5 girls and a grandfather, or Charlies Frogpond

I've wrestled with the title to this one for a while. Today I just decided to write it. Maybe I'll write another based on the same day, but a different theme. So many things can happen in such a short amount of time...memorable things.

I have three girls. My friend has two. Close in age...all five adorable. The get along - five girls who all get along; how amazing is that?! Breakfast is our thing, and we invite guests anytime we can recruit them. I managed to twist my friends arm to bring his Dad, the girls were a bonus! I wrestled with the place for a long time - it had to be right. Charlies Frog Pond in Rochester was perfect. We met on the street and headed in, my friend immediately took control of the place. Getting and arranging the table like a military operation. With all my good Army training, I'd never seen anything like it...at least not at breakfast. We all sat, the men on the outside, the five girls like sardines by the window. The sang and talked and acted silly. We were much more refined, doing "Top Gun" stories and carrying on. We looked at the girls suspiciously - they looked as us and whispered. It's good to have a healthy distrust of the opposite sex...especially when they're under 12 (or over 40)!

The grandfather was strategically place between us, and the girls. That way he could divide his attention as grandparents seem so able to do. And then it happened. The old stories. The old memories. A story my friend heard for the first time. One of those moments you put in the memory jar to keep forever. I learned about hope and perseverance and forgiveness. About prejudice and overcoming. I learned about love, and a little about magic. The girls are special...really special. But sometimes, just sometimes, it's the grandfather.
(Photo withheld to protect the innocent)

Buildings speak to us - A comment on Louis I. Kahn

I just watched My Architect. Dull, but interesting movie (is that an oxymoron?). I'm fascinated by the notion that buildings speak to us. I find myself so often intrigued by the architcture of a city. The details, the shapes, the way the structure meets the skyline. Buildings do speak, and it's up to us to listen. They speak with their words - sometimes we need to understand the language...massing, form, use of light. But what is most moving is what buildings say with their soul. I realize this is a bit reaching, but buildings (in a non-spiritual sense) do have souls, don't they? Can't we feel them, or at least their presence? Or maybe it's more. Can't we feel the soul of the man or woman who created the building, the icon, the statement?

Louis I. Kahn was charismatic. Talented. Passionate. I should like one day to experience one of his buildings. I find them brutal and ugly and bulky. Not attractive. Dated. But I suspect that like the man himself, they have a nuance and a depth and intricacy that must be felt, not just seen. To experience a building you have to come with your heart - not just your eyes. But is L. I. Kahn and Icon? (Can't resist the play on words). I deeply suspect not. Kahn was a liar. An unfaithful man. A man who placed no value on family or committment. And a man of deep desire, but no committment. He had three families. Three women who idolized him - but none of whom he was committed to. He didn't comprehend night and day. Family. The stuff that matters. But he was provocative. He illicits deep emotion. I think I would have liked him, but I also believe I wouldn't have respected him. From a distance he would have bothered me - Close up I would be intrigued...even fascinated. But I also believe that the upon leaving his company - like I immagine leaving his building will be - I would find myself disturbed by his lack of fullness and committment.

Tomorrow I'm going to take my family to an intriguing building. I'm going to teach them to listen, and then I'm going to listen to what they hear. I'm going to chose the place carefully. Buildings do speak to us - but maybe not all of them are worth listening to?

Is this sacreligeous...or...the Church Brew Works

It's a simple question, that's gotten such wide answers...often either passionate or passive. The place is called the Church Brew Works http://www.churchbrewworks.com/ in Pittsburgh, PA. So, whadda ya think?

A friend of a Rock Star's dad

I'm laboring over a title for this one. It has to do with growing up. With getting older, but not getting old. And it poses the question, what was it like to be a friend of Mr. Morrison, Mr. Hendrix or even Mr. Jager (that is, Jim's dad, Jimmy's dad or Mick's dad). At work during lunch, we often all sit at a table reserved for the "other group." For years I've eyed suspiciously the group of old guys who sit near us. Today I relized that we're those guys. We've been doing this lunch thing for a long time now. But let me skip to Rock Stars. The topic lately has been Milo. Milo's the cool guy in the red and white stripes. Though Milo is one of the original members of RaRaRiot, I usually just think of him as "Tom's son." It's cool to have a friend who's the father of a Rock Star. It's great to watch Tom's excitement as he talks about the next city, the travel van, the free sneakers and the latest copy of Rolling Stone, or when he shares the next video or song before it's released...shhhhhh.... As I write these words I can't help think that Mick's dad had friends just like us. Friends who sat at lunch or coffee and talked politics and current events and listened to him brag on his son. I love it! But even if RaRaRiot becomes the next Rolling Stones, I suspect I'll always think of Milo as "Tom's son."

Bloom County AKA Guy Humor

Bloom County, at least in my opinion, is one of the greatest comix in the world. I miss Opus. I miss Bill the Cat...Ack!

I don't have any idea why this is funny - but it is. It's really funny. Not roll on the floor laughing funny, but better. It's a deep slow whole face smile that comes from somewhere inside. The fact that women don't get it just makes it that much better!

God's economy

A friend had this posted on her site and I thought it was very worthwhile to post on mine:We are living, as everyone knows, in an extraordinary time of economic fear. Warren Buffet says our economy is in shambles, and is not expected to recover for at least another year, if then. His Berkshire Hathaway stock has declined 44% since 12/07. Millions have lost jobs, homes, value in homes, investments of all kinds, and retirement funds, not to mention losses due to disasters, family crises, and personal health.History records a rich man who suddenly lost everything: his son's house, all his children, all his transportation, his entire business, employees, and investments, and then he painfully lost his personal health. At that point, his wife was so discouraged and bitter, she suggested he curse God and die.Thankfully, the man had not also lost his mind. If he took her advice, then what? To whom else could he possibly go for help, if not to God? He wisely replied, "Though He kill me, I will hope in Him."Only God knows the future, and what we will have to go through. Only He can rescue us from this worldwide financial catastrophe. It is prudent for us to not curse His Name and die, because He is certainly the only One who can save us."If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

Sixth Grade Math...it's what I do (AKA "Facebook")

I have a facebook page and 100+ friends. That's not unusual, in fact it's probobally kind of small given today's culture. There's one "friend" however, who after 31 years has once again made an impression. Let's just call him Mr. Sobierajski for conversation sake. I always believed he had our best in mind, despite his "...get with the program" attitude and Spock like precision and intensity.

I was lamenting in the Chris is... portion of facebook. 6th grade math. Fractions. Bleck! I've been helping my daughter/relearning 6th grade math. Imagine how 1977 flashed back when this message sprang onto my PDA: "Suck it up Button..."

That voice with it's Drill Sergeant timbre came back like a flood, and along with it so many thoughts that melted into a remembering smile. I hated math...but still appreciate Mr. Sobierajski. He may actually be the reason I passed Calculus - barely!

Where's George

Wheresgeorge.com is a website that tracks dollar bills as they travel across the state. We're George purists in this house; though I'm not beyond buying a bill from a friend, I'm not stamping my own bills and sending them. They have to be legitimately found or received. For us, the game works like this.
1. Find a wheresgeorge bill
2. Log it in with a both descriptive and funny entry
3. Read the history and then edit the description because it wasn't funny enough
4. Wrap it up with a nice not and send it on it's way (at least a month after we intended to).
* Here's where we diverge from George purity. I don't spend the bills - we send the bills as far as we can think to send them (or to the person who will enjoy it the most and play).
5. Hope our friend logs it in, writes a note that's not LAME, and spends it or sends it.

The most interesting of our current 7 bills came from a dancer...you know...a stripper. She noted that she gets a lot of ones in her "profession," or something like that. We laughed, washed our hands thoroughly with soap, and then sent the bill on to my brother! Read into that whatever you like!

Everyone else please forgive this inside joke... Hey buddy, spend it at the "meetings!"

Obama - Where were you?

Often I'm getting asked by my children, "where were you when..." Rather than try and remember, or just making it up - "Uh...I was in a coffee shop when they stormed Normanday..." I thought I'd capture the moment now. January 20th, 2009. I was at a meeting in Ithaca with my boss. We were driving home and stopped at the Short Stop Deli to eat. Reuben, Sobe green tea, chicken noodle soup with really big noodles. Popular place with a big TV playing. We stood at the counter to eat our sandwiches and watch the TV. The VP was sworn in without event. And then Obama. Just before he took his oath a couple of ladies...who were a couple...walked in standing close like couples do. Then a guy with big rings on each finger, long curly hair, a feminine fur coat and army boots. A student calling her family, "Turn on the TV, it's important you see this." As Obama spoke, a 30ish man who probobally doesn't make enough money to pay taxes turned and shouted at me, "he's gonna raise taxes, that's what he's gonna do. My great grandfather was in Normandy as a paratroop. Was his father a paratroop? Did he pay taxes? He's gonna raise our taxes!" Ithaca is a liberal town, and honestly I can't think of a better place to have watched Obama sworn in...right next to the ladies, the guy, the other guy and my boss. Not that there's anything wrong with any of those as Jerry Seinfeld would say. But it just seemed to fit. The Audacity of Hope...that's all I have to say. So, where were you?

Write your own story...

When I started this blog thing, I struggled to find center, to find a meaning and a purpose. It helps to friend who steers me when I go astray...or when he thinks I've gone astray ; ) Somewhere in this written journey, I have found purpose. To write a story - my story. Sometimes it's about a moment. Sometimes about an event. Sometimes a memory. And sometimes it's just good old fashioned sarcasm! But it's important because it's mine. The stuff that piqued my interest, touched my heart, angered me or made me laugh.

My editor often passes on wisdom I have to steep like tea to realize fully. And though it shocks me each time, his words can be profound ; ) So, I was scolded for adding the year in review as a JibJab entry, and instructed to write my own summary of 2008. I think the JibJab fulfills my "sarcasm quota." My friends words however point to a much more important theme. Think about these words and make an effort.

"life is too short....you read others.....but write your story."

Thanks for reminding me why I do this thing that I do Mr. Editor.

Happy 2009!

The Year in Review (2008) - JibJab (PG Rated)

Amish have needs too

I've pondered for 20 minutes what someone accustomed to riding in horse and buggy might need from Peebles...but still, there they are.

Perhaps I jumped too quickly to a conclusion. The mall hosts a theater, a liquor store, a laundromat, a movie store, a hair salon, a coffee shop, Staples and a gas station!

Girl speak?

I'm blessed with three wonderful daughters. Each unique and beautiful in their own amazing ways. But their language. Not only is the talking incessant, but can anyone translate this?

"Most people think I'm a girly girl but really I'm a tomboy but I don't dress like a time boy and I mostly act like a tomboy but sometimes I act like a crazy rabid squirrill - yeah." No pauses, no commas, not slowing down in the sentence. And at the end, the all telling "yeah." Like there's deep truth and meaning that's obviously implied if my male mind could only grasp it. Yeah...

Paratrooper...It's what I did!