So yesterday Annie and I spent the entire day at Sea World. For the first time, I let Annie wheel her chair into the water fountains at the "Bay of Play". She (and her chair) got soaked! (I have been assured by the "chair guy" that it is built to handle water).
When a horrified mom looked at me I shrugged and said, "What happens on Daddy day stays with Daddy".
Naturally, when the wife got home she wanted to know "What the He** happened here? Why is every thing wet?"
"Is it?" I replied . . . . "Huh . . ."
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Riding the Red Line
by Eric Nixon
On the subway
On a hot summer night
Riding the Red Line
Outbound to Alewife
So is everyone else
Standing in the packed car
Staring blankly at the
Reflections in the window
Stealing looks every so often
At the pretty mid-20-something
Sitting on the seat near me
Noticing that she is
Glancing sideways
At the paper the person
Next to her is reading
Well not so much reading
Since he's got his eyes
Looking to the side at
Someone else behind me
Everyone is pretending
To look somewhere neutral
Everyone is experiencing
Ulterior motives checking out
Everyone else around them
Trying to be all sneaky about it
With each stop
The people change
The dynamics change
Keeps the subway car
Fresh and interesting
Just as long as she doesn't leave
I'll be happy standing here
Packed among strangers
With wandering eyes
And stealing glances
Alongside them
On this hot, hot night
On the subway
On a hot summer night
Riding the Red Line
Outbound to Alewife
So is everyone else
Standing in the packed car
Staring blankly at the
Reflections in the window
Stealing looks every so often
At the pretty mid-20-something
Sitting on the seat near me
Noticing that she is
Glancing sideways
At the paper the person
Next to her is reading
Well not so much reading
Since he's got his eyes
Looking to the side at
Someone else behind me
Everyone is pretending
To look somewhere neutral
Everyone is experiencing
Ulterior motives checking out
Everyone else around them
Trying to be all sneaky about it
With each stop
The people change
The dynamics change
Keeps the subway car
Fresh and interesting
Just as long as she doesn't leave
I'll be happy standing here
Packed among strangers
With wandering eyes
And stealing glances
Alongside them
On this hot, hot night
Quote of the Day
"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself."
- John Gregory Brown
- John Gregory Brown
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Pick A Prize
by Jill Breckenridge
August, hot with flies, wasps
fallen sluggish to the sugar.
The State Fair, everyone eating
something or looking to be fed:
Pronto pups, chili dogs, popcorn,
cold milk, all you can drink,
Central Lutheran's homemade pie.
The woman who guesses weight,
wearing money apron and brown oxfords,
stands beside scales taller
than the big man who steps forward.
For only one pa-per dollar!
she reads his body, poundwise,
says, Two-sixty! He steps on
her scales at two-eighty-five.
She pats his backside under his belt
which is under a generous roll
of fat, says, You musta' been hidin'
somethin' there on me, honey!
Pick a prize, any prize. He touches
his thinning hair, chooses
the battered red and white beer hat
from among her ashtrays and embarrassed
lavender snakes, then walks away,
through the dusty music of calliope,
taller, twenty-five pounds lighter.
August, hot with flies, wasps
fallen sluggish to the sugar.
The State Fair, everyone eating
something or looking to be fed:
Pronto pups, chili dogs, popcorn,
cold milk, all you can drink,
Central Lutheran's homemade pie.
The woman who guesses weight,
wearing money apron and brown oxfords,
stands beside scales taller
than the big man who steps forward.
For only one pa-per dollar!
she reads his body, poundwise,
says, Two-sixty! He steps on
her scales at two-eighty-five.
She pats his backside under his belt
which is under a generous roll
of fat, says, You musta' been hidin'
somethin' there on me, honey!
Pick a prize, any prize. He touches
his thinning hair, chooses
the battered red and white beer hat
from among her ashtrays and embarrassed
lavender snakes, then walks away,
through the dusty music of calliope,
taller, twenty-five pounds lighter.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
In the Basement of the Goodwill Store
by Ted Kooser
In the musty light, in the thin brown air
of damp carpet, doll heads and rust,
beneath long rows of sharp footfalls
like nails in a lid, an old man stands
trying on glasses, lifting each pair
from the box like a glittering fish
and holding it up to the light
of a dirty bulb. Near him, a heap
of enameled pans as white as skulls
looms in the catacomb shadows,
and old toilets with dry red throats
cough up bouquets of curtain rods.
You've seen him somewhere before.
He's wearing the green leisure suit
you threw out with the garbage,
and the Christmas tie you hated,
and the ventilated wingtip shoes
you found in your father's closet
and wore as a joke. And the glasses
which finally fit him, through which
he looks to see you looking back—
two mirrors which flash and glance—
are those through which one day
you too will look down over the years,
when you have grown old and thin
and no longer particular,
and the things you once thought
you were rid of forever
have taken you back in their arms.
In the musty light, in the thin brown air
of damp carpet, doll heads and rust,
beneath long rows of sharp footfalls
like nails in a lid, an old man stands
trying on glasses, lifting each pair
from the box like a glittering fish
and holding it up to the light
of a dirty bulb. Near him, a heap
of enameled pans as white as skulls
looms in the catacomb shadows,
and old toilets with dry red throats
cough up bouquets of curtain rods.
You've seen him somewhere before.
He's wearing the green leisure suit
you threw out with the garbage,
and the Christmas tie you hated,
and the ventilated wingtip shoes
you found in your father's closet
and wore as a joke. And the glasses
which finally fit him, through which
he looks to see you looking back—
two mirrors which flash and glance—
are those through which one day
you too will look down over the years,
when you have grown old and thin
and no longer particular,
and the things you once thought
you were rid of forever
have taken you back in their arms.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Running on the Shore
by May Swenson
The sun is hot, the ocean cool. The waves
throw down their snowy heads. I run
under their hiss and boom, mine their wild
breath. Running the ledge where pipers
prod their awls into sand-crab holes,
my barefoot tracks their little prints cross
on wet slate. Circles of romping water swipe
and drag away our evidence. Running and
gone, running and gone, the casts of our feet.
My twin, my sprinting shadow on yellow shag,
wand of summer over my head, it seems
that we could run forever while the strong
waves crash. But sun takes its belly under.
Flashing above magnetic peaks of the ocean's
purple heave, the gannet climbs,
and turning, turns
to a black sword that drops,
hilt-down, to the deep.
The sun is hot, the ocean cool. The waves
throw down their snowy heads. I run
under their hiss and boom, mine their wild
breath. Running the ledge where pipers
prod their awls into sand-crab holes,
my barefoot tracks their little prints cross
on wet slate. Circles of romping water swipe
and drag away our evidence. Running and
gone, running and gone, the casts of our feet.
My twin, my sprinting shadow on yellow shag,
wand of summer over my head, it seems
that we could run forever while the strong
waves crash. But sun takes its belly under.
Flashing above magnetic peaks of the ocean's
purple heave, the gannet climbs,
and turning, turns
to a black sword that drops,
hilt-down, to the deep.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
One Friend
by Keb' Mo'
People come and
People go
They take and they give
Build you up
Just to let you down
That's just the way it is
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
To understand
And never let me down
I've been in love
I've been in pain
I'm a sinner
And a saint
No matter where I am
Or what I do
It's you I appreciate
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
to understand
And never let me down
Can't nobody love you
More than you love yourself
And as long as I've got my one good friend
I don't need nobody else
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
To understand
And never let me down
People come and
People go
They take and they give
Build you up
Just to let you down
That's just the way it is
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
To understand
And never let me down
I've been in love
I've been in pain
I'm a sinner
And a saint
No matter where I am
Or what I do
It's you I appreciate
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
to understand
And never let me down
Can't nobody love you
More than you love yourself
And as long as I've got my one good friend
I don't need nobody else
All I need is one friend
To get me through the day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
To understand
And never let me down
At Summer's End
by John Engels
Early August, and the young butternut
is already dropping its leaves, the nuts
thud and ring on the tin roof,
the squirrels are everywhere.
Such richness! It means something to them
that this tree should seem so eager
to finish its business.
The voice softens, and word becomes air
the moment it is spoken. You finger the limp leaves.
Precisely to the degree that you have loved something:
a house, a woman, a bird, this tree, anything at all,
you are punished by time.
Like the tree,
I take myself by surprise.
Early August, and the young butternut
is already dropping its leaves, the nuts
thud and ring on the tin roof,
the squirrels are everywhere.
Such richness! It means something to them
that this tree should seem so eager
to finish its business.
The voice softens, and word becomes air
the moment it is spoken. You finger the limp leaves.
Precisely to the degree that you have loved something:
a house, a woman, a bird, this tree, anything at all,
you are punished by time.
Like the tree,
I take myself by surprise.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Ordinary Weather of Summer
by Linda Pastan
In the ordinary weather of summer
with storms rumbling from west to east
like so many freight trains hauling
their cargo of heat and rain,
the dogs sprawl on the back steps, panting,
insects assemble at every window,
and we quarrel again, bombarding
each other with small grievances,
our tempers flashing on and off
in bursts of heat lightning.
In the cooler air of morning,
we drink our coffee amicably enough
and walk down to the sea
which seems to tremble with meaning
and into which we plunge again and again.
The days continue hot.
At dusk the shadows are as blue
as the lips of the children stained
with berries or with the chill
of too much swimming.
So we move another summer closer
to our last summer together—
a time as real and implacable as the sea
out of which we come walking
on wobbly legs as if for the first time,
drying ourselves with rough towels,
shaking the water out of our blinded eyes.
In the ordinary weather of summer
with storms rumbling from west to east
like so many freight trains hauling
their cargo of heat and rain,
the dogs sprawl on the back steps, panting,
insects assemble at every window,
and we quarrel again, bombarding
each other with small grievances,
our tempers flashing on and off
in bursts of heat lightning.
In the cooler air of morning,
we drink our coffee amicably enough
and walk down to the sea
which seems to tremble with meaning
and into which we plunge again and again.
The days continue hot.
At dusk the shadows are as blue
as the lips of the children stained
with berries or with the chill
of too much swimming.
So we move another summer closer
to our last summer together—
a time as real and implacable as the sea
out of which we come walking
on wobbly legs as if for the first time,
drying ourselves with rough towels,
shaking the water out of our blinded eyes.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Another Dispatch from the Bizarro World of Disability
The wife and I are not sporty people. Yes, I was a high school athlete and yes, I would love to run a marathon some day but we do not follow sports and we do not play sports.
So how is it that we find ourselves having sushi with Para-Olympians Anthony Lara and Kaitlen Verfuerth the week we are checking out a sports camp that we may be putting Annie in next year?
This, again, is one of the paradoxes of the disabled community; just about every program we have come across for wheelchair-bound children is one that pushes the boundaries of what people think is possible - and that usually involves sports. There are no knitting circles in the disabled community.
The camp is run by San Diego Adaptive Sports. Take a look at the list of activities in a 5 day camp:
- Cycling
- Basketball
- Kayaking
- Sailing
- Snorkeling
- Scuba Diving
- Lacrosse
- Tennis
- Rugby
- Archery
And those are just the ones we know of.
And while we are on the subject, Annie is scheduled for her first surf lesson on September 10th through an organization called Life Rolls On. If she likes it (and she will) we will probably hook up with another sports program called Wheels to Water which does both surfing and SCUBA diving.
Here's what that might look like:
Again, we are not sporty people. If I had an able-bodied son I would probably not be scoping out sports camps and surfing lessons (unless he became interested on his own and asked). Instead we have been blessed with a "disabled" daughter - and it is her very disability that paradoxically drives us to sports.
We don't want Annie to define her life by the "can't do's" but by the "can do's". We feel that sports and philanthropy (serving at soup kitchens and such) are going to be a big part of Annie's childhood.
Yes, you CAN do it and yes, you DO have something to give.
And so in this Bizarro world of disability, two non-sporty parents find themselves dining with para-Olympians and checking out sports camps for their wheelchair-bound daughter.
Which brings up one last bizarro thought: On Annie's first day of First Grade, when everyone describes what they did that summer, she may be the only kid in the room who has ever been surfing, kayaking, sailing and lord knows what else and that thought rocks my world.
Sometimes it's hard to remember if we are wounded people engulfed in pain or empowered people serving as inspiration. A little of both most days . . .
What a life.
So how is it that we find ourselves having sushi with Para-Olympians Anthony Lara and Kaitlen Verfuerth the week we are checking out a sports camp that we may be putting Annie in next year?
This, again, is one of the paradoxes of the disabled community; just about every program we have come across for wheelchair-bound children is one that pushes the boundaries of what people think is possible - and that usually involves sports. There are no knitting circles in the disabled community.
The camp is run by San Diego Adaptive Sports. Take a look at the list of activities in a 5 day camp:
- Cycling
- Basketball
- Kayaking
- Sailing
- Snorkeling
- Scuba Diving
- Lacrosse
- Tennis
- Rugby
- Archery
And those are just the ones we know of.
And while we are on the subject, Annie is scheduled for her first surf lesson on September 10th through an organization called Life Rolls On. If she likes it (and she will) we will probably hook up with another sports program called Wheels to Water which does both surfing and SCUBA diving.
Here's what that might look like:
Again, we are not sporty people. If I had an able-bodied son I would probably not be scoping out sports camps and surfing lessons (unless he became interested on his own and asked). Instead we have been blessed with a "disabled" daughter - and it is her very disability that paradoxically drives us to sports.
We don't want Annie to define her life by the "can't do's" but by the "can do's". We feel that sports and philanthropy (serving at soup kitchens and such) are going to be a big part of Annie's childhood.
Yes, you CAN do it and yes, you DO have something to give.
And so in this Bizarro world of disability, two non-sporty parents find themselves dining with para-Olympians and checking out sports camps for their wheelchair-bound daughter.
Which brings up one last bizarro thought: On Annie's first day of First Grade, when everyone describes what they did that summer, she may be the only kid in the room who has ever been surfing, kayaking, sailing and lord knows what else and that thought rocks my world.
Sometimes it's hard to remember if we are wounded people engulfed in pain or empowered people serving as inspiration. A little of both most days . . .
What a life.
The Bizarro World of Parenting a Disabled Child
Sometimes being a dad to a disabled child just makes my head spin. On the one hand, you have the disability to contend with - on the other hand, you are almost granted a privileged status in society.
For example:
- With our disabled placard we don't have to pay to park in public spaces. That's right, we don't have to feed the meter - EVER. We can park in green zones as long as we want - and of course, there are all those blue spaces right up front.
- Whenever we go to an amusement park, one adult gets in free as Annie's escort
- When we go to Disneyland, Sea World, etc we don't have to wait in line for rides - we go in the exit
- Next month, Annie is going to have her first surf lesson through Life Rolls On and it's FREE (did I mention lunch is included?)
- If Annie takes to surfing the way we expect she will, there is another free surf/scuba program in our area called Wheels to Water that we plan on checking out
All that to say, as a parent you spend your days agonizing with, dealing with and trying to overcome this horrible disability and then, "Oh yay! Free parking!" Sometimes it makes my head spin.
I was explaining my thoughts to the wife yesterday and I quipped, "We should get a bumper sticker that reads, 'Spina Bifida - We're just in it for the free parking'". The wife had two excellent responses.
1) Would you trade all the perks if it meant your child could be able-bodied? Of course. In fact, I would give up all the perks just to have the disability transferred from her to me.
2) Our daughter is in a wheelchair - throw us a bone for Pete's sake - and we will accept just about every bone thrown
But it is a weird road to be on sometimes . . . . a "best of times - worst of times" sort of existence.
For example:
- With our disabled placard we don't have to pay to park in public spaces. That's right, we don't have to feed the meter - EVER. We can park in green zones as long as we want - and of course, there are all those blue spaces right up front.
- Whenever we go to an amusement park, one adult gets in free as Annie's escort
- When we go to Disneyland, Sea World, etc we don't have to wait in line for rides - we go in the exit
- Next month, Annie is going to have her first surf lesson through Life Rolls On and it's FREE (did I mention lunch is included?)
- If Annie takes to surfing the way we expect she will, there is another free surf/scuba program in our area called Wheels to Water that we plan on checking out
All that to say, as a parent you spend your days agonizing with, dealing with and trying to overcome this horrible disability and then, "Oh yay! Free parking!" Sometimes it makes my head spin.
I was explaining my thoughts to the wife yesterday and I quipped, "We should get a bumper sticker that reads, 'Spina Bifida - We're just in it for the free parking'". The wife had two excellent responses.
1) Would you trade all the perks if it meant your child could be able-bodied? Of course. In fact, I would give up all the perks just to have the disability transferred from her to me.
2) Our daughter is in a wheelchair - throw us a bone for Pete's sake - and we will accept just about every bone thrown
But it is a weird road to be on sometimes . . . . a "best of times - worst of times" sort of existence.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Ringing in Three
So Annabelle turned three this past Sunday - but how to celebrate? For whatever reason, the wife and I found ourselves too mentally, emotionally, socially, physically, spiritually and financially exhausted to mount a big party. Annie still doesn't quite get the whole "birthday thing" so this is probably the last year we could get away with not throwing a party. We decided to simplify and ask ourselves, "What would put the biggest smiles on Annie's face?" We decided to spend the day as a family.
Sunday started off at church and afterwards we took advantage of our passes and headed to Sea World.
We rode the sky tram over the bay:
Saw the Blue Horizons show:
Went to the Sesame Street 4D show:
Fed some Sea Lions:
Had some Ice Cream:
And then headed home to cuddle on the couch:
On the way home we picked up a new art table for Annie that is a perfect fit for her new wheelchair:
A couple of days later, some friends came over for dinner and it seemed as a good a time as any to make a cake:
We popped a tray of lasagna in the oven and headed out back for a summer evening in the yard:
Finished off with cake, of course:
Annie was all smiles all day on Sunday and had a blast playing with her "brothers from another mother" later in the week. If the smiles on Annie-Lu's face are any indicator, it was the best birthday yet!
Sunday started off at church and afterwards we took advantage of our passes and headed to Sea World.
We rode the sky tram over the bay:
Saw the Blue Horizons show:
Went to the Sesame Street 4D show:
Fed some Sea Lions:
Had some Ice Cream:
And then headed home to cuddle on the couch:
On the way home we picked up a new art table for Annie that is a perfect fit for her new wheelchair:
A couple of days later, some friends came over for dinner and it seemed as a good a time as any to make a cake:
We popped a tray of lasagna in the oven and headed out back for a summer evening in the yard:
Finished off with cake, of course:
Annie was all smiles all day on Sunday and had a blast playing with her "brothers from another mother" later in the week. If the smiles on Annie-Lu's face are any indicator, it was the best birthday yet!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Dragonfly
by Louise Bogan
You are made of almost nothing
But of enough
To be great eyes
And diaphanous double vans;
To be ceaseless movement,
Unending hunger,
Grappling love.
Link between water and air,
Earth repels you.
Light touches you only to shift into iridescence
Upon your body and wings.
Twice-born, predator,
You split into the heat.
Swift beyond calculation or capture
You dart into the shadow
Which consumes you.
You rocket into the day.
But at last, when the wind flattens the grasses,
For you, the design and purpose stop.
And you fall
With the other husks of summer.
You are made of almost nothing
But of enough
To be great eyes
And diaphanous double vans;
To be ceaseless movement,
Unending hunger,
Grappling love.
Link between water and air,
Earth repels you.
Light touches you only to shift into iridescence
Upon your body and wings.
Twice-born, predator,
You split into the heat.
Swift beyond calculation or capture
You dart into the shadow
Which consumes you.
You rocket into the day.
But at last, when the wind flattens the grasses,
For you, the design and purpose stop.
And you fall
With the other husks of summer.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Quote of the Day
For I was hungry, while you had all you needed. I was thirsty, but you drank bottled water. I was a stranger, and you wanted me deported. I needed clothes, but you needed more clothes. I was sick, and you pointed out the behaviors that led to my sickness. I was in prison, and you said I was getting what I deserved.
Matthew 25:42-43(RESV-Richard E. Stearns Version)
The Hole in Our Gospel: What Does God Expect of Us? The answer that changed my life and just might change the world.
Matthew 25:42-43(RESV-Richard E. Stearns Version)
The Hole in Our Gospel: What Does God Expect of Us? The answer that changed my life and just might change the world.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Beluga Boogie
One of our favorite attractions at Sea World is the Beluga whales. The way the sunlight through the water glimmers on their skin is something to behold.
Who knew they could dance to Mariachi as well?
Who knew they could dance to Mariachi as well?
Quote of the Day
Being that I am human, I cannot help but be reminded that men and women, Christians and non-Christians, in their imperfect humanity and sin nature will: draw their own conclusions, believe false things, pass their own judgments, agree, disagree, analyze, label, file, categorize, etc.
It goes with the territory and is immaterial. Jesus knows and this is all that matters.
- Anonymous
It goes with the territory and is immaterial. Jesus knows and this is all that matters.
- Anonymous
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
"Hey Baby!"
That's one of Annie's newest catch-phrases. In fact, she has a whole routine: You walk into the room, she smiles and says, "Hey baby!" then she gives you an air kiss, claps her hands (while saying "clap, clap!") and finishes it off with a "Yay Annie!"
And then she looks at you as if to say, "How was that?"
And then she looks at you as if to say, "How was that?"
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