Food memories...

        It's funny how certain meals enable emotional time travel in me. I know it's Sunday morning in the 1970s when I smell half burnt rye toast, hard boiled eggs, kielbasa and freshly made horseradish in the air. My ears perk up and the sounds of All star wrestling fills them, the war chant of Chief Jay Stongbow and stomping of Gorilla Monsoon. This was of course long before wrestling became fake.

     Some say wrestling was always fake, but just try to tell that to a seven year old true believer.

          We knew it was real. We knew a lot more than we do now, back then...

             I revel in the memories of the scents of bacon grease, cabbage soup on the back of our stove( I don't think it ever changed, just more was added as the contents diminished) and sausage stuffing on Thanksgiving. My mother made the best stuffed cabbages. I have changed the recipe a little to remove some of the labor that the real thing takes, but it still tastes very good.

   My moms cooking ability is strange. Some meals were absolutely amazing and others were God- awful. A few fit somewhere inbetween, but most were on the outside.

         I never knew meat could be cooked medium rare or even un-brick like. It took washing dishes at a good restaurant as a teenager to realize that steak could actually be tender.

               My mom was cooking for six other brothers and sisters with cubbard scraps when she was eight or nine years old. Her parents were gone for weeks at a time and she was left alone to raise and feed her siblings and to find the food. She could kill and dress a chicken by the age of six.

            So I really can't complain about her cooking...

          One of my favorite meals still is crushed Saltine crackers in milk. My Wonderful Wife nearly gags at the smell of it,  but this was one of the holdovers my mother passed on to me. I snack on this when the kids go to bed, sometimes and I get "that" look.

                 I just finished reheating a big pan of Lasagna that I baked a few weeks ago. We had it for dinner with a nice big romaine salad with garlic stuffed olives. I worked for an old Sicilian in his kitchen when i washed dishes and it must have rubbed off on me. I love Italian food, real Italian food and learned from him how to cook it fairly well.

        If you've read my posts for any amount of time you realize that I'm not the kind of guy who is well spoken. I write my thoughts much better than I could ever speak them. Generally, I cook much better than I write.

             I sometimes cook for Church members after they have children, have been in the hospital or if someone close has passed away. I never have the right words, but every now and then I can cook them the right meal. I am at my happiest cooking for people. I ran a pretty good restaurant kitchen once upon a time, but never got the same satisfaction as I get now.  Sometimes I cook for my extended family, smoked pork butt, briskett and homemade baked beans placed under the pork and beef racks to collect their drippings...

           There are people who I don't know very well that make my Wonderful Wife and son happy. I watch my son when he talks about his longest and best friend and hear the joy in my Wonderful Wife's voice as she talks about work outs and coffees with someone who became very special to her. 

    I cook for some people just because there are members of my family that loves them and maybe because it makes their day a little brighter. I cook sometimes for people because they have loved members of my family and made a big difference in their lives.

       It must have been the lasagna that got me thinking....

       

             

Old tapes..

  I never have been able to take a compliment.  If you say a bookshelf I built is beautiful, I will point out the hidden gaps underneath or bring out a level to show the imperfections. If I cook a meal that comes out well, you will probably hear me say what I should have done to make it better. It usually appears like modesty, sometimes self depreciation, but what it actually is ninety nine percent of the time is just plain old insecurity.

        This drives me crazy in other people and the people that I love; when they criticize themselves or co-sign the garbage someone else put in their heads decades ago.

              I wonder why these old tapes ( would it be c.d.s now or mp3s? I am so far out of the current technical music storage trends that I cannot intelligently say ) have so much power over us?

      It's funny. A long time ago I spent large chunks of my time trying to change my reactions to people, to situations, especially the ones involving family. It should be easy, right? Right? No matter how often I have asked this question, no one has ever agreed it would be easy.

        I asked once, why it was so difficult, especially with family? Why can they press our buttons so well?  

                 I was told it was because they were the ones who installed them..

             It popped into my little rattled brain that I am an electrician. I understand switches, buttons and wires. Maybe it wouldn't really be that difficult after all..

               So, metaphorically, I re-wired. In time, my external reactions changed and dealing with the old family of origin became much better and sometimes even enjoyable.

              I then realized that although my reactions had changed, the old voices, tapes, CDs or mp3s would always keep playing. I could install volume control ( to an extent ) and maybe a pause button, but for the most part, they would keep going in an endless, eternal loop.

            So in the end, you just make friends with the old phrases that parents repeated and gently remind them that although they have acquired real estate in your brain and are currently unevictable, they are not correct. You learn to live with the ghosts..

               I think we all have these whispering specters gliding thru our thoughts, sometimes hibernating for a season. Ignored, they become louder. Acknowledged, they go back to sleep..

         I realize now that words are an uneraseable power and as a father, these words that will be eternal in my children's minds will often come from me. 

                Perhaps we can fill our children's tapes or mp3s with something better. Perhaps, just maybe they will hear an affirmation or two somewhere in their endless loop?

                  I tell my children at least half a dozen times a day that I love them. I leave them notes when I go to work in the morning, just in case...

     I'm sure they will be haunted a bit by some of my parental bellowing, but I hope also along with that dribble is the voice, the words of love and encouragement. I hope they remember the sounds of the general excitement I have just because they are my children.

               

         

            

Missed exits...

   My Wonderful Wife took my two youngest children to a neat kids community event tonight where they would be painted with fluorescent paint and shaving cream and then hang out and dance under black lights. It seems like a pretty cool deal. I would have done it at their age. Heck, I would do it at this age.

  Nick, who is our oldest son, stayed home with me. We played card games and started our own movie night with a re-run of Iron Man 3, complete with popcorn covered with half a stick of melted butter and sea salt. It was some good.

              This has been a very long work week, 66 hours rebuilding a major machine that produces more than any other converting machine our company owns. Never before has so many sections been rebuilt mechanically and electrically, since it was first assembled.These things historically never finish on time and without a hitch, so my personal stress level was high , although well masked. This afternoon she started up with almost no problems and I was home by noon. After a quick shower and braised cabbage for lunch, I brought my middle son Stephen to his teams first basketball game ( which they won).

              I then played a board game my youngest son, Jacob invented, with him and had quite an enjoyable afternoon, all said and done. After the card game in the evening with Nick, I planned to start this blog, half paying attention to the movie and Nick. We had already played cards so I figured that this time would be mine.

                I saw it in his eyes as I powered up my I pad. He didn't say anything. I asked him if it would bother him if I wrote my blog as we watched the movie. He mumbled it would be O.K. but I sensed something different. The  I pad was turned off and he sat with me, cuddled into my chest and I realized the movie or the blog were not that important right then. " We don't get much time together anymore buddy, do we?" I asked. He melted into my chest further and shook his head no...

            Hours later and all the important things needing to be addressed completed, I am back at the little touch keyboard at the bottom of the screen....

                Somewhere in an earlier post I promised to write a bit about missing exits. This seems like a decent time to explain that..

           Long ago, on my not yet Wonderful Wife's and my first official date, we logged a lot of road time. I lived in Schuylerville and she lived a block away from St. Peters hospital on Winnie St. In Albany. I had an unofficial reservation at the Old Bryant Inn in Saratoga with a table near the fireplace.

         It was the perfect combination of casual and comfortable elegance, nice enough to let her know she was special but not too formal to be intimidating for a first date. I did choose well. My plans wound up mis-directed.

         It was a crazy night. I stopped to get flowers from the florist in the mall on the way. I brought into the store a small piece of corral I purchased at a roadside stand in the Keys and had the lady set it up as a centerpiece. I smiled, believing this would be the perfect arrangement, the perfect date...

      On the way out of the malls door I ran into an old flame who I had dated and had not treated very well. I wasn't abusive, just inattentive and dismissive. In retrospect I would say she was one of the sweetest and most loyal people I knew. I met her husband and the first thing she said was " You never bought ME flowers"!  I apologized and said that was a big mistake and I certainly should have given her flowers and that she deserved to have been treated much better. I congratulated her husband and ran out the mall door.

              I showed up on time and MaryAnne looked amazing. I did my best to mask my twitterpation as we hopped into my old Ford F-150 and headed north towards Saratoga. We talked constantly on the ride, laughing just like the night of our first dinner meeting at our friends, Julia's.

       I missed my exit, lost in conversation and the happiness in seeing excitement and nervousness in her eyes, in the passing headlights.

      We laughed more and after another attempt pulled off the northway and headed to The Inn.

             The waitress I spoke with evidently was unaware of a bartenders convention meeting at the restaurant taking place the night she said that table would be available...

      Back onto an entrance, going South to The Weather Vane..

        It was a thirty minute wait but we kept talking, while sitting, waiting and walking to the table.

           She mentioned an incident that she thought would scare me off. I told her that I don't do casual.

      I asked that if it seemed to her that this wasn't working that she would please tell me. I was done playing the field and I'd been down to many roads and wasn't looking for another dalliance or more head games. How about we just be adults and stay open and honest about where we are and what our intentions are? Mine was a serious relationship and wherever it took us.  Give it a shot and if it stagnated, cut our losses. If it went further, then further we would go...

           Certainly not the most romantic dinner conversation.

           Then I ate the entire lemon wedge from my iced tea.

               After we realized neither of us was being scared off, some of the tension dropped away.

          Dinner went quickly and we didn't want the night to end. Back to the mall to see "Castaway".

             The movie ended and I brought her home. I asked to kiss her goodnight and she said yes.

                 Home I went. I had to work in Waterford the next morning.

                     It has been over thirteen years and the funny thing is, we still miss exits.

                It doesn't matter who is driving or how long the trip. It is inescapable..

          We are fully aware of this pattern and try to be vigilant but we always seem to find ourselves immersed in conversation and ultimately, turning around, backtracking to our original destination.

    It always brings out a laugh between us, that special unspoken shorthand between husband and wife. It is a comfort, more often than not; knowing we still captivate each other when we speak.

 Knowing our soulmate is concentrating on our thoughts and feelings, no matter how seemingly menial or trivial to others they may be...

        Our boys laugh at us when this happens. They don't get it yet, but hopefully someday they will.

              My other hope on a more serious note is that when the time comes, God gives us one more shot at this, to miss that last exit, one time. One chance to drive by that ultimate exit and look at each other with a hint of laughter and a bit of tears. To turn back around and make that last turn off..It has been how He has watched us live this life, this covenant from the very beginning. It would be an appropriate punctuation for our story when it eventually does end....

Lessons learned..

          If you've  been reading this blog for any amount of time, you have probably already noticed the glaringly obvious fact that I am the kind of guy who never learns an easy lesson. 

                                       Never. Not once. Thought it might happen. Never did.

           On the bright side of that same coin, what I do learn, I tend to learn well. My thick Polish skull, when finally penetrated after a multitude of failed attempts does have a fairly decent retention rate.

     The problem with that is that most of the things I have learned in my life were basic common sense to everyone else.

          Probably everything I learned was, but just in case, I thought I might write some of these lessons down for the three growing boys of mine. They may have unfortunately inherited their fathers Neanderthal habit of approaching all obstacles in life head first and not my Wonderful Wife's intelligence and sensibilities...

            I know as a Christian, I should be quoting The Bible chapter and verse for all the circumstances  that they come across. Sometimes I do. But when they get headstrong and weave a little off course, maybe a few non secularly learned lessons can make the way back easier and might even prevent one or two bruised shins and a couple migraine headaches, number nine.

      I suppose one of the first things I would give them would be a set of questions I was asked long ago.

         " What do you want? What are you willing to give up for it?"

             This was one of the harder questions I ever had to answer. It seemed like years, the times I went back and forth with a thousand different answers until it finally neatly snapped in place, like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle. It actually did take me years to finally answer that question. I found no one could answer it for me just as I cannot answer for them, only ask. Asking,  though is one of the best lessons I can give them.

             " You can't have it all, but you can have all that matters."

         Pretty self explanatory. Answering the question I put before does make this one a bit easier.

                  Here is one that I hope they never learn first hand. 

               " It is EXTREMELY easy to lose all that matters by being stubborn and/or stupid."

             Once again, pretty self explanatory. Probably not for men. Not until they've done it at least once... Like I said, I hope they all bypass this one.

                         " A faint heart never won a fair lady"

                Feminists, please take a breath and read a little further before you take offense. This is not just about dealing with women. It is about dealing with life, a way of approaching life.

         It is also about approaching women. Do so with sincerity, honesty and full knowledge that you are dealing with a lady, even if she doesn't think she is. Especially if she doesn't think she is.

              " Sometimes you can't win, cant break even and can't get out of the game"

             When they hit this spot in life i hope they remember one thing:

         In times like these, the only way out is "Through".

                          Of course I can't forget " Billy Jack"...

                    " If your outnumbered and are going to take a beating anyway and there is absolutely no way out, throw the first punch".

            Pretty self explanatory too. Usually there is another way. I spent the first half of my life hitting and being hit. The funny thing is, in the last half of my life, I haven't had to thump anyone or be thumped by anyone. I learned to stay away from the people, places and things that attracts that lifestyle and magically things changed. Maybe there's a lesson there, also?

                             " Love wholly, completely and without judgement"

               This was stolen from Norm Petersons speech to Sam Malone on the last episode of " Cheers". It probably is one of the most important things to keep in mind from all the rambling minutia I'm putting down here. In the end this will most likely be the only real thing anyone remembers about any of us, how we loved...

                         The last lesson on my list? Once again, plagiarized.

          I never said I invented all of these. Some of these, maybe, but I have lived all of them and thru this life, I  have found many people who said what my soul had learned better than I ever could. 

                               I'd be stupid to not repeat their wisdom. 

              This brings me to my favorite and most quoted, from the movie " Micheal".

                "  Sparky, never let anyone tell you that you can have to much sugar"...

                      "I'll miss this place so much..."

                          I know this is kind of a strange thing to say, coming from an old recovering drunk and druggie, but you have to watch the movie and understand the context.

                 The Archangel Micheal made a deal with God that he would come down to Earth and try to give a miserable man back his soul and help him regain the ability to love. He is savoring all of the joys mankind takes for granted, sugar, battle and more on this last trip down, as it IS his very last time here. He speaks to the dog sitting near him about how hard and tricky this task will be. He looks across an amazing horizon and almost in tears says " I'll miss this place so much.."

        I hope my kids learn to view all the amazing gifts God has given us in much the same way as Micheal did. I hope they enjoy this trip here and know how incredibly short it really is.

                  Not much of a list. They probably will never need it. But if they do, it's here...

   

           

     

I said the "A" word...

         I was engaged once before I met my Wonderful Wife. Actually, twice, but to be fair one of those  times didn't count. That one was to a McDonalds night manager in a local town whom I had been dating and it happened during a black out of mine. Done with a ring from a bubble gum machine I have been told, and supposedly I had went thru quite a few dollars worth of change to get it. She thought it was cute and said yes. That bender continued for quite a while and somewhere in between I not only forgot about the proposal but actually forgot we had been dating. My friend Joe who introduced us called me during one of my sober lapses and explained the whole dating/ proposal situation. He said it had been weeks since and I was an idiot and an inconsiderate &$@- hole and he would never introduce me to anyone again. Properly chastised, I suggested he and I hit the local dive and have a drink. He agreed and we did. The subject never came up again.

      I think you would agree that this one shouldnt count...

               But the one that did count, that is another story...

                   I had just left the Navy and had been sober for about seven months. Of course I was not doing any of the things suggested to me by my last sponsor and met Crickett in a bar.

     I was twenty three and she was twenty one. I liked her a lot until she had the D.J. play " In the Navy" by the Village people. She lost a lot of points on that one. Note to all single women interested in current or former Navy personnel - Don't do this.. It needs no explanation. She was cute so I gave her a second chance. I'm still glad I did.

                      We hung out a lot and I met her son Austin. He was a great little kid, eleven months old, wild and adorable. I made the trip from Schuylerville N.Y. to Bennington Vt. twice a day for a long time, and it became serious quickly. The trips back and forth were fewer between as I stayed in Vermont more often and for longer periods. We spoke of marriage and I bought a ring. One night, I proposed and she said yes. Austin's father was not in the picture and I was going to adopt him. We had a nice little family.

           Crickett had been living with her mother and an apartment on the other side of the duplex she lived in opened up, second floor. We rented it and moved in. I was painting houses for a contractor at the time and we were doing O.K. financially . Austin seemed to be on my shoulder most of my waking, non working moments. I fed him, changed him and I put him to bed after his mom kissed him good night. When he woke up crying at night, I would get up, go to his crib and take care of him. He layed his head on my neck and would fall into a slumber whispering " da da" before he would finally doze off...

            Things changed about six months later. Crickett and I argued more and she said if we were arguing this much, maybe we shouldn't get married. Hurt, I said fine. I suggested she give me the ring back..

        Note to all engaged men arguing with your fiancé. Don't do this. It needs no explanation. Maybe for men it does, as we tend to be a little slow on the emotional uptake, but I'm not going to go there now. Just take my word for it. I promise, you will be glad you listened...

       It took her awhile but she did take off the ring. It turns out sometimes there's no going back from that statement. A week later she moved across the duplex to her moms apartment again. We tried to work it out but never could get past that day. She got a job cleaning houses and I watched Austin during the days I was off. I remember the last day I took care of him. He was the most sweet and well behaved I had ever seen him, as If he felt if he behaved well enough, it would go back to how things were. This normally bulldozer-ish child was quiet and clinging and would not let me anywhere out of his sight. When Crickett came to pick him up I offered to still adopt him. I know it sounds crazy but I loved him like  he was already my son. Crickett just started crying, took Austin from my shoulder and walked out the door...

      At night I would hear him across the Sheetrock wall that separated the duplex, that separated his nursery from my living room. The wall that separated me from this boy I desperately wanted to be my son.

      I heard his mom go into the room and try to quiet him and heard her cry as he cried out " da da".

                I really will get to the "A" word and past this backstory. It's just going to take a little more time...

                I would like to say I took this stolicly and philisophicly. 

                                                             I didn't.

                           I get a little verclemmped when I hit this part of the story, so let's just say John Wayne, I wasn't.

                     I visited my uncle a few weeks later and the first thing he said was that if I had adopted Austin, I would be paying child support for another seventeen years. Thankfully, I had passed that stage in my life were I reacted violently. I just stared. He never said those words again.. I swore I would never go thru these feelings again, never would I even think about the concept of...

                                        O.K. , time for the "A" word...

                 A while ago my Wonderful Wife and I have decided we wanted to adopt.

            It started with a foster mom we knew looking for someone that might take in 3 or 4 siblings that were going to be separated. I saw the look in my Wonderful Wife's eyes. I looked around at our old house as I pictured my children separated between different foster homes and realized a crowded 130 year old home is better than brothers and sisters pulled apart, without their mother or father.

                                  I said " We could do that."

               We have been going thru the foster parent training ever since.

                      Feelings have been coming up that I haven't thought about or felt in a very long time.

               I have spoken of Austin maybe twice since I've known my Wonderful Wife. I remember him taken from my arms that day and I choke up a little as I realize some of these feelings are still very real and still a bit raw. I haven't allowed myself to think of him for a very long time.

        Today I can't stop thinking of him...

             I watched our neighbors heart break as a child she was sure she would adopt was given back to her birth parents and wonder if I'm strong enough myself to walk thru that again and I realize that I'm defineatly not.

           That is my saving Grace...

                   Today I know I am weak enough to walk thru that, if that is the path God sets before us.

        I could never be strong enough, even with my Wonderful Wife beside me. I do know now that my weakness allows Jesus to carry the burdens I could never shoulder, that we could never shoulder without Him. However this goes will be Gods will.

       At this moment I am looking up at the photo album on our top bookcase shelf, fifth one to the left.

       It has pictures from my old Navy days, and somewhere sandwiched between those pages are photos of Austin. 

        I won't take them down today. I will stare at the album, though..

        

                      

Right sized.

                                       For a long time A.A. was my only " Church".

I went there six or seven times a week and a lot of times twice a day. This went on for more than twelve years.

                I bring this up because one of the suggested steps( step 4) is to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. We admitted to God, ourselves and another human being the EXACT nature of our wrongs ( Step 5).

                 The whole purpose of these steps were to get an honest evaluation of exactly who we were. Who we had been, who we were becoming.

                             Think about the immensity of this terror. An honest, unvarnished record of the who you REALLY are. Looking into the depth of any soul, generally is not a pretty sight but into one that had been owned by addiction and all that comes with it? Stepping past all that posturing and beyond the show makes most of us cringe in shame and terror...

                    This was suggested to be in writing. Think about THAT list, of all the things you don't or didnt want anyone to know, all those dark secrets kept, sins committed or sins of right actions we conveniently omitted to do because of fear or apathy. Right things not done because of envy or jealousy...

          Then to sit down with some person of your choosing and before God and that person, you read every detail written, every dishonest intention. You allow someone to know the real you..

                  Diligently done with brutal honesty, this does create change.

                              It is a necessary step to become "Right-sized"

             An old management mantra states that you cannot manage what you cannot measure.

                                          It is certainly a truism here.

                    In some ways this further broke me. It made me much smaller in my own eyes. That is a good thing.The amazing thing that it also brought was a commonality and brotherhood with humanity. Uniqueness began to disappear...

            I have done this many times, with many people. A few times as the one speaking those uncomfortable written words, but many more times as the one blessed listening. Stockbrokers and stumblebums, felons and highly respected Church members, I was blessed to be chosen sometimes in those years often enough to see one amazingly simple and consistent fact.  We were all the same. We are all the same....

          It has been many years since the last time I experienced this. I left that program not because I didn't love it or believe in it. I left because I did.

                  Common welfare of 12 step groups is the first priority. Kind of like Spocks speech in the "Wraith of Kahn" " The good of the many outweigh the needs of the few...or the one".

        Like any group of humans, factions form. Some are straight traditionalists while others are more progressive. Ideally they co-exist and find a happy middle ground...

        Unfortunately, ideals are theoreticaly easy, yet functionally a rarity among most of us...

             So, the primary purpose, to help others achieve sobriety became diluted on many different sides. Some pushed rehabs and counseling while others held fast to the Bible based 12 steps of recovery and the "Big Book" and twelve traditions, already written.

       Newcomers came in the door and instead of being welcomed, focused on and helped, they sat thru entire meetings of arguments and debate on how they "Should" be helped. I have seen a newcomer get up and walk out in disgust, never to come back, never to sober up.

         I wish I could say I saw this happen only once and that I was not a participant in the incessant debates that caused it. Both of those statements would be outright lies and I was speaking of brutal honesty...

      The truth is, this happened often. I was a debater, looking out for the common good, I told myself.

      I tried to shut up and prayed for the ability to not counter what I disagreed with. I'm quite certain the people on the other side of the aisle did the same.

       I spoke with sponsors, old timers and trusted friends. Exactly how do I deal with this?  A myriad of answers came but none seemed correct. I continued to pray.

              I realized that this characteristic would probably never change in me. I could not remain silent  when i felt truly convicted , even if opening my mouth contributed to the fiascos that drove new members out...

                                                            Ouch.

                   I certainly was not the only one in these philisophicle free for alls. It had become part of the culture of these groups and I found myself completely powerless to change the direction we were all heading. I felt powerless to change my own direction...

                It did me no good. It did the group no good. It hurt the newcomer.

                                                    I had to go.

                                 My leaving would not and did not fix anything. I am sure the debates still rage on, but in-between all the insanity, people are still recovering. Families are still being brought back together and many now know a new freedom they never before dreamt of. Amazing things happen in those rooms and rarely a week goes by inside them without people witnessing miracles of recovery or reconciliation.

            Most of the important lessons I learned occurred in those hallowed basements.

           I did not leave to fix them. I left because it was necessary for peace in my own soul.

                The hundred thousand dollar question. Where would I go?

         From day one people are taught in the rooms of recovery that you cannot stay sober outside of AA. It is more often true than not.  I have personally witnessed parades of people with significant time sober leave the rooms and attempt sobriety themselves. Most relapsed and came back. Relapsed and didnt come back. Some never regained sobriety again and died drunk and forgotten.

               AA was all I knew. I was terrified...

                     So I went to Key West. I spent time in prayer and was graced with peace and faith enough to lose the fear that had overwhelmed me. I realized that God had never abandoned me.

  His track record was flawless although mine was not....

        I came home when the time was right and I was ready for the next phase God had planned.

           I have by the Grace of God, stayed clean and sober in a different Church. The Church that we attend. The Church of friends and family we love, whether they attend our chosen place of worship or not. The Church of family and common faith and Grace at meals.

             As life grows around you and responsibilities pull from all directions, you find both how small and powerless you really are and another amazing contrast.

      You find how much you really do matter in this life, to those you touch and how irreplaceable living in love makes you.

   You become right sized in a different way...

       A better way..

          

Fathers and sons...

    On my 10 year old son Stephens Christmas wish list, he wrote as a gift, that he wanted to see the movie "Walking with Dinosaurs" with just his dad and himself. Today was the last day before returning to work that it would still be playing locally and we could both go to see it.

         So, at 10:20 a.m., Sunday morning, we walked into the Bowtie theatre in Wilton and ordered the giant popcorn and two humongous Mountain Dews. He was constantly watching me, unsure, " What are we going to tell Mom?" he kept asking...

          My Wonderful Wife and I generally forbid soda from our kids. Birthdays and very special occasions excluded, they do not drink soda and when they do, it is only one very small glass. Popcorn has not been an option for the past few years, as all three boys have had expanders in their mouths and have needed to remain popcorn free. Recently, Stephen had his expanders removed, but we still stayed away from popcorn, because of his brothers and tantrum avoidance.

             You can understand his reticence and confusion...

                " I will tell her we had soda and popcorn at the movies" I said. He would not get into any trouble. I told him that sometimes fathers and sons just had to do crazy things together and as the dad, I would take all the heat. He looked at me like I was insane but also like I was the bravest man alive.

         We watched the movie, emptied the giant popcorn tub and drained our sodas. 

              After that we hit Hallmarks in the mall and picked up two birthday cards for his grandmother.

                      If we go back half a week, we have a completely different story.

                           For the past five or twenty years or so, I have been wanting to do the polar plunge. Either I was out of state, working, or would just completely forget,  but I always missed it. This year, my hours are different and the timing worked out perfectly. Last year I almost made it, but it became way to much of a rush to get there. This year, there was no excuse...

         I would like to say no excuse, but the truth is I was a little unsure. A bit nervous. Thoughts entered my head like " You know you could actually have a stroke or go into shock. Your not nearly as young and idiotic as you were in your teens when you rode icebergs in the whitewater. It is freezing outside. You might chicken out...etc. etc. etc."

                Our youngest son Jacob ran up to his grandfather the same instant these thoughts were bombarding my mind and half screamed " Daddies going up to be a polar bear and jump in the lake!"

      The kids all laughed and bounced off the walls as my father stonily gazed across the room to the chair I was sitting in and said " Only stupid people jump in the lake in the winter".

                               A little backstory...

       My dad was raised in the camps in Poland and Germany in World War two. He learned to keep his head down and never take a risk. Survival was dependent on those two things. Unfortunately, seventy years past that and he still lives those lessons like they were yesterday.

        He never had a dream. As a child, I would often ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up, when he was a child. He would ignore me no matter how often I asked. I have asked him again in recent years, recent months and still get the same answer...stone cold silence.

          Growing up I came up with a dozen jobs I would want to have. He said they were all too hard, took to much training. Machinist. Truck driver. Welder. Electrician. Mechanic. The list went on and on.

     A dozen years ago or so I looked back at my resume and found out that all those things that were so impossible, that took people smarter than me, were all positions I had held and done well.

                I spent three quarters of my life proving him wrong. 

         Like I said, it's been a dozen years since that revelation and in those years I realized how much more I wanted for us as father and son.

     I wanted to go places that would excite him and see things that brought back the child in him. I wanted to know the man behind the stony gaze, behind the lessons learned so well. I wanted to hear stories of first loves, giant dreams and of reaching to far..

  I wanted to watch him jump into a lake in the winter.

           I am finally learning that these places just do not exist..

             They never did...

                My dad never had the luxury of dreaming, and when it did become possible, plausible...he was already too well trained..

                     That is just the way life goes, sometimes.

                                  Enough of the backstory.

                     I heard the words he spoke about stupid people and cold lakes and knew I had to go. No more excuses, no more second thoughts. My dad will never understand his lunatic son but his grand kids do. They understand sometimes it is required to be a little nuts, sometimes a little controlled and fenced in chaos is good for your soul and confirms the fact you are a ridiculous human being and completely alive.

            I hope they learn my two lessons well.

             I love my dad and have so much respect for him..and regret...

                  I will keep asking about his dreams although I'm fairly sure the answer will always remain the same. I will continue to do crazy things every now and then to rejoice in the freedoms and love God has granted me...

               It was funny though, when I came back thru the door after parylyzing my entire body and freezing my nether regions, I walked into our living room and my dad was sitting there. His eyes had lost that stony gaze and I saw a spark of... laughter?...happiness ?...joy?....In HIS eyes...

     The kids excitedly told him about my chilling escapades and he listened intently, almost like he wished he had been there...

   Like I said, I will keep asking..