THUMBPRINTS

Angler Man

Yes sirree.

As the inset shows, this guy is into some serious angling.

Not only do I love to reel in the big ones, but I make it a habit to show my appreciation for each one allowing my hook to maim and disfigure their mouths for the sake of timeless shots like this one. 

Joining me on the Buckroe Pier were my father-in-law, Curtis; Cousin (in-law), Sam; and my 11 yr. old, Seth.  For our 3 hrs. of labor, we managed to snag 5 fish, total.  Out of which, 1 barely reached the status of keeping for a future half-meal.  But then, that wasn't the goal anyway.  Just hanging out over the railing with the the setting-sun's wind in our faces was objective enough. 

At least, it was for me...

Ft. Monroe

My in-laws treated the entire family to a brunch buffet spread at the Officer's Club in Fort Monroe yesterday.  What a cool place.  As a self-proclaimed, arm-chair archaeologist/history buff, this was an unexpected needle in my big blue. 

After about 20 min. of security check points, the incredible view began to open up.  From the general's estate, to the barracks, to the ever-eroding ruins with their mold-upon-rust exteriors; the shockingly short drive to the restaurant made for a visual appetizer.  What added to the effect of it all were the sounds blowing in from the surf to our immediate right.  Having an inlet beach fed from the Atlantic as our backdrop to everything was just down right overwhelming to a creative sap like me.  

Once in the restaurant, our table hedged a parquet dance floor that wasn't just there for looks.  It was never empty of moving couples.  Ballroom moves dominated.  Midi-heavy, latin grooves filled the air -- the sounds of which brought me back to an early '80's mall stroll past the organ stores.  My resurrected reunion with Boss A. Nova, if you will.

Then, the food entered my mouth.  Wow...

The sensory over-load was complete. 

Hard to believe the rumblings of our government shutting that place down very soon.  If those rumblings are accurate, I'm so glad I had a chance to soak it all up now. 

Moments

Interesting day. 
Sort of a lull after yesterday. 

I know life can't always give you 24 hr. cycles of birthdays; but then, it's not supposed to give you the news of famous people dying on a daily basis either. 

When Seth, my 11 yr. old, told me that Billy Mays, the celebrated pitch-man, had just been found dead in his FL. home, those smudgy glasses of surrealism suddenly flew down over my eyes.  Not that I was a big follower or anything, but I did sit next to the guy on a flight home a few months ago.  He was cool.  Not nearly as arrogant as you'd expect his persona to make him out to be.  How crazy is it that he & these other mid-lifers have dropped off right under our media-heavy noses.  Talk about feeling no control. 

This week should serve as a megaphone for everyone who lives by the notion of invincibility.  As a matter of fact, Mr. Jackson even used "invincible" to title his last studio project (which reeked, regrettably), & he obviously wasn't.

So, here I go again.  Ranting about holding my wife & kids a little closer today.  Allowing my heart & mind to settle into even more reflection.  Treasuring hours vs. throwing away entire days.  Living the PLAY button less, pressing PAUSE a lot more...

These truly are the moments. 

47

Yeah.
Today's my B-Day.
As I creaked out of bed this morning, my not-so-recent youth was greeted by goo-goos rising up out of the bassinet 10 feet away.  Elijah Ryken, our soon-to-be 6 mo. old, served as my mental litmus test for life-time achievements as soon as my eyes opened to this incredible day.  He's definitely as close to an "Isaac" as we'll ever get.  That is, sans the "many nations" part. 

It's crazy.  Every year I do it.  I question accomplishments & rue failures; and, whether it jacks with my head or bounces off is always case-sensative.  A perennial day-by-day.  Not that I regret never snowboarding off a Boeing 747, but its always the nagging culmination of the little things that got away; the mini-opportunities I simply walked away from.  The seconds in time I felt the urge to tell/show my wife how much I love & appreciate her & for whatever reason, didn't.  The settings in which I felt compelled to hug & affirm my 2 eldest boys & somehow allowed distractions to snuff out the very idea.  Risks denied that could've propelled our family into another financial place.  The utter build-up of "Oh Well's". 

It doesn't help with so much celebrated death oozing out from the screen for the last week.  Mortality tends to put a cap on things.  Sort of minimalizes whatever inner trophies I could amass in 47 years, shortens the distance between the jet-liner & the mountaintop powder I could've covered.  I'm only 3 years younger than MJ & no where near his level of "been there, done that", but I wonder how gratifying those trophies are to him now?  Beyond his album sales, what was gold & platinum, and what was mere chaff?  Has any of it translated into eternal life, or has he truly sold his own soul?

What is known: I woke up to a beautiful family that loves me & their Maker, with health & happiness being the air they're breathing.  I think I've passed my litmus test today. 

Waffling

This title says it all.  Can you believe it - me, waffling.  No, I haven't gone left.  I just threw down my father-in-law's re-invention of the breakfast waffle.  I will now go on record by saying: these griddle concoctions are quintessentially the most supreme dough experience I've ever had.  I'll even throw Krispy Kreme Glazed on the chopping block if given a choice between the two.  STUPID GOOD!!  The only down side in throwing these bad boyz back is in the effect they'll have on me when we hit Water Country in the next 30 minutes.  I have this sinking fear of being extremely non-buoyant for the rest of the day.  But death via these babies will be an honor.  Way to go, Curtis.

Whatever

I remember the first time I saw that corn-ball commercial for the faux orange juice product: Sunny Delight.  Apparently the company must have realized how weak the name had been in terms of actually selling the product and began a desperate campaign of cramming the term: Sunny-D, down our media-driven throats.  I remember watching the non-believable cast interact through a forced-fit script that was targeted at trying to convince everyone "Sunny-D" was the obvious, indisputably common term for our generation.  I felt insulted & violated.  Cheese.  Big steamy stanky wedgies of it.

This morning I heard the same repetitious technique being use with the newly invented noun: Man-cession - a term wrapping "recession" & the rapid loss of man-jobs in one bogus word.  Things haven't changed.  What's so kooky about the delivery of this term, and every smoke & mirrors term for that matter, is the manner in which the viewer is left feeling manipulated.  Almost as if bullied into an unspoken "I dare you to say anything about how stupid this is" thing.  They also relish in the use of "shovel-ready" in describing the types of jobs that most of the newly unemployed are looking for.  I'm actually OK with this term.  As a matter of fact, I'm force-fitting it now with everything I've just discribed.  It's perfect.  Ripe & ready for me to grab a shovel, locate it all in the back yard, and scoop it all back into the agenda-plagued hole they came from.

What's New...

I woke up to thrumming of FOX News.  Out of every backdrop in my life, this seems to be my most common one under-roof.  From Ed McMahon's death, to the Metro crash in DC, to the riots in Iran, crisis seems to be the current celebrity.  I know, what's new?  Which...is my point.  Why are we so surprised when the backdrop of our world becomes more disturbing?  It's not like we weren't warned a couple of millennia ago.  I guess the spell of current news somehow resets our memories.  In the web of prophetic fulfillment, the tension-before-release has to come from somewhere.  Why not Iran?  Why not N. Korea?  Why not now?  The bottom line is: end-time events are not based on our preferred time-line.  Just because we weren't expecting it to happen now doesn't nullify its connection to the words of Jesus.  It's us who have to adjust.  There is no mystery here.  As to why these key figures are creating each crisis, there's no mystery there either.  It's been in print for quite a while...

"This is the crisis we're in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won't come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is."  John 3:19-21 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)

VA. KINDA MORNIN'

It’s the first morning @ my in-laws and already I’ve seen the resurrection of Shaft clinging to his Marlboro, a speeding soccer-mom with her hand glued to the side of her face as if in a frozen “Oh deary me!...”, and a geriatric scooter enthusiast treating me with a rare display of his turquoise shorts flapping in the breeze.  Ah yes, life is still finding its way.  If it weren’t for the total randomness of everything, then where would guys like me get our fodder for lyrics & blog content?  The beauty of living is in the unpredictable, incongruous, and even down right tackiness of breathing with each other.  This keepin’ it fresh, keepin’ it real side of life is the only thing left keepin’ us from becoming obsessive-compulsive, trance-like droids.  I hope I never pull out of my driveway to see only what I expect to see.  Catching a glimpse of my blue-haired, VESPA-mounted hero will be a mental snapshot that this twisted, creative brain of mine will continue to paint for quite a while.  So, my hope is for the global flag of our human existence to never lose its color or its freedom to “flap in the breeze.”  Long live every wannabe Shaft and his fur-lined ’78 LTD.