Sunday Search: The Events Of Each Generation

When researching the lives of my ancestors I am always cognizant of the larger events happening in the world around them. Additionally, I constantly think about the way of life and what would have been part of their daily consciousness during that period of time. Sometimes I am able to find direct connections to those events or ways of life like military service, prohibition, or the expansion and prevalence of the railroad industry.

However, it is important to remember (and sometimes I have to remind myself), that the stories are there we just have to allow our ancestors to tell them. We can't expect to find anything or wish to find a connection to a person or event. We must look at their lives as we do our own and cherish facts (good and bad) like memories. In my opinion, this is a critical in understanding your ancestors and the lives that they lived.

It is this same thought process that is important for us to remember in our own lives as well. While there are many people who have a direct connection to 9/11, there are even more of us that have been impacted by this tragedy in one way or another. Our lives are different because of it and, in many instances, the courses of our lives have been altered by it. Some more so than others.  

This, unfortunately, is an event that has shaped our time similar to how the various events in history have shaped the lives of our ancestors. Not only does this remain a vivid memory but the time in which we live has allowed us to experience it as it happened, in real time, and also relive the horrors of that September morning. This is both good and bad for obvious reasons.

We had instant access to information and readily available (to a certain extent) communication with loved ones. This wasn’t always the case and it actually makes me wonder if previous generations were better off simply not knowing until long after the fact. But, we can’t change the time in which we live, and, similarly, we can ascribe modern technology and thought process to previous generations… a common mistake that I see much too often.

This is life and the world in which we live. While we may not always like it, we have to accept it. And the same can be said for our ancestors. We may not always agree with the common practices or mentalities of the time but those are the realities of the world for that generation. It is difficult at times, but we have to remove ourselves, and our modern perspective, from the lives of our ancestors and let them tell us the stories about their lives.  

The Night Before

The small memorial at Orange County Choppers. 

I have little recollection regarding the night before 9/11/01. I remember that the semester was just getting started and that I had class early the next morning. I know that I was preparing for a trip into the city for the ASVAB and that I was working on scheduling a meeting with the President of the college to discuss starting an ROTC partnership with Southern New Hampshire University (a partnership was later formed with MIT). I can also faintly recall hearing the sounds of the Giants’ Monday Night Football game coming from a dorm room a few feet away but there is little else that my memory possesses.

Overall, it was just another cool New England night with the biggest concern of those around me was starting off the year right and making sure that they got to class on time the following morning. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary and I went about the early morning preparing for class and taking a slow walk to the Academic Building. It really was a beautiful beginning to the day with only a few thin clouds in the sky, a light breeze coming off of the bay, and the temperature remaining crisp and comfortable.

When I walked through the doors and glanced up at the television perched in the corner I could see that something was going on but didn’t really take the time to watch and process what was transpiring. I was running a little behind getting to class but managed to get there by 8:50am, there was little else on everyone’s mind and the conversation quickly lead to an early dismissal about 5 minutes later. As I retraced my steps back through the building, I once again looked up at that same television just as the second plane struck the South Tower.

This is when we all knew that this wasn’t simply an accident and as the news and speculation streamed across the screen I quickly pulled out my cell phone and called my dad to make sure that his meeting at the World Trade Center the day before didn’t carry over into the morning. Thankfully, it seems as though I was one of the last to place a successful call as cell phone service was nearly nonexistent by the time I got back to my dorm room and turned on the news. As Peter Jennings shuffled through the information we all turned up the volume of our televisions and walked outside to try and catch our breath. And as the fighter jets screamed above our heads low enough to read the warnings on the underbelly of the planes, we could hear the reports come in that the first tower had collapsed.

The rest of the week remains absent from memory as days seemingly condensed into seconds while minutes felt like weeks. Fifteen years later and I still have those memories etched in my mind. And I am sure that fifteen years from now they will remain as vivid as they are today.  

Sunday Search: Another Reunion!

The family will understand the significance of this photo. 

While we have been planning this weekend for months we have been thinking about it for even longer. Ever since our son was born (especially given the circumstances around his birth) my wife and I have made a conscious effort to preserve our respective family histories that we can one day pass down all of this information to him. Part of this process is making sure that we attend the family reunions whenever we are given the opportunity to do so. Today, and this entire weekend for that matter, we were finally able to introduce our son to my mother-in-law’s side of the family up in New York.

While we have been sharing meals with various family members for the entire weekend, it was nice to have a larger group together for a short time so that we could learn a little more about the family, the different branches, and also the place where many of the roots still thrive. Much like the family reunion last summer, there were people we knew, some we recognized, and others to whom I was introduced for the first time. It was also a great way to introduce our son to an entirely new culture as these family members represented our son’s Italian and New York heritage.

After all, the stories are there, you just have to be there to listen. And when many of the family members weren’t playing with our son they would share their memories with us bringing to the fore both the rawness of recent memory but also appreciation of the time we did have with them. There really isn’t a way to describe that particular experience and that mix of emotions but, in the end, I am glad that we were there and that we are able to provide a connection to this part of the family not just for my wife and I but for our son.

Most importantly, while this was simply another reunion or gathering for some present, it was a means to connect with family for us. Family that shared stories with us that can’t be found in any book but that speak to the character of the family into which I was, once again, warmly welcomed. It was an afternoon and weekend that we will not soon forget and an experience we look forward to sharing with our son many more times in the future. However, next time I just have to remember to not eat for about three weeks prior.

A Weekend Upstate

Since we were already going to be attending my wife’s family reunion in New York on Sunday, it only made sense to tack on a few days and make a long weekend out of the trip. With this rough plan in mind we headed out yesterday morning and slowly meandered through Pennsylvania and into ‘Upstate’ New York (yes, completely avoiding New Jersey). We had already made plans for dinner on Friday shortly after arriving and lunch today, but there has been plenty of room in the schedule to add a few more things to the list.

It was a rather interesting experience when we first pulled up to our hotel as we had to show our ID’s in order to proceed past the first gate at West Point. Yes, you read that correctly, we stayed at The Thayer Hotel which is located at West Point (just beyond the first gate of course). The really interesting thing is that shortly before our scheduled travel north, my wife discovered that her mother had stayed at that exact hotel many times in the past when she was a student at NYU. I guess some things are just meant to be.

In addition to being very secure, the hotel was actually very nice both inside and out as the rooms were spacious and comfortable and the view of the Hudson River flowing behind the hotel was a beautiful sight. In fact, it was a pleasant backdrop to our buffet breakfast in the morning. Of course, being so close to the West Point campus, we had to take a tour while we were there and it was well worth it as we were not only able to enjoy some spectacular views but also explore some of the memorials erected on the property while being reminded of important role that the Military Academy has played in the history of this country.  

Shortly after we arrived on Friday afternoon we dropped out bags off in the room and headed down to Yorktown Heights to meet up with some extended family. Following a hearty meal and sharing stories, we drove around the neighborhood so that my wife could see all of the houses that she grew up visiting when her grandparents and other family members filled the neighborhood. It was great seeing her face light up when we passed those familiar structures.

The following morning we had a little extra time which allowed us to make a slight detour on our way to Connecticut. The detour in the opposite direction brought us to Orange County Choppers where there were surprisingly few cars in the parking lot. It was interesting seeing all the bikes that were built on American Chopper over the course of the show’s run and our son seemed to really enjoy seeing the bikes and exploring all the other new things around the showroom. If you watched the show you may remember some of these projects being built…

Today we were also able to spend time with some family members who will not be attending the reunion tomorrow which is what brought us over to Connecticut. It really was a great time and more great memories and stories were shared with us. And after another long day there is just enough time to rest and recuperated before the big gathering tomorrow and the drive home afterward. So, that is all for now, more about the reunion tomorrow!

TMI Tuesday: Daddy Kisses!

A few months ago, while trying to get our son to sound out a few new words, I would pick him up and ask, “Can you say, ‘Daddy, I love you’?” While the first couple of times that I did this there wasn’t much of a reaction and maybe only a few mumbles of a baby babble but, over time, this changed. One morning before sitting him at the table for breakfast, I posed the same question and got a response I wasn’t expecting. He didn’t say anything, rather he leaned over and gave daddy a big, and very wet, kiss on the lips.

This is not something that he had done but only a couple of times previously, before this he simply did not give daddy kisses. This became almost a daily routine for us as I would ask him the same question and our son giving me the same response. Frankly, I kept hoping for the words but was completely happy with the alternative. There were even some instances when, without me saying a word, he would walk over to me in the playroom just to give me a kiss.  

What came as a surprise shortly after this all started was that I didn’t even have to be present for our son to react this way. When driving home from the office one night I asked the question hoping that he may try to sound out the words but, instead, he took hold of the phone and gave it a big kiss and giggled. Again, this has also become part of our weekday routine.

However, a couple of weeks ago the kisses stopped. Our son no longer wants to give hugs and kisses as frequently as he once did. I guess the phase has passed. As we have been told many times over, enjoy the moments when they happen. While the in person affection has slowed, our son has maintained his phone response and continues to kiss and hug the phone when asked the simple question.

In place of the physical responses, now the words are becoming a much more prevalent part of our days with some clearer than others. We still working on the same question we were before, he is now making a more concerted effort to sound it out. While this was the original impetus for my query a few months back I now find myself missing those moments when my son would give me a big kiss as if to say “of course I love you daddy.”

T-Shirts, Horseshoes, and Hamburgers

It was really a matter of happenstance that we even had the time to drive down to King of Prussia a couple of weekends ago. And, somehow, our son’s nap schedule had some flexibility for the day so, after lunch, we all piled in the car with the hope that he would sleep on the way over. While we are having work done on the house in between the work weeks, the scheduled day off corresponded nicely with an event that was a couple of months in the making… the 6^th Masonic District Family Picnic.

To say that it was a hot afternoon would be an understatement. While I have broiled at higher temperatures, the combination of heat and humidity was, to say the least, uncomfortable. So much so that I was wondering what the turnout was going to be like as we weaved our way through the King of Prussia neighborhoods. After a few missed turns and slow coasting down the small streets, we finally made it to the park where I was met with a pleasant sight.

We arrived about an hour after the picnic was scheduled to start and we were greeted by nearly everyone in attendance as we walked through the crowd to the t-shirt table in the back. It was great to see everyone outside of the lodge and especially during the summer when we usually don’t have the opportunity to get together as a district. It was also nice to once again meet the masonic families in attendance and introduce them to my family in the process.

While we looked to sit down and have a bite to eat (our District Deputy makes a fantastic hamburgers), our son couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the horseshoes flipping and spinning through the air landing, mostly, with a loud pink or clang. It actually brought back some great memories from when I was not much older than my son as I watched my uncles trade points in the back yard. Of course, it didn’t take long before his attention was broken by everyone around us trying to catch his attention especially a little girl (of one of our new candidates) who just wanted to play with our shy little boy.

Again, it was hot and we all seemed a little sluggish that afternoon but time didn’t seem to be fazed by the temperature. Before we knew it, we were heading back to the car and turning the air conditioning as high as it could go. It was a great time and I look forward to this new annual gathering. I just hope that it is a little cooler next year and every year after that.

Old Hobbies Die Hard

Throughout my life I have had a multitude of hobbies and collections from baseball cards and comics to music and movies to books and coins to firearms and watches. Of course, these are in addition to the accumulation and collection of random information and facts which is a lifelong endeavor. While I don’t know exactly why I have enjoyed so many different hobbies I think it is due in large part because I need to keep myself occupied. More specifically, I need to keep learning about different things… I need to think. This helps to explain why there is such a variety and also why I keep returning to some of those previous interests.

The mechanics, ingenuity, and artistry found in firearms and watches have maintained my interest for years. While many, especially these days, would see these two as completely different from one another my appreciation is quite similar and my interest in them is rooted in some very basic concepts. This is what keeps my mind active as I study how they operate and simply appreciate the functionality and aesthetics of these items.

However, what I have found lately is that coins and currency have a stronger hold on my attention than all the other interests that I have had. The unexpected consequence of taking my son to a coin shop this past weekend is that it has once again piqued my interest in numismatics. As he was going from case to case studying each of the coins nearly organized on the shelves I couldn’t help but think about the time I used to spend searching for that one interesting coin.

Bear in mind that I was never one to collect the high end pieces that are purchased more for investment rather than appreciation. I gravitated to what interested me both in the actual coin itself, both design and origin, as well as the history that comes along with it. I would much rather study a well worn penny that has been used and witnessed a hundred years of history over an encased silver dollar in perfect condition minted this year.

It is also the different countries and periods in history which some pieces represent that fascinate me. This is the perspective that led to my interest in German States, Italian States, French States, Swiss Cantons, and British Palestine coinage. They all speak to a completely different time in history and aren’t immensely popular among collectors so they are usually affordable… and the stories and designs that can be found are compelling. It is that potential for a story that keeps me coming back to this hobby.

However, some things stay the same. We usually begin with the simple wheat penny which is where I started many years ago and where I am starting my son. Who knows, maybe this is something that we will enjoy doing together. Only time will tell but, at the very least, there are a lot of pennies for a lot of thoughts… and stories.

TMI Tuesday: 18 Months

A year and a half (and a day) later and we are still trying to get used to this new life. With all the changes that keep happening and all of the things swirling around in our life right now it is hard to keep track of time. Yesterday, I looked at the calendar and saw that eighteen months has already passed and it is hard to believe how different things are now compared to the life we were living before we became a family.

The day is still etched in my mind, sitting on the surface of memory like it just happened a few days ago. I can still feel my son’s rapid heartbeat as I held him for the first time in the operating room and his tiny pink hand as he gripped my finger for the first time. I can hear the beeping of the monitors faintly filling the background. I can see the words streaming through my phone bringing to the fore both the happy and despicable aspects of humanity. I can see the tears as they silently streamed down my wife’s face both in the joy of the morning and the pain of the evening. However, most importantly, I can see that moment, that first instant, when mother and son embraced one another and began this journey together.

I remember the anxiety and excitement as I pulled the car around to the front entrance, loaded the items that had been accumulating for the past several days into the trunk, and buckled my family into the car. It was a slow ride back to our townhouse and one during which I couldn’t help but think about all the people who would be at the house to greet him and the one that wouldn’t be there. It was a ride that moved us forward as a family but also one during which I wished I could hit eighty eight and drive to the past.

Time has moved so quickly since our son came into our life at 9:14 am and when I look at him it is hard to believe that he was once so small. He has already learned so much and he keeps surprising us every day with how much he knows and understands. Most importantly, even with some of the chaos that has swirled around us, we have protected our son and he remains as happy as ever. While I still enjoy the quiet moments, there is nothing better than coming home to the excited sounds from my son saying “Daddy!”

Driving Down To Media

This morning I decided to give my wife a small respite. Following breakfast and a short stint in the playroom to get some early morning energy out, I packed everything up in the diaper bag and strapped my son in his car seat. It was time for a little road trip to someplace new. I had been thinking about driving my son to the main line for some time now to show him a new place but also somewhere where he could walk. I also wanted to test something out.

As we passed the sights that our son has seen dozen of times before he was rather talkative and wanting to play peekaboo with daddy from the back seat. While on the highway he also wanted to hold my hand as we coasted past the slower cars. Eventually we made it to some unfamiliar roads and his demeanor changed. Like his daddy, he wanted to see as much as he could and was glued to the window of the car taking in each new sight, street, and intersection.

It was actually rather interesting for me as well since it had been a long time since I had driven down these roads and some of the things that I remember passing were no longer part of the suburban landscape (like the Granite Run Mall). Surprisingly on schedule, we made it to Media shortly after ten and, shockingly, found a legal parking spot along the street about a half block from the surprise I had planned for that morning. Similar to during our drive, he was wide eyed as we walked passed all the new buildings, turned the corner, and slowly climbed the steps.

Inside he was mesmerized by the small shiny disks lining the cases and gladly kept browsing as he finished his morning snack. Given my sons previous interest in pocket change and, more so, in paper money, I knew that this would be something to hold his interest and it wasn’t surprising when he decided to meticulously analyze each of the coins in the display case through the glass. This also allowed me to catch up with the proprietor of the store whom I had not seen in years. When I had finished catching up and my son had finished his snack, I finally asked for what I had hoped to pick up while we were there… wheat pennies.

I guess you could say that this is something that I am passing along from my youth as I remember sorting through bags of them and filling in the empty spots in the folders. It is also a way to connect our families as we have a few that have been passed down from my wife’s grandfather that I want to make sure that our son has in the future. They’re inexpensive and every coin shop has them making it easy to pick them up from time to time. What did surprise me this time around was that the store owner handed over a full bag and refused payment saying that my son was “the most well behaved that that has ever been in the store.”

We gratefully accepted and parted ways that morning with my son eyeing his bag of treasure all the way to the car where we locked them up for the remainder of the morning. After strolling up and down the street a few times we returned to the car (with time left on the meter) and made our way back home pretty close to schedule. Tracing back through the same streets and excited from our time out, the baby babble was much more intense on this leg of our excursion and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Kind Words

Given the subject on which I wrote this past week, there was a bit of irony that played out tonight as I skimmed through the news. It is especially curious since it was only a couple of weeks ago that I did sit down and write a letter in the hope to reconnect with someone who had been so kind to me in the past. It wasn’t until long after the sun had set and our son was asleep in his bed when I learned about the passing of Elie Wiesel. As I read through the remembrances streaming across my computer, I couldn’t help but think about the moment when I received a letter in the mail with his name in the upper left hand side of the envelope.

While we had never met in person, I did correspond with this wonderful man in the past and I had been fortunate to receive his blessing regarding the poems that I originally wrote about Janusz Korzcak. Words that, while brief, carried the weight of the world and of history. At the time I had doubts about whether my writing was honoring the memories of those lost. I have never been one to rely on the approval of others to write but this is a subject and a project that was a completely different scenario. With a few simple sentences, I had the confidence to continue which resulted in the collection that I published this year, What Was Not Said: Echoes From The Holocaust.

What speaks volumes of his legacy is that my interaction with this great man is not a unique experience. He gave more of his time, his energy, his life not just to ensuring the permanence of memory but to the lives of others in pursuit of knowledge and understanding. Dr. Wiesel supported many of us, from near and far, in more ways than most could ever dream. Some were personal interactions while others only got to know him through his words printed on the pages in one of his fifty seven books, countless essays and articles, and numerous interviews and speeches. I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones to have corresponded with this righteous man.

And when we look back on the life of this great man, there is much that we can learn from not just his words but his actions. While he lived through unimaginable horrors, he chose to live with hope and kindness. He pursued the perpetuation of memory and ensured that it served as a means for achieving peace. He was a beacon for the world shining light not just into the darkness of the past but casting a warm glow on the possibilities of the future. Sometimes he would do this on a grand stage in front of thousands or on television in front of millions but also in a classroom in from of a mere dozens or in a conversation, a letter, a phone call one on one. This is why, for many reasons, I now say I will never forget!

Too Many Departures

While nothing has been as difficult as the loss that we experienced early last year, there have been moments since then that have forced me to stop for a minute and think about the people that have been a part of my life, large and small, over the years. I found myself going through this process once again when I received an email about the passing of a fellow Rotarian’s wife. Oddly enough, I had just seen him last week and, by the end of the meeting, wondered why I hadn’t asked how his family was doing as I normally would have. I guess even these seemingly inconsequential lapses happen for a reason.

I recall meeting his wife a couple of times in the past at Rotary functions and I recall having some very interesting discussions with her on a variety of subject. It was safe to say that there were a number of topics that we didn’t agree on but I remember having a pleasant conversation during which it was abundantly clear that I was discussing these subjects with a highly intelligent and informed woman. I guess you could say that she and her husband were very similar in that regard.

This loss is only one of many that has happened over the past year or so from those that I remember fondly seeing nearly every day in high school as was the case with the passing of my homeroom teacher and other times there are people that I had either met only a few times or that I had only corresponded with through letters, emails, or over the phone. Each time I was brought back to those discussions and encounters leaving me wondering why I hadn’t picked up the phone or wrote them a letter lately. I guess it is normal to think about the conversations you never had rather than the ones you did.

Of course, then there are the family members who have passed before I had a chance to talk to them or even really got to know them. Admittedly, there is a little selfishness in this thought but it also speaks to the unexpected, and potential, impact of those who have passed. While this has unfortunately been happening for years, it is a regular occurrence even today. However, the same lesson applies here as well… I need to do a better job of keeping in touch and reaching out to friends and family members. After all, as has been proven time and again, you never know how long you really have.

Sunday Search: Being True To Father’s Day

This is a long overdue post that I have kept putting off when the thought of writing it has entered my mind over the years. As the most recent urge to record my thoughts coincided with Father’s Day it really was no longer an option to write about my father at greater length. While I have briefly mentioned my father in previous posts, I have consistently left out many of the details… pretty much all of the details in fact. While by no means comprehensive and certainly a work in progress, I dedicate this post to my father.

Growing up in a rather modest row home on Iona Avenue in Narberth, Pennsylvania my father was one who, despite his academic abilities, focused largely on sports during his formative years. In fact, I have been told stories on a few occasions that there were even scouts in the stands when my father was a catcher on the varsity baseball team for Lower Merion High School. And not all of those scouts were focusing on other players on the team or opposing hitters in the other dugout like Reggie Jackson. Because major league teams don’t keep all of their scouting records, this is a story that has no substantiation but, given the honest passion with which they were told and the talent that I saw on display decades later, there has to at least be a little truth in those tales.

What I do know for certain is that following his high school graduation my father knew with near absolute certainty that he was going to be drafted. Not surprisingly, he took his fate into his own hands and figured out a way to go into the military as an officer without the luxury of a college degree. This how my father ended up serving as a warrant officer and helicopter pilot during the Vietnam War. While he flew in excess of, conservatively, 50 combat missions and nearly paid the ultimate sacrifice during the Tet offensive on 30 January 1968 at 1830 hours when he was struck by one of the seven 30 caliber rounds that punctured his aircraft, he has yet to receive the recognition for his service with the 155^th Assault Helicopter Company (Stagecoach) out of Ban Me Thuot. This is an oversight that I am trying to rectify… I actually found out that this is an issue common with the company in which he served.

Following his Army service, my father returned home and, with his newly found focus, truncated the time it took to receive his degree from St. Joseph’s University (then St. Joseph’s College). With funds remaining in his GI Bill, he immediately pursued and later received his MBA from the same institution. He considered law school but eventually decided to continue his career in finance. Mind you he was also maintaining full time employment and volunteering with the Narberth Ambulance  Corps. Also during this period in his life, he was introduced to my mother (thanks to her brother), a relationship that has lasted for over 40 years.

With his education complete and a young family at home, my father continued thrive in the business world. While there have been certain unpleasant monikers and unpleasant terms used to describe my father during this time, in the end, he was good at his job, didn’t accept failure, hated braggers and name droppers, and expected people to work just as hard as he did. Even years later, I can recall brief moments of conversations echoing from his office. I may not have completely understood them at the time and even now I can’t recall exactly what was said but, as I have gotten older, I have come to understand those moments to be glimpses into his aforementioned work ethic.

I have also come to realize that my older siblings may have had a different experience growing up but I remember my father trying to find the time to help me when he could, attend practices and games, and answer questions that broke through my stubbornness while completing homework assignments. I also recall the moments playing miniature golf on the board walk in Ocean City, my poor attempts to play real golf on various occasions, going to Phillies games at the Vet, and simply joining him during weekly short car rides into the city or along the main line with the oldies station or KYW News Radio (1060) playing in the background.

To this day I still look up to my father and there are new memories made every day. I have come to better appreciate everything that he has done for me and the lessons that he has taught me over the years… some I took to quickly while others it took years before I finally got it. While our conversations have changed over the years, I enjoy the times that he is able to share his experiences and knowledge about subjects with me as well as those rare moments when I am able to tell him about something new or a recent family discovery that I have made.

However, the greatest moment are when I am able to see him with his grandson with whom he shares his name. And the times when we can all experience something new as a family are the memories that will last not just my lifetime but my son’s lifetime as well. There is no greater feeling than when I remind my son that this is your granddad, this is daddy’s daddy. Happy Father’s Day Dad!

Two Years Makes A Huge Difference

My wife and I have been to Jim Thorpe several times in the past. Usually driving up for the day just to walk around the sleepy town near the entrance to the Pocono Mountains. We have always enjoyed our trips up there and we have been planning to return with our son at some point. This weekend we finally took the time and made the plans to travel into the mountains as a family.

Unfortunately, as is the case with many things in life, reality didn’t live up to the memories. That being said, the town itself has changed rather significantly since our last excursion two years ago and, for us, it has definitely not changed for the better. It all began as soon as we approached the valley and we could see the mass of cars and people filling the streets, sidewalks, and parks. It was rather odd seeing the main line atmosphere so far from Philadelphia but that is exactly how the trip unfolded over our two day stay.

While there were a few brief glimpses of what it used to be like in the muted stir of the evening, it seems as though this town is no longer the forgotten destination that it once was and the makeover that it has received recently demonstrates that the town is definitely well aware of its new windfall. But, they are certainly honing in on a certain type of visitor to the town as many of the new shops are more akin to what you would find in the small towns around San Francisco. There are certain demographics that certainly find this appealing but don’t count me as one of them.

Of courses, there were a few aspects to the short trip that didn’t really sit well with me either. In addition to the sheer number of people that had flooded the valley, the attitudes and mentalities of those people was something that I would prefer not to encounter especially when trying to get away and relax. And it seems to have had an impact on the great people that live and work in those small shops along Broadway and Race Street.

In previous trips, the people have always been one of the best parts about the town. Great scenery and great people… that is really what we look for when trying to find a place where we can relax. Now, in this little town, the drastic shift has seemly changed some people, broken others, and driven the rest out of town. The small family shops are nearly gone. The library is half the size that it used to be. Those remaining have a different way about them and a completely different attitude… no more friendly and casual conversations. And there are clearly people who have already gone or are moving because the sale signs are plentiful.

Maybe this is a brief phase for the town and things will change back in the near future. Maybe our perspectives were off those days. Maybe, but it doesn’t look like we will be have any time in the near future as there are so few opportunities to get away and we are not going to risk completely wasting one on a return trip... that is the feeling that we got this time around. I guess some things are best left as memories.

Fellowship… With Horseshoes

It was nice knowing that when I arrived at the lodge last night that there were no emergencies, no meetings that needed to take place, and nothing that needed to be completed that night. It was an opportunity to go to the lodge and enjoy the fellowship while casually discussing topics that happen to come up in conversation. What I didn’t expect was that those conversations would be happening over a game of horseshoes in the back yard.

I honestly can’t remember the last time that I tossed a horseshoe across the grass in the hopes of hearing it ring on the post. It has probably been at least fifteen years since I flipped the steel from my fingers so there was quite a bit of relearning taking place throughout the evening. Of course, the last time that I recall playing was simply as a fill in while one of my uncles took a break so there wasn’t much of a technique to be found in my past either.

The most important part of the whole evening was that fact that we could enjoy the fellowship with our brothers without an agenda to be mentioned and we were able to get to know one of our newly raised brothers a little more and in a relaxed setting. While we have had conversations in the past and I have spoken with him at great length, there is something to be said about seeing a person’s personality during a casual competition. Safe to say, more so than I was before, I am glad to have this new mason as my brother.

It is this type of environment that I would like to see constantly fostered and built upon as we move forward. This is a return to the way brothers used to interact with one another all over the world not just at lodges here and there. This is what we need if we are going to see our lodge and our fraternity as a whole thrive in the coming years and decades. Brothers of all ages and experiences simply going to lodge to enjoy the fellowship found in our fraternity.

Nights like this are part of why I decided to become a mason. It is not just about learning something new and striving to be better men, it is a brotherly bond that you share with your fellow mason, with whom you truly enjoy spending time with at the lodge and beyond the confines of the building. This is certainly something that I have to improve upon and embrace as I rarely see the brethren outside of a masonic setting. I guess I have another goal for the summer.

Mortgage Monday: Finally Settled After Seven Years

Society Hill Synagogue

Tomorrow is a very special day for me and my wife. Not just because of the commitment we made to one another that day but also because of the memories that we continue to carry with us both during the good times and the difficult ones. While a blur at the time, as the years have passed the memories remain vivid in my mind. Seven years ago tomorrow my wife and I, after a prolonged engagement, ran down the aisle for the first time as husband and wife.

It is especially poignant to think about all of those people who meant so much to us that day, who went out of their way to make the day special and how, while they are no longer with us, they live on in the deep meaning that they brought to that moment in our life. From a friend bringing appetizers into our room during the cocktail reception to friends from Samantha’s synagogue enjoying the opportunity to make new friends. From the joy in my mother in laws face as she spent time with friends and with my wife (and the Salmon and polenta combination helped too) to my grandmother pulling my wife aside toward the end of the night to offer her advice.

All of those memories come back to me in an instant whenever I catch a glimpse of our wedding photos on the wall of our living room and when I see our Ketubah hanging near our kitchen table as I walk in the door. But this is the time of year when they are the most vivid and when I am the most thankful that we have one another. It hasn’t always been easy but the good far outweighs the difficult times and we are much stronger both individually and as a family because of each of those moment even though it doesn’t seem like it at times.

And now we celebrate this day finally settled into a place that we call home. We enjoy our anniversary as a family and we look forward to the years to come more so than we have in the past. I know I haven’t been the perfect husband and my wife continues to say that she hasn’t been the perfect wife over the years but, while it has some wear around the edges, our marriage is as strong as it has ever been. Seven years with decades to go not just as husband and wife but as mommy and daddy. And now we know, and we have the security in knowing, where we will be for all of our future anniversaries.

TMI Tuesday: Watching Him Sleep

There are moments as a parent when the world stops for just a second. Sometimes it happens because you are scared out of your mind while other times, especially lately, it is because there is a perfect simplicity to that singular time when nothing in this world could improve upon it. It is these latter moments when there is no place you would rather be and there is nothing in the world more important than simply being there to experience the peace and tranquility of parenthood.

Sure there are times when the last thing that you want to hear when you walk through the door after a long day at the office is your son whaling from the playroom. There are those times when that sudden scream in the middle of the night ten minutes after you had just fallen asleep makes you want to pull your hair out (I can actually sense my hair getting gray in those instances). And there are instances when the world stops as you can tell there is something wrong with your child and you don’t know whether to yell, cry, shut down, or take charge. But these moments tend to fade and fold deep into the recesses of your gray matter.

The moments that I remember, that get me through those stressful times in my day when I just want to throw my hands up, that make me take charge when things are difficult, are the times when I walk through the door and I can hear my son let out a joyous squee before scurrying into the kitchen and scrawling up my leg. It is the times when he is feeling tired and shy and all he wants is to be picked up so he can lay his head on my shoulder. It is that moment when I woke up last week to see my son sound asleep between us in bed with his hands behind his head and a big smile on his face.

Those are the moments that remain with me and keep me pushing forward in an effort to be a better example for my son. While I falter more times than not, I am continuously motivated to be a better man, to be a better husband, and to be a better father. Those moments are what live within us as parents and why we tend to forget the difficult times as time passes. It is also why we lay there in disbelief when we realize just how much of the bed our little boy now takes up when it seems like just yesterday that he was so tiny.

Firearms Friday: Going Silent

Those of you hoping to read all about silencers are going to be highly disappointed. While they are legal in my state and I do plan on purchasing in the future, this post has nothing to do with those over regulated and wonderfully useful devices. I am actually talking about something completely different and a little beyond the norm for this series of rambling posts. This is an opportunity for me to talk about my first experiences with target shooting and the hope to return to that much simpler time.

While I was first introduced to firearms while in college thanks to my former ex-Navy Seal roommate, the majority of our time spend shooting targets wasn’t at the range… and it wasn’t with firearms. We did climb up the old ski slope every now and again with our 7mm Savage rifle and Beretta M9 but the majority of our time peering down the sights was on that of a few air pellet rifles and BB guns that we picked up at Wal-Mart. We decided to save a few pennies so that we could use those pennies for target practice… literally.

Most of those early moments pulling a trigger were along the rural highways of Vermont with pennies perched atop and embedded in a snow bank. It was hours of relaxing, and sometimes frustrating fun, taking aim, splitting copper, swapping out CO2 cartridges and generally having a good time with some interesting conversations in-between shots. There have been several moments over the years when I would pass a Wal-Mart and hesitate for just a second before continuing down the road.

Now that my wife and I have some space to enjoy the outdoors and we live in an area were people respect the right to so whatever you want on your property so long that its legal, I have been tempted to partake in some of the quieter alternatives to firearms. While there are a few neighbors that, from time to time, will take their rifles into the back yard, I want to at least be considerate should I find this to be a regular routine. It is with this in mind that I have been thinking about picking up an inexpensive air rifle or crossbow.

It would be nice to head out the back door, set up a target, and send a few quiet rounds across the property. After all, I can’t always get to the range despite several options located within 10 minutes of our house so that might be a means to keep my limited skills from becoming completely dull. Not to mention that it would simply be nice to return to a simpler time and enjoy not just being in front of a target again but, at the same time, remembering those first few shots that got me hooked into this hobby.

Looking Back On Independence Day

There is one day more than any other throughout the year that I miss being in Israel and sharing in the joy that the people of the country has to offer… Yom Ha'atzmaut. Every year I can’t help but think about all the people that we met and others that we got to know through the internet during our Aliyah experiment. Many of those people I am still in contact with to this day, nearly five years after the fact, and I enjoy seeing the lives that they have built for themselves in our homeland.

The images of that time remain vivid in my mind. While it seems but an instant in our lives, the moments are more ingrained in my being that many other that have happened before or since. I can recall the uneven stones along the sidewalk as we walked to old city. The warmth radiating from under our feet as the sun disappeared beyond the ancient hills.

I recall many of the moments of getting lost in the alleys and streets both in the daylight and well past the setting of the sun with only the faintest of sounds echoing between the buildings. However, most enduring are the moments when we were welcomed into the homes of others and into the community around us. While we didn’t fully process the companionship that was shared with us during those moments and meals, it is something that remains with me to this day. Only in Israel can you be welcomed in such a way.

Of course, what has become more poignant now is the memory of my wife and me sitting on a bench along King George Street discussion our return to the states. It was at this moment when we finally realized that we were ready to start a family. More accurately, with all the changes that were happening and things that were beyond our control, we realized that there was never going to be the perfect time and decided that it was time. In the end we were a little delayed but that was the moment when we made the decision to start a family.

However, and most will agree with this sentiment, there are two moments that supersede all others when I think of Israel. Both of these experiences were actually on our first trip to Israel during our honeymoon nearly seven years ago. They happened in relatively quick succession the first occurring when we turned the corner walking along the wall around old city (the Ramparts Walk) and saw the Kotel for the first time. We continued toward the wall wide eyes and when I laid my hand and head against the cool stone, the world disappeared around me. I will never forget that feeling.

So, on this Independence Day I celebrate the people, the land, the history, and the faith that makes Israel not just the Holy Land but our Homeland. And when we return it will be as a family and I hope to find that same bench where we had the discussion that would eventually result in our having a son. And, most importantly, I look forward to experiencing Jerusalem and Israel as a whole as a father and I can’t wait to introduce our son to his homeland. Am Yisrael Chai!

Sunday Search: Holiday Opportunities

The holidays are always a great opportunity to get together and simply enjoy the company of friends and family. While we may not be completely conscious of it at the time, it is a means to strengthen the bonds that we have with one another and take stock of the changes that have happened in our lives since the last time that we all gathered together. The most important thing about these times is to be in the moment and to spend time with those you love but there are opportunities that come about naturally from time to time that we, as family historians, must remain cognizant of and remember not just for ourselves but for the family as a whole the for the future when things have a tendency to be forgotten.

It is inconsequential how one gets to a subject but there are moments when we must be opportunistic and learn a little more about those around us. Furthermore, if we are able to ask questions we must do so to fill in some of the details that may have been glossed over. At the same time, when possible, we must be ready to recall what we know in order to offer that information in the hopes of jogging someone else’s memory or adding dimension or perspective to the story being told.

For some, including myself, this is sometimes the hardest part of trying to find out everything I can about the family. There is a fine line between conversation and investigation which we must respect during the holidays because, again, this is a time for family not about family. After all, we are all guilty from time to time for focusing more on the past than the present. Sometimes it is during occasions such as this while other times it is about not taking the opportunity, setting aside the time, and talking to family members about their own history and about what they know about others in the family.

Today I learned a few more details and was given a few more documents. Thankfully, I learned a lot with little effort. It was more about being in the right place and keeping my ears open to the conversations taking place. I knew some additional details and I asked a few questions but it was part of the natural flow of the dialog. Maybe I have finally found some kind of balance to this holiday conundrum. Of course, it helps that everyone knows about my passion for the family history and the respect that I have for our history. That can sometimes be the difference between being given, entrusted, with personal information and histories and not ever being told what happened.

One Day Makes A Difference

Even as I type these words and watch them appear on the screen I still can’t believe that it has already been a year since we met our son for the first time. Our lives changed in an instant and I can still remember the feeling of shock that originally hit me when my wife’s water broke. While I was able to pull myself together, collect most of our things, and drive us down the snow dusted highway to the hospital, that daze didn’t really lift until hours later when our son grabbed my finger for comfort as the nurse cleaned him off.

There are moments from that day, and from the week for that matter, that remain a little hazy having melded together in a jumbled memory but there are also moments, good and bad, that remain clear as if they only happened an hour or two ago. That is what makes this passage of time so unbelievable. And while there have been trying moments to be sure during this first year of parenthood, I wouldn’t never want to go back to the way things used to be. Being a father, sometimes even a good father, is what I enjoy most each and every day.

It has been an interesting year full of first experiences, difficult moments, and challenging situations. It has been a calendar full of change but one that has brought us to a great place in our lives. There have been the funny moments of dodging poo and casting wee rainbows, nurturing times when our son got sick or was overwhelmed during his growth spurts, and adorable moments when he would smile, laugh, or nuzzle in our arms. And the daily joy beaming from his face, some days it is more prevalent than others, is enough to make even the most difficult days disappear.

Of course, we also find ourselves in the unique position of celebrating and mourning at the same time. While our son’s birth and my mother-in-law’s passing technically happened on the same day, this is one of the times that I insist on going by the Hebrew calendar. By doing so our son's birthday, the 26th of Sh'vat, 5775, is separated from the date on which my mother-in-law passed away, 27th of Sh'vat, 5775. Having that single day of separation makes a huge difference at times. It is interesting how faith can be comfort in the most obscure ways in addition to the guidance that it provides during times of struggle.

However, while there are no trips to grandma’s house that our son will remember about growing up, he still knows his grandma and recognizes her in pictures. It hasn’t been easy but there is a bond between the two of them that we both wanted for our children long before our baby became a reality. We didn’t plan on it happening this way but the important thing is that they are connected, our son knows his grandma, and his laugh when he sees her picture eases just a little bit of the pain from that day.

And this is just one of the many ways that our son continues to change how we look at life and the world. At times he has been our sole reason for happiness but mostly he has provided us with the love that permeates every moment of life and makes us remember that the love is what we always need to remember. Whether someone is here or not, the love remains. As I have said before, I will forever be thankful for that gift which our son has given us.

It is a complicated day, couple of days actually, but one that comes down to the most simple of statements… Happy 1^st Birthday my adorable baby boy! Mommy and daddy love you!