Good morning friends and loved ones. Happy Father's Day to the Dad's out there and especially to those men who although not biological fathers, serve as mentors and spiritual advisors to men like me.
My Father passed away around a year and a half ago and this is my second Father's Day without him. He was not my biological Father (I've never met my "biological benefactor.") but he adopted me and for all intents and purposes is the only Dad I'll ever need. We didn't always get along while I was growing up. I was extremely rebelious and when we argued I would sometimes remind him he wasn't my "real" Dad. I know this broke his heart every time I said it and to this day I cringe even remembering these moments. He didn't have much of an education and couldn't read and write very well but he worked his tail off to support his family. He didn't make a lot of money but he and my Mother managed to provide myself and my siblings with a fairly happy childhood.
When I was around 13 my Dad was diagnosed with a failing liver and hemochromatosis. The doctor's at the time predicted that he might live another 6 months. He eventually went on disability. I remember my Mother sitting all of us children down and explaining that Dad was sick and probably wouldn't be around long. He lived for another 19 years! It's obvious my Father was a fighter.
When I became an adult I know that I did a lot of things that disappointed my Dad. I moved around a lot and barely stayed in contact with my family. I lived pretty selfishly and did a lot of self destructive things. When my twins were born in 2004 my Dad and Mom came to Toledo to visit their first grandchildren. I know he loved my children and loved being a "Papaw." Shortly after this he was diagnosed with liver cancer yet again. At midnight on January 1st, 2006 he received a liver transplant at St. Louis University hospital. I remember visiting him then and seeing him with a tube down his throat on a ventilator was not fun. He came through that just fine. I got sober about 5 months later. That December he had a major stroke. He had quadruple bypass surgery several months after that. Over the next several months he had several other strokes of varying degrees of severity. Then the phone call came from my Mom that they had found cancer in Dad's lungs and it was bad.
I remember visiting in December of 2007 and accompanying my Dad to an appointment with his oncologist. The cancer Doctor said that Dad could undergo Chemotherapy and Radiation and might extend his life a few months. Without the treatment he was expected to live 4-10 months. It was a pretty emotinally heavy time. Dad ultimately opted to not have the treatment. He lived almost 2 more years.
The last 2 years my Dad was alive I had the opportunity to talk on the phone with him a lot and to visit him several times. In the later years of his life Dad had become quite the Cardinals fan. This was one very strong bond we both enjoyed. Over time his health slowly faded. He started with a nurse visiting him at home. The ordered him a hospital bed to have at home. He eventually had to walk with a walker. Finally he had to go to a nursing home. Amy and I visited him and my family in late September 2009. We had a great weekend. He got to meet Amy for the first time as we had only been dating a few months. He liked her, especially when he found out she wasn't a Cubs fan since she was from Chicago.
A month later when I made my nightly phone call to Dad on a Monday night he told me the nursing home had said he couldn't walk by himself anymore because of his risk of falling. He was depressed. My Dad loved to walk around the nursing home harrassing patients and staff alike, especially the few who were Cubs fans. After grumbling for a while he said "I don't know why I'm complaining. There are lot's of people worse off than I am." Typical Dad downplaying things.
The next night I got a phone call from my youngest sister that I might want to come home (to Mattoon, IL) soon since Dad wasn't doing well at all. I told her I would try to come that weekend to visit him. I called my other sister to talk to her about Dad's health. She said she had heard the same things I had and planned to be with him the next day. I talked to my Mom who said she wasn't going to leave the nursing home but was going to spend nights with Dad. I called my brother the nurse and he said I should get there as soon as possible, that Dad didn't have much longer. A thousand emotions erupted inside me that night and my friends in recovery all helped to prop me up. I quickly called my boss and informed him I was leaving the next day and didn't know when I'd be back at work. The next evening I took the Megabus to Chicago (ask me sometime about my God moment there) and early Thursday morning I boarded an Amtrak train to Mattoon.
The next 5 days were exhausting and grueling, yet the most memorable of my life. I spent each day at the nursing home with my family at my Dad's side. He was sometimes alert and able to communicate. Mostly he was comatose and resting. Those five days we all ate too much fast food, drank way to much caffeine and slept way too little. Amy, who had just lost her Mother a year earlier, was a godsend and I can't even begin to accurately state how much her support meant during this time. My good friend and mentor Steve Flowers drove down from Champaign to spend some time with us and eat dinner with us. Many friends texted and called each day and offered to drive from Toledo to be of support.
My Mother slept each night in a chair next to my Dad's bed. My siblings and I took turns staying the night with them to help care for my Mother as well. Two nights before he died it was my turn and it was a night I'll never forget. I sat on the side of my Dad's bed almost all night holding his hand. Every time I tried to let go he would wake up and say "Don't let go, Never let go." My back got stiff and my hand fell asleep many times but I held his hand until the sun came up. I'll never forget watching him rest and praying and struggling so much. I couldn't imagine life without my Father but I didn't want him to suffer any longer. A strong man who had fought through so much in life had stopped fighting and I watched him slowly slip away.
I've always considered myself to be a bit of a tough guy. I've never backed away from a physical altercation in my life. I've boxed and played football and survived back alleys and streets in neighborhoods most people fear to walk in. Yet there was absolutely nothing I could do to make my Dad get better. I was totally powerless watching him slip away. Those 5 days with my family at my Dad's bedside taught me how to turn things over to someone other than me.
My Dad died at 5:38 pm on Tuesday October 27. His wife and his four children were present. We began to cry and release some of our pent up emotions. We contacted the nurse at the home and she came to be with us. Approxiamately five minutes after he passed a cardinal bumped into the window of his room near his bed. We all began to laugh and to this day I thoroughly believe that cardinal was my Dad telling us it was going to be ok.
It's been over a year and half since my Dad died and I think of him almost every day. I think the saddest thing is the my twins will grow up not really knowing him. My daughter Abby was born this past January and she will never get to meet him. My Dad would have been so happy holding her, I know he would. He loved holding my twins and just being with his grandkids and his family. As I age and mature and still struggle to find my way in life I often wonder If what I'm doing would make my Dad proud. When I watch Cardinals baseball games I feel a twinge in my heart knowing he and I will never talk about another baseball game. When my son Spenser is playing baseball with his PeeWee team I realize my Dad will never sit on the sidelines and cheer for him. My daughter Mckenzie will never get a phone call from him congratulating her on her good grades in school.
Sometimes when Amy and Abby are long asleep and it's late in the night and I'm fighting insomnia I think about my Dad and cry. When I see pictures of him I remember those last few years that God gave to my family and all of those happy times filled with laughter. My Dad loved to laugh. It's during these late night emotional moments that I reaffirm the fact that my Dad really isn't gone. As long as I'm still breathing his spirit will live on. Happy Father's Day Dad. I love you.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Checkered Past
Good very early morning my friends. Top of the Morning to you if you prefer. It's Wednesday. Hump Day. We're half way through the traditional work week. Just a friendly public service reminder; Father's Day is approaching my friends. I know Father's Day rarely gets the publicity and fanfare Mother's Day gets but be sure to let your Father's know they're appreciated. Father's Day is not necessarily the topic of this futile attempt to communicate by blogging, I just tend to get distracted and way off course on a very frequent basis.
I'm sitting here at work at 2am and for someone reason I've spent the last hour or so mentally scanning through my life. A reflection of times past if you will. I do this occasionally and sometimes it's healthy and sometimes probably not so much. Tonight however I became a bit overwhelmed with some fairly heavy and morose thoughts. I'll try to give you a slight peek into a moment of your friendly writer's head without rambling too long to do it.
As I daydreamed and reflected I began to think back of many of the people who I became close with in my life. I thought of past lovers, past friends and drinking buddies and past co-workers. I began to wonder how many of these folks I impacted in such a negative way along my pathway of life. I've done a lot of crazy and selfish things in my life. I've blatantly taken advantage of the good graces of many. I wondered how many people's lives I changed negatively? I spent a large part of my life telling lies and cheating and stealing. I've had people who once loved me curse me. I've manipulated and schemed and scammed to convince people to care. For many years of my life I drifted around the Midwest, from town to city to countryside to town, never once leaving one place in favorable terms. Throughout the years many people invested time and money and emotions on my potential, only for me to crush any hope they possessed of a positive return. I've sucked the dreams of life, the hope of better tomorrows and the joy of living out of many people. I've left a trail of emotional scars in the wake of my destruction.
These days I'm blessed to live a much different life than I once did. I like to think I'm a completely different man today than the one described in the preceding paragraphs, and for the most part I am. I do my best each day to be of service to my fellow man. I attempt to be a bright spot in the daily lives of my loved ones. I attempt to frequently think of others before I think of myself. I'm still far from perfect and many days I fall short of being the angelic man I imagine myself to be. Still I wonder will I be able to do enough in my life to erase all the negativity of my checkered past?
An Amish man (you know those bearded guys that drive horses and buggies and don't have cell phones or computers!) once described life to me as being as simple as a wagon wheel. He said you rolled a wagon wheel down a hill and each time you did something bad it weighted one side of the wheel. Likewise each good deed you performed weighted the other side. The bearded gent went on to say that hopefully when the wagon wheel lost it's momentum at the bottom of the hill that one would have done enough good things in life for the wheel to fall in that direction. This my friends is one of the best descriptions of life I've ever heard.
How very heavily weighted to the "bad" side my wheel must still be. Sometimes in moments like tonight in my life I wonder if it's even worth it sometimes to attempt to correct all the wrong I've done. It sometimes seems like such an overwhelming and impossible task. I've screwed up so much in my life. I've burned so many bridges and I've fumbled so many golden opportunities. Yes my friends I've got quite the checkered past.
I'm going to keep smiling at folks though. I'm going to keep shaking hands and patting the shoulders of those that seem to need a morale boost. I'm going to continue to pray and ask to be a blessing to others each day. I'm going to continue to look for ways to be of service to my fellow man. I'm not going to lose the hope that somehow I can make a difference in my community. I'm not going to shut the door on my past because today I can see how my life experiences can benefit others. I'm going to do all I can to someday become the man I was meant to be. I will continue to open my heart and learn to be more full of love each day. I'm going to attempt to keep stacking "good" weights on my wagon wheel. If that wheel should lose momentum and begin to fall anytime soon I will have done my best these past few years to have balanced the good and bad in my life.
All is now secure and fast;
Not the gods can shake the Past;
Flies-to the adamantine door
Bolted down forevermore.
None can reënter there,--
No thief so politic,
No Satan with a royal trick
Steal in by window, chink, or hole,
To bind or unbind, add what lacked,
Insert a leaf, or forge a name,
New-face or finish what is packed,
Alter or mend eternal Fact.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson "The Past"
I can't change the things I've done and neither can you my friends. The only thing I can do is live in today and hopefully make the world a slightly better place because of it.
I'm sitting here at work at 2am and for someone reason I've spent the last hour or so mentally scanning through my life. A reflection of times past if you will. I do this occasionally and sometimes it's healthy and sometimes probably not so much. Tonight however I became a bit overwhelmed with some fairly heavy and morose thoughts. I'll try to give you a slight peek into a moment of your friendly writer's head without rambling too long to do it.
As I daydreamed and reflected I began to think back of many of the people who I became close with in my life. I thought of past lovers, past friends and drinking buddies and past co-workers. I began to wonder how many of these folks I impacted in such a negative way along my pathway of life. I've done a lot of crazy and selfish things in my life. I've blatantly taken advantage of the good graces of many. I wondered how many people's lives I changed negatively? I spent a large part of my life telling lies and cheating and stealing. I've had people who once loved me curse me. I've manipulated and schemed and scammed to convince people to care. For many years of my life I drifted around the Midwest, from town to city to countryside to town, never once leaving one place in favorable terms. Throughout the years many people invested time and money and emotions on my potential, only for me to crush any hope they possessed of a positive return. I've sucked the dreams of life, the hope of better tomorrows and the joy of living out of many people. I've left a trail of emotional scars in the wake of my destruction.
These days I'm blessed to live a much different life than I once did. I like to think I'm a completely different man today than the one described in the preceding paragraphs, and for the most part I am. I do my best each day to be of service to my fellow man. I attempt to be a bright spot in the daily lives of my loved ones. I attempt to frequently think of others before I think of myself. I'm still far from perfect and many days I fall short of being the angelic man I imagine myself to be. Still I wonder will I be able to do enough in my life to erase all the negativity of my checkered past?
An Amish man (you know those bearded guys that drive horses and buggies and don't have cell phones or computers!) once described life to me as being as simple as a wagon wheel. He said you rolled a wagon wheel down a hill and each time you did something bad it weighted one side of the wheel. Likewise each good deed you performed weighted the other side. The bearded gent went on to say that hopefully when the wagon wheel lost it's momentum at the bottom of the hill that one would have done enough good things in life for the wheel to fall in that direction. This my friends is one of the best descriptions of life I've ever heard.
How very heavily weighted to the "bad" side my wheel must still be. Sometimes in moments like tonight in my life I wonder if it's even worth it sometimes to attempt to correct all the wrong I've done. It sometimes seems like such an overwhelming and impossible task. I've screwed up so much in my life. I've burned so many bridges and I've fumbled so many golden opportunities. Yes my friends I've got quite the checkered past.
I'm going to keep smiling at folks though. I'm going to keep shaking hands and patting the shoulders of those that seem to need a morale boost. I'm going to continue to pray and ask to be a blessing to others each day. I'm going to continue to look for ways to be of service to my fellow man. I'm not going to lose the hope that somehow I can make a difference in my community. I'm not going to shut the door on my past because today I can see how my life experiences can benefit others. I'm going to do all I can to someday become the man I was meant to be. I will continue to open my heart and learn to be more full of love each day. I'm going to attempt to keep stacking "good" weights on my wagon wheel. If that wheel should lose momentum and begin to fall anytime soon I will have done my best these past few years to have balanced the good and bad in my life.
All is now secure and fast;
Not the gods can shake the Past;
Flies-to the adamantine door
Bolted down forevermore.
None can reënter there,--
No thief so politic,
No Satan with a royal trick
Steal in by window, chink, or hole,
To bind or unbind, add what lacked,
Insert a leaf, or forge a name,
New-face or finish what is packed,
Alter or mend eternal Fact.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson "The Past"
I can't change the things I've done and neither can you my friends. The only thing I can do is live in today and hopefully make the world a slightly better place because of it.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Making Memories at the Grocery Store
Happy weekend my friends. I hope all of you are enjoying the very nice weather that has finally decided to stay around in Northwest Ohio for a while. I know it's late and I have no reason to be awake still. I'm just dealing with another emotional high that sometimes life surprises me with.
I had the pleasure once again of having all three Denton children with me all day today. Yes this happens nearly every weekend but it never grows old. Amy and I had invited a few of our friends over for a cook out tonight. As I explained to these friends it was a cook out because we live in the suburban area of Toledo. It's called a barbecue in the inner city. Actually I don't really know why some folks call them barbecues and others like myself a cook out. I do know that there wasn't any barbecue used today. I digress.
It didn't look like it was going to happen. The friends invited didn't contact us until late in the afternoon to confirm their impending arrival. Since I hadn't heard from them I assumed the cook out was off and turned my energies to other areas of the day. When I learned late in the afternoon that our friends were indeed coming over I scrambled into action. Spenser and I headed out the door and down the street to our local Kroger's grocery store.
Spenser was his usual self while shopping with me. He likes it when I race the grocery cart (or buggy in the south) around the store. He was quite humorous in his dialogue with me like he normally is. I'm not sure what other shoppers or store employees think of the two of us while we race around the store. I can only imagine them wondering who is supposed to be the adult in the situation. We whipped around the store buying Angus sirloin and hot dogs and buns and chips and pie and ice cream. We finally made it around to the check out area and went through the self check out lanes. Spenser helped hand me the items we were purchasing while I scanned and bagged, the whole time chattering like the kids we both are. When we had scanned all the items I put two twenties into the machine to pay for the $32 and some change purchase. When the machine spit out a five and two ones Spenser proclaimed rather loudly, "Wow Dad it gave you more money back than you put in." I immediately questioned the A's he received in first grade math this past school year.
I explained to him that I had less money after purchasing the groceries because I had to pay for what we were taking with us. He replied, "Wouldn't it be neat Dad if everything here were free?" I started to notice people around us smiling and seeming to find amusement in our conversation. I notified Spenser that it would indeed be neat if groceries were free but like most things in life they weren't. The conversation continued while we loaded our bags into our shopping cart (or buggy) and we began to walk towards the exit. An older gentleman, I guessed to be in his late 60's, happened to exit the self scan aisle with us. He patted me on the shoulder and chuckled about how Spenser and I reminded him of his own son many years ago. I looked at the old timer and noticed a tear spilling from his eye as he chuckled at us. He walked to the exit of the store with us the whole time telling us about how often his own son would say humorous things when he was young. We talked a little as we worked our way through the late afternoon shopping rush. He informed us that his son was now fully grown and that he had two grandsons that were now his pride and joy. As we parted ways in the parking lot, heading towards our respective vehicles he again patted my shoulder and remarked how fast time seemed to fly as your children grew. As he turned to head his own way I noticed him smiling from ear to ear having obviously been reminded of pleasant times in life.
As we loaded the groceries into the Jeep Spenser noted how "nice that guy" seemed to be. As we got into our vehicle to head home to prepare for our cook out (or barbecue if you will) Spenser seemed to almost read my mind. Out of nowhere he asked if I sometimes missed Papaw, my Father who passed away a year and a half ago. Why this older gentleman reminded me of my own father I can't really be sure, but the fact was he had. With a tear beginning to trail out of my own eye I notified Spenser that I did indeed miss Papaw nearly every day. I know that at nearly 7 years of age Spenser will likely never remember this particular shopping trip to Kroger's. I however, much like the old-timer we bumped into, will likely look back fondly on this memory for years and years and years.
This is why I ask God to open my heart and mind to whatever adventure he has in store for me each day. The cook out and fellowship with friends was amazing by the way.
I had the pleasure once again of having all three Denton children with me all day today. Yes this happens nearly every weekend but it never grows old. Amy and I had invited a few of our friends over for a cook out tonight. As I explained to these friends it was a cook out because we live in the suburban area of Toledo. It's called a barbecue in the inner city. Actually I don't really know why some folks call them barbecues and others like myself a cook out. I do know that there wasn't any barbecue used today. I digress.
It didn't look like it was going to happen. The friends invited didn't contact us until late in the afternoon to confirm their impending arrival. Since I hadn't heard from them I assumed the cook out was off and turned my energies to other areas of the day. When I learned late in the afternoon that our friends were indeed coming over I scrambled into action. Spenser and I headed out the door and down the street to our local Kroger's grocery store.
Spenser was his usual self while shopping with me. He likes it when I race the grocery cart (or buggy in the south) around the store. He was quite humorous in his dialogue with me like he normally is. I'm not sure what other shoppers or store employees think of the two of us while we race around the store. I can only imagine them wondering who is supposed to be the adult in the situation. We whipped around the store buying Angus sirloin and hot dogs and buns and chips and pie and ice cream. We finally made it around to the check out area and went through the self check out lanes. Spenser helped hand me the items we were purchasing while I scanned and bagged, the whole time chattering like the kids we both are. When we had scanned all the items I put two twenties into the machine to pay for the $32 and some change purchase. When the machine spit out a five and two ones Spenser proclaimed rather loudly, "Wow Dad it gave you more money back than you put in." I immediately questioned the A's he received in first grade math this past school year.
I explained to him that I had less money after purchasing the groceries because I had to pay for what we were taking with us. He replied, "Wouldn't it be neat Dad if everything here were free?" I started to notice people around us smiling and seeming to find amusement in our conversation. I notified Spenser that it would indeed be neat if groceries were free but like most things in life they weren't. The conversation continued while we loaded our bags into our shopping cart (or buggy) and we began to walk towards the exit. An older gentleman, I guessed to be in his late 60's, happened to exit the self scan aisle with us. He patted me on the shoulder and chuckled about how Spenser and I reminded him of his own son many years ago. I looked at the old timer and noticed a tear spilling from his eye as he chuckled at us. He walked to the exit of the store with us the whole time telling us about how often his own son would say humorous things when he was young. We talked a little as we worked our way through the late afternoon shopping rush. He informed us that his son was now fully grown and that he had two grandsons that were now his pride and joy. As we parted ways in the parking lot, heading towards our respective vehicles he again patted my shoulder and remarked how fast time seemed to fly as your children grew. As he turned to head his own way I noticed him smiling from ear to ear having obviously been reminded of pleasant times in life.
As we loaded the groceries into the Jeep Spenser noted how "nice that guy" seemed to be. As we got into our vehicle to head home to prepare for our cook out (or barbecue if you will) Spenser seemed to almost read my mind. Out of nowhere he asked if I sometimes missed Papaw, my Father who passed away a year and a half ago. Why this older gentleman reminded me of my own father I can't really be sure, but the fact was he had. With a tear beginning to trail out of my own eye I notified Spenser that I did indeed miss Papaw nearly every day. I know that at nearly 7 years of age Spenser will likely never remember this particular shopping trip to Kroger's. I however, much like the old-timer we bumped into, will likely look back fondly on this memory for years and years and years.
This is why I ask God to open my heart and mind to whatever adventure he has in store for me each day. The cook out and fellowship with friends was amazing by the way.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Jim Tressel
Happy Memorial Day friends and blog followers. I truly am grateful to the Men and Women who have given their lives to ensure that my family and I can enjoy the freedoms we have today. Both of my Grandfathers served in the military. My Grandpa Leon Sours served in WWII and Korea. My Uncle Sam Sours served 5 tours in Vietnam. Yes you read that correctly; 5 tours, in the Army special forces. The last 2 tours were served trying to find POW/MIA individuals and bringing them home. These family members are true American heroes. I'd also like to remind everyone that there are individuals who are daily laying their lives on the line on foreign soil in service to our great country. Whether we agree with the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan or not, these individuals deserve our honor and respect. I've helped treat several veterans from these conflicts at the alcohol and drug treatment center I work at and I can tell you that Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome is a legitimate diagnosis. Some of the most heart wrenching things I've witnessed is watching these individuals screaming out in their sleep, wrestling with night terrors that you and I will never have to know. As my family and I prepare for the pool party and cook out we are going to attend we will say a prayer thanking God for these folks. Hug a veteran today would ya?
That having been said I'm extremely disappointed in the fact that Ohio State made the decision to announce Jim Tressel's resignation today. I'm probably one of the biggest Ohio State Football fans in Northwest Ohio, yet I feel it was in poor taste to announce this on Memorial Day. I'm sure that somewhere along the line a publicist thought this would benefit Ohio State to make this announcement on a holiday. Memorial Day should be about honoring our veterans, not about watching newscasts dominated by a football coach resigning amidst allegations of wrong doing.
Now about those allegations. Let's be real here folks. Jim Tressel hasn't been accused of recruiting violations, nor has he been accused of financially supporting his players. His biggest wrongdoing was simply not reporting his knowledge that his players were selling their own personal property to attempt to make ends meet. I'm not exonerating the players at all. What they did were wrong. What Jim Tressel did was wrong. They all broke the rules and should suffer some consequences. I do however find it difficult to stomach that men who have become millionaires on the backs of college football would be the ones allowed to judge these athletes who grew up extremely poor in urban areas. Terrelle Pryor is an exceptionally gifted athlete who felt the need to sell some of his own hard earned college awards. I'm not Terrelle Pryor, but I've been broke and I understand the desperation that can bring. College athletes do not receive compensation for playing sports. They are provided an opportunity to receive a free college education. In comparison Mark Emmert the current CEO of the NCAA was paid nearly a million dollars a year as the President of the University of Washington. Do any of you truly believe that Mr. Emmert has ever been financially desperate enough to pawn his belongings?
I don't know what the solution is to the dilemma of college athletes hustling. I do feel like the NCAA has to do something. You simply can not take individuals out of urban areas, make them some of the most famous athletes in their respective states and expect them to eat ramen noodles and ride bicycles around their respective campuses. It's a broken system that somewhere along the way needs to be repaired.
Back to the topic of Jim Tressel. He is one of the most wildly successful football coaches college football has ever seen. It's worth noting that almost every single individual who has ever played for him admires him. He seems to be loyal to a fault to the men who play for him. Until this past year he was widely viewed as an honorable man with impeccable integrity. We now know that he was covering evidence of wrong doing from his players and it feels a little foreign using words like "integrity" and "honor" when describing him. I don't see any other way around him having to leave as Ohio State football coach simply for the fact that he has lost the trust he once had.
I had the honor and privelege of meeting Jim this past spring. As a matter of fact if you watched Channel 13 ABC's noon newscast you would have seen footage of Jim Tressel and I sitting at Sylvania Country Club. Jim gave a speech that day apologizing for what had happened to Buckeye Football and he took responsibility for those things that he did wrong. It's worth noting that I learned that day the Jim Tressel and his wife had donated millions to Ohio State University Hospital and their new cancer center. I believe he is a good man at heart. I don't think the footage we saw of Ohio State football players volunteering in poor neighborhoods in New Orleans before the Sugar Bowl were for public relations only. I think he legitametly attempted to make the athletes he coached better men. I don't know why he did the things he did but I know that Ohio State lost a really good football coach today.
Did you hear the rumor that Urban Meyer recently purchased a home in Columbus, OH? Boy wouldn't that be something! Go Bucks.
That having been said I'm extremely disappointed in the fact that Ohio State made the decision to announce Jim Tressel's resignation today. I'm probably one of the biggest Ohio State Football fans in Northwest Ohio, yet I feel it was in poor taste to announce this on Memorial Day. I'm sure that somewhere along the line a publicist thought this would benefit Ohio State to make this announcement on a holiday. Memorial Day should be about honoring our veterans, not about watching newscasts dominated by a football coach resigning amidst allegations of wrong doing.
Now about those allegations. Let's be real here folks. Jim Tressel hasn't been accused of recruiting violations, nor has he been accused of financially supporting his players. His biggest wrongdoing was simply not reporting his knowledge that his players were selling their own personal property to attempt to make ends meet. I'm not exonerating the players at all. What they did were wrong. What Jim Tressel did was wrong. They all broke the rules and should suffer some consequences. I do however find it difficult to stomach that men who have become millionaires on the backs of college football would be the ones allowed to judge these athletes who grew up extremely poor in urban areas. Terrelle Pryor is an exceptionally gifted athlete who felt the need to sell some of his own hard earned college awards. I'm not Terrelle Pryor, but I've been broke and I understand the desperation that can bring. College athletes do not receive compensation for playing sports. They are provided an opportunity to receive a free college education. In comparison Mark Emmert the current CEO of the NCAA was paid nearly a million dollars a year as the President of the University of Washington. Do any of you truly believe that Mr. Emmert has ever been financially desperate enough to pawn his belongings?
I don't know what the solution is to the dilemma of college athletes hustling. I do feel like the NCAA has to do something. You simply can not take individuals out of urban areas, make them some of the most famous athletes in their respective states and expect them to eat ramen noodles and ride bicycles around their respective campuses. It's a broken system that somewhere along the way needs to be repaired.
Back to the topic of Jim Tressel. He is one of the most wildly successful football coaches college football has ever seen. It's worth noting that almost every single individual who has ever played for him admires him. He seems to be loyal to a fault to the men who play for him. Until this past year he was widely viewed as an honorable man with impeccable integrity. We now know that he was covering evidence of wrong doing from his players and it feels a little foreign using words like "integrity" and "honor" when describing him. I don't see any other way around him having to leave as Ohio State football coach simply for the fact that he has lost the trust he once had.
I had the honor and privelege of meeting Jim this past spring. As a matter of fact if you watched Channel 13 ABC's noon newscast you would have seen footage of Jim Tressel and I sitting at Sylvania Country Club. Jim gave a speech that day apologizing for what had happened to Buckeye Football and he took responsibility for those things that he did wrong. It's worth noting that I learned that day the Jim Tressel and his wife had donated millions to Ohio State University Hospital and their new cancer center. I believe he is a good man at heart. I don't think the footage we saw of Ohio State football players volunteering in poor neighborhoods in New Orleans before the Sugar Bowl were for public relations only. I think he legitametly attempted to make the athletes he coached better men. I don't know why he did the things he did but I know that Ohio State lost a really good football coach today.
Did you hear the rumor that Urban Meyer recently purchased a home in Columbus, OH? Boy wouldn't that be something! Go Bucks.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
If My Life Were a Baseball Game
It's another stormy humid day in Northwest Ohio. A perfect day to wastefully consume memory space in the world wide web. I suppose I might as well use the space rather than let another republican conspiracy theorist use it to speculate the Barack Obama isn't American.
I love baseball. It is one of my true passions in life. As I write this I'm watching the Cubs and Mets play on WGN. I hate the Cubs and could care less about the Mets, but it's baseball. Anyone who knows me or has even heard of me knows that I bleed Cardinal red. The St. Louis Cardinals are my one true lifetime love. The story is infamous now, but I once told an ex-wife that I loved the Cardinals more than I loved her.
I also love living life. I haven't always felt that way however. There have been many times in my past when I wondered if the alternative to living wasn't a better option. There were times when I would easily spend an evening entertaining suicidal thoughts. It's been many years since I've had an evening like that. Today I live a fairly decent life and I'd like to someday tell tall tales to my great-grandchildren. What if my life were compared to a baseball game?
It's a baseball game pitting me against life. I suppose in the first innings the odds makers would have given me pretty even odds to be successful. They would have taken into consideration my genetics and environment. Although I grew up poor I also grew up in a fairly loving and somewhat supportive family. They would have scored points in my favor for the academic accolades in my early school years and likely deduced that I was well on my way to winning the baseball game in life.
An inning or two later things would have been completely flipped upside down. This is the stage of life when I would have started to enter into the early phases of alcoholism. Large quantities of alcohol poisoning my body and allowing the team of "life" to score many runs. Life scored runs with each subsequent marriage and divorce (there are two of them.) Each time I lost a job due to my immaturity and alcoholism life hit home runs and grand slams. Each time I picked up and moved to a different state seeking a new start only to have the same problems, life scored again and again. When life was at bat the bases began to look like a carousel. In these middle innings of the baseball game of life I'm sure that the ones who were interested began to drift away. Much like fans do during a literal baseball game when the outcome is all but decided, my fans started drifting towards the exits. This baseball game of life was all but over friends. Even the most diehard fans, my family and closest friends had given up all hope of a comeback.
And then something miraculous and astonishing happened. Against all odds and much to the disbelief of anyone that knew me, I got sober. A comeback at this point of the ballgame would be one of the biggest comebacks in the history of life. Yet there were glimmers of hope as I (with the support and cheers of many) began to mount a comeback. Over the last few years of life I've remained sober. These middle innings have seen a few runs scored by "life" and several scored in my favor.
The baseball game of life goes on. I don't know what inning we are in, thankfully, but I'm hoping there are a few more to play. I'm not ready to end this game yet. It's just now been fun to play these past few years. I'm not even totally certain what the score is anymore. I'm certain it's a close game and with the comeback we've had to mount to get here I'm ok with that. I am convinced that if I'm going to win this baseball game of life I'm going to have to continue to play aggressive. I'm going to have to call for the hit and run occasionally. We might have to use the squeeze play or the double steal. In this game of life I'm aware that the greater the risks the greater the potential for reward.
I also know that down the stretch in these last innings of the game I've got some all-star teammates playing with me. I've got the ultimate designated hitter in a recovery support group. They never fail to drive in runs when called upon to hit. When we get to the last innings I know I've got the ultimate closer. I've got a higher power in my life who is just waiting to come in from the bullpen to close out a successful ballgame. As the game of life continues to be played the stands have filled back up. As I step up to the plate for yet another at bat my eyes slowly scan the stands. I see my three beautiful children sitting right behind my team's dugout avidly cheering for Daddy. My family has once again returned to watch the game, cheering more loudly than every. I've got a wonderful companion in my life who is proudly wearing a jersey with my number on it in support. I've got dozens and dozens of friends who start to cheer more and more loudly as the game becomes more and more of a nail biter. I look up into the clouds and see the image of my late Father, wearing his well worn Cardinals hat no doubt, smiling from ear to ear, enjoying another great ballgame.
I don't know what the outcome of this ballgame will be my friends. That's the beauty of baseball. The fact that anything can happen. What I do know is that if I continue to stick to the fundamentals and basics of the game I will have a chance to win. It's baseball. It's life. It's rarely boring. Life is like baseball my friends. In the end there is no such thing as a bad day at the ballpark.
I hope y'all enjoy a good Thursday and never give up in your own personal "game of life."
I love baseball. It is one of my true passions in life. As I write this I'm watching the Cubs and Mets play on WGN. I hate the Cubs and could care less about the Mets, but it's baseball. Anyone who knows me or has even heard of me knows that I bleed Cardinal red. The St. Louis Cardinals are my one true lifetime love. The story is infamous now, but I once told an ex-wife that I loved the Cardinals more than I loved her.
I also love living life. I haven't always felt that way however. There have been many times in my past when I wondered if the alternative to living wasn't a better option. There were times when I would easily spend an evening entertaining suicidal thoughts. It's been many years since I've had an evening like that. Today I live a fairly decent life and I'd like to someday tell tall tales to my great-grandchildren. What if my life were compared to a baseball game?
It's a baseball game pitting me against life. I suppose in the first innings the odds makers would have given me pretty even odds to be successful. They would have taken into consideration my genetics and environment. Although I grew up poor I also grew up in a fairly loving and somewhat supportive family. They would have scored points in my favor for the academic accolades in my early school years and likely deduced that I was well on my way to winning the baseball game in life.
An inning or two later things would have been completely flipped upside down. This is the stage of life when I would have started to enter into the early phases of alcoholism. Large quantities of alcohol poisoning my body and allowing the team of "life" to score many runs. Life scored runs with each subsequent marriage and divorce (there are two of them.) Each time I lost a job due to my immaturity and alcoholism life hit home runs and grand slams. Each time I picked up and moved to a different state seeking a new start only to have the same problems, life scored again and again. When life was at bat the bases began to look like a carousel. In these middle innings of the baseball game of life I'm sure that the ones who were interested began to drift away. Much like fans do during a literal baseball game when the outcome is all but decided, my fans started drifting towards the exits. This baseball game of life was all but over friends. Even the most diehard fans, my family and closest friends had given up all hope of a comeback.
And then something miraculous and astonishing happened. Against all odds and much to the disbelief of anyone that knew me, I got sober. A comeback at this point of the ballgame would be one of the biggest comebacks in the history of life. Yet there were glimmers of hope as I (with the support and cheers of many) began to mount a comeback. Over the last few years of life I've remained sober. These middle innings have seen a few runs scored by "life" and several scored in my favor.
The baseball game of life goes on. I don't know what inning we are in, thankfully, but I'm hoping there are a few more to play. I'm not ready to end this game yet. It's just now been fun to play these past few years. I'm not even totally certain what the score is anymore. I'm certain it's a close game and with the comeback we've had to mount to get here I'm ok with that. I am convinced that if I'm going to win this baseball game of life I'm going to have to continue to play aggressive. I'm going to have to call for the hit and run occasionally. We might have to use the squeeze play or the double steal. In this game of life I'm aware that the greater the risks the greater the potential for reward.
I also know that down the stretch in these last innings of the game I've got some all-star teammates playing with me. I've got the ultimate designated hitter in a recovery support group. They never fail to drive in runs when called upon to hit. When we get to the last innings I know I've got the ultimate closer. I've got a higher power in my life who is just waiting to come in from the bullpen to close out a successful ballgame. As the game of life continues to be played the stands have filled back up. As I step up to the plate for yet another at bat my eyes slowly scan the stands. I see my three beautiful children sitting right behind my team's dugout avidly cheering for Daddy. My family has once again returned to watch the game, cheering more loudly than every. I've got a wonderful companion in my life who is proudly wearing a jersey with my number on it in support. I've got dozens and dozens of friends who start to cheer more and more loudly as the game becomes more and more of a nail biter. I look up into the clouds and see the image of my late Father, wearing his well worn Cardinals hat no doubt, smiling from ear to ear, enjoying another great ballgame.
I don't know what the outcome of this ballgame will be my friends. That's the beauty of baseball. The fact that anything can happen. What I do know is that if I continue to stick to the fundamentals and basics of the game I will have a chance to win. It's baseball. It's life. It's rarely boring. Life is like baseball my friends. In the end there is no such thing as a bad day at the ballpark.
I hope y'all enjoy a good Thursday and never give up in your own personal "game of life."
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Changes
Mother Nature is finally starting to realize that it's supposed to be spring. My three children are all doing exceptionally well. My first season of softball in many years is well under way and at 4-2 as a team we are doing well. Spenser's pee wee baseball season has begun and he is doing well and enjoying himself. My beloved St. Louis Cardinals are in first place. I just recently celebrated my fifth continuous year of sobriety. I remain gainfully employed at a fairly rewarding job. I'm constantly surrounded by some of the most loyal and loving friends that God has ever allowed to grace planet Earth. I have a beautiful and loving woman in my life who has agreed to someday marry me. For all intents and purposes everything in life is looking good. Yet I've experienced several bouts of crankiness and moodiness lately.
For some reason every several months or so I experience these "growth" opportunities. I'm certain that most of my friends in recovery can relate to this. We often repeat a well worn phrase in recovery circles, "You either grow or you go." Sometimes I wonder if we even think about what these phrases actually mean before we parrot them to others.
You either grow or you go. It doesn't leave a lot of room for other options. The gist of the statement is that one either continues to grow spiritually and emotionally or that they will eventually drink and return to their old "un-sober" ways. It's a statement that I've seen bear some truth over my five year recovery journey. Those that don't change enough of their behaviors often do wind up not being sober. I certainly don't ever want to fall into the category of "goers."
So what is one to do when faced with the challenge of growing? Why is it that in the midst of a beautifully blessed life one becomes restless and uneasy? Surely I must be doing something wrong. I've done the gratitude lists and performed the daily meditations. I continue to actively sponsor men. I'm active in my recovery home group. I talk with my sponsor on a weekly basis. I suit up and show up to my obligations. The only thing left to do is the one thing I know will undoubtedly guide me through my growing; trudge.
Trudge is an odd word to use in conjunction with living a blessed life. Trudge - a long tedious walk. To walk wearily. Some have defined trudge as to move forward slowly. Anyway you look at it trudging is not a glamorous action. Yet I have found that the ability to trudge is one of my best assets. If life be troublesome and difficult, keep trudging and you'll get through. If life be splendid and a smashing success, keep trudging and you'll get through that too. One foot in front of the other. I know if I keep trudging long enough this too shall pass.
So I'm restless and cranky. I've identified that. Now what? Our old dear friend Mr. Personal Inventory pays a visit. As Eminem once said "I'm going through changes." Change...it isn't just for pockets anymore. It's one of those things in life that is constantly happening. The only thing that stays the same is that everything changes. I don't always adapt well to change. As a matter of fact I normally don't deal well with it at all. Especially when things change in life without my permission. I wish I was one of those mythical creatures who embrace change. Those that welcome it with wide open arms. Those are the folks usually running around with unicorns.
So I'm just going to hang on real tight and enjoy the ride. I'm going to put one foot in front of the other and continue to trudge the long tedious road of life. Somewhere along the way, whether it be in a day or two or a week or three, I will realize that I've come through on the other side of this thing and all will be roses and sunshine and then that will eventually change too. It's just another period of growth opportunity. Come and join me as we trudge this road of happy destiny.
For some reason every several months or so I experience these "growth" opportunities. I'm certain that most of my friends in recovery can relate to this. We often repeat a well worn phrase in recovery circles, "You either grow or you go." Sometimes I wonder if we even think about what these phrases actually mean before we parrot them to others.
You either grow or you go. It doesn't leave a lot of room for other options. The gist of the statement is that one either continues to grow spiritually and emotionally or that they will eventually drink and return to their old "un-sober" ways. It's a statement that I've seen bear some truth over my five year recovery journey. Those that don't change enough of their behaviors often do wind up not being sober. I certainly don't ever want to fall into the category of "goers."
So what is one to do when faced with the challenge of growing? Why is it that in the midst of a beautifully blessed life one becomes restless and uneasy? Surely I must be doing something wrong. I've done the gratitude lists and performed the daily meditations. I continue to actively sponsor men. I'm active in my recovery home group. I talk with my sponsor on a weekly basis. I suit up and show up to my obligations. The only thing left to do is the one thing I know will undoubtedly guide me through my growing; trudge.
Trudge is an odd word to use in conjunction with living a blessed life. Trudge - a long tedious walk. To walk wearily. Some have defined trudge as to move forward slowly. Anyway you look at it trudging is not a glamorous action. Yet I have found that the ability to trudge is one of my best assets. If life be troublesome and difficult, keep trudging and you'll get through. If life be splendid and a smashing success, keep trudging and you'll get through that too. One foot in front of the other. I know if I keep trudging long enough this too shall pass.
So I'm restless and cranky. I've identified that. Now what? Our old dear friend Mr. Personal Inventory pays a visit. As Eminem once said "I'm going through changes." Change...it isn't just for pockets anymore. It's one of those things in life that is constantly happening. The only thing that stays the same is that everything changes. I don't always adapt well to change. As a matter of fact I normally don't deal well with it at all. Especially when things change in life without my permission. I wish I was one of those mythical creatures who embrace change. Those that welcome it with wide open arms. Those are the folks usually running around with unicorns.
So I'm just going to hang on real tight and enjoy the ride. I'm going to put one foot in front of the other and continue to trudge the long tedious road of life. Somewhere along the way, whether it be in a day or two or a week or three, I will realize that I've come through on the other side of this thing and all will be roses and sunshine and then that will eventually change too. It's just another period of growth opportunity. Come and join me as we trudge this road of happy destiny.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
What it Means to Be a Dad.
Howdy friends. I trust all is well in your individual lives. It's Spring and that is a good thing. Baseball season is here. The Toledo Mudhens opening day is today. Abby and I have been taking frequent walks. She likes riding in the stroller. OK enough chatter off we go.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a Dad. Now just as an early disclaimer, let me state that I can only speak for myself. I'm a bit of a sentimental softy. Probably more of an emotionally sensitive guy than most. I know most of you see me as this big tough, fighter/brawler, athletic guy, but I've learned to embrace my emotions along the way as well. I am a very proud Father of three children. Spenser and McKenzie are 6 and a half year old twins and are both in first grade. They live with their Mother, about a half an hour west of Toledo and I usually only get to see them on weekends. Abigail is 3 months old.
Spenser Daniel is often referred to by my friends as my "mini-me." He is certainly all boy. Almost everything he does, or at least wants to do, revolves around sports or Lego's. From the moment he wakes up he is a ball of constant energy, constantly in motion. He doesn't really understand why school is important. He gets excellent grades but only because his parents push him to excel. He also has a very sensitive side a lot like his Dad does. He already has shown a tenacious interest in girls. He's told me about looking at "geographic" magazines and I've caught him going through Amy's Victoria's Secret catalogue. I don't encourage or discourage this I just try not to make a big deal out of it.
McKenzie Jean is a beautiful, vivacious, extremely intelligent little girl. Most people agree she is an even blend of her Mother and I as far as her looks go. She is already an avid reader who is reading at a fourth grade level. She loves school and getting good grades come very easy to her. She doesn't always listen well to her teacher or her parents. She is constantly chattering. She is also, typically, super sensitive and her feelings are easily hurt. She could care less about sports but has shown a desire to learn to dance. We've enrolled her in tap and ballet classes and some gymnastics/cheerleader stuff.
Abigail Elizabeth is a gorgeous three month old angel. Introducing her to the world has certainly been a life changing event. I've started to learn what it's like to be a full-time Dad. She likes watching Mickey's clubhouse and Max and Ruby on TV and she loves it when Daddy reads to her out of her Disney Princess story book. Lately her tongue is constantly hanging out driving Amy nuts. Amy blames this on me since I've attempted to teach Abby to stick her tongue out for the last two months or so. I work night shift and come home and take care of Abby all day during the week while Amy is at work. This combination of parenting a baby and sleep deprivation is a challenge but one I'm honored to take on. I never thought I'd have the opportunity to have another child and Abby is truly a blessing.
It's a totally amazing and overwhelming feeling the unconditional love your children give. Nothing warms my heart more than to hear the twins say "I love you Daddy," or seeing little Abby smile from ear to ear. I was talking with my sister Jennifer the other day about not coming from a hugging family. One that rarely uttered the "L" word. I don't want my children growing up like that so I'm constantly hugging them and telling them I love them. I don't want my son growing up thinking that it's wrong for boys to cry. I want my daughters to grow up as princesses and meet companions some day that treat them like queens.
Despite how awesome it is to be a Dad it is by far the greatest challenge I've ever faced in life. I am driven to provide my children a better life than I've had. I want them to have more opportunities than I had. My parenting style is pretty much to expose them to as many different things in life as I can think of and let them find what they enjoy. We've visited Art Museums, fairs, zoos, parks and many other things. We've fished, played baseball, had tea party's and searched for native American arrow heads together. Nothing in life compares to the contented feeling I get when I'm with my children. Being a Dad is the most important job I'll ever have.
Still I wonder about how we are going to afford college when they get to that age. Am I going to be able to afford to help them buy a vehicle when they turn 16? Will I be that cool open-minded Dad who loves and understands or will they force me to be the tough disciplinarian? I've told Abby that I know she will break Daddy's heart at least a thousand times. I thoroughly believe that. I know my children will make many decisions that I won't agree with. I just want them to know that they will never outgrow their Daddy's love.
Much is written by Men about their relationships with their Dads. Why is it there are so few things written by Dad's about their children?
If you get the chance check out this song by Conway Twitty. It's become my motto in life. I sing it to Abby a lot. I try singing it to the twins but they don't sit still long enough. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7XK_zNq930
I hope you all have a wonderful Thursday evening. Hug your children and never let them forget that they are loved.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a Dad. Now just as an early disclaimer, let me state that I can only speak for myself. I'm a bit of a sentimental softy. Probably more of an emotionally sensitive guy than most. I know most of you see me as this big tough, fighter/brawler, athletic guy, but I've learned to embrace my emotions along the way as well. I am a very proud Father of three children. Spenser and McKenzie are 6 and a half year old twins and are both in first grade. They live with their Mother, about a half an hour west of Toledo and I usually only get to see them on weekends. Abigail is 3 months old.
Spenser Daniel is often referred to by my friends as my "mini-me." He is certainly all boy. Almost everything he does, or at least wants to do, revolves around sports or Lego's. From the moment he wakes up he is a ball of constant energy, constantly in motion. He doesn't really understand why school is important. He gets excellent grades but only because his parents push him to excel. He also has a very sensitive side a lot like his Dad does. He already has shown a tenacious interest in girls. He's told me about looking at "geographic" magazines and I've caught him going through Amy's Victoria's Secret catalogue. I don't encourage or discourage this I just try not to make a big deal out of it.
McKenzie Jean is a beautiful, vivacious, extremely intelligent little girl. Most people agree she is an even blend of her Mother and I as far as her looks go. She is already an avid reader who is reading at a fourth grade level. She loves school and getting good grades come very easy to her. She doesn't always listen well to her teacher or her parents. She is constantly chattering. She is also, typically, super sensitive and her feelings are easily hurt. She could care less about sports but has shown a desire to learn to dance. We've enrolled her in tap and ballet classes and some gymnastics/cheerleader stuff.
Abigail Elizabeth is a gorgeous three month old angel. Introducing her to the world has certainly been a life changing event. I've started to learn what it's like to be a full-time Dad. She likes watching Mickey's clubhouse and Max and Ruby on TV and she loves it when Daddy reads to her out of her Disney Princess story book. Lately her tongue is constantly hanging out driving Amy nuts. Amy blames this on me since I've attempted to teach Abby to stick her tongue out for the last two months or so. I work night shift and come home and take care of Abby all day during the week while Amy is at work. This combination of parenting a baby and sleep deprivation is a challenge but one I'm honored to take on. I never thought I'd have the opportunity to have another child and Abby is truly a blessing.
It's a totally amazing and overwhelming feeling the unconditional love your children give. Nothing warms my heart more than to hear the twins say "I love you Daddy," or seeing little Abby smile from ear to ear. I was talking with my sister Jennifer the other day about not coming from a hugging family. One that rarely uttered the "L" word. I don't want my children growing up like that so I'm constantly hugging them and telling them I love them. I don't want my son growing up thinking that it's wrong for boys to cry. I want my daughters to grow up as princesses and meet companions some day that treat them like queens.
Despite how awesome it is to be a Dad it is by far the greatest challenge I've ever faced in life. I am driven to provide my children a better life than I've had. I want them to have more opportunities than I had. My parenting style is pretty much to expose them to as many different things in life as I can think of and let them find what they enjoy. We've visited Art Museums, fairs, zoos, parks and many other things. We've fished, played baseball, had tea party's and searched for native American arrow heads together. Nothing in life compares to the contented feeling I get when I'm with my children. Being a Dad is the most important job I'll ever have.
Still I wonder about how we are going to afford college when they get to that age. Am I going to be able to afford to help them buy a vehicle when they turn 16? Will I be that cool open-minded Dad who loves and understands or will they force me to be the tough disciplinarian? I've told Abby that I know she will break Daddy's heart at least a thousand times. I thoroughly believe that. I know my children will make many decisions that I won't agree with. I just want them to know that they will never outgrow their Daddy's love.
Much is written by Men about their relationships with their Dads. Why is it there are so few things written by Dad's about their children?
If you get the chance check out this song by Conway Twitty. It's become my motto in life. I sing it to Abby a lot. I try singing it to the twins but they don't sit still long enough. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7XK_zNq930
I hope you all have a wonderful Thursday evening. Hug your children and never let them forget that they are loved.
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