Tag: ayden

  • School days of August

    School days of August

    ​I had a bit of an emotional morning the other day .. at a strange place no less: A gas station..

    After filling my car with regular octane, I walked into the store to grab a snack and coffee … and noticed Halloween candy. Halloween candy!?  And back to school signs! Autumn!? School buses!?

    I have been out of high school long enough to not care as much about the change of seasons as I did then. For years now, the only real difference between the heat of summer and vibrant colors of fall has been the reemergence of buses and children with faces of dread waiting for their ride to the hallowed halls of wherever..

    But this year, the emotions will be much higher. Much more real. This year, after all, will be my son’s first year of the real deal: Kindergarten. On a bus. At a school..

    My wife told me she plans on having emotions that first day. I casually said I understand and tried to toughen my own upper lip—though I know full well I will shed as many tears of time that she will.  Along with that, with my typical mindset, I will have every type of worry flying through my mind.. From now and until forever.

    # # #

    It really is a strange thing to consider.. After all of this formative years of my son’s early age passing by so quickly, I have become inclined to long for the nights of bottles and diaper changes. My heart aches with nostalgia when I think back to Thomas the Train toys and Caillou marathons. Well… maybe not the Caillou part. 

    But all of this!? All of this done? Gone? Five years already over? Yes indeed.. and now a new phase of life has come. The school time. Life will change for my son. My wife. And me. 

    # # #

    Life did begin changing this summer. Starting around July, my wife and I decided that not only would Ayden play soccer, but that WE WOULD COACH A TEAM! So we signed up and go the same shirts as the kids.. two games into the regular season already behind us, the shocking part of all of this (more than even the notion of two people being thrown into a coaching scenario)  is how fast all of the soccer season as gone as well!  Early July, when practice was over, the light of day would continue ferociously into the 9pm hour.  Now as we edge towards the end of summer, we begin to see the darkness creeping in… 820..810..8pm.. Slowly but surely, the time of tomorrow is beginning today. No stopping it now. Progress halts for no one.

    # # #

    The emotional change from one ‘season’ of life to another is most likely shared by what YOU have gone through. OR going through now.

    The school year can reap amazing benefits.. or leave you feeling collapsed by the weight of time. 

    The festival of Samhain just around the corner, as is the traditional highlights of the autumn season.

    # # #

    Perhaps all of this sounds too over the top? Too melodramatic even.. If that is the case, chances are you never had a child or don’t have one now.. you do not realize the beautiful feeling of holding your spawn close and providing as much love for him or her as you could… 

    We have a room of toys currently. The contents of rooms change.. The vestiges of the past get dusty. But they all meant something … They all had a purpose. The new future will be filled with homework and tests… eventually adulthood.

    I am not ready yet!

    I want the first five years of life back all over again. 

    But the future is now.

    And bus doors are opening ever so soon.

  • Never underestimate the intelligence of a child

    Never underestimate the intelligence of a child

    My son paused from games and playing this weekend to note something to me.. In his innocent five year old voice, he conjectured that ‘there are a lot of bad people on the planet.’

    It was a remarkable statement from someone still new to this big hot pale blue mess.

    On Friday night he overheard a bit of evening local news describing a small town criminal who killed an infant. I knew he heard it but when I noticed him watching he turned away.

    My Tv was glued–a bit–to tragic news of Christina Grimmie being killed and then over 100 being shot at the Pulse night club. It clearly was notice for my son, who had a puzzled looked of sadness on his face when he realized just how many bad guys there were on the planet.

    I told him that he was right.. That there were bad people. But I reassured him that there were more good than bad.

    Then I secretly pondered how I’d reassure myself of that very sentiment..

  • 90th Anniversary: Knoebels opens–and promises a new room of scares!

    90th Anniversary: Knoebels opens–and promises a new room of scares!

    Simply put: Knoebels is the best park in the state of Pennsylvania.
    Scratch that.. the nation..
    Scratch that.. the world.
    Need I go on?

    Perhaps there is a bias here. I have been traveling to Knoebels Grove since I was an infant.. I go every year–being about 25 minutes away helps.

    The park has free admission. Free parking. And yet with the influx of new people over the past decade, it has managed to keep its past in check. It still feels like home. No one ever frowns—-not one person who passes me by in the crowd seems unhappy at all.  Knoebels is an escape from reality.. it is quaint and fun. Good fun. And fantasy…
    And this year: It includes an extra scare.

    The haunted house at Knoebels is a fun little ride. Pizza first or after is fine, there’s a stand right next to it. Along with DipNDots ice cream.

    This year, for the 90th anniversary of Knoebels, it’s time to scream. The park promises new ghosts and a new room in the famed haunted house.

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    The 90th anniversary press blitz has been a fantastic tribute to the success of this park… Make a trip if you can..

    The haunted house, for sure, will be on the list for me during my most likely MANY encounters with the park.

    And now that my son is 5, perhaps it’s time to acquaint him with the ghostly screams and beeping buses that the haunted house has to offer..

     

  • The 33-year-old photo, signed sealed and delivered

    The 33-year-old photo, signed sealed and delivered

    In May of 2015, I posted a photograph of my son Ayden in a store that was closing in my mall. In the article, I mentioned how similar the photo looked to one taken of me, when I was three years old, in Centralia Pennsylvania.  I have the photograph of myself.  I did not publish it due to copyright issues. It was from a book called SLOW BURN, a 1980s photodocumentary with pictures taken by Renée Jacobs.

    For those who don’t know much about Centralia, an underground mine fire started decades ago. A series of bad missteps from officials and twists and turns of neighborly breakdowns occurred, and the town went from 2000 people to … just about zero. The town has also become a tourist attraction, it’s home to the famed graffiti highway, and the movie SILENT HILL was based on it. An upcoming project promises a television series based on the town.

     

    THIRTY YEARS LATER.

    I constantly peruse through historical documents, not only of life itself but of my own personal existence. I can be nostalgic when unneeded.. but I also believe a bit of self recollection helps maturity.

    In that regard, I reached out to photographer Renée Jacobs. It’s funny. I was pictured in the book on page 13 standing next to a borehole in my back yard, and my parents were both quoted. I actually recall it .. Vaguely at best. But I recall the moment! I remember the exact time it was taken.  It was warm.. I recall the smells..  The picture is in black and white, but I have it in my mind in vivid color.. That is probably how most of your lives are too, you can think back and pinpoint a single action during your early toddler or childhood years. Just a brief moment in time, one captured with a feeling. My feeling at the time the picture was taken: Confusion and sadness. Friends were vanishing. Houses were too.. I loved watching demolition teams come in and destroy entire blocks of row homes.. it wasn’t until I grew up more that I realized they were destroying my hometown from top to bottom.

    After my contact to Ms. Jacobs, I received something in the mail, and I could not be more ecstatic.

     

    THANK YOU!

    Renée Jacobs sent my an autographed print of page 13, featuring the young me with wide eyes and a future to come, along with a note.

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    The work on Jacobs’ website is stunning and beautiful. It may not be for the WORK atmosphere. A link to her page,  http://www.reneejacobs.com/,  comes perhaps with a bit of caution..

    Renée Jacobs’ black and white fine art nude photography gives the viewer a luxurious peek into the ultra-sensual world of the feminine. Beyond sexy, her photographs are dreamy and secretive, daring and alluring. Her subjects give Renée their trust and the result is a collaborative journey which fulfills fantasies.

    Jacobs’ work has been exhibited and celebrated around the world. She also received the prestigious International Photography Award for Fine Art Nude.  Her 2009 & 2010 photo calendars went to #1 on Amazon. She had work as a photojournalist. Just recently, an announcement came from Duke University: 

    The Archive of Documentary Arts, a part of the David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library at Duke University, is pleased to announce its recent acquisition of Renée Jacobs’ archive of her project Slow Burn: A Photodocument of Centralia, Pennslyvania. Slow Burn, first published in 1986 by University of Pennsylvania Press, chronicles Centralia’s demise from an underground coal mine fire and depicts a singular epic event in Pennsylvania history, representing the confluence of environmental, scientific, bureaucratic, and emotional tragedies

     

    I love this part of her bio: “Her first book, Slow Burn: A Photodocument of Centralia, Pennsylvania was originally published in 1986 and re-issued in 2010 to favorable reviews in The New York Times Review of Books and photo-eye.  After a 15 year detour as a civil rights lawyer, Renée returned to photography. ”

    A detour in life! One that takes you away from your passion and zeal..your Zest for life and creative spirit.

    I am sure she was a fine attorney.
    Looking at her photos, I am glad she returned back from the detour.

     

    And Renée, I couldn’t be more appreciate and ecstatic over the personal note and photo.

    Thank you.

  • I hate fish tanks, except this one

    I hate fish tanks, except this one

    I hate fish tanks, except this one

    I dislike the work and hardships that come with fish tanks. Not only the dead fish who wash up to the top, but the endless cleaning.. endless power eating.. endless work. But I would make a sacrifice, as would my wife and son, if we could get this amazing fish tank: The work they put into it was tough. So tough I wouldn’t do it. But I’d buy it.. The video here:…

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  • Untitled post 12573

    Today was Sunday squash slicing day..
    It turned out well.
    A pumpkin to represent each member of the family except the dog. We forgot that one..
    But the human are all accounted for in squash form.

  • A memory at the beach 

    A memory at the beach 

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    The summer is waning. The final days are quickly approaching. .This past weekend, in a last impromptu decision, my wife and son, along with our niece, went to Long Beach Island for two days and one night.. we rummaged through the online database of phone numbers to find the right place at the right price—still pricey. The beach was abuzz with life. A few specialty shops already closed for the…

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  • Health non scares and selfish cares

    Health non scares and selfish cares

    Hypochondria and children..
    They don’t mix well.

    Allow me to explain.

    I am a paranoid hypochondriac. I have always been a hypochondriac, since childhood when I thought every little thing was wrong with me and fretted endlessly about it.. and then into my teenage years when I held it private so no one would know.. and my 20s when I thought I was aging faster than many others and sick all of the time.. and now soon my mid-30s, where I worry about blood circulation, brain cells diminishing, heart problems.. everything including the C word. Yes, hypochondria.

    The most recent ailment to grip me: One leg seems to be bigger than the other.. blood clot!? Circulation problem!? Lymphoedema!? I need to un-bookmark WEB MD.

    I don’t have (a substantial knock on wood will loudly take place after I write this sentence) any of these problems mentioned. At least not that I know of.. Although that one leg being bigger thing has me perplexed. But when is studied closer, I noticed one arm is bigger than the other.. Perhaps one ear, too.. We are not symmetric. Until I feel pain I’ll ignore it.

    Oh but pain?
    When I begin thinking about things, suddenly the mind-body connection works perfectly. I can’t win the lottery through positive thought, but I can sure make myself sicker with negative dwelling..

    And enter a child.

    There is a little something different about my hypochondria over the past few years. It has, let’s say, matured. I am not selfish anymore.. A hypochondriac is somewhat selfish, after all. The “me me” and “I’m sick!” when someone else is sick is almost offensive. As a matter of fact, here is a little secret about someone with hypochondria: When someone they love is sick, or worse, they too will begin to wonder if they have the same symptoms. And when you look through the voluminous symptoms most diseases (and the C word) have, they are similar. They are scary.. the hypochondriac precipitously has each one!
    Selfishness…
    Studdornness..
    And then a the hypochondriac becomes a father. Or mother. In my case, a proud dad since February 2011.

    And that is where my vexing over medical ailments that never were changed.

    I went to the ER for a lot of problems in life.

    There was the time I had a blood clot. But didn’t. Or the moment I swore I swallowed a chicken bone, but miraculously had no evidence to prove it. Or the heart issue.. Probably bad diet and too much coffee. Or my big leg. I stand by the time I went to the hospital for a snake bite. I was bit. But probably by a ringneck and not a poisonous killer.

    That was then.

    Pre-parenting.
    Now as a dad, the hypochondriac in my wonders all of the irrational things about my child. I keep them to myself, though. I do not want him picking up any potential traits of a worrying goofball who always tries to find the next ailment to create a medical crisis.

    When my son turned two, or somewhat around that period of time, he developed a nasty flu. And fever. The fever was so bad, we had to take him to the ER. He was over 105 and rising.. this may have been the most frightening night of my modern life—truly. My wife and I were kind-of-new parents, two years in and not yet fully adapted to everything. But to see a child of yours lethargic and deficient of all energy, zapped by a horrible fever, is scary.. hypochondria stopped being an issue for a bit. Now it was real. Now it was dangerous..

    He improved with the help of antibiotics.. I hope to never have to deal with such a long night again, and don’t wish it on any other parents.

    But this is where my hypochondria changed. Instead of only selfishly tormenting my own body and mind in a ‘me me’ fashion, I looked at my innocent son Ayden and realized that I needed to keep myself healthy for him. Not for me anymore.. for him. He needed me then and does not. The same goes for my wife. Our son needs us to be healthy .. for him.

    That is an interesting change, for anyone I think. Going from someone who loses sleep because of the array of medical harms that could come my way and instead dismantling a thought process to actually improve your mind and body is a big change.

    Additional to that, I am 34 and almost 35. Candles will be on a cake in only less than one month as Virgo the Virgin takes over the calendar. I admit, this is not “old” in the modern sense. Maybe the Victorian sense.. however, I still think I am aging. With that process, I am becoming more open to the chances of ailments actually striking. But the goal now is to not SEARCH for problems, but instead prevent them. That is interesting to my. As a hypochondriac for life, I always thought I had every problem but yet somehow didn’t strive hard to prevent them. After achieving the prize of parenthood, my diet changed. I quit drinking alcohol in the volume I was during my 20s.. I look for clean and healthy GMO free food. I care about things that may endanger me.. I want to be healthy. I want to beat hypochondria by actually being well. And feeling well.

    We all have medical crises that take place. And they will take place when we least expect them. Like swollen legs—although in my case I think it’s just an old fashioned moment of hypochondria and a disproportionate body.

    When you have a child, however, the medical crises you get hit with will affect not only you, but mostly now others.. The ripple effect sets in.. Your child, or children, need you. And for that reason, anyone out there who is still a parent with hypochondria needs to ditch that idea as fast as you can. Improve your mind and body. Actually work day and night to eat to live instead of live to eat. Cut the alcohol… and whatever else. Because unless you actually care a bit more to achieve a long life for your child, your hypochondria may come to fruition.

  • Untitled post 13220

    About a year ago I wrote a critical post concerning UNCLE GRANDA (http://coalspeaker.com/post/63312159390/a-question-for-all-the-parents-out-there) .. I was also called to task on my statement. One reader wrote this at the time: 

    That show is great. Seriously. It is all about acceptance and just being yourself. Uncle Grandpa is there when you’re down and reminds you everything is going to be alright. It’s a good stupid show with a serious message.

    Another wrote,

    it has really solid messages about confidence and body positivity. have you even watched it?

    And finally, people began sending me messages calling me out on my initial criticism.. 

    I gave in at the time. I announced I’d watch Uncle Grandpa. Or at least try..

    And now these days, almost two years later, my son is watching UNCLE GRANDPA. And laughing, loving it. He doesn’t quite get everything.. but who would completely comprehend a giant realistic flying tiger that shoots rainbows from its rear?

    However… I admit it. I say it now, for the record: I have come to not only enjoy UNCLE GRANDPA, but I laugh out loud at parts and also see the deeper lessons in play.

    I admit when I make mistakes. I misjudged the gramps without watching the show .. I have now accepted it.

    And I am thankful that the KID WHO’S FOUR, CAILLOU, is a long distant memory of my son Ayden..