As snowfall accumulated this Johnstown February, I eyed spring. It was time for winter cleaning. The snow takes its toll, but I sometimes feel buried by things and stuff. When you combine snow with things and stuff, you have a recipe for a demolition.
Having too much stuff is a first world problem. Being overwhelmed by overabundance is the world I am living in. The positive in this situation is that giving things away and letting stuff go provides a touch of health for those of us with blessings of wealth. My wife and I are on a systematic annihilation of accumulation. She recently attended a decluttering workshop at Our Mother of Sorrows parish. On that same day, I watched a minimalism documentary. And... away...we...go.
Stuff adds up quickly when you keep things. Over the summer, I began my own decluttering effort. I realized that The Tribune Democrat was not going to do a feature story on my Little League career (All Star 10 year old, 11 year old, 12 year old). I would not need to show visual evidence of my days on the diamond. The trophies were tossed. My wife's swimming hardware took a dumpster dive this weekend. Imprisoned in cardboard boxes, the trophies have transitioned to somewhere better. And then the T-shirts...
My walk-in closet became more walk-able. A man need not keep this many T-shirts. At one point in my 1st world life, I clung to the sentimental value of some of these Ts as stains and dust clung to them. Eventually, I identified that folding old, unwearable T-shirts was insane. Dad had to let go of race, sports, and vacation T-shirts. When you have a category of "vacation T-shirts", it is time to change your life.
The kids don't see the comedy in all this. They also don't see the garbage bags full of toys I have removed from the home. If the Internet still exists in the future, and my girls read this blog, they can debate over whether my top secret removal of duplicate stuffed animals was just. My hope is that someone in town is inheriting stuff and things they need. Some of my stuff might end up in someone else's cardboard box in the basement or squeezed into an attic crevice, but alas, it is not on my plot of land.
The upcoming season of Lent is often thought of as a time to give something up, or as a time to eat more fish. For me, letting stuff go and throwing things out started well before Lent, and I imagine will continue. The minimalism documentary showed me that there is a range to the art of simplifying one's life. I don't need 100 T-shirts, but having only 2 doesn't sound or smell right.
What I will hold on to is memories. My daughter and I assembled a neighborhood team and built a snowwoman 6+ feet high this February. We placed a bicycle beside her. She had a helmet, pink golf ball eyes, and a Swedish fish mouth- a Swedish, snowwoman cyclist. Not much of her was left today. My daughter did decide to take one of her golf balls eyes into the bath tub this fine evening. Obviously, the snowwoman didn't need it anymore and the ball was dirty.
I imagine my wife hitting that pink ball into the woods one day. I'll smile. One less thing in our house.
I love my life and the people in it. Goodbye, stuff and things. Accumulate somewhere else. Hurry up, Spring.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Line of Sight
On this past Tuesday, the 3rd annual celebration of Johnstown's Vision 2025 was held at Ace's in Cambria City. My wife and I proudly were a part of that celebration. In a room of hundreds, we listened and learned. The Vision 2025 initiative is full of buzz words and phrases - "capture teams", "life sustaining landscapes", and "youth engagement", to name a few, but it all comes down to community members coming together. That is how you capture, sustain, and engage.
So, we are the buzz and that is empowering. In that celebratory room and around Johnstown, you can see positive change. As a volunteer for the Bikes and Trails capture team, I have had the honor to chuck wood, sling mud, and dig dirt with a bunch of guys I never met until trail work began. Breaking new ground is never easy, especially when you are standing on a precarious hillside. Chainsaws have a buzz too.
On Saturday, I teamed up with a band of brothers to continue to build the Inclined Plane Trail. The end result is going to be an adventurous track for mountain bikers, hikers, runners, and nature lovers. Saturday's trail work was intense, ambitious, and unified. It was certainly manual labor, but it felt more like maniacal love - for outdoor adventure, for creating something new, and building a path for the future. A shout out to the guys I dug beside on Saturday - it was fun to dig deep and dream big.
I'm not sure what Johnstown will look like in 2025, but I know what Ace's looked like on Tuesday. I know what the trail looked like on Saturday. I like what I see.
Feel empowered. Capture. Sustain. Engage.
So, we are the buzz and that is empowering. In that celebratory room and around Johnstown, you can see positive change. As a volunteer for the Bikes and Trails capture team, I have had the honor to chuck wood, sling mud, and dig dirt with a bunch of guys I never met until trail work began. Breaking new ground is never easy, especially when you are standing on a precarious hillside. Chainsaws have a buzz too.
On Saturday, I teamed up with a band of brothers to continue to build the Inclined Plane Trail. The end result is going to be an adventurous track for mountain bikers, hikers, runners, and nature lovers. Saturday's trail work was intense, ambitious, and unified. It was certainly manual labor, but it felt more like maniacal love - for outdoor adventure, for creating something new, and building a path for the future. A shout out to the guys I dug beside on Saturday - it was fun to dig deep and dream big.
I'm not sure what Johnstown will look like in 2025, but I know what Ace's looked like on Tuesday. I know what the trail looked like on Saturday. I like what I see.
Feel empowered. Capture. Sustain. Engage.
Saturday, January 13, 2018
A 3 Year Journey
Upon turning 3, my daughter announced she wanted to remain 2. This predicament threatened the celebratory nature of a standard birthday, especially that of a child. Eventually, she worked through denial and danced the night away.
In her 3 years of life, 3 things stand out the most - health, music, and laughter. Those 3 things are important and here is why:
Health
There has been a lot of sniffles, sobs, and snot along the way, but all and all, I am grateful for my daughter's health. We have had some nasty falls and close calls. We have endured ear infections, boo- boos and battle cries. I recently did a load of laundry with a diaper in the washing machine. While discovering this immense OOPS, my daughter was attempting to rip down her Barbie house. The clothes were salvaged. The house did not collapse. My mental health was weakened. Only the strong survive.
On one of our last adventures together before my daughter reluctantly turned 3, we went to Seven Springs. We completed a Dad-Daughter triathlon - swimming, mini-golf, and bowling. Her health and growing mind and body were on display. She is an eager and excellent swimmer. She has no golf etiquette and she would rather be a groundskeeper. She spent most of her time picking rocks out of the 18th hole cup. And her bowling game - carefree and dangerous. I look forward to more triathlons.
On her birthday, she got a doctor's checkup. She stood 3 feet tall with a cough. She did not care about her congestion. She was thrilled she could now qualify for more amusement park rides due to her stature. She gave me a huge hug and coughed on me. It was beautiful.
Music
From an early age, my oldest daughter has loved music. The Muppets version of Bohemian Rhapsody is where it all began. When her little eyes met Animal's, a drummer was born. Her "drummer face" is a defining characteristic - a no nonsense, passionate expression. While Animal is her idol, local musicians have blazed her musical trail. A Dan Becker CD has become our Subaru soundtrack. Our daughter frequently requests "Fly Away" as the Outback is in motion. On her 3rd birthday, Dan elevated Happy Birthday with a ukulele. Inside Mill House Cafe, a 3-year-old girl got a special performance.
And hours later, The Evergreens made her birthday party. This local duo brought our house down with a birthday set list that included the Sesame Street theme song, Taylor Swift, and John Denver. In what feels like a long time ago, my wife and I heard The Evergreens play and we were hooked. Now they are our friends and inspiring a 3-year-old to beat to her own drum and keep that musical mind at work. As our family danced to "Leaving on a Jet Plane", a Brownstown basement was full of smiles, wonder, and love. Music brings people together.
Later that week, my daughter was on stage. She does not shy away from the spotlight. For years, Jill and Leah Gontkovic have been harmonizing at the Holiday Inn. Our daughter first heard this sister duo before she could crawl. Now, she walks on stage and chats with the girls in between songs. These are her people - kind, musically gifted Johnstowners.
Thank you Dan, Laurel, Amanda, Jill, and Leah. Keep playing and we will keep coming.
Laughter
My first three years as a father have been full of laughter. On her birthday, a Wednesday, I used a vacation day. Standing near the bathtub, I implored my birthday girl to wash herself - no one wants to stink on their big day. This was in the morning and at a time when she still wanted to be 2. She politely then violently refused to get a bath. With watery eyes and no chance in hell of getting in the water, she screamed at me, "JUST GO TO WORK, DAD! GO TO WORK!"
She eventually got in the tub and I did not go to work. We had a great day together - me, her mom, her baby sister, family, friends, neighbors, musicians, and the friendly staff at Laurel Pediatrics. On the same day I couldn't convince her to get a bath, she asked her doctor to "keep checking me up", essentially feeling like she was not getting enough medical attention. Our daughter is funny and parenting is nuts.
At church on Saturday night, the priest talked about finding moments of silence and there was an intention for those living in chaos. If you have lived in a home with small children or are currently living in one, you know chaos reigns and silence is a myth. While the priest is talking about silence, I am in a pew of chaos. It is my life. Finding time for reflection is important, but I'm holding on tight to my funny children.
It has been a chaotic and blessed journey. I feel good about the birthdays ahead. Cheers to good health, good music, and a good laugh.
In her 3 years of life, 3 things stand out the most - health, music, and laughter. Those 3 things are important and here is why:
Health
There has been a lot of sniffles, sobs, and snot along the way, but all and all, I am grateful for my daughter's health. We have had some nasty falls and close calls. We have endured ear infections, boo- boos and battle cries. I recently did a load of laundry with a diaper in the washing machine. While discovering this immense OOPS, my daughter was attempting to rip down her Barbie house. The clothes were salvaged. The house did not collapse. My mental health was weakened. Only the strong survive.
On one of our last adventures together before my daughter reluctantly turned 3, we went to Seven Springs. We completed a Dad-Daughter triathlon - swimming, mini-golf, and bowling. Her health and growing mind and body were on display. She is an eager and excellent swimmer. She has no golf etiquette and she would rather be a groundskeeper. She spent most of her time picking rocks out of the 18th hole cup. And her bowling game - carefree and dangerous. I look forward to more triathlons.
On her birthday, she got a doctor's checkup. She stood 3 feet tall with a cough. She did not care about her congestion. She was thrilled she could now qualify for more amusement park rides due to her stature. She gave me a huge hug and coughed on me. It was beautiful.
Music
From an early age, my oldest daughter has loved music. The Muppets version of Bohemian Rhapsody is where it all began. When her little eyes met Animal's, a drummer was born. Her "drummer face" is a defining characteristic - a no nonsense, passionate expression. While Animal is her idol, local musicians have blazed her musical trail. A Dan Becker CD has become our Subaru soundtrack. Our daughter frequently requests "Fly Away" as the Outback is in motion. On her 3rd birthday, Dan elevated Happy Birthday with a ukulele. Inside Mill House Cafe, a 3-year-old girl got a special performance.
And hours later, The Evergreens made her birthday party. This local duo brought our house down with a birthday set list that included the Sesame Street theme song, Taylor Swift, and John Denver. In what feels like a long time ago, my wife and I heard The Evergreens play and we were hooked. Now they are our friends and inspiring a 3-year-old to beat to her own drum and keep that musical mind at work. As our family danced to "Leaving on a Jet Plane", a Brownstown basement was full of smiles, wonder, and love. Music brings people together.
Later that week, my daughter was on stage. She does not shy away from the spotlight. For years, Jill and Leah Gontkovic have been harmonizing at the Holiday Inn. Our daughter first heard this sister duo before she could crawl. Now, she walks on stage and chats with the girls in between songs. These are her people - kind, musically gifted Johnstowners.
Thank you Dan, Laurel, Amanda, Jill, and Leah. Keep playing and we will keep coming.
Laughter
My first three years as a father have been full of laughter. On her birthday, a Wednesday, I used a vacation day. Standing near the bathtub, I implored my birthday girl to wash herself - no one wants to stink on their big day. This was in the morning and at a time when she still wanted to be 2. She politely then violently refused to get a bath. With watery eyes and no chance in hell of getting in the water, she screamed at me, "JUST GO TO WORK, DAD! GO TO WORK!"
She eventually got in the tub and I did not go to work. We had a great day together - me, her mom, her baby sister, family, friends, neighbors, musicians, and the friendly staff at Laurel Pediatrics. On the same day I couldn't convince her to get a bath, she asked her doctor to "keep checking me up", essentially feeling like she was not getting enough medical attention. Our daughter is funny and parenting is nuts.
At church on Saturday night, the priest talked about finding moments of silence and there was an intention for those living in chaos. If you have lived in a home with small children or are currently living in one, you know chaos reigns and silence is a myth. While the priest is talking about silence, I am in a pew of chaos. It is my life. Finding time for reflection is important, but I'm holding on tight to my funny children.
It has been a chaotic and blessed journey. I feel good about the birthdays ahead. Cheers to good health, good music, and a good laugh.
Monday, January 1, 2018
2018: Parent and Pray
On the first day of 2017, I had one daughter and killed a deer with my Subaru. On the first day of 2018, I had two daughters and zero kills. The stress level was about the same. Welcome to parenting.
Before and after this New Year, I found myself in the company of parents much like me - husbands and wives in their 30s, trying to sort through the madness. On December 27th, my wife and I had dinner with two other couples at Rizzo's in Windber. Without our kids, we talked mostly about our kids. On New Year's Eve, my wife and I went to a friend's house and all the kids were there - 6 of them between the ages of 3 months and 3, produced by 4 different couples.
My resolution this year is this - I want to be a good husband and father. I want to stay connected to those other parents in their 30s. We are like wolves. We travel in packs and howl at the moon because our kids won't go to bed.
At Rizzo's and my friend's house, this is what I learned.
1. Dinner without your kids is weird.
Once you are accustomed to eating while holding, feeding, or entertaining your kids, eating without them is bizarre. You don't know what to do with your hands. It's hard to find a posture that actually feels comfortable. I'm used to getting up 13 to 14 times during a meal. How am I supposed to sit here the entire time with the luxury of both of my arms?
2. Talking about pregnancy can happen at anytime.
I realized this the moment I started talking about childbirth on New Year's Eve. It was with two other Dads and we were watching hockey. Go Pens.
3. There is comfort in knowing someone else sleeps poorly.
You never want a friend to be sleep deprived. That's not friendly. But, it is nice knowing someone else is staring at the ceiling at 3:00 A.M.
4. School is scary.
Scary in the sense of expensive and confusing. How much will college cost in 15 years? What is common core math? Can I opt out of common core math and live an uncommon, mathematical life? I'm putting this out there and one day my kids can read it - I hated math class. But, girls, if you can get a college scholarship doing math, love it. Love that math.
5. Dad pain is real.
It's in the back, head, knees. It's all over. During a colossal clean up effort on New Year's Eve, a 3- year-old launched a puzzle out of a fire station (not a real fire station). It hit me in the shin. It really did hurt. I didn't say anything. I just sat there for a second. I focused on breathing, like they taught us in pregnancy class.
6. Swaying becomes natural.
Standing still is a lost art for the 30-something parent. Church is usually where the swaying intensifies, but it evolves into a universal phenomenon. Try to Snapchat a parent standing still. Your phone will die before you find one.
7. Midnight means nothing.
Whether it's the 1st of the year or your typical Thursday, midnight holds no significance. It's just another cycle on the clock. Yes, we let the kids do a countdown and pretended it was midnight. It was actually about 8:30. Happy It's Still 2017!
8. Planet Earth is awesome.
Every night for the past two weeks, I put my children to bed and get super pumped to watch the second installment of Planet Earth, the breathtaking documentary series, currently on Netflix. And every night, I fall asleep in some mesmerizing moment in Mother Nature. My eyes close in the rain forest. Two hours later, I'm on a mountain and have no idea what time it is.
9. Planet Earth is better than having a pet.
My family has no pets at this time. I love dogs and would one day think of getting one, but this is not that day or year. I listened to other parents talk about their pets while their watching their kids. Even as they talk about their pets, they are potentially losing track of their kids. I don't want to imagine a world where I have to let the dog out after the kids go to bed. I just want to watch a lion hunt a giraffe and call it a day.
10. Parent and Pray.
God is good and being a parent is great. It's the craziest, most challenging, mind bending thing I've ever done.
Time to sleep to Planet Earth. Goodnight, Johnstown. Make 2018 your best year ever. Or, maybe, just take it one day at a time.
Before and after this New Year, I found myself in the company of parents much like me - husbands and wives in their 30s, trying to sort through the madness. On December 27th, my wife and I had dinner with two other couples at Rizzo's in Windber. Without our kids, we talked mostly about our kids. On New Year's Eve, my wife and I went to a friend's house and all the kids were there - 6 of them between the ages of 3 months and 3, produced by 4 different couples.
My resolution this year is this - I want to be a good husband and father. I want to stay connected to those other parents in their 30s. We are like wolves. We travel in packs and howl at the moon because our kids won't go to bed.
At Rizzo's and my friend's house, this is what I learned.
1. Dinner without your kids is weird.
Once you are accustomed to eating while holding, feeding, or entertaining your kids, eating without them is bizarre. You don't know what to do with your hands. It's hard to find a posture that actually feels comfortable. I'm used to getting up 13 to 14 times during a meal. How am I supposed to sit here the entire time with the luxury of both of my arms?
2. Talking about pregnancy can happen at anytime.
I realized this the moment I started talking about childbirth on New Year's Eve. It was with two other Dads and we were watching hockey. Go Pens.
3. There is comfort in knowing someone else sleeps poorly.
You never want a friend to be sleep deprived. That's not friendly. But, it is nice knowing someone else is staring at the ceiling at 3:00 A.M.
4. School is scary.
Scary in the sense of expensive and confusing. How much will college cost in 15 years? What is common core math? Can I opt out of common core math and live an uncommon, mathematical life? I'm putting this out there and one day my kids can read it - I hated math class. But, girls, if you can get a college scholarship doing math, love it. Love that math.
5. Dad pain is real.
It's in the back, head, knees. It's all over. During a colossal clean up effort on New Year's Eve, a 3- year-old launched a puzzle out of a fire station (not a real fire station). It hit me in the shin. It really did hurt. I didn't say anything. I just sat there for a second. I focused on breathing, like they taught us in pregnancy class.
6. Swaying becomes natural.
Standing still is a lost art for the 30-something parent. Church is usually where the swaying intensifies, but it evolves into a universal phenomenon. Try to Snapchat a parent standing still. Your phone will die before you find one.
7. Midnight means nothing.
Whether it's the 1st of the year or your typical Thursday, midnight holds no significance. It's just another cycle on the clock. Yes, we let the kids do a countdown and pretended it was midnight. It was actually about 8:30. Happy It's Still 2017!
8. Planet Earth is awesome.
Every night for the past two weeks, I put my children to bed and get super pumped to watch the second installment of Planet Earth, the breathtaking documentary series, currently on Netflix. And every night, I fall asleep in some mesmerizing moment in Mother Nature. My eyes close in the rain forest. Two hours later, I'm on a mountain and have no idea what time it is.
9. Planet Earth is better than having a pet.
My family has no pets at this time. I love dogs and would one day think of getting one, but this is not that day or year. I listened to other parents talk about their pets while their watching their kids. Even as they talk about their pets, they are potentially losing track of their kids. I don't want to imagine a world where I have to let the dog out after the kids go to bed. I just want to watch a lion hunt a giraffe and call it a day.
10. Parent and Pray.
God is good and being a parent is great. It's the craziest, most challenging, mind bending thing I've ever done.
Time to sleep to Planet Earth. Goodnight, Johnstown. Make 2018 your best year ever. Or, maybe, just take it one day at a time.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Christmas Time: Miracles, Mayhem, Music, and More
Christmas is often described as a busy time. Society and those of us living in it have made it busy. As a holiday, a season, and a schedule - Christmas is not simple. But, I argue, it should be. It can be. It once was. Categorically, this is the simplest way to review how my family has survived the countdown.
MIRACLE
My wife and I participated in "The Jesus Prayer", an educational and devotional night at Our Mother of Sorrows church. I enjoyed it immensely. I embraced silent reflection and prayer.
MAYHEM
Directly after "The Jesus Prayer", we picked up our children from my parents' home. I embraced noise and resistance. My oldest daughter has a no socks or shoes policy in the Subaru. It is a misguided policy for all seasons.
MUSIC
During a cleanup of the basement, a Christmas tradition, I stumbled upon my old CD collection. My oldest daughter enjoyed jamming the disks into the Bose and hearing the songs of my yesteryear. Crazy Train was a hit and highly appropriate.
MAYHEM
My mother-in-law has a key to my home. She entered recently to drop off groceries. We were not there. When she saw the kitchen floor, she suspected foul play, possibly a home invasion. Plates and refrigerator magnets were scattered everywhere. She was seconds away from calling 9-1-1 to report a burglary. She called her daughter instead. Her daughter reported that the vandal was our 2-year-old.
MUSIC
Greg and Rebecca Sparks, Pittsburgh residents with a Johnstown connection, were the main act in the Finding Christmas concert. Held in the Our Mother of Sorrows concert hall /gym /lunchroom, my wife and I once again had a few hours of togetherness without our bundles of joy. There was some reflecting and a lot of rocking out to Christmas-inspired tunes. Forever Endeavor, a talented ensemble of local musicians, led the charge and set the stage for the Sparks. It was an inspiring night of music. The Sparks finished with a sing-a-long spectacular that almost brought down the beams in the concert hall /gym /lunchroom / picture day photography studio / church hall for coffee and doughnuts.
Thank you, to all the musicians. It was one more memory in a building that has housed so many memories in my childhood /adulthood /fatherhood.
MIRACLE
On the Sunday before Christmas Eve, our family of four went to 11 o'clock mass. As the lone male representative and driver, I devised a nap time strategy. Leaving church, I instructed my wife and youngest daughter to seek shelter at home. I was going to drive until the oldest daughter fell asleep. My wife listened and I dropped her off. My youngest daughter was too young and innocent to disagree with my demands. My oldest daughter was not given a clear message in regard to this plan. I used parental trickery.
With half of our team unloaded from the car, I fielded questions from my Subaru Scholar. She fell asleep before we got to Richland.
MAYHEM
As I drove aimlessly, I stumbled upon an aim. On a Sunday, December afternoon, I was seated in an empty theater, ill-prepared for a May rainstorm. I did not think the Lake View Visitor Center, a part of the Johnstown Flood National Memorial, would be opened. It sure was. A wonderful, elderly woman told me the next movie started in five minutes.
I ran to the car, grabbed my snoozing child, and took my seat. The rain drops began to echo around me. No other conscious being was in the theater. My immediate Dad thought was a theater would be dark and there would be somewhere to sit. I did not think about the movie title, "Black Friday" and the 30-minutes of devastation I was about to put my counting sheep daughter through.
The movie is intense. It starts and ends in a graveyard. It was much more Halloween than Christmas. There were loud booms, cries for help, crashing trees, and one silent, silly Dad.
MIRACLE
She slept for the entire movie. She never moved. It was amazing. I was a little sweaty when the credits rolled. One, from the 30+ pounds I wore as a vest during the film. Two, from the flood and the thought of my 2-year-old waking up to a horrific Mother Nature.
MIRACLE
When she awoke from her nap, she was excited to be in a museum. I did not have to explain much. She immediately scanned the room and found buttons to push. She survived the flood and was ready to explore. On our drive home, we went through the town of St. Michael's. I saw firetrucks coming toward me - more lights and more sounds. My immediate thought was another tragedy.
But, the trucks were going really slow. And, by golly, there was a man waving from the firetruck rooftop. And, Jiminy Christmas, that man is Santa!?!?
I will share this moment with my daughter for all my days. My daughter and I were in shock and awe. I turned the Subaru around, following that firetruck like a bloodhound. I pulled into the fire station, scooped my elf, and ran toward Santa. As the jolly, fat man was making his way into the station, he heard the footsteps of a running father.
Once we got face-to-face with Santa, neither Dad nor daughter knew what to do. She just kept saying, "THIS IS CRAZY!" She initially did not ask Santa for anything. She just wanted to know why he was on a firetruck and not a sleigh. It was a beautiful, Christmas moment.
Santa told her that she was a good girl and that he would be coming soon. He gave her a Reese's peanut butter cup. Again, more Halloween than Christmas, but she wasn't turning down chocolate.
MAYHEM
Our Dad-daughter day ended with a Sheetz hot dog and that peanut butter cup. I let her sit shotgun in a parked vehicle to enjoy the dog and chocolate. We did a "cheers" to our adventure. I with a Squirt. She with a Little Mermaid juice. She ate the whole dog and wished to give the bun "to the birds". She ate the peanut butter cup, leaving nothing for the birds. It was a lovely lunch.
And then she refused to get back in her car seat. There I was, in a crowded Sheetz parking lot, attempting to lasso a chocolate-faced lunatic. It is the most wonderful time of the year.
I hope this Christmas brings you a lot of miracles. I hope music inspires and you can survive the mayhem.
To put it simply - celebrate with the ones you love.
MIRACLE
My wife and I participated in "The Jesus Prayer", an educational and devotional night at Our Mother of Sorrows church. I enjoyed it immensely. I embraced silent reflection and prayer.
MAYHEM
Directly after "The Jesus Prayer", we picked up our children from my parents' home. I embraced noise and resistance. My oldest daughter has a no socks or shoes policy in the Subaru. It is a misguided policy for all seasons.
MUSIC
During a cleanup of the basement, a Christmas tradition, I stumbled upon my old CD collection. My oldest daughter enjoyed jamming the disks into the Bose and hearing the songs of my yesteryear. Crazy Train was a hit and highly appropriate.
MAYHEM
My mother-in-law has a key to my home. She entered recently to drop off groceries. We were not there. When she saw the kitchen floor, she suspected foul play, possibly a home invasion. Plates and refrigerator magnets were scattered everywhere. She was seconds away from calling 9-1-1 to report a burglary. She called her daughter instead. Her daughter reported that the vandal was our 2-year-old.
MUSIC
Greg and Rebecca Sparks, Pittsburgh residents with a Johnstown connection, were the main act in the Finding Christmas concert. Held in the Our Mother of Sorrows concert hall /gym /lunchroom, my wife and I once again had a few hours of togetherness without our bundles of joy. There was some reflecting and a lot of rocking out to Christmas-inspired tunes. Forever Endeavor, a talented ensemble of local musicians, led the charge and set the stage for the Sparks. It was an inspiring night of music. The Sparks finished with a sing-a-long spectacular that almost brought down the beams in the concert hall /gym /lunchroom / picture day photography studio / church hall for coffee and doughnuts.
Thank you, to all the musicians. It was one more memory in a building that has housed so many memories in my childhood /adulthood /fatherhood.
MIRACLE
On the Sunday before Christmas Eve, our family of four went to 11 o'clock mass. As the lone male representative and driver, I devised a nap time strategy. Leaving church, I instructed my wife and youngest daughter to seek shelter at home. I was going to drive until the oldest daughter fell asleep. My wife listened and I dropped her off. My youngest daughter was too young and innocent to disagree with my demands. My oldest daughter was not given a clear message in regard to this plan. I used parental trickery.
With half of our team unloaded from the car, I fielded questions from my Subaru Scholar. She fell asleep before we got to Richland.
MAYHEM
As I drove aimlessly, I stumbled upon an aim. On a Sunday, December afternoon, I was seated in an empty theater, ill-prepared for a May rainstorm. I did not think the Lake View Visitor Center, a part of the Johnstown Flood National Memorial, would be opened. It sure was. A wonderful, elderly woman told me the next movie started in five minutes.
I ran to the car, grabbed my snoozing child, and took my seat. The rain drops began to echo around me. No other conscious being was in the theater. My immediate Dad thought was a theater would be dark and there would be somewhere to sit. I did not think about the movie title, "Black Friday" and the 30-minutes of devastation I was about to put my counting sheep daughter through.
The movie is intense. It starts and ends in a graveyard. It was much more Halloween than Christmas. There were loud booms, cries for help, crashing trees, and one silent, silly Dad.
MIRACLE
She slept for the entire movie. She never moved. It was amazing. I was a little sweaty when the credits rolled. One, from the 30+ pounds I wore as a vest during the film. Two, from the flood and the thought of my 2-year-old waking up to a horrific Mother Nature.
MIRACLE
When she awoke from her nap, she was excited to be in a museum. I did not have to explain much. She immediately scanned the room and found buttons to push. She survived the flood and was ready to explore. On our drive home, we went through the town of St. Michael's. I saw firetrucks coming toward me - more lights and more sounds. My immediate thought was another tragedy.
But, the trucks were going really slow. And, by golly, there was a man waving from the firetruck rooftop. And, Jiminy Christmas, that man is Santa!?!?
I will share this moment with my daughter for all my days. My daughter and I were in shock and awe. I turned the Subaru around, following that firetruck like a bloodhound. I pulled into the fire station, scooped my elf, and ran toward Santa. As the jolly, fat man was making his way into the station, he heard the footsteps of a running father.
Once we got face-to-face with Santa, neither Dad nor daughter knew what to do. She just kept saying, "THIS IS CRAZY!" She initially did not ask Santa for anything. She just wanted to know why he was on a firetruck and not a sleigh. It was a beautiful, Christmas moment.
Santa told her that she was a good girl and that he would be coming soon. He gave her a Reese's peanut butter cup. Again, more Halloween than Christmas, but she wasn't turning down chocolate.
MAYHEM
Our Dad-daughter day ended with a Sheetz hot dog and that peanut butter cup. I let her sit shotgun in a parked vehicle to enjoy the dog and chocolate. We did a "cheers" to our adventure. I with a Squirt. She with a Little Mermaid juice. She ate the whole dog and wished to give the bun "to the birds". She ate the peanut butter cup, leaving nothing for the birds. It was a lovely lunch.
And then she refused to get back in her car seat. There I was, in a crowded Sheetz parking lot, attempting to lasso a chocolate-faced lunatic. It is the most wonderful time of the year.
I hope this Christmas brings you a lot of miracles. I hope music inspires and you can survive the mayhem.
To put it simply - celebrate with the ones you love.
Monday, December 11, 2017
Alive and Swell
Our family of four is adventuring through Advent. There is a certain chaos to the Christmas season, especially when you have one rebellious elf (oldest child, 2, rebelling her way to 3 )and gingerbread daughter (youngest, 9 months, jolly). This past December weekend was a gauntlet of tidings and joy, tired parents and jibber jabber. Hop on the sleigh, and maintain your sanity.
Mastering Mass
No matter the time or the church, mass with young children becomes a public showcase of parental skills. You have to react to impulsive, unpredictable decisions. Last weekend, my two-year-old treated a baptism like a press conference. From her reporting seat, she exclaimed, "What is he doing!?!", referring to the priest and the holy sacrament. The priest turned and answered my daughter, via microphone, respecting her curiosity and the velocity of her voice.
This weekend we attended the 4 o'clock mass at Our Mother of Sorrows. We brought my mother as a reinforcement. We sat in one row, but occupied space in the row behind us and in front of us with an arsenal of clothing, gear, toys, bags, and a car seat. My oldest daughter brought sunglasses into God's house, anticipating a miracle of radiance no one else could envision. She identifies the kneelers as balance beams. They are not for prayer. They are for performance.
After communion, I held on to my gingerbread daughter, who has not learned how to walk, but enjoyed climbing the stone wall and smiling at those who walked by. She looked toward the rafters, silently communicating that she was interested in making it to the top. Meanwhile, the elf was trying to squeeze her powerful body in between my arched back and the pew. She offered no reason why nor do I believe she had a true purpose.
When mass ended, we found the nearest potty. I was face-to-face with the eldest, sitting on her throne. She asked, "What do you want to talk about?" No baptism or bathroom is without a question.
Living the Nativity
The Conemaugh Township Ministries hosted a Live Nativity at Greenhouse Park on Saturday. Directly after that potty chat, I led the brigade to Bethlehem. As young parents, ambition carries you to a Live Nativity. Then, you carry your offspring and question your ambition. It is a beautifully, complex game of cat and mouse.
Bringing the Nativity to life takes a lot of work and dedication. This is immediately visible upon entering the Bethlehem they have created. I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. When I realized this ancient town had a tour guide, red flags shot out of my skull. Our party needed an accelerated tour. It was cold and our children were confused by what was going on.
When a six-year-old identified himself as a shepherd, our two-year-old had a mind blow. She kept calling out to him, "Shepherd." "Shepherd." "SHEPHERD!" "Excuse me, SHEPHERD!" This kid was an actor. He didn't break character and was not at all flustered by her hysteria. When we got to Baby Jesus, her mind went from The Bible to Old MacDonald. She saw the animals and it was immediately, E-I-E-I-O. When she broke out in song, the crowd chuckled. And on his farm, there was a manger.
At this point, my shoulders could not take much more; my elf was on my shelf for all of Bethlehem. Thank you, Conemaugh Township Ministries. We were in. We were out. It was great.
Dancing Dinner
The Crow's Nest is less than a mile from Greenhouse Park, and couldn't you imagine Bethlehem having a restaurant called The Crow's Nest?
I made a reservation before noon on Saturday. I did not request to be seated directly beside a 2-year-old's birthday party, but the Lord works in mysterious ways.
When in Bethlehem. Or Rome. Or Johnstown. Just feed us.
Our girls were well behaved and "sitting still" is a silly expectation I no longer even think about. A parent must learn how to enjoy a meal. It will never be the same enjoyment. Upon creating life, I had to recreate my vision of "enjoy your meal". When a waiter or waitress says that to me, I wonder if they understand the complexity of those three words.
After feeding my face and protecting my flock, my two-year-old was awarded a birthday party balloon. I'm not exactly sure how this occurred, but the balloon made it into the car. And at one point, while driving, it hit my head. And shortly after, my window rolled down, and the balloon went up, up, up into the sky, headed toward the moon. I'm not exactly sure how.
But I did it.
Counting Sheep
After church, after Bethlehem, after dinner, and after the balloon to the moon, we came home. Days start and end, come and go. Our girls are growing. My wife and I are trying. It is a team effort.
I love my team. I love my town. Be a shepherd to something good.
Mastering Mass
No matter the time or the church, mass with young children becomes a public showcase of parental skills. You have to react to impulsive, unpredictable decisions. Last weekend, my two-year-old treated a baptism like a press conference. From her reporting seat, she exclaimed, "What is he doing!?!", referring to the priest and the holy sacrament. The priest turned and answered my daughter, via microphone, respecting her curiosity and the velocity of her voice.
This weekend we attended the 4 o'clock mass at Our Mother of Sorrows. We brought my mother as a reinforcement. We sat in one row, but occupied space in the row behind us and in front of us with an arsenal of clothing, gear, toys, bags, and a car seat. My oldest daughter brought sunglasses into God's house, anticipating a miracle of radiance no one else could envision. She identifies the kneelers as balance beams. They are not for prayer. They are for performance.
After communion, I held on to my gingerbread daughter, who has not learned how to walk, but enjoyed climbing the stone wall and smiling at those who walked by. She looked toward the rafters, silently communicating that she was interested in making it to the top. Meanwhile, the elf was trying to squeeze her powerful body in between my arched back and the pew. She offered no reason why nor do I believe she had a true purpose.
When mass ended, we found the nearest potty. I was face-to-face with the eldest, sitting on her throne. She asked, "What do you want to talk about?" No baptism or bathroom is without a question.
Living the Nativity
The Conemaugh Township Ministries hosted a Live Nativity at Greenhouse Park on Saturday. Directly after that potty chat, I led the brigade to Bethlehem. As young parents, ambition carries you to a Live Nativity. Then, you carry your offspring and question your ambition. It is a beautifully, complex game of cat and mouse.
Bringing the Nativity to life takes a lot of work and dedication. This is immediately visible upon entering the Bethlehem they have created. I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. When I realized this ancient town had a tour guide, red flags shot out of my skull. Our party needed an accelerated tour. It was cold and our children were confused by what was going on.
When a six-year-old identified himself as a shepherd, our two-year-old had a mind blow. She kept calling out to him, "Shepherd." "Shepherd." "SHEPHERD!" "Excuse me, SHEPHERD!" This kid was an actor. He didn't break character and was not at all flustered by her hysteria. When we got to Baby Jesus, her mind went from The Bible to Old MacDonald. She saw the animals and it was immediately, E-I-E-I-O. When she broke out in song, the crowd chuckled. And on his farm, there was a manger.
At this point, my shoulders could not take much more; my elf was on my shelf for all of Bethlehem. Thank you, Conemaugh Township Ministries. We were in. We were out. It was great.
Dancing Dinner
The Crow's Nest is less than a mile from Greenhouse Park, and couldn't you imagine Bethlehem having a restaurant called The Crow's Nest?
I made a reservation before noon on Saturday. I did not request to be seated directly beside a 2-year-old's birthday party, but the Lord works in mysterious ways.
When in Bethlehem. Or Rome. Or Johnstown. Just feed us.
Our girls were well behaved and "sitting still" is a silly expectation I no longer even think about. A parent must learn how to enjoy a meal. It will never be the same enjoyment. Upon creating life, I had to recreate my vision of "enjoy your meal". When a waiter or waitress says that to me, I wonder if they understand the complexity of those three words.
After feeding my face and protecting my flock, my two-year-old was awarded a birthday party balloon. I'm not exactly sure how this occurred, but the balloon made it into the car. And at one point, while driving, it hit my head. And shortly after, my window rolled down, and the balloon went up, up, up into the sky, headed toward the moon. I'm not exactly sure how.
But I did it.
Counting Sheep
After church, after Bethlehem, after dinner, and after the balloon to the moon, we came home. Days start and end, come and go. Our girls are growing. My wife and I are trying. It is a team effort.
I love my team. I love my town. Be a shepherd to something good.
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Dad Exercise: Holiday Season
In the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I feel obligated to take advantage of sunlight and whatever warmth is available. With no sign of snow, it is time to go, go, go...
Stroller Dad - Forest
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I led an adventure team into Stackhouse Park. One of the best investments my wife and I ever made was purchasing a dynamic and seemingly indestructible stroller. Our team was comprised of my youngest daughter, riding in the dream stroller pushed by yours truly; her mother, traveling by foot; mother's maid of honor, the maid of honor's sister, and the maid of honor's father - each of whom marched with a leashed canine. It was a sight to behold. Our eldest daughter did not behold this spectacle. She was in the cozy confines of my parents', fully invested in a nap.
We weaved through the park and each other. Dogs and Dads crisscrossed. My daughter was fascinated by the frolicking. I had to focus on obstacles - loose rocks, intersecting leashes, chatting women in our party, water hazards, and mud. We conquered 2 to 3 miles of terrain. My daughter was asleep by the end and I was ready for a nap.
Stroller Dad - Residential
The thermometer reached 50+ degrees on the final Tuesday of November. Venturing from my parents' abode in Westmont, my youngest and I were once again stroller partners. The wife and wisest child were to meet us at the newly renovated Engh Field. 50+ Johnstown dwellers took advantage of a new playground and unseasonable sun.
While the walk was a workout, my Engh playground experience was a combo of cardio and strength training. My 2-year-old burst out of the Subaru and hit the ground running. When supervising your daughter at a playground, there is a mine field.to navigate - reckless boys, less than savvy swingers, the dreaded wet slide, and a multitude of hot spots for falling. I did a lot of pivoting and spotting. At one point, I was at the jungle gym's summit, pleading with my daughter to make a decision. A boy was about to trample me or push me down the ladder. He looked bewildered. He said nothing, but his eyes said, "What is the grown man doing this far up?"
My daughter eventually got herself out of that precarious position. I can't remember how, but we found safe harbor. Engh Field is a great new playground. If December Dads are lucky, we will be back at Engh and we will go home without any injuries.
Yoga Dad
Yoga is a humbling, ancient practice. My experience is limited, but every now and then, I yoga. Riek's Country Store in Brownstown transforms into a Saturday morning sanctuary for the exercise. For the first session of December, I accompanied my wife to begin the weekend. What was great about this yoga experience was my Dad Island, an isolated spot for me to be my best yoga-self. While a room full of women prepared for the class, I laid on my mat in the country store's kitchen. I was invisible to the instructor and everyone else. I had to rely solely on my ears and follow instruction. And at times, I followed my heart, and just laid there. Perfectly content on Dad Island, surrounded by kitchen aromas.
When I got home, I ate pancakes.
Running Dad
On Sunday, our family went to Sunnehanna Country Club for a holiday brunch. It was a food and family gauntlet. Surrounded by children, I carbo loaded. Taking full advantage of brunch is a parental obligation. Leave no Eggs Benedict behind. By the time Santa arrived, I was ready to curl up and dream of dancing sugar plums, even though I have no idea what a dancing sugar plum would look like or what that even is.
My oldest daughter and I napped hard when we got home. Just like her when she got to Engh Field, I took off running after my nap. I entered Stackhouse, tore through Crystal Trail, and dashed into Westmont like Dasher. Passing the Inclined Plane, I counted my blessings and how many plates I had for brunch. Descending into Brownstown, I was ready to get back to my girls.
I reentered the home, took a shower, and watched Little Mermaid for my cool down.
As Christmas draws near, find happiness and humor in the little things. Be good to your family and I hope Mother Nature continues to be good to us.
Let it sun. Let it sun. Let it sun.
Stroller Dad - Forest
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I led an adventure team into Stackhouse Park. One of the best investments my wife and I ever made was purchasing a dynamic and seemingly indestructible stroller. Our team was comprised of my youngest daughter, riding in the dream stroller pushed by yours truly; her mother, traveling by foot; mother's maid of honor, the maid of honor's sister, and the maid of honor's father - each of whom marched with a leashed canine. It was a sight to behold. Our eldest daughter did not behold this spectacle. She was in the cozy confines of my parents', fully invested in a nap.
We weaved through the park and each other. Dogs and Dads crisscrossed. My daughter was fascinated by the frolicking. I had to focus on obstacles - loose rocks, intersecting leashes, chatting women in our party, water hazards, and mud. We conquered 2 to 3 miles of terrain. My daughter was asleep by the end and I was ready for a nap.
Stroller Dad - Residential
The thermometer reached 50+ degrees on the final Tuesday of November. Venturing from my parents' abode in Westmont, my youngest and I were once again stroller partners. The wife and wisest child were to meet us at the newly renovated Engh Field. 50+ Johnstown dwellers took advantage of a new playground and unseasonable sun.
While the walk was a workout, my Engh playground experience was a combo of cardio and strength training. My 2-year-old burst out of the Subaru and hit the ground running. When supervising your daughter at a playground, there is a mine field.to navigate - reckless boys, less than savvy swingers, the dreaded wet slide, and a multitude of hot spots for falling. I did a lot of pivoting and spotting. At one point, I was at the jungle gym's summit, pleading with my daughter to make a decision. A boy was about to trample me or push me down the ladder. He looked bewildered. He said nothing, but his eyes said, "What is the grown man doing this far up?"
My daughter eventually got herself out of that precarious position. I can't remember how, but we found safe harbor. Engh Field is a great new playground. If December Dads are lucky, we will be back at Engh and we will go home without any injuries.
Yoga Dad
Yoga is a humbling, ancient practice. My experience is limited, but every now and then, I yoga. Riek's Country Store in Brownstown transforms into a Saturday morning sanctuary for the exercise. For the first session of December, I accompanied my wife to begin the weekend. What was great about this yoga experience was my Dad Island, an isolated spot for me to be my best yoga-self. While a room full of women prepared for the class, I laid on my mat in the country store's kitchen. I was invisible to the instructor and everyone else. I had to rely solely on my ears and follow instruction. And at times, I followed my heart, and just laid there. Perfectly content on Dad Island, surrounded by kitchen aromas.
When I got home, I ate pancakes.
Running Dad
On Sunday, our family went to Sunnehanna Country Club for a holiday brunch. It was a food and family gauntlet. Surrounded by children, I carbo loaded. Taking full advantage of brunch is a parental obligation. Leave no Eggs Benedict behind. By the time Santa arrived, I was ready to curl up and dream of dancing sugar plums, even though I have no idea what a dancing sugar plum would look like or what that even is.
My oldest daughter and I napped hard when we got home. Just like her when she got to Engh Field, I took off running after my nap. I entered Stackhouse, tore through Crystal Trail, and dashed into Westmont like Dasher. Passing the Inclined Plane, I counted my blessings and how many plates I had for brunch. Descending into Brownstown, I was ready to get back to my girls.
I reentered the home, took a shower, and watched Little Mermaid for my cool down.
As Christmas draws near, find happiness and humor in the little things. Be good to your family and I hope Mother Nature continues to be good to us.
Let it sun. Let it sun. Let it sun.
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