Five Minute Friday — Invite

Posted on October 14, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

Saturday confession time. I’m a Five Minute Friday backslider, falling out of my Friday writing routine and into a Saturday session. But, through the grace of God and the indulgence of my fellow Five Minute Friday contributors, I know I’m forgiven! {Advisory: I’ll probably be back next Saturday as well since I’ll be on the road Friday.}

Under Kate Motaung’s direction, hundreds of bloggers rally around a themed word and, well, write for five minutes. No rules. No backtracks. Nothing profound. Not perfect. Just five minutes of writing, letting the Spirit move you … on Friday … Saturday … or sometimes beyond.

I’ve been using testimonials about the group and the exercise from other members as collected in Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Flat. This week’s it’s by Jen. I hope she inspires you to give this writing activity a shot. I hope at least her words inspire you to at least give this writing workout a look.

“FMF gave me a voice when I had none. In the midst of a messy divorce and really sad time it brought me community. I had an outlet for my words, thoughts and feelings that was safe and welcoming and where my sharing, honesty and being real was encouraged. Rather that hiding from what felt like the worst failure of my life (which is what I wanted to do for years) FMF helped me find myself again,, little by little, one week at a time.”

Our word this week is INVITE. Let’s start the timer and GO…

It’s been a busy few weeks in mid-Maine. My calendar has been chock full of activities … social, community, fraternal. In fact, I had something to do every day this week — community dinner, Kiwanis, Aging in Place and other civic meetings, lunch with other widows and widowers, a chicken dinner  and then some.

The common theme was an invitation. In each case, someone invited me to attend and I accepted. Through my life, I, too, have extended invitations others have accepted. I do that each time I post. I invite readers and visitors into my world. I share. I commune. I learn.

And we need that. We are social beings, not meant to be locked alone in a room but sharing our life and experiences. It’s always amazing how similar we are despite our age, socio-economic, geographic differences. We all have a history, a present and future goals that need to be shared.

Ultimately, of course, there is another invitation out there. Our Lord extends His hand in friendship, inviting you into fellowship with Him and the living and past saints. Some of us accept the invitation, others balk for whatever reason. Regardless, it’s always there. The invitation has an RSVP, but it is open ended. You’re welcome any time.

The invitation is out there. The question is not whether or not you accept it, but what you are going to do with it. Are you going to expand your sphere of influence? Or are you going to retreat into self? Are you going to share your experiences? Or hoard those precious memories?

I invite you to share … your life, your experiences … STOP

… your faith.

Feel free to contribute your own take on the prompt word INVITE. And don’t forget to check out Kate’s spot on Facebook at http://www.fiveminutefriday.com and read the remarkable takes on the word from other writers in the group.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle. — Abraham Lincoln

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Grace

Posted on October 10, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

If you’re thinking this is an “inspirational” post, surprise! It’s not. It’s a restaurant review.

Grace. Yes, that’s the name of the restaurant I visited last weekend in Portland, ME. And it’s appropriate since the venue is a circa 1856 Methodist church. The building is on the National Register of Historic Places and is one of the few surviving examples of work by the architect Charles Alexander, who was very popular in Portland in the 1850s and 1860s.

The goal, according to the restaurant’s website, was to keep the integrity of the church’s design and history. They did it with original pews along each side of the downstairs seating, the pulpit transformed into the host stand, grates from the floor mounted to the upstairs bar and coal chutes converted into wine cellars.

​Both the logo and bar design were inspired by the triquerta shaped stained glass windows at the top of each staircase. The bar’s concept was developed in Colorado by Tivi Design and shipped to Maine for final construction.

​Grace Restaurant offers a first rate menu in an intimate yet wide open atmosphere featuring high ceilings and stained glass windows streaming in the fall light. It truly blended the restoration of the historic church to it’s original beauty while creating a modern interior that both complemented the sculptural details of the church and reflected the innovative cuisine.

The focal point downstairs is the spacious bar and, although you can’t see the food being prepared, the elevated kitchen adds an interesting element. You can’t help but wait for the delicacies to come out.

I chose the Bresaola appetizer served with sweet and hearty dollops of fig sauce and horseradish surrounded by mini pickled delicate veggies on a literal piece of slate. I followed with an ample serving of Grilled Short Ribs with a side of a Twice Baked Maine Potato. I capped off the meal with an Apple Turnover bathed in aged cheddar cheese and cider infused ice cream.

Grace is definitely costlier than your neighborhood restaurant, but not obscenely costly … especially considering the portion size and ambiance. So, if you’re in Portland and looking for that “special” place, try Grace. You won’t be disappointed.

Details are at https://www.restaurantgrace.com/

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now. — Chinese Proverb

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Waiting for a Hug

Posted on October 9, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

I was going through some files the other day and came across the eulogy I delivered for my very good friend, confidant and counselor, Sonni. It struck me. She died two years ago today and, just like my wife, there isn’t a day that goes by without me missing her. I see her {their} influence in the everyday things I do.

After Karen died, Sonni and I became very close friends. She was the salve that helped heal a broken heart — not repair it, not fill it, not replace it. She learned from experience and took me under her wing.

I like to think we were helping each other get through the days of widow- and widower-hood. We talked just about every day — if not directly, then certainly through messaging and e-mail. I knew when something was troubling her. She knew when I got into my “moods” and would authoritatively tell {ordered} me to get ready, we were going shopping or something in 15 minutes.

I actually loved to go shopping with Sonni — Wegman’s, Walmart, Sam’s, Lowe’s, Pet Smart, Hallmark … it didn’t matter. We would always walk into the store hand in hand, often stealing a kiss. It made us feel young again.

During one visit to Sam’s, I sort of got distracted at a sample stand. While munching on the pepperoni pizza I noticed Sonni had kept walking … and talking, not only with her mouth but with her hands. Suddenly about a dozen or so steps up the aisle she realized she was speaking to air. She pivoted, scrunched her face and headed back in my direction, her finger wagging as she scolded me … then hugged me as I promised not to do it again. After all, she wasn’t the first to scold me {just sayin’ hun}. I had heard that speech before. From that point on, however, she tethered me to the cart like a two year old just to keep track of me.

And she got even. She stopped at a sample stand featuring a veggie burger. She told me it was good, but after choking it down, all I could say was it was the best sawdust I ever ate. I got that finger-wave again!

God sends people into our lives. There is no doubt in my mind, God placed Sonni in my world.

As I tried to move on and took my trips to Maine, Sonni would always challenge my motives. Why did I choose Maine? And invariably it would all come back to Karen. It’s what she wanted. It’s what she would have loved. And she would just say, “Uh huh.”

When I told her about the mill apartment in Maine, she asked the same question. This time, however, I gushed about the view, the high ceilings, the old wooden beams, a brand new kitchen with all the necessary equipment and no maintenance inside or out. In short, I told her it was what I was looking for. In fact, I don’t remember mentioning Karen once.

We were again discussing the move on the way back from her out-patient surgery just two days before suffering the debilitating stroke that took yet another strong woman from my life. She grabbed my hand, squeezed it and said, “My job is done.”

I miss Sonni. I miss her laugh. I miss her words. I miss her guidance. I miss her unconditional friendship.

Most of all, I miss her hugs. She believed in the therapeutic magic of a hug. In her memory, right now, give someone a hug … not a small hug, but a deep down, from your soul hug. A Sonni hug!

I miss Sonni.

I’m a pretty independent guy. I like to think I think things through. But the truth is, before I make a decision, I rely on tons of opinions, deciphering {at least trying to} fact from fiction. And I have always relied heavily on the thought of strong women to ground me, corral me, give me a greater perspective. I had that for 40-plus years with Karen. I had that for six-plus years with Sonni. I don’t have that now.

In my mind’s eye, I can see Karen and Sonni sitting there in heaven chatting, Sonni with her Diet Pepsi and Karen with her water turned into exquisite wine. I can see them laughing at the foolish things I say and do without their physical sphere of influence. I see them taking turns proverbially whacking me in the back of the head when I REALLY do or say something foolish {Hmmm, maybe it wasn’t really a stroke I had after all}.

I really miss them — both of them  — every day.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Genius is 1% inspiration, and 99% perspiration. — Thomas Edison

 

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Ces Soirèes-La

Posted on October 8, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

Ces Soirèes-La. Or more appropriately Ces Après-midi-La.

I spent yesterday afternoon with 1,699 other souls at a sold out performance at Merrill Auditorium in Portland, ME. While waiting in the lobby, I couldn’t help but notice snowy heads, frail bodies, plenty of hearing aids and canes and even a scooter or two. I thought I mistakenly wandered into an AARP convention. Then I looked in the mirror and realized these patrons were there for the same reason I was … to take in the spectacular story of the rise and career of the Four Seasons — later Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. The Jersey Boys.

As we used hand rails to get to our assigned seats, you could sense the excitement building and by the time the backup group opened the show with Ces Soirèes-La (Oh, What a Night) the 60- and 70-year old audience collectively shed their (my) weathered looks and returned to the smooth faces of their (my) youth. An energy kept building through the “early years” song-riddled narrative until it literally exploded midway through the first act when the Four Seasons’ breakout hit, Sherry, was performed with the fidelity — maybe even better — than the original version  we all heard in 1962 on our transistors and car am radios.

It was a moment. It was a moment that brought us back 55 years … what we were doing when the song broke out, what we did to hear more and more of it. How we contributed to making this the American boy group.

And the energy accelerated from there. Big Guys Don’t Cry. Walk Like a Man. December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night). My Eyes Adored You. Dawn (Go Away). Each one bringing the audience to its feet {not an easy feat for our demographic} with thunderous applause that would rival any current-day concert, except with maybe more class.

For me, it wasn’t the lyrics or Valli’s falsetto voice, but the background drums that resonated through the ’55 Dodge I was driving at the time. From the moment I heard Dawn (Go Away) come on, by the time I heard that first drum roll, the window was rolled down and everyone — e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e — knew I was around and on the road with Dawn on my mind. I can only imagine how many noise citations I would have received had today’s audio technology been available.

Act Two was just as energetic with a dozen more hits ranging from Big Man in Town to Let’s Hang On (To What We’ve Got) to Opus 17 (Don’t You Worry ‘Bout Me) to Bye Bye Baby to C’mon Marianne to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You to Working May Way Back to You to Rag Doll.

In the footage clips from American  Bandstand and The Ed Sullivan Show, it was us they were showing. And by the time the two and a half hour audio experience came to an end we showed the love right back with Who Loves You as the backdrop and a stand-up, non-stop ovation as the troupe appeared for bows … and appeared for bows … appeared for bows.

Leaving the theater, all you heard were anecdotes from still approving fans about growing up in the mid ’60s. For a brief time, at least, the aches and pains disappeared, the heart quickened, energy was restored and no one dozed off despite afternoon nap time. The lone negative I overheard was a woman complaining about the, shall we say, colorful language. Whatsamatta? You’re not from Jersey, are you?

Yes, it was a special time. Back in the mid ’60s … and for a couple of hours in Portland Saturday. Kudos to the entire cast, but especially the Four Seasons — Jonny Wexler (Frankie Valli), Tommaso Antico (Bob Gaudio), Corey Greenan (Tommy DeVito) and Chris Stevens (Nick Massi).

Ces Après-midi-La.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover —  Mark Twain

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Five Minute Friday — Story

Posted on October 6, 2017 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, post it,  share it with others at her place on Facebook at http://www.fiveminutefriday.com and read the remarkable stories from other writers in the group.

As an extra enticement, I’ve been using testimonials about the group and the exercise from other members as collected in Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Flat. This week’s it’s Barbara. I encourage you to listen to the words and visit Kate and her wonderful corps of writers … and maybe be inspired to join in!

“My journey with the FMF family started Oct. 30, 2014. Why do I remember the exact date? Because I had connected with so many others during the 2014 ‘write31days’ challenge, and was looking for something that would encourage me to continue writing. Many of those I had connected with during October were participants of this amazing group of writers. I won’t say I am faithful to write every week; it always seems by Thursday evenings I am just wiped out and forget to look at the prompt! But in 2015 I wanted to join with the other writers for the ‘write31days’ challenge again, but didn’t have a topic. I was excited to find the Free Writes through FMF and wrote every single day. My favorite word was BACON! Hopefully I will get back to joining the FMF family and write more. In the meantime, I have enjoyed being a part of this amazing group!”

To be honest, I remembered a similar post on the prompt … STORY. Sure enough, we did write on the prompt back in 2013. Normally, I don’t read other posts {or my own} before sitting down, but this time I did. I was also drawn to a post written a couple of years ago, “Sharing the Story.” So, some of the words may sound familiar, but the message is the same.

The timer is set … so here goes. {clock starts now}

Everybody has a story, each one unique to them. Some off them are good stories. Some of them are bad stories. Some have a happy ending, others not so much. Regardless, each one of us has a story … and a story to tell.

Believe it or not, sometimes the hurts and aches and falls we experience can help someone else avoid them or deal with them better. Other times, a positive experience on screen {it used to be on paper} might be the message needed at just that time for someone stumbling upon our work.

Of course, we also have a spiritual story to tell … definitely a Good News story. It’s a chapter — an ongoing chapter — of our story.

I remembered a conversation I had with Dan Ring, then-pastor of St. Ignatius Parish in Oregon, OH. During the transition from Illinois to Ohio — while the family was still in Illinois — I spent the week living in the parish rectory and commuting home for the weekend. With crazy schedules, Dan and I didn’t see a lot of each other, but one night after a late meeting, I noticed the light in the study was on so I popped my head in to say “Hi” and “Good night.” He motioned to me to come in.

“I need a break. I’m working on my homily and it’s just not coming together,” he said as … STOP

… I sat in the chair across from his desk. And we spent the next half hour just catching up.

Somewhere in that conversation, I said I couldn’t write a homily. He laughed and said, “Sure you could … and you would be good at it.”

He then explained a good homily isn’t about the texts. It’s about relating those words of Scripture to today, to today’s Christians, to today’s events. If you show the congregation HOW Scripture relates to them, they become interested in it.

It’s the hallmark of writing and storytelling, so let me repeat that with a slight variation. If you show the your audience HOW your story relates to them, they become interested in it.

I don’t know how successful I’ve been, but I do know I’ve always tried to keep my writing down to earth. As I say in my blog intro, I’m just an ordinary guy walking along this journey called life. I try not to preach, but rather to relate. I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I invite readers to search for themselves. I nurture my audience one-on-one and in small groups. In short, I try to show my faith — through words.

You can too … through your story.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm — Winston Churchill

 

 

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Five Minute Friday — Depend

Posted on September 29, 2017 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  who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. 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. She turned over the reins to Kate Motaung, where our faithful writers write, and share it with others at her place on Facebook at http://www.fiveminutefriday.com.

As an extra enticement, I’ve been using testimonials about the group and the exercise from other members as collected in Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Flat. This week’s it’s Diana. I encourage you to listen to the words and visit Kate and her wonderful corps of writers … and maybe be inspired to join in!

“It is Thursday night waiting with anticipation for a post from Kate. What will the word be this week? The challenge is to write for five minutes free writing no correcting the grammar or spelling  [okay we all do because, well, we’re writers and words matter], just free thoughts. This circle of writers has been part of my life since Lisa Jo Baker orchestrated Five Minute Fridays. At that time, I was new to the blogging world. I have to admit somewhat intimidated by sharing my blog, what would people say about my writing style. However what I found was acceptance, encouragement, friendship and love. Lisa-Jo handed the reins to Kate and the circle has only increased and encouragement. From reading the other blogs, friendships bud like a rose, too many to name by names but you know who you are. Lastly, how amazing how the word is used differently by each one of us Five Minute Friday fans. Ready, the clock is ticking and the word is …”

The prompt this week is DEPEND. The timer has been set so it’s time to GO…

Who depends on you? Who do you depend on?

Well, it all depends.

A lot of people depend on us … our families, our friends, our employers or employees. But did you also consider, the stores you visit, the people you interact with in those stores, the people you casually come in contact with, the people you never see but you support in a variety of ways?

Who do we depend on? Same scenario. We depend on family and friends to stand with us. We depend on our employers to give us sustainable jobs and wages or our employees to give us a day’s work for  day’s pay. We depend on the butcher, baker and candlestick maker to have the goods and services we need. We depend on countless backroom people who provide the goods, transport them or stock the shelves, even though we may never see them. We depend on silent prayer partners, people we meet, perhaps casually, who have an impact on our lives.

… STOP

What about God? Do we depend on Him and His blessings or do we take Him for granted? Can He depend on us to do His work on earth, often by just doing our work with the talents He has given us?

More important, do we recognize those we depend on or we depend on us? Do we thank them?

I guess it all depends.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right — Henry Ford

 

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Nine Years

Posted on September 27, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

My older daughter emotionally posted Monday, “Lord, get me through Wednesday and I will be okay for another year.” My younger daughter responded, “I’m with you sis.” My three boys are unusually quiet. I continue to cope.

Today — the Wednesday Dee referred to — is the ninth anniversary of the death of their Mom and my Wife. It was the day that changed our lives forever … or at least forever in earthly terms.

I’ve been through the details before. If you’re interested, just page back to this date over the past five years.  The details are the details. More important are the memories … and there many, well over 40 years worth. Karen touched her family in so many ways.

While I’ve navigated — and continue to navigate — through the stages of grief, I haven’t lost sight of the fact our future was cut short. As I’ve said before, this was supposed to be OUR time. As countless widows and widowers following long relationships can attest, there is a hole in your heart. It closes over the years, but you still wear the scar.

I try to keep a positive attitude and project it to the family. They see right through it. I try to support them as they journey through the grief process, but each one approaches this day with a flood of emotions. I tell them to dwell on the memories — they can never be taken away from you — and not the loss. I wish I could salve their hurt, but, unfortunately, the best I can come up with is death is a real part of life.

Karen wrote each of us a personal “goodbye” letter. In her letter to me she wanted me to make sure each of our children knew, though she made a lot of mistakes along the way, she did her best and above all, she loved them with all her heart and soul … unconditionally. Take that to the bank!

Death isn’t the end of the story. It’s only the end of a chapter. Spoiler alert. The ending is spectacular.

To be honest, some days it doesn’t seem like nine years. The events unfold like they were yesterday. On other days, it seems sooooo long ago. But the reality is it has been nine years of mood swings, of moving on, of holding back.

Don’t let anyone fool you into believing life goes on after the death of someone with whom you intimately shared your life with for any length of time — in my case 40 years — dies. It doesn’t go on … it changes. There is a piece of you that dies as well. It’s not all gloom and doom. It’s just different. Karen’s imprint remains indelibly on my heart and life. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about her … sometimes with a smile, others with a grimace when I remember where I failed and still others with a tear or two.

Yes, I certainly miss her. But even more, it saddens me she never got the chance to meet three of her grandchildren or her two great-granddaughters. Even as I move forward, there is a twinge of sadness Karen isn’t sharing those adventures.

There is a Funky Winkerbean cartoon that pretty well sums it up. I look at it — tattered and torn as it is — every day. Les Moore lost his wife to cancer and he is driving with his daughter Summer. She asks, “Dad … Do you still miss Mom?”

Next frame, Les responds, “There hasn’t been a day. But after a while, you begin to understand …” Jump to frame three. “… That you can’t let your grief become the substitute for the one you love.”

I still treasure my last letter from my wife and am awed by the wisdom and grace she displayed. “You always told me to ‘stop and smell the roses.’ Thirty years ago I wondered where you thought I would find 30 seconds to do that; now 30 years later I wish I had … The song Celine [Dion] sang, Because You Loved Me, puts into words what I never could. It is how I always felt for you …”

Right back at you, Babe!

We always kidded each other. I would say “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone” and she would respond, “No, no, no. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

Once again, she was right.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: A quitter never wins and a winner never quits. — Napoleon Hill

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Balance

Posted on September 26, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately … some from my video library, others from Redbox, still others from my DirecTV feed. And I must admit, I’m sort of a romantic junkie. I watch a lot of Hallmark productions, and I’m hooked on Chesapeake Shores.

But I noticed a lot of the movies I’ve been watching lately are centered on balance — home, family, work. It’s an ever-present conflict in our daily lives. Speaking from experience, I know balance is a very real minefield. I mean, who of us hasn’t had to choose between that meeting or a family event, that business trip scheduled the same week as your child’s recital, working late to catch up at family time expense.

I will be the first to admit it, I have been guilty — too many times. In fact, I was late so many times, my wife used to tell me dinner was at 5 so there was a reasonable expectation I would make it home when the food was plated at 7.

Looking in the rear view mirror, that was one of my biggest shortcomings. I love my family, but there was always “one more thing” I had to do before turning off the lights in the office.

I don’t have a solution — let me know if you do — but I think we should strive to make our families first. Sure, there will be times when it just doesn’t work out, but if the premise is family first with work an exception rather than vice versa, I think many of the ills, pressures and expectations will diminish. It’s a cliche — one I learned much too late — but we have to learn how to leave the problems of the day at the doorstep. When you walk through the door, it’s all about family.

Again through the rear view window, my most productive work years were built on family first principles. I know I never would have gotten that job and career opportunity in Illinois had I not turned down a position for editor six months earlier to remain with my wife for the birth of our middle son instead of jetting off for an interview. I know during transitional periods from Illinois to Ohio, Ohio to Washington, DC, and Washington, DC to upstate New York  would not have worked had I not scheduled weekends back home. I was more productive and energized following those visits.

From a management perspective, it makes a lot of sense as well. Just as family life often affects work, so too does work life affect family. It becomes a vicious cycle — with both family and work suffering.

Work is work. It’s purpose is to provide income … for the family. But when it overtakes your priorities it does just the opposite … destroys the family. I think it’s time to bring balance back into our lives.

As an aside and having nothing to do with this post, was a scene and line from one of those flicks, Sweet Home Carolina. To set the stage, a struggling single mom inherits a home in South Carolina shortly after being told to “take some time … a vacation” because those family pressures were interfering with her work as an ad executive in Los Angeles. Of course, her work and long hours were very much a part of the family problems. But the storyline wasn’t the highlight of the film for me.

The day Diane received her notice to “take some time … a vacation” she goes home — late, as usual — and is greeted by her older, defiant teenage daughter who immediately starts complaining about … everything. Her final snarky remark was “what’s for dinner?” Diane goes to the freezer and plops down a frozen dinner on the counter. “Again?” To which Diane says the line of the year — “Yeah. I want to give you something to share with your analyst when you get older.”

I don’t know, I chuckled at that line for the rest of the movie.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Time is a created thing. To say “I don’t have time,” is like saying, “I don’t want to.” — Lao Tzu

 

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Five Minute Friday — Accept

Posted on September 22, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

Here’s this week’s installment of Five Minute Friday.

This week’s prompt is ACCEPT. The timer is set … so here goes. {clock starts now}

My first thought when the  prompt surfaced was The Serenity Prayer written by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. The best-known form is:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
It’s a powerful reminder every day. Accept what I can’t change. Change what I can. KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.
Isn’t it ironic we often transpose those sentences? We try to change the things we can’t change. We accept the things we can change. And we certainly don’t have the wisdom to know the difference.
I try to keep Niebuhr’s words at the fore of my thought, but also fall to the trap of worrying about things I can’t change. Worry does no good. As they say, it robs us of joy.
I think today would be a good day to imprint those words — Niebuhr’s words — in our mind and heart. Perhaps we should look at those words daily, through a plaque or even just a sticky note. After all … STOP
… it was part of a sermon. And it would be a shame to leave the message in the pew.
Well, that’s what popped into this mind this week.

You might remember the task is to write for five minutes on a specific prompt word. The initiative was started by Lisa-Jo Baker  who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. 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. She turned over the reins to Kate Motaung, where our faithful writers write, and share it with others at her place on Facebook at http://www.fiveminutefriday.com. It’s free. It’s easy (okay, not always). It’s addictive (in a good way). You should visit and check it out or — better yet — join in the fun of expressing yourself!

As an extra enticement, I’ve been using testimonials about the group and the exercise from other members as collected in Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Flat. This week’s it’s Anna. I encourage you to listen to the words and visit Kate and her wonderful corps of writers … and maybe be inspired to join in!

“Five Minute Friday taught me to go with my gut, not second-guessing myself but trusting in the words God brought forth when I focused in for five minutes. FMF meant freedom in my writing. FMF is a community of cheerleaders, encouraging one another in love. It’s a soft place for the hearts of writers to land each week. I’ve never found another community like FMF — one that consistently welcomes without question or judgment, one that inspires others to keep pressing in to their words, one that so faithfully assembles each week. Five Minute Friday is a one-of-a-kind beautiful presence online.”

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Do, or do not. There is no “try” — Yoda
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Nine Days

Posted on September 19, 2017 by wisdomfromafather

It’s been an interesting week and a half to say the least. The trip back to New York was, of course, centered around a doctor’s appointment sandwiched around a babysitting gig for my grandchildren in Massachusetts and extended for a funeral in New Jersey. It was capped with a Sunday gathering with neighbors at The Mill.

I’ve already shared the medical report, but the topic of conversation at the get together was how I fared babysitting. For all — it went well. After all, a granddad’s role is just making sure the kids don’t kill each other. We only had one little medical incident when my 10 year old apparently scuffed his knee. I noticed he had a knee-wide bandage after lunch the first day. I asked him what happened, he said he ripped open his knee. When we peeled back the bandage there was about an inch long cut. He insisted it had rocks in it. We cleaned it out and the next thing I knew he was running around with the edge of the bandage safely secured with blue duck tape.

There were those who had reservations about me being left alone for four days with four children, two five or younger. But I reached into my bag of experience to keep them busy enough for a reasonable bedtime.

We did some fun things, like eating lunch outside so they could run and play, visiting the library and the park and watching movies.

The library visit was, shall we say, interesting. The thought — my thought — was we would pick out a book or two and I would read it to them. We weren’t in the library two seconds before the younger ones bolted to the play table for cars, trucks, blocks, and dinosaurs. They were happy building with blocks … using the puppets … turning the quiet corner into a virtual playroom. The oldest retreated to the young adult session — as far away from the mayhem as possible — while the second oldest quickly found the computer {getting frustrated when the game he wanted to play wasn’t available} and settled for a tablet. In the blink of an eye, the two young one paraded to the librarian’s station and returned with their own tablets.

I made sure they didn’t destruct anything and sat in a comfortable wingback chair just observing. After better than an hour, I told them to start picking up {they did, although with additional distractions}, each picked out a book and I dutifully read it to them, actually keeping their attention.

Saturday night, we went to 99 for dinner. The kids did quite well despite a 45 minute wait, interacting with other waiting patrons. They weren’t too bad at dinner, although the starving younger ones scarfed down two bowls of popcorn and potato skins, then weren’t quite as interested in actually eating dinner. We only had one incident where neighboring guests complained because one of the boys was kicking the back of the bench and apparently was bothering him. On the other side, the baby — three years old — entertained her fellow patrons with a game of peek-a-boo. And I received Grandpa of the Year kudos from the waitress.

After dinner, we returned home for movie night, settling on Finding Dory  as an “appropriate” flick according to older brother. Hmm. I was contemplating driving down to Cape Cod and taking in a drive-in. Not sure Goonies would have been considered appropriate.

We had a marathon Angelina the Ballerina session Sunday morning, but I made sure we got them settled in time for football. Ironically, I ordered pizza and wings for the 4 p.m. Packers game time, and it arrived right on cue. I didn’t realize, however, that my gluten intolerant grandson’s pizza had to not only be cooked, but had to be assembled as well. I discovered that fact at kickoff. Fortunately, the TV was visible from the kitchen!

Yeah, I know we went out to eat a couple of times, but we did have burgers and fries, breakfasts, and lunches {mainly peanut butter and jelly}. The kids didn’t starve. I was, however, relieved from dish duty by my eldest grandson. I guess he didn’t like grease or extra specs of food. I tried to tell him it added flavor for the next dish, but he wasn’t buying.

The kids must have sensed the age disparity. The youngest climbed on my lap, her knee kneeing my sore knee. When I winced in pain, the 10 year old said, “Be careful! Grandpa is old!”

But they were all tucked in — mainly with me and the dog on the couch — by 10 p.m. each night.

After leaving Massachusetts, the plan was to go the doctor’s appointment, then spend some time with three New York grandchildren and a tutorial session with the new owners of the newspaper. I was stood up with the tutorial session … some lame excuse like having a baby. Congrats Constance and John!

The girls had practice so instead of coming down to Ovid, I went to Seneca Falls and made dinner for the crew. Salisbury Steak and Roasted Potatoes and Veggies. Not bad, although I was cooking in a strange kitchen.

I was going to leave Thursday morning to come home, but got a call my cousin had died, so I headed instead to New Jersey for the wake and funeral.  RIP Cousin Frank.

Despite the circumstances, I was able to squeeze in a hot dog  and hamburger all the way with Frenchies well done, washed down with birch beer at Riverview East {formerly Falls View}. Umm, Umm good.

Saturday morning I headed to the Great Falls in Paterson for my regular visit, only to find the park closed for renovation. So instead, I went to Mary Ellen Kramer Park on the back side of the falls. I had never been there before. Last time I wandered to the upper side of the falls, there was no park, just some litter-strewn trodden trails … not very appealing or safe.

I really was impressed with the park, which wove its way to the pedestrian bridge with benches and alcoves providing spectacular, up close views of the falls. Geese wandered. Kids were running around. Old men were playing games. Couples waltzed along the trails. Joggers were running.

There is something special about a well-kept park. It’s calm and brings out the best in people. Young, old, families, couples, singles, Hispanics, Mediterraneans, African-Americans, Hindu, big dogs, little dogs, affluent, downtrodden all sharing open space with a smile and a “good morning.” One particularly disheveled guy saw me and Angelina and started laughing hysterically. As I passed him, he said, “You both have beards!”

My Angelina handled the trip well, but then, she does like to travel as much as I do. She spent her first night in a motel {I scored an extra 100 bonus points} and found some new grazing spots. The only problem I had was keeping her in the car. I stopped to look at a car and turned around to find her at my feet. Apparently, she discovered by jumping on my bag which sat atop her kennel, she could leap through the sunroof. When I corrected that, she tried to squeeze through a window opened about a quarter way down. Three steps from the car I turned to find her head and two front paws dangling out the window.

And she still doesn’t like to be left alone!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it. — Henry David Thoreau

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