, player B "coughed" and "foot wedged" the ball 3 or 4 feet to the left achieving the same result as player A. Player C would have simply put the ball down where he wanted and swung knowing that he wouldn't be criticized...the old guy. And me? I could care a less, and so I would (and did) wait for all the cheating to unfurl, and simply became an accomplice to the crime. I mean, if three cheaters all had the same idea it must count for something right?!

OK, just kidding...it was a fun tornoment, and we weren't in real contention for first place. And player A was probobally within the rules (like I would know) moving the ball a clublength (and a little). But it really is true isn't it? You can tell a lot about a man by the way he plays golf!

Maybe later I'll gather my thoughts about Fathers and Sons in the form of the last hole $2 challenge by our most senior player and his son. The game changes when there's pride and cash on the line!

Myrtle Beach

We arrived at 8:45 for a 10:00 AM arrival in Niagara Falls. In fact, we arrived 1:45 hrs. for the flight...that is the arrival. Unfortunately, we arrived 45 minutes late for the departure from Myrtle Beach, SC to Niagara Falls...the next plane out isn't until Friday. What a mess. What a problem. What a blessing.

It took my father 20 minutes to recover (they've had the kids for 3 weeks now). And I had a million work things to juggle now - it's hard to take a week off in the middle of the summer. But the time has been great. We've beached it. Gone to the sculpture garden. Worked on my sunburn. Played. Worked. And today I golfed right after the "Old Guys" bible study. The bible study is really a thing. At 70, my father feels like a "youngster." The oldest man is 98. There were almost 30 men there...most over 70, most strong in the Lord. The pastor referred to the role of mentoring younger men - something appropriate for that group. As I sat there listening, I felt special, priveleged. I was in their world gleaning wisdom and perspective and having a good time as well.

After the study (excellent by the way) we did the traditional pilgrimage to McDonalds for coffee and a cheeseburger, and then off to the golf course for 18 holes. I played with my father, Eddie and Dick. Absolute gentlemen. When you think of the south and what southern people are...Eddie fits the mold perfectly. In fact, I think Eddie is the mold. "Shucks" appeared at every duffed ball! And Dick who is in his late 70s or more toward the end made my day. "You've got three girls right?" Yes sir. "You mind if I give you a little advice?" Please. "Spend time with them. Don't let your career take over your life. I meet too many men who are committees and traveling and doing things with their work. Then one day their kids are grown up and they don't know where the time went." Wisdom from a sage. You know, I try so hard to intentionally love my children, but still it's so encouraging to hear from those who know, that there is a benefit to the labor.

What I do...fireflies

I do my best to be aware of wonder. However, last night it was my wife who noticed first. As we drove down this swampy country road in the dark of the late night, she startled me..."Stop." I stopped, and looked. The field was alight with fireflies all blinking their green-yellow blinks. There were thousands, probobobally tens of thousands. I'm a country boy, and I've seen a lot of fireflies in my life. But never this. The entire swamp blinking like a Christmas tree. We sat there on the side of the road not really caring who ran into the back of our darkened car oohing and aahing at the show. I got out and stood there in the middle of the road to take it all in. The air was coolish and dampish and it beat any fireworks show that might have been baning in the July 4th distance. Of all the silly things in the midst of all the hard things to think of, I thought of this blog site. But here it is, the entry for July 4th, 2007. I stand in the middle of the road on dark evening and watch fireflies with my wife...sometimes that's what I do. (PS - the image isn't real, and I stole it from somewhere on the web).

Why do you read?

As of this moment, my site has been viewed 1,363 times. Assuming that 1,000 are me ; ) that leaves 363 views by others! As I losely watch the hits list, I understand some: Greece, NY (Wingman), Colorado (my Ranger Buddy), Dallas (an old College buddy), Paris (who ever can understand the French)... The question I sometimes wonder though is about the others if I can be so bold to assume that it's just one person in Cheyenne and Houston and Jacksonville and other places I see frequently... I can't help but wonder why you read and what you find here. It's of no matter, and if you've found this blogsite you're welcome to stay, I just remain curious.

I'll stop here. Though it's nearly 4PM in Fiji (the time my blog is set at), it's after midnight in central New York. Good night!

Why I write

Life for me is not a continuous path, but rather a losely link series of vivid events. At least that's how I remember it. Somewhere in my lifes journey, I realized that writing is a gift...it comes from God as all gifts do. I don't know when, but one day long ago, it became important for me to capture an experience in writing and save it. I've written ever since. Trying so hard to tell a story so well, that the reader can feel what I felt. Sometimes it's hard, and sometimes I fail miserably, but still I try. In my life I've been blessed richly. I've parachuted and scuba dived in the great Pacific Northwest. Climbed mountains and bridges. Loved deeply and learned to be aware of wonder. So many things...and to coin the phrase, "I've lived to tell about it!" I like this blog thing...I'll find a way to save these entries for my daughters and convince myself that they'll care. Nothing too deep today...just a hint of why I write.

Those eyes...

Eyes are an enchanting thing. I remember the National Geographic that came out, the picture on the cover was that of some young Afghan girl with dazzling eyes...the picture captured the nation. On a lighter note, I remember being a younger man and looking deeply into the face of a beautiful young lady, "...Your eyes, they're like two brilliant glowing stars floating (pause), floating around in the empty space in your mind!" In 3 seconds, she went from nearly swooning, to utter confusion, to "I'm gonna hit you so hard your mothers gonna yell." I was only joking!


That girl over there is Eli. It's not likely she'll ever make the cover of a magazine, but she's got those eyes that make a father tremble. They're like a storm on the sea, like the moon glowing at night...mesmerizing, beautiful, enchanting. They could melt a stone - it's a good thing I'm harder than that! She's disarming. She's also brilliant and tough as nails. What do you expect from a dad who was a once upon a time soldier : )

Happy Birthday

The birthday girls is in the middle. We celebrated with an 8AM breakfast - including a sunday! Now they're on their way to Myrtle Beach, SC for 3 weeks with Gramma Joan and the Bop...tough life for a kid - NOT! Happy birthday G!

This is Arch street, and we're telling stories

My name is David (last name held for lack of memory). No Mr. Chris, you need to leave work at home and be on vacation. This is Philadelphia and you're here to see the sites. After a short lecture, we were back on track. Now it was David's mission to make my day. We're going to drive to the boy king, and while we're on our way, I'm gonna tell stories. We're going to have fun, and Mr. Chris, we'll be there in 15 minutes...you can time me. Now, we can't leave early...those are the rules...we leave at 4:00 PM on the nose. At 3:45 we rolled off bound for the Franklin Institute - he didn't want to be late I guess! But before we left, the girls got to ring the trolly bell (see the photo)!

Off we went, a right, then a left...The new center is a whole football field long (3 times for effect). All the men of that day were masons...I'm a mason too. Wawa means peace, there's little Rome...and the line that he kept bringing us back to... "Yeah, this is Arch street and we're telling stories." Well, there was not we, but he kept our attention wrapt, in fact I was hoping we'd be late just so we would remain entertained. For the record...16 minutes...I should have bet him a cheese steak!

A dancing, what I do...

Tonight was the dance recital. Not just 3 Button girls, but a fourth...the mommy. They were fabulous, and I had the best seat in the house. The sound guy. Not as taxing as on Sunday morning with a 32 chanel board...this was really a matter of timing and a single button to push. Sure, the dance teacher (who is wonderful in every way, by the way) and her stage people were a little demanding, "Louder, quiter, music now," but that's what show business is all about isn't it?! We had a great time, and so did the kids. They're cute, and funny, and I found one of the tap dancers very interesting - in fact, I think I'm going to ask her for a date...wish me luck! Besides all the fun work, there's the fellowship with the lighting guy. So anyways, when I'm not managing construction, or just trying to stay afloat, that's what I do.

Fast movers...

It was 21 years ago, but I still remember it like yesterday. Thank God it was only practice. We were peeking over a ridge line, watching the A-4s practice their strafing and bombing. They're fast, and loud, and the flew for most of the morning...it really was impressive. We moved that night...LRRPs only move at night. Another morning, another ridge, looking for anything that moved. We were hoping for a column of tanks, instead we found a Tactical Operations Command post (a TOC). We'd be heros for the mission, and we knew it. The protocol was clear. Once we radiod in the TOC, we'd have 1 hour to exit the area (the army has a more colorful phrase, but I'll spare you that!). "TOC in the open, Over...I repeat, grid coordinates 15347690." 8 digit grid, the A-4s would have no problem finding the TOC. We packed quickly, ready to move out. I was throwing my ruck over my head and onto my back - a slick move infantry soldiers learn quickly. I looked up, and there they were. 2 A-4s, fast movers. Low, and fast like lightning. Time stopped for a split second and I almost swear I could read the pilots name on the skin. A second later they were gone, the trees now waving in the jet wash as the ground rumbled. I was terrified, we all were...at least the new guys. In that moment I felt so vulnerable. We never saw them coming, never heard anything until they were past, and then the sound was deafening, reaching right into your chest. We turned and watched as they fired their missles. Small tactical nukes, we had been briefed. We were too close, still in the fallout radius and we all knew it. So much for the hour. Nobody said a word other than "move out," for a very long time. We all marched silenty, considering our mortality. We made a pact; that never again would we call in an airstrike until we were clear...the TOC wasn't going anywhere. And we were hero's for the day. The Colonel was in the tent - we smoked him. The 7th was without effective command for 8 hrs. Enough to secure the battle. We sure didn't feel that way though - like heros. This isn't an anti-military entry...just a memory - that's all.

A kid asked me the other day, "are you a veteran?" Yeah, I said. "What war?" I'm not a war veteran, I said. For the 11 years I was in, we were mostly at peace. God was gracious to me, I know I'd be a different man today, had I gone to combat. I'm proud of my red beret, of my airborne wings and my DI hat. I'm proud I had a chance to serve. And I'm proud of all the men who've served before, during and after me. Combat or not. There are some things worth dying for, and though I feel blessed to be alive, it was worth the risk...Freedom is worth the risk.

What I do...

2 years ago, I built a building...we'll, "we" built a building. Today was the day it was finally dedicated. Caird Hall. No one noticed that the anodized letters were really plastic. Instead, they all laughed at the jokes he told, watched the ribbon fall off the wall and smiled as Mr. Caird became teary eyed when the president talked about how proud his father would have been... It's universal isn't it? The Power of a father in our lives. I mean no discredit to mothers, by the way.

Anyways, I built the building. I guess in a sense, I'm one of those who know it best. And apparently he likes engineer/architect types. So I stepped into the breach of the tour...pushed to the front with Mr. Caird. "We've formed a real community here," I started. "It's beautiful and popular and quite durable with slate and oak and such." He was thrilled. Everybody was thrilled. And then we all went our seperate ways. The event was over as quickly as it started. So much preparation. So much energy and anxiety by so many people to secure a wonderful experience for an aging man who had just pledged $3.7M and put his name on the building while some of his classmates looked on with pride.

I built Caird Hall. I got to tell its story just a little bit today. Then I drank a Pepsi, picked up a dedication pamphlet for my scrapbook, and went home to love my daughters intentionally. Life is good isn't it?! Sometimes that's what I do.

Random thoughts

A few weeks ago, Kids Klub ended. I teach 5th and 6th grade boys with a military theme. They love it - I love it. Our end of year show was about King David and his mighty men...they stuck together (most of the time). They relied on God. They were real men...men's men.

Life kind of exploded after that night. Sometimes life does that. And sometimes I write too much here. In life, like in battle, explosions are rule - not the exception. I gather my strength by embracing the pressure, feeling it, and expressing it (sometimes in words on this page). Sometimes that's hard for my friends. My life has been blessed with other men. A ranger buddy, a wingman, and a prayer partner (see below for all). ...and a father. Segway. I work for a college managing construction. We went right from graduation (May 15th) to construction with a 2 day trip to NYC in the middle. Personal matters were further burdening my life. Somewhere in the fury of it all, I called my day, and never gave it another thought. Until last week. My secretary yelled in, "It's your father." My father? I wondered if someone died. "I know you're busy, but I just wanted to call and say I'm praying for you. How are things going?" The call was short, I was late for a meeting. But the impact was immense. He was there. My wingman and my prayer partner were there too. And so many others. Sometimes the battle is won by the force with the stronges will and the greatest encouragement. And sometimes it's won because of close air support. I guess I'm blessed...I have both.

New York City

Tuesday at 5PM we were supposed to be bound for the Big Apple. It was more like 6:30 when we actually left. Something wrong in JFK...there's always something wrong in JFK. We arrived unscathed, and quickly boarded the limo - yes, that's right - the limo! While riding into the city for a dinner I successfully lead a covert mutiny (changing the architects plans from "comfort food" dining to a top notch steak joint. Heroically, though feebly, I support my architect and all her efforts in setting up the dinner...but successfully infiltrated the the steak venue...mutiny successful! (I considered it further victory when the young lady sitting next to me said, "you should have tried harder to support Pam, but it was a good decision.")

...to be continued

The Friday Video

Tom is the father of a Rock Star. No, really, and I have an authorized bootleg CD...it's not piracy if the artists father gives it to you - right?! It's cool to have a celebrity on the team - or at least his father. Tom's an artist, and whenever I get really out of sorts I go and look at his white board; so many lines, and colors and thoughts that somehow unwinds itself into architecture. It's kind of a Zen thing...if you know what I mean, but acknowleging that I don't believe in Zen : ). Finally, let's get to the title...in comes Tom at 5:30PM and says, "It's Friday Video time," and takes me on our second brief pilgrimage to youtube.com. I'm not sure if twice counts for a weekly tradition yet, but I'm hopeful!

Enjoy the Friday Video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv5zWaTEVkI

Mighty men!

"Who are you"
"WE'RE SERGEANT BUTTON'S MIGHTY MEN!" they yelled at the top of their lungs (in case the bold type didn't give that away).
Then we acted out King David's mighty men. "Scare the women and children," I commanded them, and my mighty men let out a grown that made me proud." I challenged the crowd, "are you scared?" "No," they laughed. "Again," I demanded of them. Another growl, this one sent shivers down my back. To the crowd I now get serious..."I build for a living, structures that will stand for 200 years. It's rewarding, but that dims in comparison to the work I do with your sons. Thank you for honoring me with them this year."

And then it was the fathers turn to be uncomfortable. I get them for two years, 5th and 6th grades. The fifth grader get promoted to Sergeant from Pea Brain Pond Scums. And the Sergeants...they get promoted from "Sergeant to young men...I can't promote you so easily to men however, you fathers are supposed to do that." A pause. "But if your fathers aren't up to the task, come back and see me, and I'll take care of it." I was going for the Top Gun thing, you know, "if you don't get your rear at your duty station, call me, I'll fly with you anytime." I hope the dads squirmed just a little, knowing if they don't call their sons to be men, that someone else will. Some will think, 'I didn't even know I was supposed to.' And the boys, I know they heard the call clearly. Boys are to become men, and a man has to bestow that honor upon them. The question then is simple, 'what man?'

That's what I do...

Airborne!

http://picasaweb.google.com/cjbuttonmeister/Airborne

Life can be hard...or Prayer Partners

This is an entry I've waited way to long to write. I have a Ranger Buddy - see way below. And I have a Wing Man - also see way below. The point is, as a man, I need other men in my life to keep me strong, sharp and balanced. They challenge me, encourage me and keep me accountable... Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."

Most Wednesday mornings at 6AM I get together with a guy from church. Sometimes we just talk. Sometimes we just pray. And every once in a while we just sit there and look at each other suspiciously. We always bust on each. But what's most important is that we know each others stuff. Our pastor always say, "you need at least one person in your life who knows enough about you to put you in jail." Chip could put me in jail...I consider myself safe because I could send him there as well. We know each others family, children, fears, concerns...stuff. You know what I mean by "stuff" right. We draw close and distant in the ebb and flow of time and business, but in my heart I always know he's there holding me up, holding me accountable to the high calling we each have in Christ Jesus. I thank God nearly every day for my prayer partner - for Chip - and for the men in my life like him. We can't do it alone, and we were never meant to. Thanks brother...from my heart.

Why I blog...

This post is really an edit of a recent entry called "Why I write." But in it, I realized that I'd told a fib by ommission. The truth is, I write because Calvin over there inspires me! Now back to the blog previously in progress...

That's a pretty complex question, but I have several answers. First, I suppose I write because I've always written. For as long as I can remember. Keeping a history, telling a story, sharing an experience; all these things are important to me. A friend today shared a couple of thoughts about my blog. At first he thought it was strange (maybe not quite his words), but as he read, he warmed up to the idea. A chance to get to know his friend a little better perhaps. But what I thought was really cool...a chance for me to record history for my daughters. I guess I better find out how to archive these things in case the system crashes. I wish I had deep thoughts about all this...I really don't. I just like to write, and I guess I'm blessed with an audiance no matter how small! So to you my readers, I say thank you. My life spills out here, and sometimes pieces of my heart, and for whatever reason, you care. I feel honored.

What We do...

About 10 years ago, our marriage was a wreck. Maybe non-existent is a better way to define it. Out of despiration, we attended the Family Life Weekend to Remember marriage conference. It changed our lives...thank God it changed our lives. It's funny, our marriage didn't change overnight...the road was still long, but at least we could see it again. We returned a year later and were approached by the City Ministry Directors..."would we consider joining the team?" We said yes - I won't bore you with the details, If you want to read our story, click the link below. What I will say though, is that if you're married, you really need to go. (To learn more, click the link at the top the page). Nearly 10 years later, we're still on the team, working to save, or simply improve marriages. It's cool! We do it together. We make a difference. That's what we do!

http://www.familylife.com/articles/article_detail.asp?id=769&page=21&keywords

Yes...it is the authorized version!

I know there are those of you who will ask...and yes, it is the original KJV from 1611, you know - the "If it was good enough for Jesus...it's good enough for me" version!

Or perhaps it goes like this..."FRIENDS - If you don't have the gift of SPEAKIN' in Tongues, why you just may not be SAAAAAAAVED!"

Motercycles and toilet paper

I'd love to offer a witty caption, but I just don't know what I'd say : )

Mater?

That's like Tuh-Mater without the Tuh!

We were driving down the road with friends talking on our way to dinner, when we came up on this old truck. All four of us commented that the vehical had an uncanny resemblance to 'Mater from the movie Cars. We all laughed as we pulled up to the intersection. And then nearly fell out of our seats when we glanced back for one more look! I guess we're not the only ones who noticed...

What I do (goodbye Gerry)

It's Sunday afternoon and at the last minute, I've been asked to do the sound for a dear saint who passed on to eternity on 4/11/07. She was born in 1923, and affectionately referred to as a person who sometimes was, "brutally honest." Though many of us despised her beloved organ, we all loved her dearly! So, in the limited time I had...I grabbed lunch and began laying out the mics, figuring out how to plug in the keyboard, guessed who would stand where, etc. I left my black jacket on as it looked a little more formal than my golf shirt. Gerry was special to all of us. The pastor commented, "You can tell the impact of a life by the people who come to the funeral." And Gerry lived a wonderful life! What an honor to serve in this way...quietly, in the back. Turning dials, sliding faders, and making amazing grace sound its best. No one asked, but I burned a CD of the service and snapped a few web cam photos (like this one). I hope it helps...

WOE!

I'm not sure about the OMG thing. I guess it has to do with my Christian values and the whole taking the Lords name in vain thing. I'm not saying that OMG is wrong, but it's beyond my comfort zone. God is holy, and in that light, the phrase seems irreverent. So, from me you're likely to get a WOE (what on earth!). Example to the right! It looked more like a rat that didn't have the good graces to die. You had to be there... I know there are those who would argue that it's not OMG, but rather another internet slang phrase but I'm not going there.

Nappy headed hos

I was on the road for most of the day today. The topic of NPR, and all news radio, was Don Imus and his statement regarding the Rutgers women. The debate raged. Should he be censored? Isn't censorship a violation of free speech? "It's not an issue of black and white, it's an issue of green ($)." He made his remarks last Tue/Wed. On Friday he appologized. And today he was fired by CBS.

I'll be short and sweet. I think with the networks, it is an issue of green. I think he should have been pulled of the air years ago. And I think if CBS really cared about this agenda, he would have been quickly and quietly fired. Debates are run amuck on Don Imus, the fire is being fueled instead of quenched. TTFN!

The middle finger

The things we remember! As a kid, we woul drive back and forth to the small city nearby. We used to ride with my parents, and then when we grew older, we would drive ourselves. The things I remember most are the drive. In the days when we could drive, there was a rise in the road. The faster we went, the higher our stomachs ended up in our throats....like a roller coaster.

This house. I remember it as bigger and nicer. Maybe the paint was better 30 years ago. It sits on the crest of a hill around a curve. But it's not the house that's noteworth, it was the downs syndrom boy who used to occupy the front yard like a lawn ornament. I mean no disrespect, it's just that he was always there. And he had a propensity for communicating. You know, international relations, flipping the bird, giving the middle finger. To everybody, scowling all the way. We used to drive by just to watch him abuse us with his magical finger! It's the little things in life. We'll, these days the house is a wreck and the lawn boy is gone, but a memory is a memory!

Sergeant Button and his Mighty Men

I teach a Wednesday evening group of 5th and 6th grade boys at church. We learn about potato cannons and army stuff and great battles of the Old Testament. We put on our spiritual armor and rough house and yell real loud sometimes. But mostly we learn about being men...Godly men! More later. About King David and about being a man...but for now, let me just say, 'Here they are...the mighty men!'

In case you were wondering

April 5th, 2001

We don't get to chose how we die, God does that. But we can wish, can't we? I love my bride - 16 years today. The photo is intriguing, isn't it? Hopefully you don't see the gruesome, but instead the strangly romantic...and the funny. I don't really know the story here - I just know that this is how I want to die...with the person I love the most. My best friend, my love, my bride. Quietly. Together. Someday to be excavated with a toothbrush by some doctoral student studying the archeology of a place that once was... Happy anniversary darling!

PS-If I had a color, I'd color us white...

Ahhhhhh......

"And once you have tasted flight, you will walk the Earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you long to return."

I borrowed the quote from a Fallen Angel...I seemed so appropriate. If you don't feel this image somewhere deep within, then no words will ever be able to articulate the experience.

The Stuff Life is Made of...

A dangerous plan

There's a spoof on George W. Bush out there these days...in fact, it's my laptop background. 'A dangerous plan is better than no plan at all.' The creator took a great photo of a decisive President Bush, added the words Strategery...a Saturday Night Live spoof become famous in the WhiteHouse. I really like it. And not just because the quote is cool. But because I can spoof a little with my liberal colleagues! What can I say, I've always had a sick sense of humor! Of course, there is the quote too, 'A dangerous plan is better than no plan at all.' I'm all about the dangerous plan...but enough of that...you never know who finds these blogs.

Ballroom dancing and being a dad

Until tonight, I would have described my dancing skills as lumbering. But after several practices, the ballroom birthday dance we attended tonight was so much fun...and I did pretty good if I do say so myself! I got to dance with the three most gorgeous ladies at the ball - I may be getting older, but I'm still charming ; )

I sat one out while my three princesses twirled about, and talked with a young father of beautiful girls - the oldest is three. "Tell me what you think the secrets of being a good father are," he asked. The question to me aback for a second...not because it was hard, but because it's a question I often ask. I talked about being a man which means making jewelry with your girls is OK, but letting them paint your nails is not. (If you've made this mistake, it's OK - just don't tell anyone!). That there's no such thing as quality time without quantity time. That there is a time to debate and teach, that there is a time to teach by discipline... I'll see this man tomorrow. I forgot two things - two important things. The first is easy to say, but harder to do - Always make choices that will earn the lifetime respect of your children, rather than their momentary approval. In the span of a life it is always better to be respected than liked. And the second? It takes a lot of work, but the rewards are immense. Intentionally love your children and their mother. The love thing is hard, isn't it? Especially when the Bible says "Love your wife like Christ loved the church...and gave his life for it...through death on the cross." Yikes! Maybe I have some room for improvement : )

Point Man

I'm liking this Steve Farrar guy. Not hard to read, but sometimes the message is hard. He calls us to manhood, to greatness...to leadership. It's tough to lead a family. But so what, it's not really a choice, not when you follow the King of Kings, and that's his call for men.

Here's what Steve says...
"This is a book for men. It's a book for men that talks about how to become an effective leader in your home. After 3 years of research and study, it is my conclusion that effective male leadership in the homes of America is going the way of the dinosaur. Some people are worried about the extinction of whales, condors, snail-darters, or baby seals. Those are legitimate concerns. But let me shoot straight with you. I'm a lot more worried about the extinction of the men who know how to lead a family. And the effective male leader who knows how to lead his family is already on the endangered species list." Point Man, P. 13.

I wish he were wrong, but I don't believe he is. Nor do I believe we any longer are, "One nation under God." I'm beginning to understand now how Rome fell so quickly. Free will vs. election no longer matter so much - maybe that's just a product of age. But KJV vs. NIV, pre or post trib., none of it is as important as shining as a light in a dark world, and intentionally leading and intentionally loving my family.

On a light note - I know this cool army song about baby seals (as noted above), anyone want to hear it? And don't forget to scroll down one entry, I updated my airborne log.

This could be me...

This could be me...no, really. OK, OK, it has to go like this. No kidding, there I was (all good airborne stories start like that)! ...waiting in a dramatic pause. 3,500 ft., full gear, I must have been carying a 135 lb. pack. The static line got stuck in the door so I chewed it off with my teeth, then in an act of sheer brilliance and amazing dexterity, I sliced the pack open with my K-Bar knife (the only great thing the Marines ever gave us). The chute deployed like Mae West and I plumeted to the ground like a stone. In my most pious voice, I called out to St. Michael, patron saint of all airborne soldiers, and the chute fully deployed. I hit the ground like a brick...feet - knees - face. Shook off the concussion, wiped off the blood, and leapt to my feel calling the rest of the stick sissies for taking so long to reach the ground.

So, now do you want the truth? 60 jumps out of all sorts of high performance aircraft. Day time, nighttime, with green eggs and ham. 3,500 ft., perfect day, no pack, no gear...nothing by wind in my face and a gorgeous view of Mount Ranier. What can I say...there is a God! Days like this one made up for all the others; cold, wet and tired. The photo is from ca. 1985, I just scanned it today. Many more to follow, probobally on a web page as there will likely be many. I wouldn't change my life - but I do miss those days (grin)!

I can feel the waves Chuck

In each of us, there is a deep place we don't share. It's our heart, our soul, our self...the very essence of our being. It's the part we only share with those we truly love. Some of find the things that move us in the opera, or the forests or the nighttime sky. We feel things deeply that recharge us in ways that words can never begin to express. For me, it's the water. The Pacific, the Atlantic, a very deep lake nearby. But sometimes it's much simpler than that. Sometimes my friends help me feel the waves... I'm not talking about sharing memories, or deep conversations. I mean really helping me "feel the waves." Like with a glass of water emptying it's contents at about 130 mph straight into my face. Thanks Chuck, thanks for helping me "feel the waves!" So much for the fun stuff...my next entry will be something more manly, more hooah. It only seems fitting.

They're all going to hang...

Washington College in Maryland has this great little house. It's affectionately called the Lit. house. In this house they host poetry readings. Some great, and some really famous people have come. But the Lit house is also a dangerous place to be. You see...in the lit house, everybody who speaks gets hung. Most of the people who come, leave with respect, but not Jay Parini. The tradition goes like this; if the poet was wonderful, his or her (or is that her and his?) poster hangs on the wall - right side up. If not...well...see Jay Parini (Can you say Boooo?). Everyone who waxes poetic at Washington hangs, it's just a question of which way!

Psalm 23

It's the little things in life that make all the difference in the world to us. That one person who cared enough to share the tough love no one else would. The uncle who encouraged, though you never really understood why he picked you. The grandfather who always had the time, and a special name for you. It's in each of these fleeting moments that life is truly lived, that bonds are created and memories are made. It's this stuff that makes life worth living. I guess the tragedy is the pain when that person finally leaves the earth...hopefully for heaven. That moment when we're left with not just the pain of the leaving, but the realization of knowing we'll never see them again. There's something about permanency that just aches, isn't there? God knew this. Too well in fact. We were never designed for death. And He knew that the real enemies were Satan and hell and life without him...life outside of the sheep fold. He knew that life on earth would be a struggle, that He made us aliens and strangers in a hostile land. And that if we're to live as lights in this dark world, He would have to "prepare a table for us in the presence of our enemies." Take a moment and reflect on these wonderful words so common today. Often recited, profaned at times, leaned upon for the promise and the comfort...and there is comfort here, but often too quickly read. So read it all... Really read it. When I allow him to be the shepherd...when I follow His leading, when I sit at His table, when I allow His Rod and Staff to comfort me (and to discipline me), then will goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life.
Psalm 23
1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

He still hears...

4 AM. I'm driving to the Syracuse airport for a marathon day. Philly at 8:30 for a meeting with an architect. 1:30 flight to Pittsburgh for an interview with a potential client. 7 or 8 PM return to Philladelphia by 9:30. 8 AM the next morning for another job. I pray when I drive. Often out loud. At about 4:15 I begin praying, "Lord, please provide me with a man today who can speak to me, challenge me, mentor me just a little." I prayed for friends, to be professional in my job. I prayed for an engineer. And then I got on a plane. The flight was uneventful, and the airport meeting went really well. And then I flew to Pittsburgh. The man next to me started a conversation. He was humble and wise and interesting. He was, I quickly realized, an answer to my prayer. Why does it shock me when God answers prayers so boldly? We talked about Tony Campolo, about justice and the uniqueness of a small university that still proclaims the truth boldly. He was a college President. Many of his words challenged me, or opened my eyes to truths I know but hadn't considered in a long time. It was a blessing. And an honor as he said, "Pray for Tony..." Suddenly I felt connected to this great speaker, this great man of God, in a personal way. That's enough for today. Tomorrow, after a birthday party, I'll introduce my girls to Friday, but Sunday's coming, and I'll tell them of God's faithfulness.

HOOAH...Airborne!

That guy to the right over there...Jamie Morgan. The gorgeous girl is his daughter. She's holding a combat patch from the 82nd Airborne - it was her fathers...now it's mine. It's one of my most prized posessions. When Jamie was a boy and I was a paratrooper, I taught him to do PLFs off the coffee table. He went to jump school and confessed in the early jumps he often mumbled, "Darn you CB!" (Initials used to protect the innocent...me). I'm proud of this young man and his service to our country. In an way only an airborne soldier can understand, I'm proud that he cursed me during many of his jumps!!! And now I'm proud to display the desert camo patch of one of our most esteemed paratrooper Divisions on my wall. I'm only sad that I can no longer refer to the Proud AA as the "Almost Airborne." From this day forward I will put aside that joking rivalry between Divisions and give the 82nd its proper respect. Go All American!

A bit of history. PLF stands for parachute landing fall. There are typically two types of PLFs. The first involves landing on your five points of contact: 1.Balls of your feet 2.Calf 3.Thigh 4.Buttox 5.Push-up muscle. Hence, when you screw up - the Black Hat would often refer to you as "falling on your 4th point of contact!"
The less official PLF is much simpler (and much more painful). It's called the "Feet Knees Face" landing. You get the drift. And the stupidest question the military medical officers ask paratroopers..."Have you ever been unconscious..."

This picture gets an explanation...

I like George W. I pray for George W. often. He's got a tough job, and the liberal press absolutely abuses him. I usually keep my mouth shut, it's a survival mechanism working in Higher Education. But like President Bush, I got a bad rap from the press this week. I was having breakfast with 3 of the 4 most beautiful women in the world (my bride stayed home). All capable of becoming Miss America; none willing to stoop that low. They're beauty runs so much deeper than their faces... But that's not why I'm writing. At breakfast a roving reporter asked, "Do you think Hillary Clinton will be the next President?" I thought, I still have First Amendment Rights, I'll answer...carefully. 'If a woman is capable, Certainly Hillary Clinton is that woman,' I began. 'However, I'm not sure the country is ready for a woman President.' My words were meant to express my perception of the nation. But the paper replaced my 'the country' with a simple "WE." Now I'm implicated. What's worse is my face was framed under a "no way in the world will I vote for her" guy. Now it seems, anyone at work I talk to is ready to challenge my so called thoughts on the issue. It gets funny - 2 days later the Editors printed a great piece on how the Nation appears to not be ready for a woman; complete with facts and statistics. Unfortunately, they got front of the section framed by no one...I got one sentence and defined in the 'He man woman haters club.' So...even though I know this is a cheap photoshop job I stole off the net, I echo this Presidential comment for all those who don't like his opinions...or mine!

Hot Babe

Kids say the dandest things don't they. Mine are no exception. I call my wife Bugg...she likes it - don't harrass me. So we got into a discussion of nicknames with our "church" friends (actually 99% of our friends are "church friends"). So there we are in this conservativish group and someone asks my daughters, "so, does your daddy have any special names for your mommy?" She was expecting bugg. But no...not out of the mouths of my babes... HOT BABE they all explain in fits of laughter. No one knows quite what to do or say. They're not even really sure they now want to look at my wife. My face is red, and I'm about to rotfl...my bride is about to climb behind a pew ralphing (not an acronym). When the mood lightened and all the red faces mellowed back to a lighter shade of pale, we all had a really good laugh. The men all high fived me, and the women all empathized with my wife. The end.

OK, but really, she is a hot babe. My wife still turns heads. She definitely turns mine. And she's precious and dear and wonderful. As beautiful as she is, her love for our Lord is what truly shines in Stacy. I'm blessed. All my friends know it...or else they wouldn't keep asking her, "How'd you get stuck with him?!"

Fallen Angel

(Click the title to see her link)

I don't know about fallen angels and the theology behind it all, but I do think this woman has a cool site. It's patriotic in a world that doesn't seem to value patriotism, and she thinks paratroopers are cool...Having been one, I have to agree! In fact, I've been inspired to scan all my photos of jumps and post them - come back soon to see them. I was attached to the 9th Division, 109th MI (CEWI). We were an airborne infantry company providing recon and intel. How about this for a logo...

E co. 109 (LRRP). Stealth - Secrecy - Security. Infantry amidst the chaos; taking the oxymoron out of Military Intelligence in the 80's.

Some things don't need words

Engineers

Dear Mr. Blogger,!

Some "engineers" like who they are, when they are engineers.

They have mottos like the army guys...

"An idea without a deadline is just a dream...."....and
"Engineers, Turning Dreams into Reality".!

Respectfully submitted..
Wingman

What next?

It's been hard to find time to write lately. I struggle with this creative thing...if I allow too much creativity to influence my life, I struggle to do the "engineer" sort of tasks I'm tasked with at work. If I allow the "engineer" stuff to take over, I find myself becoming rigid and, no longer like who I am. It's always a tough balance. A friend commented recently, One Nation Under God? was difficult to follow. I re-read it. It is difficult to follow. It was hard to write and filled with too many thoughts. So even though this Blog is mostly for me, I fixed it anyway. When you don't know how to express your thoughts or your heart; you can always write a letter to the wind...

I realized my Blog is backlogged like 6 thoughts. I wrote the title, maybe the first sentence, and then saved them as draft for later. One day the wind will blow that way and I'll pick up one of those drafts...hopefully just not all of them at once : )

Life in three thoughts

Life is not about the end of the story where you put down the book with a satisfied sigh. It's about all the chapters inbetween that make your heart race, bring a smile & make you cry as you work your way, deliciously exhausted to the end, where you get to say...That was a Great Story!

Life is not measured by the amount of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

...and my favorite, like the first but just a little edgier.

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving in a pretty well preserved body. Rather you should skid in sideways, throughly spent, completely used up and proclaiming loudly "Wow, What a Ride!”

PS-If you don't get it...you're on the wrong blog :)