FINAL HOMAGE (to moi)

I was talking on the phone with my good  friend John recently.  He was telling me about a college basketball game he went to several years ago.  it's a good memory for him; one he remembers vividly.
He considers that day perhaps his best in the past decade.  Because of health and financial concerns, John's life has become somewhat quiet.
He asked me if I could choose my favorite day of the past ten years.  As I tried to come up with one, he acknowledged that I probably couldn't because there were too many to choose from.  He said this, no doubt, with some envy, but no anger.
The conversation ended with John wishing me a good day on the beach.

It had been another good day for me up to that point.  My weight had reached a new post retirement low, I purchased a nice thrift store shirt for forty cents, and I finished a new book from the library.  (The book really was new; I was the first person to borrow it.  Life's simple pleasures.)
So, sitting on the beach that day, I was, not surprisingly, content.
It was a mildly windy day, and an older, foreign man (I knew he was from a foreign land because of his diminutive swim suit)  was contemplating putting up a beach umbrella without any anchor or stakes to keep it in place.  As I grow older, I also find myself also growing somewhat more paranoid, and it occurred to me with, an atitude of pessimistic acknowledgement, that all good things come to an end, and what a shame it would be if my good day at the shore ended with a flying beach umbrella sticking out of my chest.
Crisis averted; the old foreign man had a timely attack of common sense and dealt with with sun sans protection from the umbrella.  (Thank you.  Merci.)

Still, the episode caused me to further ponder John's inquiry about my best day.
There are many to choose from.  Most certainly revolve around children and grandchildren.  There are a few sports related, a few others involve raucus dance floor behavior.  There are none related to my professional life, other than leaving it.

There was this one very special day............
June 21, 2008; I can remember the moment.

I had driven to Florida just a few days before.  I'm at the airport, waiting for my bride.  She steps off the tram, and I see her.  I am awash with grace, exhilarated with anticipation.
Geeg and I started our "snowbird' lifestyle together.  No longer a dream, but a reality.
The best of both worlds; the best of all worlds.
And we live happily ever after; for that, and for so much more, I remain eternally thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Homage lll

Daily Gegi Pic

Well, not necessarily daily.  Maybe weekly, potentially monthly, possibly annually.















                                                                                                   Probably a one shot deal.
Isn't she adorable?

Homage ll (My 3 Princesses)

Young adults now, so of course their "cute" days are far behind them.................NOT!

Have you seen Julie brighten up a room with her smile, Mary Tyler Moore style?
Have you seen Sara cuddle and enjoy "tummy time" with little Ceci?
Have you seen Amy with a plunger?

Cute?  They are freakin' adorable!

I am so thrilled that they can now share being "blood"aunts.  It's a beautiful thing, watching them all love and care for  Miles, Landon, Ceci, and each other.

Another special Thanksgiving approaches; more and more blessings to count.

Homage

who:    Geeg & Pop
what:   Dinner for two
where: Marlin' Darlin'; our favorite inexpensive restaurant in Florida
when:  Wacky Wednesday
why:   Morning restaurant billboard advertised "all you can eat" sea bass


I loves me some sea bass.

Since this restaurant doesn't open until 4 pm, I feared the advertised special was from the day before.  I called Marlin' Darlin' to confirm the menu for the night: confirmed, "auce sea bass" for $13.50.

We arrived at 7, no reservation required.  However, reservations indeed I had when the billboard advertised "auce Snapper."
The embarrassed hostess confirmed our conversation from just an hour ago; yikes, they must have just run out of sea bass.
And so it goes.
After discussing the possibility with the waiter that maybe there was some bass left, he said no, but I didn't miss anything.  ( I sense a conspiracy between waiter and hostess.)
So, our evening began with a $5 GG martini for the gentleman, a $3 Cabernet for the lady.

Yada, yada, yada; citrus caesar salads, two servings of snapper, Key West, then Picatta style for the gentleman, grilled chicken and dessert for the lady, and our night out was over.

Not sea bass, but I think it was my first snapper.  I liked it; I'll try it again, maybe even grill it at home.
I mean it's not like we can go out all the time, or even every week; dinner, including tip was $44!

I'm not crying poverty, but I'm also not too concerned about Obama's plan to increase taxes on the rich.
We're not yet ready for a lifestyle change; this is probably my last homage blog.  Any future blogs from me about dining will not be about the menu, but if the company is really good, who knows?

Icing on the Cake

Dear Amy, Sara, Julie, &and Geeg,

I bought each of you three roses from Uncle Jimmy's Rotary Club.  Unfortunately, Uncle Jimmy only delivers to New Milford, so the full dozen will reside at Julie's house.  While most of you will not be able to enjoy the scent, I hope you can appreciate the sentiment.

"Icing on the cake" is a popular idiom that describes something really good happening after other good happenings.  Because of you guys, and your families, my summer has been...... all icing.

Thank you.  I love you all.

All We Need

You don't do much; you can't do much.
Can't talk, can't walk - you can hardly move when you're all swaddled up like a sausage.
Yet, look what you've accomplished in the two days that is your life; your little body causing others to do big things.

First, your Uncle Kirk fought off every frugal fibre in his body and bought Aunt Julie a new camera to capture the very first minutes, hours, days of your life.

Then,your Grandma,Geeg, made a huge sacrifice by relinquishing her place in your delivery room to Aunt Julie.  Aunt Julie's gratitude was a special gift on this special day.  Also, I'm told her attention to Mommy's contractions helped bring you into this world at just the right time.  Props to Aunt Jules.

Your birthing process re-inforced the bond between your Mom and your Aunt Julie, creating unforgettable memories, some regrettably so.
 We move on.
Your birth, your introduction to this world, our world, brought tears to the eyes of your usually stoic (and wise ass) Father.  Your presence humbled him; a minor miracle.

And next was your introduction to Mommy, that caused her to gloriously cry out the name of our Lord with unabashed glee, caught on video tape (YOU TUBE worthy) and the memories of all witnesses.
Welcome, Cecilia; I can't get enough of this video.
You are loved.
You are blessed.

Next, you reached long distance, when just the sound of your middle name caused the earth to move under the feet of your great Aunt Marion, and left your Grandpa in a pool of muffled tears.
Nice job, Cecilia Marion.

So, what do you do for an encore?
Tomorrow, you will tug on heart strings that are three thousand miles long, and you will bring my baby Amy home.

Thank you..

I wish I could prepare you for your Ant Amy, but I can't.  Check with your cousins.


And so it goes.  The circle of life has a new member and we are blessed.  I suspect there will never be a day when Ceci questions if she is  loved, and, as we know,................. love is all you need.

Like I Said..........

Miles and Landon completed their swimming lessons this week.  Miles came to tell me about the last day; one hand was behind his back.
He told me that he competed in 4 races that day, each requiring a different style.  he whipped his arm out to display 4 blue ribbons; he won all 4 races!
He was very proud, as he should be.

Landon shouted to me from his deck:
"Pop, I was in a race too!  There were four of us, and I didn't come in fourth!"

Like I said, he's figured it out.

I'm so proud of both of them.

He's Figured it Out

Okay, so there was this race a few weeks ago; 3.1 miles, 5K.  It's an annual event in New Milford, called "Moonlight Run."  I thought it would be cool to run the race with Miles last year.  He was 6 then, I was 60.  More than just cool, it would have been down right poetic; maybe even newspaper worthy.
   "Sixty year old grandpa runs with 6 year old grandson."
I could have sold it.  Last year.

"Sixty one year old grandpa runs with seven year old grandson" just doesn't roll off the tongue.
No symetry.

But Miles wasn't at all interested last year.  His interest this year was merely luke warm.
We practiced a few times; he never ran more than a mile without stopping to walk.  My training was interrupted by poorly timed knee pain that required surgery.

It was raining the afternoon of the race, but Miles unenthusiastically decided we should give it a go.
Miles, Pop, Mommy, and Daddy would run the race.

Okay.  No symetry, no poetry, but still a memory in the making.

Landon would not be participating.  Nor Geeg, though she was prepared to step in for me if I couldn't handle the excruciating pain, a mere 4 weeks after surgery..  No problem, I thought, we'll be walking most of this race.

We got to the field where the race was to begin, and I smiled as Miles played with friends, wasting valuable energy.  Yeah, we'll be walking most of the time.

The plan was for Mommy and Daddy to run at their own paces; Miles and I would hang back.
Way back.
That was the plan.

So the race starts and Mommy is off an running.  Miles is running faster than I had planned; Daddy hangs with him at the start.  I'm further behind, smiling as Miles sways from the left to right, not taking the most direct route.  Use up that energy; we'll be walking soon.
We reach the Mile marker.  Miles is still running, Daddy at his side.
I'm still running further behind.  I can see Miles, but I can't catch him.

We didn't see Mommy until she was on her way back to the finish line.  Go Mommy!

We reach the half way mark.  Miles and Daddy slow down to drink a cup of water.  I catch up!
Miles and Daddy quickly resume their pace and leave me in there dust.

We pass the two mile marker.  Miles is seemingly exhausted, but he is still running.
So am I, but with my familiar view of Miles' back.

After about two and a half miles, Miles stops to walk for a bit.  He walks for about 20 seconds.  Then, apparently spurred by my catching up with him, Miles takes off again, leaving me with my familiar view.

Yada, yada, yada......................Miles finishes the race in an amayzing 31 minutes and 30 seconds!
I unofficially finished in about 32 minutes; my best ever.  
Wow.
Props to Mommy for finishing at her targeted time of 24 minutes.
Props to Daddy for hanging back with Miles when it became painfully clear that I couldn't keep up.
Props to Pop for finishing the race.
Props to Geeg for being prepared to pinch hit.
Props to Miles for finishing the race and doing it much faster than a whole bunch of kids and adults.

And props to Landon.
He's figured it out.
And he's only five and a half.

Landon has figured out that he just can't yet compete with Miles in some areas.  A 2 year difference is huge at their ages, regarding sports and academics.  Landon is simply not as athletic or smart as Miles; not yet anyway.  So he doesn't compete, but he does participate and he does learn.

What he has figured out is that he can beat Miles at something.
Miles is seven and a half years old, with 2 years of school bus experience.
He's a wonderful little boy, but he's not always charming.

He's seven and half years old, and not reluctant to behave as one.  That behavior is sometimes less than adorable.

Landon has figured out that he can be much more charming, much more adorable, than his big brother.  And, it's easy for him.  He wakes up happy, for heaven's sake!

Landon is silly, polite, respectful, and downright fun to be with.
Not that Miles isn't all those things; it's just that Landon is better at it.

If Miles is not around, it's even possible to spend quality time with Landon without hearing armpit phart noises!

We all know that both are very special boys; they just have different talents.  Landon will get stronger and smarter, and maybe catch up to Miles someday.  Of course he might become less adorable, but I'm sure that will only be temporary.
He's figured it out.

As daddy was leaving for work this morning, he remarked, "eleven years."
"What happens in eleven years?" asked Geeg.
"Miles will be eighteen."

Daddy has figured it out too.

I'm sure both boys will provide a plethora of charming moments in the years ahead.

Enjoy.

And Yet, there's more...

Check out that swing, that classic swing.  Eyes on the ball, arms extended, weight shifting forward. That swing turned into a double.  But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Little League season ended two weeks ago; I've been too emotionally drained to blog about it until now.

  Landon's game was first.  He plays the game the way it should be played; he is attentive and unselfish.  He shows the game the respect it deserves, but with the apparent nonchalance he shows for everything he's not quite comfortable with.  I think Landon's motto for life is  "never let them 

 see you sweat."

Landon had a good game; he fielded his positions well, he got on base every time up, and he slid into home.  Attaboy, Landon!





Miles' game was next, and, at the risk of being understated, he was spectacular!  He played first base one inning and got all three outs.  In another inning, he got the batter out from short stop.  He hit with his typical efficiency.
Late in the game, he hit a ground ball single up the middle.  The next batter hit a ground ball that stayed in the infield.  Miles dashed to second and slid, to avoid being out.
The next batter hit another ground ball that stayed in the infield.  Once again, Miles (the Natural) dashed and slid into third.  Safe!
Miles likes to slide.  He always slides into home, generally unneccessarily.  But his slides into second and third were totally necessary.  I'm tellin' ya, he's a natural.
The next batter singled.  Miles crossed the plate standing up, like he's been there before.

At this point, I was thinking that was a nice way to end the season.
But to my dismay, there was time for another inning.  I'm ashamed to admit I didn't want Miles to get up again; I liked the storybook ending as it was.

Boy, was I wrong.  There was more to come.

That swing, that classic swing pictured above,  occurred during Miles' last at bat of the season.  After taking several pitches, Miles picked one he liked; low and on the outside corner of the plate.  Eyes on the ball, arms extended, wight shifting forward; the crack of the bat was sweet music to my ears, as a viscious line drive whistled into centerfield.  The first base coach told Miles to dig for two.  He practically skipped into second base.  A double; almost unheard of at the Rookie League level.

Now, that's the way to end the season!

Yet, amaysingly, there was more.

Miles played centerfield for the last half of the last inning.  With two outs and runners on first and second, the batter hits an apparent single up the middle.  But wait!  There's Miles playing a shallow center.  He fields the ball flawlessly, catching it before trying to throw it or run with it.  He runs to second base and records the inning ending, season ending out!

Now that's really the way to end the season..............but, you guessed it; there was still more.

After the game, the coach rallied his team together  to congratulate them on a great season, and to hand out the game ball.  I heard some of the players calling out Miles' name.  They thought he was going to get the ball.
They wanted him to get the ball.
The coach talked about a player who always tries his best, always knows what base to cover, what base to throw to.
He talked about a player who always hustles.

Now, I gotta tell you, "hustle" is all about what kind of person you are.  If you are hustling, you are giving  your best effort, you are striving to be the best that you can be.  Baseball skills are taught on the ballfield, giving your best effort is taught at home.
Good parenting, and maybe a dash of good grand parenting.

Miles got the game ball.  The day was clearly his.

But, Landon will no doubt get his turn.  He has a huge advantage.
He has a big brother.

Big Day at the Ball Park

There is a play in baseball folklore simply known as "The Catch."

Late September, 1954; World Series, my beloved Giants vs the Cleveland Indians.  Willie Mays, my first childhood sports hero, makes a game saving catch, described as an optical illusion by those who saw it in person.  The Giants go on to win that world series, their last until 2010.

"The Catch" has been replaced, not in baseball folklore, but in my heart.

I remember my first catch.

Summer of 1957, a pick up game in the long alley way behind the houses of Bartley, Eddie, and Don.
I'm playing first base.  A line drive is hit to my left, I lunge and catch the ball just before it flew over the fence into a small garden.
It was a game saving catch, and perhaps a life saving catch.
The garden belonged to a mean old man in the neighborhood.  Maybe he wasn't mean, just sad.
He was a widower.
It was a game saving catch because we wouldn't have been able to retrieve the ball if I hadn't caught it, and the game would have been over.
It was, perhaps, a life saving catch because he might have killed us if we trampled his garden.

Flash forward to late May, 2011.

The day, like most Saturdays in May, starts with Landon's T-Ball game.  He gets numerous hits and makes an out at first base by catching the ball and touching the bag.
So proud; he couldn't wait to tell his big brother who was at another field waiting for his game to start.

By the time we got there, Landon determined that he had made 13 outs!  Atta boy, Landon.

Now it's Miles' turn.  Early in the game, he is playing centerfield; same position Willie Mays played.
The best player on the opposing team (I think he was eight feet tall), hits a scorching drive to Miles' right.
He lunges, gets  back handed leather on the ball, but can't quite hold on to it.  Nice try, Miles.  Good effort.

Last inning,  Miles is playing first base; good strategy to have your best fielder there in the late innings.
Miles records the first out just like Landon did; he caught the ball and touched the base.  Attaboy, Miles.

(It should be noted at this point in the narrative that Miles' Mom has sweetened the pot by offering the incentive of a trip to Friendly's if either Miles or Landon catch a fly ball during a game. The outs Miles and Landon have made so far do not qualify.)




Several batters and run later, the game is no doubt tied.  The bags are loaded, there is only one out, the out Miles got several batters ago.


After carefully taking several pitches, the batter (a behemoth of a boy), lofts a high fly ball  on the right side of the infield.  Miles appears to be under it, but a gust of wind has the ball drifting into the stands.
At the last possible moment, Miles dives, catches the ball, and in one sweeping motion touches first base with the tip of his toe.  (At least that's how I remember it.)
An unassisted, game ending, tie preserving double play!
A joyful roar erupts from the crowd.!  As well as roaring, I am struggling to control my quivering lips.

Wow.  "The Catch."
Awesome.  And a trip to Friendly's.

Tom Hanks, in a famous baseball movie, tells his all girl baseball team that there is no crying in baseball.

Apparently Mr. Hanks' character never suffered for almost six decades with a bridesmaid team, only to be finally rewarded with a World Series Championship.

Nor did he ever see his grandsons play Little League Baseball, where everyone is a champion.

Thanks for the memories, Miles and Landon.  I look forward to many, many more.

Happy Mother's Day

So much have I benefited from the mother's in my life.  I have not been shy to praise the virtues of my own mother, the mother of my children, and the mother of my grand sons.  (The expectant mother of my grand daughter will no doubt soon earn equal praise.)

It occurs to me that I have been grossly negligent by not thoroughly acknowledging the positive impact my mother-in-law has had on my life.  She was, in many ways, the foundation of my marriage, my family.

Very young, and very much in love;  I was also not nearly as smart as I thought I was, back in the day.
I liked to think that Paul, John, George, and Ringo were right when they told us "All You Need Is Love."
However, I have to admit, a basement apartment nicely supplemented our love.

My mother-in-law (I never got around to calling her "Ma")  was not the "touchy feely" type like my mom.
Okay, she scared me at first.  I'm sure I scared her too, long haired New York City pipsqueak little punk that I was.  But we soon saw each other thru Patty's eyes, and it was all good.

She nurtured me when, perhaps, I needed it most.  My mother-in-law, as much as anyone else, set in motion what was to become my "happily ever after" life.

Thank you Ma.
God Bless you Ma.
I love you Ma.

Just When I Thought....

...My life couldn't get any better, the family Po came to visit.
The sun shined a little brighter, I smiled a little wider.  Geeg and I laughed a little louder.

At one point, Miles was teasing Landon because his little brother likes Barney, the purple dinosaur.
I chose to defend Landon.
"Barney is cool," I said. 
Landon smiled with satisfaction, and left, leaving me to fight this battle.

"No he's not," said Miles.
"Who's cooler," I challenged, "Barney or Phineas and Ferb?"

Miles: "Phineas and Ferb."
Pop: Who's cooler, Phineas and Ferb or Derek Jeter?"
Miles: "Derek Jeter." (no kidding....)

Pop: "Who's cooler, Derek Jeter or Miles Austin?"
Miles: Derek Jeter." (hmmm)
Pop: "Who's cooler, Derek Jeter or Pop?"
Miles: "Pop!" (really?)

Pop: "Who's cooler, Pop or Joe Jonas?"
Miles: "Pop." (WOW!)

Pop: "Who's cooler, Pop or................"

Before I could come up with another comparison, Miles responded.........."Pop."

My knees buckled, my heart fluttered, my lips quivered.
The implication of Miles' answer was that nobody I could name could possibly be cooler than yours truly.
Humbling.

Now, I know that's simply not true.  Miles has a really cool brother, ultra cool parents, and aunts that define cool.  Heckwis, Geeg is cooler than  I am, when she's not being a teacher.

But it was so sweet of Miles to put me at the top of the list, even just for a moment.  Or, maybe he was just trying to shut me up and end the silly game.

Maybe.  Maybe not.

Thanks for visiting, family Po; we'll see you soon.

Hello, Good Bye...........................

I'm conflicted by today's events.  The good news; opening day of the baseball season!  The Giants will be on national television they start their defense of their World Championship.  Go Giants!

The bad news; Jude and Marion are leaving the sunny south and heading back to the dreaded north.  (Boo.)
We shared a glorious 3 months again; now our bond based on mutual admiration will have to endure an extended absence.  The bond will indeed endure.  Always has, always will.

Jude, bent but not broken; slowed but not stilled, continues to wheel himself, with the constant help of his trusty sidekick, thru the various terrains that is life complicated by Parkinson's.  Life more than just goes on.
Trips to the beach are adventures; restaurants are jungles of tables and chairs that need to be navigated.  Wii bowling?  Don't get me started...........
No complaints from the K team, just perseverance, perpetual gratitude, and perennial smiles.
Gracious, generous, good, good people.

I miss his kiss.........................

Jude's greeting used to include a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  I have to admit, the kiss took a while to get used to, despite my Italian heritage.  But I did get comfortable with it; so comfortable that I in fact returned the kiss.  An expression of love and affection.  Brothers.

But Jude's salutations no longer include the man buss.  I don't take it personally; his kisser doesn't work as well as it used to.  So I'm just catching up these days; offering unreturned kisses to make up for all the received kisses I received that went unreciprocated.

But, I've decided that's just not enough; more needs to be done to revive this evidence of bromance.

I'll start with my son-in-laws.  If the occasion call for a hug, expect a kiss as well.  My nephews too, at least on my side of the family.  I'll tread slowly with Geeg's side, but eventually they will enjoy (endure?) the soon to be infamous "pal peck."

Kiss or no kiss, Jude and Marion radiate love and affection.  Right back atcha.
We will see you soon, our bond is firm.  Be well.

Go Giants.