Wednesday Writing X

Posted on February 13, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Well, it’s Wednesday {already} and time to add to our collaborative community story.

We’re following a flashback of our main character, Samantha.

Here’s where we left off.

 

“I’m positive. Samantha Marie Casey, will you marry me?”  …

“Yes! … Yes!” I said through welled eyes. The crowd around us started clapping and saying, “Way to go” as I pushed my left hand out.

“No …” Chad said. The crowd froze and stopped clapping. Some whispered “What did he say?” Our waitress dropped her coffee pot. “… not sometime in the future. I mean right now, this weekend. Sam, I love you. I don’t want to wait to make you my wife.”

As the claps started erupting again, I answered, “I love you, too. This weekend it is!”

The claps turned into hugs and handshakes from total strangers. The couple in the booth next to ours picked up our check. Our waitress brought us a piece of cake she cut into the shape of a heart. Even the cooks came into the dining area to offer their well wishes. There we were, two insignificant young lovers being treated like rock stars. And despite the commotion, we were isolated, existing just for each other.

For the rest of the evening, we planned our marriage. We agreed not to tell anyone, although Jimmy knew “sort of,” not the specifics but what Chad was thinking. If Jim knew, Bernie knew, since they were a couple as well. And we both agreed we wanted them to be a part of our wedding.

We agreed not to tell our parents or friends. We knew eloping would disappoint them, but this was our moment and we didn’t want any lectures. It was a little surreal. Both of us are more, well, practical.

Chad said he would make all the arrangements. He would pick me up early Saturday morning and we would head to Maryland. All I needed to do was come up with a cover story … and of course, spending the weekend with Bernie was perfect.

Even though it was late when I got home, I called Bernie. “You have some time tomorrow? We have to talk about something,” I said.

She cut me off. “He did it, didn’t he. He asked you to marry him! That son of a gun. I knew it. I knew it!”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “That’s why we have to talk … tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you about nine,” she said as she hung up.

I filled her in and even romantic Bernie was impressed with the details. She said Jimmy had told her Chad was going to ask me to marry him, but they thought it would be later this year. This weekend. Elope. “I didn’t see that coming with Chad,” she said.

“Okay, this is between us. We’ll go shopping tomorrow. You’ll be the most beautiful bride ever,” she said as she started to cry and hug me. “You’ll be the most beautiful bride ever.”

Friday we went to the mall. After looking through what seemed like hundreds of dresses, I picked a long white A-line satin dress with a criss cross chiffon bodice and a behind the neck tie. Bernie insisted I wear my hair up and found an orchid hair piece that complemented the ensemble. Then we went into the lingerie department where she picked out a short style peignoir set. Both the gown and robe were embellished with embroidered lace and beads and had chiffon flounces on sleeve hems and hem of gown and a chiffon tie at the back waist. The wrap robe also had a tie. That was her gift to me.

I spent Friday night at Bernie’s house. Chad and Jimmy picked us up bright and early Saturday and as we entered the Garden State Parkway, I realized we really were going through with this. We pulled into the parking lot at the Sutton Inn in Elkton, MD, around noon and checked in. Bernie and I went to one room and Jim and Chad to the other so we could get ready.

By four, we were at  the Little Wedding Chapel. Chad looked so dashing in his uniform and he just stared at me in my dress. As he took my hand, he whispered in my ear how incredibly beautiful I was and how incredibly proud he was that I was going to be his wife. With a simple “I do” I became Samantha Watt … Mrs. Chadwick Watt. It had a nice ring to it.

Following the ceremony, the four of us went to dinner. We were so thankful for all Bernie and Jim did for us and we predicted they would be next. We left them around eight and retired to our room — our room — which the Inn staff cleaned and freshened with rose petals on the king size bed and a bottle of champagne chilling.

We talked for awhile, figuring out how we were going to tell our parents, figuring out where we would live, fantasizing about our future together. Around 10, I went into the bathroom and walked out in my negligee. It admittedly did not stay on very long and this time it felt right, very right…

 

There you go, readers. What’s next? How will their parents react?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.

I hope we can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: You control what you think about. If you keep your mind filled with the right, positive thoughts, there won’t be any room for the wrong, poisonous ones.

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Raindrops Keep Falling …

Posted on February 11, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

trinityI don’t usually make “pitches” through this venue, but this particular church {not mine} is an exception. I know any help from anywhere would be appreciated.

No one would have questioned the organist at Trinity Episcopal Church for switching from sacred music to Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head during a summer service last year at the Seneca Falls, NY, church. She didn’t, but raindrops did keep falling on her head … and on the newly restored pipe organ, part of the sanctuary and even some pews.

A special roof committee was established – Doug Avery, Steve Barto, Marilyn Cator, Irene Ferrante, Ted  Flock and Carolyn Zogg – to isolate the problem. It was worse than they initially thought. In addition to shingles, there was damage to gutters, flashings, eaves and even the wood facade was crumbling in spots. And, because the church is in the town’s historic district, all the work had to be restorative. The cost – $300,000.

This bit of news tempered the joy of the completion of a previous restoration project that included restoration of the organ, re-leading and repairing the tracery that holds the magnificent Rose Window, structural reinforcement masonry work and a new copper roof to the bell tower and correcting plaster cracks in the Chancel arch. That project started in 2010 and was completed in 2011.

On the up side, bids for the project came in lower and there was still some money left in the state restoration grant. Enter Fran Caracillo, who was able to re-write and extend the grant application to include the latest fix. The state agreed to match 100% to get the roof repaired.

The congregation dug into its pockets again and came up with a significant chunk of the $150,000 match needed. While big gifts are and were welcomed, little gifts are and were also appreciated. Mitchell, 11, Olivia, 9, and Brandon Mastan, 7, responded to the call by raiding their piggy banks, then came up with the idea to used bottle and can deposit money for a “Roof Fund.” That fund is up to around $200.

The committee also sought help from the county, town, banks and businesses to try and help move the numbers along. Thus far, about two-thirds of the needed local share have been raised. A final community push is underway to reach the goal.

Built in 1885, the church plays an active and important role in the community. It is well used throughout the week, a craft group, yoga and Seneca Singers use the facility on Mondays. A Tuesday Funday is scheduled and bell choir and choir practice is held there. A Prayer Circle and AA meetings are on site. A Neighbor’s Dinner Out is held once a month. Last month, during the tragedy in VanCleef Lake, the church was open to provide warmth and comfort to the first responders. Next month, it will host the Seneca County Chamber of Commerce’s Business After Hours.

It is also an historic and cultural landmark that draws visitors every day who admire its beauty and take pictures. During the It’s a Wonderful Life Weekend, over 200 people toured the church and the breakfast sold out quickly. Boaters move closer as they pass by. Guests, some from far corners of the world, tour the church annually. It is featured in the state’s “I Love New York” publications as well much of the Finger Lakes Region’s promotional material. The building is recognized as one of the most photographed churches in the entire state.

The committee named Caracillo project manager. He is working with Engineer Randy Crawford of Crawford and Sterns as they develop specs that hopefully will go out in the spring. Work would begin in the fall.

Barto emphasized this was not a patch. The entire roof will be replaced with asphalt shingles. Although originally built with slate tiles, the asphalt shingles were put on about 50 years ago, before the church’s historic status was recognized. Copper will be used instead of more inexpensive aluminum and color swatches will match the paint per state historical guidelines.

If you’re interested in making a tax deductible gift, send it to Trinity Church, 27 Fall Street, Seneca Falls, NY 13148, Checks should be made out to Trinity Church with “Roof Fund” in the memo line.

A bright blue tarp has been placed over a portion of the roof overlooking VanCleef Lake to protect the newly-restored organ and pews. That’s what is wrong with the picture.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Only you can decide the direction of your life. Only you can decide your mood. Only you can determine your attitude.

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Joy … Joy … Joy

Posted on February 10, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

As I mentioned before, I’m not a preacher, but when I was an elder at Tyre (NY) Reformed Church, I was pressed into pulpit service. I came across my sermon the other day and thought I would share it. It’s longer than usual {after all, it is a homily}. Here goes …

… And He sayeth unto thee, the wicked shall be punished …

No, no (shuffle papers), these are the wrong notes.

Ah, here we are. Joy … one of the “glad” words like praise and rejoice.

I was working on this comment the other day, like a fish out of water. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t know exactly how to phrase it. And being the procrastinator that I am, the days wound down to a precious few. After putting out this week’s edition, I settled in for a night of “rest” and “relaxation.”

Lo and behold, my grandson came along. You all know Anthony … he’s the one with more energy than any three-year should legitimately have {shows you how long ago this was written; he’s almost 17}. He wanted to watch a movie and, since I wanted a few winks, I figured it was a good mix.

To make a long story short, he chose Pollyanna and instantly I recognized the hand of God in that decision. The movie was the connection I needed to discuss joy.

You’ve probably all seen the movie. Pollyanna has become a model for all that is good and righteous. In a town fraught with pettiness, loneliness, fear and tepidness came this bright-eyed maiden with a simple faith who touched the hearts and souls of the people of Harrington.

She reminds me a lot of Clarence, the angel in It’s a Wonderful Life. The simplicity of seeing things at face value is a faith lesson to us all.

Both Pollyanna and Clarence had a clarity in their world view. It wasn’t based on theological discourse. It wasn’t attained through rigorous study. No, it was a pure, simple faith in the goodness of God’s creations.

We often speak of the faith of a child … simple, unjaded, often direct enough to cut to our very own self. We can tell from Scripture God loves his youngest creations. Jesus was as much at ease with the little ones as He was with others. They weren’t a bother. They were important.

And the common theme of this innocent view is the ability to look for the good in people … to look at the wonder of a snowflake … to explore the richness of life.

Praise ye the Lord.
    Praise God in His sanctuary.
Praise Him in the firmament of His power.
    Praise Him for His mighty acts.
Praise Him according to His excellent greatness.
    Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet.
Praise Him with the psaltery and harp.
    Praise Him with the timbrel and dance.
Praise Him upon the loud cymbals.
Praise Him upon the High sounding cymbals.
    Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.
Praise ye the Lord.

That’s Psalm 150. What praise is expressed here. What joy. How can I keep still, Lord, when everywhere I see Thy works. How often I’ve heard these words and allowed them to vaporize off into the distance. Too many things on my mind I guess, and it isn’t easy to shut out the worries, fears and concerns.

What joy in praise. And I’ve been given so many marvelous gifts and yet I don’t appear to be the happiest person. It’s not that I’m thankless, for You know I am thankful. It’s just I don’t slow down enough to let You show me the life that can be mine.

The pivotal scene in Pollyanna, I think, is when she visits the good Rev. Ford to drop off some “notes” for his sermon. She’s wearing a locket her father gave her, which she allows the reverend to read.

“When you look for the bad in mankind and expect to find it, you surely will.”

You won’t find that reference in Scripture or any theological discourse. It’s from the sayings of Abraham Lincoln and it opened the reverend’s eyes.

It should open our eyes as well. Don’t we often look on the down side of life? Don’t we often focus on the trials and tribulations? Don’t we often look at the glass as half empty?

Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of trials and tribulations in life. There is plenty of darkness out there.

But we have the light. We have the Son. We know firsthand as Christians there something better in store for us. Through thick and thin, we truly, truly have a friend in Jesus.

Maybe we should start looking for the good in people. I think we’ll find it just as surely.

What joy. What unmistakable joy. What a missed opportunity we have.

We hear that when we come to church, too. Very often, it the God of fire and brimstone that gets the attention. We have a fear of the Lord drilled into us from our earliest days.

Certainly, our God is to be awed. To think He created us in His likeness and image only to have us throw it back in His face. We deserve the fire and brimstone of hell. We deserve the fire and brimstone of hell.

But God loves us. He sent His only Son to atone for our sins. In a few weeks we will again remember Jesus’ cruel death … a death He freely chose to save you and me. He stretched His arms across the cross to create a bridge allowing us access back into the heavenly fold.

We can concentrate on the death … or we can concentrate on the Resurrection. Half empty … half full.

Do we deserve eternal damnation?

Of course we do … but that not God’s will. It’s His will to share His heavenly bounty with us. His one aim is for us to be reunited with Him through the blood of His Son, Jesus.

That’s the joyful message of the Bible and the joyful summation of our faith. Sure, some pretty crummy things were done. God showed His rightful wrath and He owns the right of justification. He is the creator, we are the creation. If He chooses to throw us in the fire for our blemishes, so be it. It’s His prerogative. Nothing we do on our own will ever change that.

But I believe this just God doesn’t want any of His creation to be damned. He wants us all to be saved. He has given us that gift … freely, of His own choice. Our responsibility is to accept the gift … no strings attached. Half empty … half full.

Well, there are some strings. We must always and ever recognize and demonstrate this unwavering love. And we do that through praise and rejoicing.

Of course that leads us to prayer.

One television program we {Karen and I} generally try to watch is Touched By An Angel. It’s nice to think we’re touched by angles and in the span of 47 minutes lives can be turned around. But angels are another topic. What I’m going for here is the transformation process found in our saved soul.

More often than not, at some point in the show that soul she is trying to save tells Monica to tell God to butt out. Where has God been? might be the question. Whenever that point in the show arrives, I’m reminded of George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life when he gets popped after praying.

I think sometimes God must get bored up there in heaven. I know I would, listening to the same old rhetoric over and over … words spilling from the lips, rote-style. “Heavenly Father this …” or “gracious God that …”

I think prayer is something else. It’s communication. It’s simply talking with God … from the heart, not the mind, from the soul, not the lips.

I’ve always had an open line to God. I’m not a “formal” prayer. In the middle of a traffic jam or when in the solitude of my distress I might internally scream out at God. “What the heck is going on?” I might cry, perhaps not that sedately. I can talk with God one-on-one like a friend … and I know God speaks to me as a friend. We all know how caustic and sometimes blunt a true friend can be, cutting through all the garbage in our lives and touching our very souls.

This week, stop praying.

Well, that got some attention.

Seriously, stop praying … and start talking to God from your heart. The heart is our emotional fountain. Let God know your emotions. Heck, He knows them anyway. He knows our heart. He knows our motives. He knows the truth … better than we do. Don’t masquerade your emotions with platitudes. If you’re angry with God, let Him know. But if you’re happy with God, share that joy as well with words of praise, not because that’s what should be done, but because
that’s the way you feel. Half empty … half full.

I’ll close with another story … one many of us can relate to.

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news to tell you. Which would you like to hear first?” the farmer asked.

“Why don’t you tell me the bad news first,” the banker replied.

“Okay,” said the farmer. “With the bad drought and inflation and all, I won’t be able to pay anything on my mortgage this year, either on the principal or the interest.”

“Well, that’s pretty bad,” the banker said.

“It gets worse,” said the farmer. “I also won’t be able to pay anything on the loan for all that machinery I bought, not on the principal or interest.”

“Wow, is that ever bad,” the banker admitted.

“It’s worse than that,” continued the farmer. “You remember I also borrowed to buy seed and fertilizer and other supplies. I can’t pay anything on that either — neither principal nor interest.”

“That’s awful,” said the banker, “and that’s enough. What’s the good news?”

“The good news,” replied the farmer with a smile, “is I intend to keep on doing business with you.”

The good news I’m telling you is God is our banker. Despite our failings, He wants to continue to do business with us.

Do we believe the good news or the bad? Isn’t that our dilemma?

The good news is Christ is alive. The bad news is that fact seems to have so little impact on the world today. In this world it’s easy to be fearful and troubled of heart. It’s easy to look at the glass as half empty … but Jesus tells us we must look at it as half full. Christ is alive and so are we.

You’ve probably figured out how I “look” at life. I try to see the little everyday miracles. I’m awestruck by the starry night or a flash of light bellowing amid dark stormy clouds. I’m struck by their beauty, but more so knowing no mortal nor chance of nature could create such masterpieces. It is in those moments when I spontaneously praise God. It is those moments I ask you to look for this week.

Pollyanna looked for those bright clouds. As she told Rev. Ford in the movie, there are 800 happy texts in the Bible … texts of joy or gladness. “If God told us 800 times to be glad and rejoice,” she said, “He must have wanted us to do it.” Rev. Ford went to the pulpit the next day and corrected the young girl. There are 826 passages, he said, intending to dwell on one each week for the … well, it equates to the next 16 years or so.

I’ll take Rev. Ford’s word for it. Suffice it to say, there are plenty of opportunities from Scripture to draw from, all pointing towards joy, praise and gladness. All we have to do is take our cue from the source of our authority.

Praise God.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Be so trained in your thought life that you don’t take the enemy’s bait.

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Newspaper rant

Posted on February 9, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

When newspaper executives get together, we usually wring our hands and bemoan the changing role of print media. We have a passion for what we produce and we know there is a segment of the population that values what we produce. But, unfortunately, that segment is aging. I just lost a 101 year old subscriber and, during renewal time, I often get little notes telling me their age — 67, 76, 89 — scrawled next to the senior discount box. No one ever tells me they’re 23.

As executives we recognize modern technology. No, most of us have seen technology advance first hand at a faster pace than ever before … from manual typewriters to linotypes to electronic editing to pagination … from bulky cameras with bright flashes to development baths to digital cameras to smart phones … from lead cast to aluminum to direct to press plates. All in less than a generation.

But I think the Internet caught a lot of us off guard. And with the advent of smart phones, tablets and other technological advances, HOW and WHEN people get their news has changed, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.

I think the industry will eventually figure it out, figure out how to use modern technology to its advantage. Right now a lot of us are hanging on to the “old days”, just giving up or jumping on the technological bandwagon without proper preparation. As they say, timing is everything.

Personally, I think it will be a blend of old and new technology. There is no doubt the print industry cannot compete with the immediacy of the electronic media. It physically takes time — minutes, hours — to report, write and produce. Even television needs physical time — albeit a lot less — to get on scene, figure out what is happening and start reporting. But someone with a smart phone can upload images or texts NOW, as it happens.

And that’s the difference, and quite frankly what executives in my field have to wrestle with … getting information out quickly and updating it as more facts becomes available. Newspapers like to deal with that pesky thing called facts. I’ve seen stories held because the facts didn’t quite make sense.

Right now, at least, you can’t trust the veracity of most Internet posts {I’m thinking about one of the latest State Farm commercials}. There are no editors. There are no filters. And, sometimes you end up with a “French model” for a date.

I follow a lot of media websites and it drives me crazy when they tease you with a breaking event, then either post inaccurate information (without removing it) or forget about updates for hours on end. It infuriates me when scrolls on television include misspelled words or acronyms/abbreviations that just don’t make sense … endlessly. We all make mistakes {I’ve made my share} but wouldn’t you think a major television network would proof read the scroll once in awhile and actually change a misspelled word after the first or second scroll cycle?

And we won’t even talk about organizational websites with obsolete information.

But back to newspapers. There is also that tangible piece of newsprint that I don’t personally think will ever be fully replaced. While I certainly can see modern technology covering major national, regional and even local events, I don’t see it able to cover the third grade’s latest project, the latest community theater play, the accomplishments of a native son or daughter or Aunt Millie’s obituary. Those stories are cut out and placed in scrapbooks or the family Bible. And there’s something nostalgic and heart-warming when you come across a yellowed clipping years later.

I suppose that information could be printed from other electronic sources, but do we? How many pictures are stored on your computer?

BCsYK-_CYAAI7vT.jpg largeI thought about all this, ironically, because of a Facebook post from my daughter showing my grandson reading a newspaper {alas, it wasn’t mine, but it was a newspaper}. Her twitter caption was “This just cracks me up. He chose to read a newspaper instead of a kids book.”

Now, if we can only get his brothers, cousins, parents and his friends, their cousins and their parents to read a newspaper.

Maybe there is hope for this generation.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: You have to guard your mind. Latch on to the Voice of Victory, the good and faith-filled thoughts. Switch off from the Worry Channel or Defeat Channel or Who Hurt Me Channel or I Come from the Wrong Family Channel or the Gloom and Despair Channel and let those negative thoughts bounce off you like water off a duck’s back.

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Five Minute Friday … Bare

Posted on February 8, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Here’s this week’s installment of Five Minute Friday. You might remember the task is to write for five minutes on a specific prompt word. The initiative was started by Lisa-Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/2013/02/five-minute-friday-bare/) who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And she figured, why not take five minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.

So, the timer is set for five. The word for the week this week is BARE … so here goes. {clock starts now}

I look out the window and see the bare trees, standing starkly barren in a gray envelope. Fast forward a few hours. A light snow is falling and those stark branches now have a white coat with a couple of cardinals chirping away amid the snowflakes.

I look into my soul and see the barrenness and coldness. Fast forward a few hours. Demonstrations of God’s little miracles are there … the birth of a new grandson … an unexpected phone call from an old friend. That gray, cold soul has a new life..

That’s the power of our God. He can transform the gray bareness of nature — and … STOP

… our souls — with little examples that point to Him. It gives us a promise — His promise — to look forward to. It give us hope.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER:  Every setback is a set up for a comeback.

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Babies

Posted on February 7, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I don’t know about you, but when I hear of new birth, I get excited. Babies are God’s gift of promise to us. And, when the baby is flesh and blood, it’s even more delightful.

benjaminWelcome to the world Benjamin Siccardi, my newest grandson. God shared him with us at 2:10 this morning, weighing in at seven pounds, three ounces, and stretching 20.6 inches. Benjamin, Mom and Dad and brothers Derek and Timothy are reportedly doing fine, and Grandpa can’t wait to take a road trip to Massachusetts {not that I needed an excuse to take a road trip}.

This is actually grandchild No. 16, but the novelty never wears off. We have No. 17 expected next month and great-grandchild No. 1 in July. Yet it never gets old or routine.

As I alluded above, children are a gift from God … whatever the circumstances. They are a promise of the future, linking the past with the present. If you believe God is the author of life, you have to believe He has a plan. Benjamin is His latest plan.

It’s hard to imagine an only child like me and a two-child family like Karen’s could produce five of our own and now 16 soon to be 17 grandchildren and a great-grandchild. We have been blessed … maybe not in material ways, but knowing our God has entrusted this family with care of His own. My only regret is Karen is not here physically to relish this moment.

With each of my children, I lifted them up to God in thanksgiving. With each of my grandchildren, I did the same. To Benjamin I utter the identical prayer. Lord, I thank you for this gift. Give my children the same strength and wisdom You blessed me with to raise him as Your special child, with potential and possibilities way beyond their belief. They will not be perfect and neither was I. He will not be perfect and neither were they. But, let us all remember whose child he is … Yours. May Benjamin grow as a reflection of the One who made him all the days of his life.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Children are grand but grandchildren are grander.

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Wednesday Writing IX

Posted on February 6, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Well, it’s Wednesday and time to add to our collaborative community story.

We’re following a flashback of our main character, Samantha.

Here’s where we left off.

How did an in-control woman lose so much control…

As I lay there just staring, Chad woke up. He rolled over, kissed my arm, then propped his head on his hand and kissed me. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I responded. “I just have to pee,” I added as I bolted up and grabbed a blanket to hide my nakedness on my way to the bathroom. I threw in a towel for Chad.

When I was returned, Chad was already getting dressed. “I knew it,” I thought to myself. He asked me again if I was alright, then said he probably should be going. “I don’t want to give the neighbors anything to talk about,” he said as we walked toward the door. “You do know I love you,” he said as he kissed me goodnight.

As his tail lights faded down the street I convinced myself my actions ruined a perfect relationship. I put on some floppy sweats, made myself a cup of tea and wrapped myself in a blanket on the couch. The minute hand on the clock inched ever so slowly … 12 after … what seemed like forever … 13 after … another eternity … 14 after … And with each minute, another argument raged in my mind. What we did was right. What we did was wrong. What did I do? What am I going to do? Why did I listen to him when he told me he loved me? He’s leaving next week. Is he going to leave me now? What did I do? When was daylight coming so I could call Bernie? I needed her and I needed her now.

Shortly after 8 o’clock I made the call. Her mom answered and got her. She was still half asleep when she answered, but as soon as I said “Bern” she knew something was wrong and immediately became much more alert and awake. “What’s wrong, Sam? What’s wrong?”

As I started to blurt out “I think I messed …” she cut me off. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”

She walked in the door and found me crying, all curled up on the couch. I reached up to her and really burst into tears. She sat down next to me and hugged me. “Calm down, Sam. Tell me what happened.”

Through a box of tissues I told her everything — from dinner to dessert. She never said a word, just kept the tissues coming. After I finished my tale, she said, “Did it feel right?”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “No.” Then I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know.”

“Well, do you love him?” she asked.

“Yes, but that’s the problem. I don’t know if he still loves me.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked. “Did he say something?

“No,” I whimpered. “He said he loved me, but he went home.”

“Okay,” Bernie said, “You’re thinking too hard. You guys have been going out for a year…”

I interrupted her. “I know, but we never went all the way. He knew I wanted to wait and I thought he wanted to wait. But we got caught up in the moment and one thing led to another … and now I’m afraid he’s gone.”

“That’s silly,” she said. “I’ve seen you two together. He not only loves you, but he respects you too. That’s more than a lot of guys…”

“But,” I interrupted again, “that’s the problem. I don’t know if he will still respect me.”

“Well, maybe you should talk to him,” Bernie offered. “Come on, enough of this pity party. We can change the past. You know that, hell, you told me that, remember? But you still can control the future. You’re the same fun-loving girl you were yesterday,” she added, then put on an infectious smile and added, “only today you’re a woman” as she poked my arm.

She was, of course, right, but I was positive Chad would soon be history. He was leaving for Ohio next week and I would quickly become a memory.

When Chad called later in the day, the first thing he said was, “Are you okay? I sensed something was wrong when I left last night. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do you want to talk?”

“No, everything is fine. Last night was … well … special,” I gushed. “I’m okay, just a little tired. How about a rain check?”

He tried to convince me to go out, but I continued to say no until he finally said “Okay, Sam, but remember, I love you!”

That was Sunday. He tried again Monday and Tuesday. Each time, I found an excuse. I knew we should talk about Saturday night, but I wasn’t ready. And with each passing day, I started insulating my heart from breaking.

Wednesday night Chad showed up at my door. He gave me a kiss, say hi to Mom and Dad, and tried to whisk me out the door. “Let’s go for coffee,” he said. At first I resisted, but Mom started asking questions so off we went to the diner.

“Something is wrong,” he said as the waitress brought our coffees. “Is this about Saturday?”

“No, nothing is wrong,” I insisted.

“Bullshit!” he said, catching me off guard because I don’t think I had ever remembered him saying anything even remotely off color.

“No, no, everything is fine,” I said. “Saturday … was … was … wonderful. I guess you … I guess I thought you should spend some with your family since you’re going to Ohio next week.”

“I spend enough time with my family,” he said. “I want to spend my time with you. But there is something else going on. I know you wanted to wait and I’m sorry we didn’t. I wanted to wait, too. But it doesn’t change anything. I love you, even more.”

“I know and … it … was … great,” I stuttered, grasping for each word. “I’m not sorry we made love…”

He interrupted me. “Yes, we made love. We did not just have sex.” He put his hands on mine. “Sam, I love you.”

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. I opened it. It was two silver rings studded with small diamonds and soldered together with a big gap in the middle. I just looked at him with a quizzical expression on my face.

“That’s the wedding ring I picked out for you,” he said, as he reached into his other pocket and pulled out another little box. I opened it. It was another silver ring with a diamond proudly standing in a simple yet elegant setting.

“That’s the engagement ring I picked out for you,” he added. Then he put the two settings together. “A perfect fit,” he said. “Just like you and me. They were made for each other. Just like you and me.”

I was speechless.

“Samantha Marie Casey, will you marry me?”

I was still speechless as the conversation at the table started to draw some attention.

“Samantha Marie Casey, will you marry me?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Samantha Marie Casey, will you marry me?”  …

There you go, readers. What’s next? What’s Sam’s decision?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers. The complete story thus far is available on the blog under “Story.”

I hope we can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: It is easy to stay encouraged when you learn to compliment yourself.

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Super Ads …

Posted on February 4, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I don’t know if I’m getting older or whether my interest level in yesterday’s Super Bowl just wasn’t there. The game itself — which should be the focus — actually was pretty good, especially after San Francisco put on a second half surge and was on the brink of overtaking the Ravens in the last minutes of play. It all came down to Baltimore’s defense against San Fran’s offense … and the Ravens prevailed.

But the game has become secondary to spectacle. I won’t even go into the halftime “extravaganzas” which seem to get worse and worse each year. Beyonce was no exception. The show was all sex and sizzle, all oooooohhh, aaaaaaah and hair throwing. The nicest thing I can say is it was better — not by much — than Madonna last year and we didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction despite an abundance of skin.

The commercials have also been a — pardon the pun — selling point. I don’t think the advertisers got their money’s worth this year. In my opinion, there was just one standout commercial — and except for a few second tag at the end, you would never have known who paid the big bucks.

I’m talking about Paul Harvey’s talk over on visuals extolling the virtues of farmers and farming. I was drawn into the commercial and intently followed each frame. It was by far, the best commercial during the Super Bowl. But who paid the piper?

Chrysler Ram.

There were a couple of product placements embedded in the ad, but two of them were shots of the pick up bed with the tailgate down. It wasn’t until the final 10 seconds when we discovered it was the Ram truck “for the farmer in all of us” followed by the signature Guts Glory Ram.

I thought the Doritos ads were entertaining. The saga of the goat was good, but the second quarter ad showing a father getting sucked into her daughter’s princess party with the promise of the cheesy Doritos was better, especially when his macho buddies joined in.

Others that caught my attention included Jeep’s salute to the military; the Tide commercial eliminating the Joe Montana stain; the Budweiser Clydesdale brotherhood commercial; Chiefs select Leon Sandcastle (which was an NFL Network slot); Got Milk?; and Sketchers. The Coca Cola chase was the best interactive spot but I don’t know who eventually collected the Coke. The most tasteless ad was Go Daddy’s mouthy kiss in the first quarter, witgh the Gildan ad coming in a close second. I just didn’t get many of the other ones.

What did you think of this year’s Super Bowl ads? Worth the money or duds?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Happiness is an inside-out proposition. If you aren’t happy with yourself, you will never be able to find joy in each and every day.

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Colors

Posted on February 3, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I was driving the other day and spotted a 1949 Dodge parked in front of business. I actually had a 1950 Dodge — well, I bought it for Karen so technically, it was hers although she preferred the maneuverability of my Corvair so I ended up driving it quite a bit. So, naturally, when I saw this car on the side of road, it piqued my interest. I pulled over and just walked around it, reliving some good old days. My was jet black … this was was a … a … a … sort of red, but not really … darker than pink … oh, it was in the red family anyway.

I had my fix, but as I drove a couple of miles down the road, there sat a 1956 Chrysler New Yorker. I didn’t stop, although 1956 was a good year. This one was more of a peach color.

When I stopped at my daughter’s, she remarked most of her cars were white. It got me to thinking. Where was our fashion sense back in the 50s and 60s? Some of the colors we choose were kind of … I don’t know what they were.

Remember these?

Untitled attachment 00097Untitled attachment 00034
Untitled attachment 00112Untitled attachment 00016It wasn’t just cars. Appliances, tiling, flooring and even clothes had more of a pastel hue than vibrant, deep colors.

I owned a lot of vehicles over the years, but I never succumbed to pastel. Most of them were white — okay, off white because of the dirt and grime — but most had bold accent colors — a deep red on the Silver Hawk, royal blue on my Chevy and jet black on my 68 Plymouth Fury. I had a few black ones — the Dodge, a 56 Chevy, a 57 Caddy and a Renault Daphine. I had a couple of blue ones — my first car, a 56 two tone blue Dodge, and my icy blue Corvair. There were some hunter green wheels — like my Buick Riviera and my current Subaru Outback. There is my little red Ford truck. There was a gray Falcon and 63 Ford and a yellow (faded but originally bright) Mitsubishi pick up. There was a purple VW Bug I bought for my wife which is currently being rebuilt by my son and grandson.

The worst colored car I owned was a 1970 pea green Dodge wagon, most memorable for rusted floorboards. But it did get us from New Jersey to Illinois. My dad’s 1953 Plymouth was also pea green, although lighter than the Dodge and, technically, I never really drove it.

What about you? What colors of the rainbow did you drive?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Remember the good things God has done, and faith will fill your heart.

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The Jersey Shore

Posted on February 2, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I watched a video the other day about the rebuilding of the Jersey shore after Hurricane Sandy… what might happen and what might not happen (http://www.nj.com/ledgerlive/index.ssf/2013/02/ledger_live_video_rebuilding_n.html). I sure hope it doesn’t become a rebuilding project, but a restoration project.

The Jersey shore has a special place in my heart … especially Seaside Heights. I don’t want see a new and improved Seaside Heights. I want to see the Heights rise from the rubble and return to its former self.

Growing up, the shore was a frequent stop. My Grandma rented a place in Seaside Heights every summer for about three years when I was a pre-teen. My cousins and I owned the sand, surf and boardwalk. Back then, a pre-teen could roam Seaside without direct parental supervision.

I remember the arcade and got quite good at skee ball. There probably wasn’t a ride I didn’t ride, especially the roller coaster pictured in the video and most famous for it last residence in the ocean surf rather than the pier. That turn over the ocean literally took your breath away. You felt like you were flying, which was appropriate because right after the sharp turn was a steep drop.

I got my first taste of the forbidden fruit when I was 12 when I became fascinated by Madam Something who, for a nickel, would perform a fan dance inside her glass cage. I remember going on a beach scavenger hunt with my cousins and finding a whole quarter in the sand! I learned about the undertow in the ocean first hand when I ventured a wee bit too far, only to be frozen in the surf and dragged under, only to be pulled out by the strong arm of a stranger {angel?} with nothing more than a mouthful of salt water. In addition to a new-found respect for the ocean, I also learned we are all equal {my angel was a black man in my very white world} and I had an obligation to help others who were “caught in an undertow”. I did that a couple times, too.

During my early teen years, my trips to the shore were limited to maybe once or twice a year, but after I got my license, the summer trips were once or twice a month. Heck, a couple of friends and I even zipped down to the shore instead of classes during my senior year.

It wasn’t unusual for a group of us to head to Seaside on a Friday or Saturday night for some girl watching and a sausage and pepper sandwich … that’s right, an hour and forty-five minute drive down and an hour and forty-five minute drive back for a couple of hours on the boardwalk and a meal. My personal best was 78 minutes, although I won’t go into details. I almost blew my first engine on the Garden State Parkway on the way home one night (early morning) stopping at every travel center for a couple of quarts of oil to get back home.

I introduced the magic of the surf and sand, the boardwalk and concessions, the sausage and pepper sandwiches and frozen custard to my wife {she led a sheltered life}. Actually, she was dating my best friend at the time and we decided to head to the shore . It was about 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night, which puts us on the boardwalk around 10:30. As we’re eating our sausage and pepper sandwiches, Karen leans over to me and says, “I have to be home by midnight.”

After we started dating, got married and started raising a family, we continued to make tracks to the shore. Well, at least I would usually come up with the suggestion and, yes, it often was on a whim. Even when we moved to Illinois and Ohio, on trips back home, we often scheduled at stop in Seaside. When we lived in Maryland, we went to Ocean Beach, but always compared it {not always flattering) to Seaside Heights.

If I want to get back to my center, I have to go to the Jersey shore. I prefer this time of year when the crowds are thinned. I could walk for hours along the ocean shoreline — and have. I am completely mesmerized by the ebb and flow of the tides. It’s my quiet place. It’s where I re-connect with God. It’s where I come to peace with myself.

Less than a month after Karen died, I found myself at the Jersey shore. We — me in the flesh and Karen in her urn — drove down to watch the sun rise over the ocean. I needed that to help me start healing.

I still do. If I’m really getting overwhelmed, I’ll head down to the Jersey shore, sometimes for just a couple of hours. As I breathe in the salty air, I can literally feel the anxiety ebb. As I watch the birds play in the surf, all my cares are lifted. When I walk down the pier into Barnegat Bay, I’m in a different place … and it carries over for days and weeks.

I haven’t been there since Sandy. Initially it was because no one was allowed in. But I have been following progress at Exit82.com, official tourism information web site sponsored by the Seaside Heights Business Improvement District. And now I can’t wait to see the progress.

I don’t know what I’ll find. I hope it’s a restored and revitalized Seaside Heights. If not, at least I’ll have the memories. And not even Sandy can take that away for me or the countless millions who have enjoyed the Jersey shore over the years

And there is always the bonus of the best sausage and peppers sandwiches in the world!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Every promise God has put in your heart, every dream He’s planted on the inside is well worth the fight.

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