Who Am I?
- A husband and a father
- A person with a strong work ethic
- A problem solver
- A good communicator
- A writer
- An environmentalist
- A technologist
- An artist
- A food lover
- A cyclist
A few more words about each of these. More »
Dad would be celebrating today.
He was horrified to see his brethren die on that tragic day when the towers collapsed. We talked in the days after the events of 9/11 about the job that the men of FDNY were doing. I could hear the pain in his voice.
As a nation, we rallied around each other. Many of us reacted in ways that we didn’t fully understand. In retrospect everything seems different. Ten years of war and a recession have changed my views. Becoming a father has changed my views. Meeting my wife changed my views.
I honestly don’t know how I feel about the death of Osama Bin Laden. It’s almost meaningless to me. There is an entire army of new recruits that has been formed over the past ten years. And now to find out that he’s been “hiding” in a populated area?
I cannot celebrate. The chest thumping is ugly.
I long for a day when the “threat level” is not orange. What will a day that is “green” be like? Will we ever see one?
When will it be safe to move on?
The Shaving Ritual
When I was a child
I dreamt of growing up
And being a “shaver,”
Like my father.
(Only big boys can shave)
I stood with him on Sundays
Tracing my face with his comb
In the mirror
While he traced his with a Shick Injector.
One time I went into the bathroom
And tried some after-shave,
It tingled and felt cool before
The alcohol soaked into my open pores.
When it was time,
I gave up that comb and
He taught me his shaving ritual
First that damned mustache,
Then those cheeks and sideburns,
And finally the underside of the chin.
Being careful to remove all the hairs,
And not to cut myself,
I scraped his blade along my face.
My heavy, anxious hand opened my flesh,
And the aftershave stung
Worse than it ever had,
Finding its way into my wound.
Now, warm water feels clean
On my bristly face.
I dip my shaving brush into the sink
Then my cup, to lather the soap,
Not cream. Soap makes a shave clean.
The sharp Shick Injector with its
Keen blade that can slice those dirty hairs
Off my face with ease. Still it
Glides over my cheeks with some resistance.
Careful to take all those hairs off,
I shave–until my face is bald,
As it was in my innocent youth.
I open the drain.
Watching the shaven hairs stick to
The porcelain bowel of the sink,
Once again,I feel clean.
At Bay with Mast Music
The cool, gray mist lifts
Shortly after dawn,
I rise and feel the chill
Of the morning on the bay.
From the deck of the Zephyr,
I sip the steaming coffee
And watch the waves
Breaking on the Chesapeake.
Scents of bacon
Drifting across the dock,
Remind me of breakfast
As my stomach gurgles.
The damp, salt air
Sticky in my plaid, red shirt
And greasy in my uncombed hair,
Makes the Dharma Bums pages
Slippery to touch
And hard to turn.
With the fierce winds
And the threat of storms
I must spend yet another day with
The hope of leaving remaining at bay.
Still, the lines ringing against the masts
Sound like wind-chimes.
And I hold hope for tomorrow.
So, yesterday was Father’s Day. It was my third as a father. We were at the beach and Mrs. TKD cooked breakfast which included bacon from Hickman’s Meat Market in Rehoboth, DE. It rocked! I’d bought it the day before and they actually sliced it for me!
After that we went to the Lewes Beach and did a little swimming. Mr. Grey got tired early so we headed home (1 block) and grabbed some lunch. I promptly took a nap.
To be honest, I was a little grumpy in the morning because we kinda screwed up on meeting up with some good friends at Cape Henlopen. Yeah, we royally screwed the pooch on that, but friends are friends and thankfully they will forgive us.
After I woke up from my nap, we chilled for a bit more. Mr. Grey decided a nap was in order for him, and Mrs. TKD and I snuck out for a trip to the grocery store. I picked up fixins for a take on cuban inspired pork chops (lime, cilantro, cumin and peaches).
When we got back Mr. Grey was up, and we went to the beach. I played with him in the sand and the water. He was really digging the water. He was in up over his head with the help of his life vest. He’ll be a sailor like his papa and a fisherman like his dad for sure.
A lot has changed since he was a little dude. This photo is from 2008.
He was afraid of the water back then.
Recent Comments