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Author: curtisc27@gmail.com

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

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I am exhausted.

It’s my brother’s fault.

My brother Gary turned 58 last Monday.

He is one of those kinds of guys that turn 58 but look like they are 38.

I hate those kinds of guys.

When I called him to wish him a happy birthday he says to me, “yeah…I’m back riding my bike and doing 100 push-ups a day.”

Excuse me? What was the part after “riding my bike” I thought to myself?

“Five sets of twenty,” he went on to explain.

One hundred push-ups a day?

I am not sure I could do one hundred of anything let alone push-ups.

But not to be outdone, the next morning I got up and said to myself, well if he can do it, I can do it.

But I couldn’t.

I did five.

And then an hour later I did seven.

The next day I was at it again. Though this time on my first attempt to get down on the floor my back gave out and I had to regroup for a few minutes.

Once stabilized, I did seven.

And then an hour later I did seven more.

Today, a week later, I am up to two sets of twelve, greatly assisted by my belly which tends to help me reach the bottom of the push-up faster.

I am not sure what my goal is with this.  To do one hundred a day?

Maybe.

 

It was a good weekend. Keeping with the theme of not to be outdone by my younger brother, Kim and I did a 20 mile ride on our bikes on Saturday.  And, I got five compliments on my new Yuengling cycling jersey that Hayley gave me for Christmas from other riders.

The Preakness was this weekend also.  After the debacle of the Kentucky Derby, the anticipation of the Preakness generated about as much excitement as a $2500 claiming race at Charles Town.  But I watched. And it was not without controversy either since a horse named Bodexpress, who probably had as good a shot as any of them, lost his jockey coming out of the starting gate.   It looked to me like the assistant starter forgot to let go of the horse when the gate opened.  Thankfully all were okay though I am sure all Bodexpress’ humans were greatly disappointed.  Bodexpress however looked like he had fun and finished the race like he thought he was supposed to.

Then On Sunday, to mix up the routine a little, Kim and I walked 10 miles on the bike trail.

The result of all of this activity is however…

I’m tired.

And my legs are reminding me that I am 62, about to be 63 in a month.

And I am realistic enough to know that I will probably never do one hundred push-ups a day.

In fact right now my primary goal is to get down on the floor and be able to get back up again.

I don’t want to set my sights too high.

And like Bodexpress, I may not be the winner but I will finish the race and have fun, like I think I am supposed to.

 

And besides, I have a cool bike jersey.

I’ll bet my brother doesn’t have one of those.

The X Factor and the Greatest Twenty Two Minutes in Sports

The X Factor and the Greatest Twenty Two Minutes in Sports

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Dr. Thomas Swerczek, head pathologist at the University of Kentucky, did not weigh Secretariat’s heart, but stated, “We just stood there in stunned silence.  We couldn’t believe it. The heart was perfect.  There were no problems with it.  It was just this huge engine.”

According to Wikipedia the average horse heart weighs 7.9 pounds.  Though they do say it could weigh twice that weight.

An extremely large heart in a horse is a trait that occasionally occurs in thoroughbreds.  It is hypothesized to be linked to a genetic condition referred to as the “x factor” and is traced to the historic racehorse Eclipse.  After his death in 1789 Eclipse’s heart was found to larger than most and weighed 14 pounds

Secretariat’s heart was estimated to weigh 22 pounds.  Secretariat was a freak.

It is said that pedigree research traces Secretariat’s lineage on his mother’s side to a daughter of Eclipse.

Yesterday, for the first time in the 145 year history of the Kentucky Derby, the winner was disqualified for a racing foul.

The winner was a horse named Maximum Security.

Maximum Security ran his first race in December as a two year old and won a $16,000 Maiden Claiming race at Gulfstream in Florida.  From that humble beginning he went on to win three more races including the Florida Derby wire to wire.  In other words he led from start to finish.

Wednesday evening I sat down with my printed copy of the Racing Form to begin my studying as I would typically do before derby day.  After watching his performance in the Florida Derby, next to Maximum Security’s name I wrote the word Freak with a question mark.

This horse in my opinion was potentially a freak.  Another Secretariat maybe.  Another possible Triple Crown winner. He was undefeated in his young life, his running style to go to the front and win wire to wire.

If he could win the Kentucky Derby in this fashion, maybe he would prove to be something special, something historic.

 

In my forty years of following thoroughbred horse racing, a jockey’s objection rarely led to a change in the finish in the race.  A racing stewards’ inquiry generally did however.  But in this case there was no stewards’ inquiry.  But twenty two minutes after “the greatest two minutes in sports” the racing stewards agreed with the jockey’s objection and Maximum Security, number seven in the race, was disqualified from his first place finish and placed 17th.

For me that was a long 22 minutes.  You see, the 3, 7, 19, and 20 (Country House who finished second was number 20) were the horses I chose to be in my exacta.  At least at the time that’s what I thought.

Because this morning when I was writing this, I decided to look back at my account and revisit what could have been.  To my surprise, I learned that the actual numbers that I boxed were 3,8,19, and 20.  Apparently I had made a mistake and punched in 8 instead of 7.  Another Sir Sydney moment for me, only this time it didn’t have the happy ending.

When I showed this to Kim this morning she said, “See, God spared you the disappointment.”

My wife is right about many things, I think she has the x factor.

Because the only thing I think that would be more disappointing than having your winning exacta disqualified, would be having your winning exacta not disqualified and then learning that you mistakenly bet the wrong numbers.

The sad thing about all this is we may never know how good this horse really is.  How would he have compared to Secretariat?  Would we have had a new national obsession?  Another Triple Crown winner?

It is true Maximum Security will now be something historic, but unfortunately not for the reasons that might have been.

 

A Sentimental Racetrack Journey

A Sentimental Racetrack Journey

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Since the time I mucked my first stall fifty years ago on the “back side” (stable area) of Monmouth Park Racetrack in Oceanport, New Jersey I have had many racetrack related experiences.   Most good, some not so. Some of those I shared in a post called A New National Obsession in February of 2017.

But as a result,  this is one of my favorite times of the year, the first Saturday in May, the Kentucky Derby, the first of the Triple Crown races.

The sport of horse racing has had a rough winter with the deaths of 23 horses at Santa Anita Park in Southern California since December.   Efforts are being made to try to determine why that unfortunate situation occurred there.  Some blame the unusual amount of rain and unusually cold weather changing the racing surface.  I remember a similar situation at Monmouth Park in the 70’s when the entire racing surface was peeled off and replaced resolving the problem. But beyond correcting the racing surface, efforts are also being made industry wide to make changes to the sport that will make it safer for horses and riders nationally.

The following is a story I mentioned in  A New National Obsession, that I wrote in 2014, one of my favorite racing stories:

 2014 Horse of the Year

(Written May 23, 2014 and edited for this essay May 1, 2019)

 

Sir Sidney is the 5 year old son of Ghostzapper.

Ghostzapper was the Horse of the Year in 2004.

Sir Sidney, at five years old had only raced three times in his life and had never won a race. In fact it had been almost two years since Sir Sidney had even been entered in a race.

Sadly, Sir Sidney was five years old and still a “maiden”…horse racing’s term for a horse who has yet to cross the finish line first.

The third Saturday in May, famous for the second jewel of horse racing’s Triple Crown, The Preakness Stakes at Pimlico Racecourse in Baltimore, was to be Sir Sidney’s coming out party after a two year break.   He was entered in the 13th race, the last race of the day, the race after the big attraction. The race after the Preakness. It was the race that no came expecting to watch, the one that would be run while everyone was leaving the infield, the grandstands, the parking lot and sitting in traffic as they made  up “horse stories” to tell their friends about what could have been, what should have been… if only I had done this or bet that.

The thirteenth race, just the sound of it made you want to skip it, like not having a 13th floor in a high rise, or staying in bed on Friday the 13th.  But there was Sir Sidney, the only five year old in the company of nine three year olds reaching the starting gate for the first time in a long while.

The twelfth race, The Preakness, had proven to be just what everyone had expected or hoped for. California Chrome who had won the Kentucky Derby so convincingly didn’t disappoint in the Preakness. He won the race as the overall favorite, the crowd letting him go off at odds that would only return 50 cents on every dollar bet. Now, the only question that would remain, could California Chrome win the Belmont Stakes and be the first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978?

While everyone was pondering that and heading home, the 13th race went off at 7:10 PM, Sir Sidney broke well from the gate and took the lead on the backstretch. However, going into the turn, three horses passed him and he fell back to fourth. Coming out of the turn and into the stretch Sir Sidney dug in deep as a hole opened up in the leaders and he charged into it. Now three horses head to head charging down the stretch! As they approached the finish line Sir Sidney pulled away and won by a length! The unlikely runner, the old guy in the race, never having won before, finally was a winner.

Thrilling stuff right?

C’mon I am getting goose bumps writing about it!

So right now you are wondering “okay Curt, where are you going with this? Why should I care?”

Well maybe you shouldn’t.

 

But let’s just say hypothetically you are me and a passionate fan of the sport, and an occasional recreational bettor. And let’s also imagine that you/me, like a lot of other people thought California Chrome was the best bet of the day, maybe the best bet of the year. And let’s just say you/me thought real long and hard about making that recreational wager on California Chrome to win, number 3 in the twelfth race, the 2014 Preakness Stakes.

But let’s go a step further in our hypothetical situation. Let’s just say that wager that you/me thought long and hard about, the one that you/me so carefully and confidently placed on number 3, California Chrome in the 12th race , and cheered loudly for as California Chrome crossed the finish line in spectacular fashion only to find out………

That your/my horse didn’t win, because, by mistake, the horse that you/I  bet was actually number 3 in the 13th race!

 

I think you/me are probably feeling pretty silly right now huh?

 

Silly that is…until about 7:12 pm.

 

I don’t know about you, but Sir Sidney, number 3 in the 13th race, would be my vote for 2014 Horse of the Year.

 

The End

 

That betting mistake, instead of returning $3.00 on my $2.00 California Chrome bet, returned $26.20 on the win by Sir Sidney.

The following year Kim and I would stand under an infield tent at Pimlico and watch American Pharoah win the Preakness in a downpour. Unlike California Chrome,  he would go on to win the Belmont and be the first Triple Crown winner since 1978.   Coincidentally, my horse of the year for 2014, Sir Sidney was on the card that day.  For sentimental reasons I felt inclined to place a bet on him.

And as a result of those sentimental reasons, I lost that bet.

Horse racing is a sentimental sport.  The beauty of the animal, the lure of a name, the story of the journey, the memory of a past encounter.  That is part of what draws me to it.

Sir Sidney is now ten years old and he is still racing. As a gelding there would be no cushy stud future for him.  In fact he ran this past Sunday at Philadelphia Park and finished fourth going a mile in a claiming race.  Going off at odds of 20 to 1, he earned his owner $1,400 and could at least say he beat the favorite, who finished last, earning him some track cred the next time he sees that guy out on the track exercising in the morning.

It’s hard to not get sentimental about Sir Sidney.

I feel reacquainted, he is part of my journey.

The old guy, in spite of the aches and pains of growing older, he is still out there working.  Having to prove himself to the young guys, doing something he still enjoys, having fun.

I get it.

I hope you take some time this Saturday and watch the Kentucky Derby. I hope you pay attention to the stories, enjoy the majestic beauty of these animals, get caught up in the drama.

I hope you find something sentimental in the experience that makes you want to return.

I hope you find your Sir Sidney.

 

 

 

 

Easter and the Funky Dollar Bill

Easter and the Funky Dollar Bill

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Last Sunday Alexa sent some photos and videos of Christian participating in the Hollywood Hills United Methodist Church Palm Sunday procession.

It was awesome.

He was waving his palm and dressed in a green robe.  The text Alexa sent us afterward said “Christian said at Sunday school they talked about Jesus.  The people who didn’t like him deaded him.”

Thursday evening, Holy Thursday, I sat on my deck and watched the full moon rise.  The pink moon it’s called from what I have read.  That moon is significant because Easter always occurs on the Sunday following the rising of that full moon.

Today being the day after Easter, I had off from work.  Today turned out to be Earth Day as well, which I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t heard on the radio while on one of my multiple trips to Home Depot to buy dirt and plants.  I think every weekend that it is not raining and I am not traveling this time of the year, is “Earth Day” at my house.

This weekend and today was particularly intense with earth activities.  We spent most of the weekend working on the yard, the koi pond, and the gardens.  As we usually do the day before Easter, we took a break from the yard to go to the cemetery and plant new flowers at Donny’s grave site.

 

Each spring when I clean up the yard and the gardens I cut down last year’s now brown and dry ornamental grasses so that the new growth can occur. In one such grass I cut down I found a long overlooked relic from an Easter past.  Stuck deep in the stubble of the now trimmed grass was a plastic Easter egg.  I opened it up and inside I found this funky old dollar bill, weathered from the years it was hidden and overlooked in its colored plastic shell.

 

Funky dollar bill.  I had to laugh a little when I thought about it.

When I was a freshman in high school, a kid down the street used to drive a few of us to school every day.  One day he had a new eight track tape for us to listen to by a band I had never heard of called Funkadelic.  It was a little out there, but it was awesome.  We would be head bobbing all the way from Oceanport to Shore Regional High School.

Funky Dollar Bill was a song written by George Clinton, a name that meant nothing to four white kids in 1971 but George would go on to be quite influential in music.

The song was from the album titled Free Your Mind and Your ♦♦♦ Will Follow (sorry, this is the redacted version of the title).  A now classic album in my opinion, it included a song by the same name. Of course I wouldn’t have known it in 70’s but I read recently that the album was said to have Christian themes.

 

“Free your mind…, the kingdom of heaven is within,” the opening lyrics repeated over and over throughout the song.

 

The kingdom of heaven is within.

 

The kingdom of God is within.

 

The kingdom of God is amongst us.

 

The Bible tells us Jesus would say that when asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come.

 

Jesus knew God had come and was already among them.

 

In the next chapter of Luke, Jesus would tell his disciples for the third time what was about to happen to him as was written by the prophets.

And then a few chapters later, as Christian learned, Jesus was “deaded.”  But it didn’t really have so much to do with those who didn’t like him, it was as it was meant to be, as it had to be.

And three days after that, prophesy was completely fulfilled.

 

So, I think George had it right.

Free your mind…

Because there is much that can follow.

PowerBerries

PowerBerries

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Today was an awesome day.

It was the first full day of Spring.

It rained.

But before it rained we may have had the longest stretch of non-precipitation that we have had in a long time.  I was actually able to do some yard work over the weekend and walk across my back yard without sinking.  Today, however I could have used my kayak.

I had the Powerball.

My two Sugar Mountain”Kalinka” Sweetberry Honeysuckle Honeyberry Vitamin Berries Potted Plants that I ordered on Amazon were delivered today.

I started off my day with my protein drink for breakfast as I have done for the last couple of weeks.  It’s made with “milk” made from almonds and cashews and is nondairy.  Well at least that’s what it said in big bold letters at the top of the container.  But the first time I tried it I had to hesitate a bit.  With my first big protein experience in hand and heading for my mouth, I noticed the smaller not so bold letters at the bottom of the carton that admitted it was actually made from almonds, cashews, and pea.  Now there is something about realizing that the beverage you are about to take a big gulp of is made of pea that stops you in mid movement…even if it is pea with an “a”.  After a few moments of thinking rationally through the issue,  down she went.

Then, I mixed my Elderberry with Aronia, Honey and Green Tea Syrup into a glass with eight ounces of water and topped off my almond, cashew, and pea protein drink to complete my morning ritual.

I know,  I am living the dream over here!

Don’t hate.

A few weeks back Kim was researching the benefits of elderberries and ordered a couple of bushes to plant in our yard.

That same weekend we met Kent Marrs of the Village Winery in Waterford, Virginia.  Kent is the owner, winemaker, cider maker, juice maker, syrup maker, self-mocking “snake oil salesman,” and host extraordinaire of the winery that includes a small tasting room off a historic old barn. He is charming, humble, and smart as he has begun to carve out a niche business in producing, promoting, and selling the nutritional and health benefits of the syrups and juices of elderberry and aronia that are alleged to boost immunity, fight cancer, repair organs, and help diabetes. So he has been so successful is his new niche business that he is moving away from wine in a big way.

Kent is very convincing and he has a slew of anecdotal stories from a growing base of loyal customers who swear by his syrups and juices and who now return on a regular basis to restock up on his products and give testimony on why.

On a recent return visit by Kim and I to restock up on our Elderberry, Aronia, Honey, and Green Tea syrup, Kent shared his new venture Honeyberries. Information I found on the internet supports Kent’s excitement saying  “researchers found blue honeysuckle berries to possess the highest content of phenolic acids compared to other berries tested… in summary, the Honeyberry is a nutritional powerhouse!”

Thus the explanation for the delivery of my two Sugar Mountain”Kalinka” Sweetberry Honeysuckle Honeyberry Vitamin Berries Potted Plants from Amazon earlier today.

My honeyberries are going to go head to head with my wife’s elderberries.  We will see who has the bigger immunity.

So on the way home from work I dipped into the grocery store to turn in my winning Powerball ticket, and to pick up some potting soil and some larger pots to replant my new honeyberry bushes.

Like my lottery winnings, my honeyberry plants are currently small (I only matched the Powerball so I let it ride on a couple more for Saturday).

But I am optimistic the future will be bright and will bear fruit.

In the mean time I will drink my liquids made of cashews, almonds, elderberry, aronia and pea; and live this dream.

Who needs the Powerball, I’ve got Powerberries.

 

If you live in Northern Virginia and need something to do on a weekend, take a ride out to Waterford and visit Kent at the Village Winery.  He is very entertaining, interesting to listen to, has a great tasting presentation, and is just fun to hang out with.  And he is very passionate about his berries.

Here is a link to his website

 

Let me know what you think.

Good Shepherd, Feed My Sheep

Good Shepherd, Feed My Sheep

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If you want to get to heaven
Over on the other shore
Stay out of the way of the blood-stained bandit
Oh good shepherd
Feed my sheep

One for Paul
One for Silas
One for to make my heart rejoice
Can’t you hear my lambs are callin’
Oh good shepherd
Feed my sheep

 

I am home alone again.

Kim had to make an unexpected trip to Pennsylvania.

I haven’t written anything in a while.

I haven’t felt like it.

I haven’t had any of that living inspiration that Elizabeth Gilbert introduced in Big Magic and I wrote about a couple/three years ago, alive in me lately.

But since I am home alone again, I thought I would give it a try.

So will just apologize now for whatever comes out later.

 

I kept singing the Jefferson Airplane song Good Shepherd today.  For years I have just assumed it was a cool song written by Grace, Jorma, Paul, and the rest of the gang.  It turns out it has its origins in a 19th century hymn written by a Methodist minister.  Go figure. Makes sense I guess.

Oh Good Shepherd, feed my sheep.  A fitting song for today I suppose.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.

I remember when I was kid, seeing some of my classmates come in to school with ashes on their foreheads, and thinking how mortified I would be if I had to go to school like that (well in true creative non-fiction transparency,  since mortified probably wasn’t in my vocabulary at the time, embarrassed would be more accurate).

I grew up trying everything in my power to avoid embarrassment.

I thought Lent was cool though.  Of course I didn’t understand at the time what Lent was but I always wanted to be able to say “yeah I can’t have that, I gave it up for Lent”  when someone offered me Jiffy Pop or Ovaltine or something like that.

Now I understand better what Lent is. A time beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending just before Easter that represents the forty days that Jesus spent in the Wilderness. He had just been baptized, and then was led into the Wilderness to be humbled, and tested by temptation.

Jesus fasted those forty days.

He gave up food.

He suffered physically to grow spiritually.

As I recall in the 60’s my friends gave up ice cream, candy bars, and chewing gum.  I don’t know that any of them suffered all that much.  But I do understand the lesson to a kid of giving up something important to them, the lesson of sacrifice.  If it needs to start with ice cream, start with ice cream.

I don’t know about you but to me this winter has seemed like a long time in the wilderness.

I don’t do well in the cold anymore, I don’t do well in the darkness, I hate snow, I don’t like having to be on the inside looking out, I don’t like exercising indoors.  I have gained weight.

Kim and I had a brief respite from the winter doldrums with a quick visit to the Florida kids around Valentine’s Day.  And I came through Valentine’s Day unscathed this year by having flowers delivered.   I got some mileage out of that.

And I mean I literally got some mileage out of that because I ordered flowers and used a code that allowed me to earn 1500 miles on my Southwest Airlines Rapid Rewards account.  My wife doesn’t know that though.

And we have spent more time with our parents though it’s been too often reminiscent of a busy sports weekend when our kids were younger with one of us going one direction and the other going another.

The good thing about your parents getting older is that you get to see them more often.  The bad thing is that it’s not always a social visit.

This Lent I still haven’t made the commitment to give something up.  Since I have already given up eating meat, eggs, cheese, and everything else that tastes good, I suppose I could give up vegetables…but then I would be fasting.

Maybe I should give up complaining?

Not so fast, someone has to suffer.

I have learned however, life is about sacrifice, we are asked for a lot, we do spend a lot of time in the wilderness, but in our suffering and those times of wandering, our faith grows.

And the conversation I just with my wife on the phone proves that.

Feed my sheep.

Because we need fed.

And I don’t want to give that up.

Dear God, What a Mess!

Dear God, What a Mess!

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Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where you want this killin’ done?”
God says. “Out on Highway 61”

From Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

The story retold and modified in these lyrics, are of Abraham and his son Isaac, from the Bible in Genesis 22.  God tests Abraham by telling him “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah.  Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.”  Abraham proves himself to God and Isaac is spared.  To Abraham, only God had that right to ask to take the life of his child.

Recently Kim and I volunteered to facilitate a small group study based on the book by Jacob Armstrong called God’s Messy Family: Finding Your Place When Life Isn’t Perfect.  The book uses Abraham’s family story in Genesis, to help us make sense of our own families when life isn’t perfect.

Life is not perfect as we were reminded of again with the recent decision in New York to pass their Reproductive Health Act.

I am not a supporter of abortion.  I am sure many of you are and I respect that.

And though I am a non-supporter, I am realistic enough to know it is not going away, it is part of a world health initiative and it is here to stay however imperfect some of us as individuals may feel that is.

I get that.

It’s just that at my age and my current state of getting old, crotchety, and more conservative; as a father of three girls, grandfather of three grandsons, and a part a family who has lost a child…sometimes I just want to say “phooey” again.

Oh sure, there was a time in my naïve, young, counterculture life when I probably landed on the supporting side of this issue as well.  Then again, I was probably on the supporting side of many issues that I can look back on now and say… “What was I thinking?”

Life’s experiences change a lot of things.

Experiences like hearing the heartbeats of my daughters before I even had a chance to hold them or hear them cry.

Or having photos of my grandsons held with magnets on the refrigerator, or downloaded to my cell phone’s photo gallery, and even having shared them in my writing.  And these images are not the traditional school photos, these are sonogram images created by ultrasound equipment allowing me to see them before their introduction to the world. I was just as excited about them being my grandsons then, as I am now.

Or grieving a child whose heart not only beat, but was shared with many as a son, a brother, a friend, and a mentor.

 

 

So I have to ask, what is it about terminating a life that is worth the joy and celebration exhibited in New York?

One article I read said that Cuomo was exultant sporting a pink tie, and that on Tuesday night, the governor ordered the top of One World Trade Center to be lit up pink.

And why pink?  Pink is the revered color associated with Breast Cancer…And why One World Trade Center and not the Planned Parenthood on Bleecker Street? What were you thinking?

And those with him in the photo were just as exultant, big smiles, very pleased with themselves.

I wonder how many of those smiling, exultant faces have the personal experience of losing a child.  I wonder if any grieve a lost child terminated by the decision to abort; or lost by miscarriage; or by sickness, accident, or act of war.  They are all lost children regardless of their age at time of death.

And how many of those who aborted now regret that decision? How many wonder what their child would be like today?  How many of those decisions were driven by the boneheads who fathered those babies, thus protecting their right to continue to reproduce as often as the urge struck.   I have heard anecdotal stories of men who have fathered as many as three maybe even four babies, all conveniently aborted.  Or maybe it was a parent’s decision to protect their daughter from the “shame” of a teenage pregnancy, or maybe that protection was extended to themselves more.

If a law like this must be made, at least give this imperfect decision the level of soberness it is due.

You can’t have a daughter and be that exultant about the opportunity you just created for her to terminate your grandchild.

Or maybe, as in the Governor’s case, you can.

We just have to hope for a world where more people believe only God has the right to ask for your child back.

And given the opportunity, those little heartbeats be allowed to bring joy to those who want to love them.

exultant, big smiles, very pleased with themselves
The Holiday Chronicles: The New Year, Epiphany, Hope, and Rain

The Holiday Chronicles: The New Year, Epiphany, Hope, and Rain

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It’s windy.

I woke up this morning to find a Christmas tree rolling around my back yard.

I knew it wasn’t my Christmas tree because I didn’t put one up this year.

But I have one now.

And I am guessing I also have at least one happy neighbor who I am sure had been stressing over when that tree on his curb was going to finally be picked up.

Now his stress is over. Now I can have that tree on my curb and I can stress over how long it’s going to be there and when it is going to be picked up.

 

We are already over a week into the New Year.

The New Year’s celebrations have come and gone.

And like every year on New Year’s Eve as the day slips into night, and I go to sleep, I wake up with the new dawn in the New Year having some renewed spirit.

An epiphany.

Like something is sure to change…

This year, will be, unlike any other year…

This is the year I am going to … (fill in the blank).

I have passed Go, collected my two hundred bucks and I am ready to go around again, only this time…this year,  maybe I will land on Broadway.

I get another chance to do it better. Maybe forget some pain or unpleasantness from the previous year, because that was yesterday this is today.

And for some reason, today… feels different.

 

Hope.

I wrote about Hope a couple of years ago at a time when I thought I needed to be reminded and maybe we all needed to be reminded that it was going to be okay.

But I think it may help sometimes to have these transition days like a New Year’s Day to metaphorically wipe the slate clean and start anew.

Taking a thought from Hope, I don’t know for sure if God has already revealed what is in store for me.

But here is my New Year’s epiphany…

Maybe He has?

Maybe I was right when I proposed in Hope that that I might be living my rewards already. Maybe the truth is I landed on Broadway twenty years ago and I am already living those rewards I worked hard for and prayed for.

And though I am still going to have those days when I wake up to random Christmas trees rolling around my yard, it’s okay.

This is it.

This is the year I am going to…realize that this is it!

And it is just as it should be…

 

As I thought about trying to wrap this up it occurred to me if I had to summarize 2018 in one word it would be rain.  Rain that destroyed my grass and turned my yard into mud, and kept my tomatoes from turning red.

So while at the gym this evening I listened to rain songs…Lowen and Navarro, the Jayhawks, John Hiatt.

And I settled on Hiatt to sum it up:

 

Batten down the hatches
But keep your heart out on your sleeve
A little bit of stormy weather, that’s no cause for us to leave
Just stay here baby, in my arms
Let it wash away the pain
Feels like rain

 (from Feels Like Rain, John Hiatt)

 

And once again, let our dreams continue undimmed by change, tragedy, conflict, and the tears that may be shed as a result.

 

And let it be, a happy new year.

 

 

 

The Holiday Chronicles: Christmas, Joy to the World

The Holiday Chronicles: Christmas, Joy to the World

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Where  are you Christmas
Why can’t I find you
Why have you gone away

Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can’t I hear music play

My world is changing
I’m rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too

Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know

I’m not the same one
See what the time’s done
Is that why you have let me go

Those lyrics as you probably know are from the song “Where Are You Christmas” from the movie How the Grinch Stole Christmas in the year 2000. I have always liked that song, kind of sad though, there have been a few times it has made me cry.

 

It was sometime before Thanksgiving.  Hayley came by to visit.

“Hayley,” I said, “Christmas is cancelled this year.”

“Kim and I are going to your grandparents for Christmas, we are not going to do anything here.  You should go and spend Christmas with your nephews in Florida.”

I am not sure she was too happy, as I recall she didn’t say much or give me a hug or kiss goodbye when she left.

A couple weeks later Hayley called me to ask if she was seriously not invited to spend Christmas with us at my parents.

So I said, “Hayley seriously… which would you rather do…spend Christmas with your nephews in Florida or watch Fox 5 for two days?

She bought the tickets to Florida.

 

I had always put a lot of energy into our Christmases.

But for the first time in my life I didn’t have a Christmas tree.

And for the first time since Kim and I have been together, we didn’t send out a Christmas card with a  Christmas letter.

This year we just didn’t have the energy.

 

That first Christmas after Donny’s accident we tied a Christmas tree to the roof of my van and headed out to Deep Creek, Maryland.  We rented a house up in the woods, it snowed, we were all together, but most importantly we were away from what was familiar.  Nothing would seem familiar that Christmas, it was impossible.

For the next fourteen Christmases we returned to the routine that was familiar here at home. Celebrating on Christmas Eve with family and some friends who became family along the way.

But even after all that time, this year, now the 16th Christmas following the accident, the need to visit the unfamiliar once again seemed like the right thing to do.  And since my parents were going to be home alone for this Christmas, that seemed like the right place to do it.

 

Kim gave me a short book to read called the Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans.  I finished it one evening a couple of weeks ago.

The message of the book was about the first gift of Christmas:

And this is because of the great gift of Christmas.  Because He came.

Coincidentally, the next morning I read a devotional that I get every day in my email.  I will admit, I don’t always take the time to read them, but that morning I did.

Once again, it was about that first gift of Christmas:

For God so Loved the World that he gave his only begotten Son.

 

I have a friend who lost her son just a few weeks before this Christmas.  For her, the journey has just begun.  For her this Christmas would be unfamiliar, unlike any before, but not by choice.

I heard a sermon recently and the preacher said, “Mary, Elizabeth, and John the Baptist tell us that this Christmas for you could be a time for healing…”

At the time with everything that Christmas wasn’t for us this year, that sounded like a good thing.

Though I thought to myself Christmas is a time for many things, and I hoped healing, but that may be easier said than done.

 

One Saturday earlier this month, Kim and I took our grandson Cameron to see the new Grinch movie.  Though I thought it was your typical “Grinch” story retold, I liked it and Cameron seemed to really like it.

A few days a later, I asked Kim to go back with me and watch the Grinch movie again.

“You want me to go with you to see The Grinch again?”  She asked a bit confused. “And why do you want to go see The Grinch again?”

“I don’t know… I just want to,” I told her, feeling a little silly.

“Okay…”

So we did.

There’s a scene in the movie when remorse sets in and The Grinch admits his crime to the citizens of Whoville who, to his dismay, remained joyous in spite of having all their Christmas presents and Christmas decorations stolen:

“It was me I stole your Christmas.

 I stole it because I thought it would fix something that happened a long time ago.

But it didn’t… and I am sorry, I am so very sorry for everything.”

 

Isn’t that the truth?

We can’t fix those things that happened a long time ago, sixteen years ago, or even in the last few weeks.

Things happen.

But despite our lack of energy and our desire to get away from reminders of those things…

Christmas can’t be stolen.

Because we have that first Gift of Christmas.

And because of that Christmas may, in fact, be about healing.

But maybe not healing in its direct meaning.

It may be more about the fact that we may never heal.

Because we may never need to.

Because He has us.

 

Joy to the World, the Lord is Come.

Merry Christmas

 

Epilogue

It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Unexpectedly, we are on our way to western Pennsylvania.  Short of some edits, I had basically finished writing this essay Wednesday evening, December 19.  The next morning Kim called me at work and told me that Nevin, the husband of our niece Cassandra, working the night shift, had lost his life in a mine accident.  He was a former Marine, a wonderful husband, a great father, and just a nice guy.  He leaves behind a wonderful wife, three beautiful young children, and many other family members.   Another Christmas that will be  unfamiliar for some and sadly familiar for others.  Another reminder that things happen and we can’t fix them.  Nevin is with Jesus now and the rest of us have to rely on our faith, the faith in the first Gift of this season.  A final message from that same sermon on healing, “We can keep the faith even in the face of our difficulties and grief, we can find joy in Jesus Christ.”

We can…I know it.

Please keep this family also in your prayers this Christmas.

The Thanksgiving Day Massacre

The Thanksgiving Day Massacre

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Her body was green and she had two vicious jaws
She polished her mate as she kissed him with her claws
She bit off his head so he would not feel the pain
She wanted his body so much she ate his brain

From Don Dixon’s “Praying Mantis” 1985

 

“Curt come here quick, what is this?” my wife yelled from down the hall.

One of our bedrooms has, over time, been converted into a year round plant room, though this time of year it was also filled with plants that had been recently moved from the deck to winter inside.

It was Thanksgiving morning, we were about to leave for Pennsylvania, Kim decided to check on her plants before hitting the road.

On one of the plants was a tan and orange cocoon like thing that Kim called me to look at.

As I was focusing on the nest- like structure, Kim blurted,

“Look! There are ants all over the leaves!”

I shifted my focus now to one of the long leaves and the “ants.”

Finding the leaves covered with insects I responded,

“Those aren’t ants… those are praying mantises!”

 

As a kid growing up in New Jersey I was always told it was illegal to kill a praying mantis.

And I grew old, never having any reason to challenge that.

Therefore, now standing in my spare bedroom, surrounded by plants, in the presence of my wife, and facing hundreds of praying mantises, in my mind I was looking at ten years to life…but I had to make a decision.

I lifted the plant and carefully carried it down the stairs and out on to the deck.

It was a cold morning.

In a short while, I looked again, they were all dead.

Mantis bodies littered my deck.

 

We threw our suitcases in the car and like a modern day Bonnie and Clyde we headed for the Pennsylvania border.

We were on the lam.

With me driving the get-away car Kim got on her iPad and did some research.

It turns out, a praying mantis is pretty scary.  They are carnivores, and there are some larger species that will hunt small birds, lizards, and mammals! They have triangular heads that they can turn 180 degrees, two compound eyes with a few extra regular eyes in the middle just because.  Their legs are equipped with spikes for pinning their prey.  But mostly in the US, they just eat other bugs.

Sort of.

They are also cannibals and will eat their siblings!

And the real kicker, the female will eat the male after mating!

Okay that’s enough…this is what Dixon was singing about.

“What about the protection…are they protected?” I asked as we left Virginia and entered Maryland.

She read from the internet site Snopes/Fact Check:

The belief that it is illegal to kill a praying mantis (a crime carrying a $50 fine as a punishment) has been floating around since the 1950s, and we have no idea where this bit of insectoid legal apocrypha came from:

“When I was growing up in New Jersey, I used to find praying mantises in our driveway and back yard every once in a while. It was illegal in NJ to kill a praying mantis, as I remember.”

There is not (and never has been) any federal or state law proscribing the killing of praying mantises.

No.

We were in the clear.

No Jail time.

No $50 times a couple hundred dead bugs fine.

Okay, okay so I am sure there is something your momma told you that you still believe too.

And besides, like that guy in the Snopes internet post, I’m from Jersey too where we have the Jersey Devil, Bigfoot, and Jimmy Hoffa.

What’s the moral of the story?

Love and trust your mother… but verify.

And check your plants before you carry them in the house, spring comes early indoors.