There comes a profound moment in every man's life when he feels compelled to prove to his woman that he is a great man. That he is not a caveman. That he is a sensitive man, a thoughtful man.
That moment is almost always triggered by some hidden unconscious guilt that irritatingly gnaws away at his absolute unadulterated volition to simply have a good time. Maybe he spent too many nights out with the "boys". Maybe he should have called. Maybe he shouldn't have stared too hard at the girl in the black mini dress.
Unable to bear this pestering annoyance, the man reaches into the deep recesses of his neanderthalic soul and brilliantly concocts a plan which in his simple mind will without fail prove his worth to her.
It would be something monumental. It would be something SO HUGE that it will settle once and for all any lingering doubts she may have had about him. It will put an end to those occasional looks of bewilderment he didn't quite get at the time but upon somber reflection seem to subtly suggest "where did I go wrong?".
Alas, he decides, independently and remarkably, that he would, for once (without being asked)...perform the herculean task of washing the dishes.
But before the task is even undertaken, he is immensely pleased with himself. The thought of the delightfully surprised look on her face arouses his sense of humanity. He can't help but to bask in the glory of reaping the benefits of her appreciation. He feels warm and tingly all over as he anticipates her gratitude manifesting into something much much more. He is a smart man.
So at last that moment finally arrives. She comes home after a hard day’s work. There are remnants of lifeless bubbles trickling down the sink in a slow dying descent as if having been annihilated in a battle of epic proportions. There is the disturbing evidence of random water splashes, puddles, and sporadic blotches of unrecognizable food parts that could only have been something that was once edible.
He, the great man that he is, does not want to make a big fuss out of this and nonchalantly exchanges the usual greetings as if nothing extraordinary has taken place. Nevertheless, he can’t help himself but to lurk around the kitchen like a criminal coming back to the scene of the crime curious and anxious to know if he’s going to get caught.
He wants to scream “I did it. It was me. It was me who did it!” But he knows he has to remain cool, calm and collected because he is a patient man. He wants her to make the first move. After all, it’s the very least she can do. So he waits through the exchange of meaningless banter. He waits through her warbled stream of consciousness. Yet he grows anxious by the moment and waits. He waits for that sudden look of surprise, delight, and appreciation. He waits for that look of “how did I get so lucky?”
But it is slowly beginning to dawn upon him that she may not even care. Oh, he is a perceptive man. There is a sudden rush of doubt, desperation and resentment all coiled up in one incomprehensible quagmire of emotions. Feeling he can not allow this moment, this extraordinary moment, to merely pass, he implodes and finds himself declaring with a loud whimper, "I did the dishes".
Yes, he did indeed. He is overcome with an overwhelming sense of obtuse catharsis. It is a lukewarm puddle of a fleeting moment as he immediately and devastatingly feels the slings and arrows of her wrath, disgust, and pathos all wrapped in a tight panini sandwich. It was not the look he had envisioned.
He is a sensitive man. He is a thoughtful man. He is a pathetic man.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
How do you know when you're in love? (Love in the Time of Blackout)
It was a darn good thing I wasn't the one driving that day. Justin, my second son, had just turned seventeen so we were on the road practicing for his road test. As we drove around the neighborhood, I guided him with restrained yet constructive criticism as dads would do under the circumstances...
"Holy mother of God, SLOW DOWN!", "you're gonna hit that tree and have us KILLED!", "STOP! STOP! STOP!".
We were on this road adventure for a while when it started to rain. The wind shield wiper on the old Nissan was squeaking and struggling to wipe away the light misty raindrops. It was also getting dark so I decided this would be a good excuse to cut short our driving session for the evening and head back home.
As we were approaching our driveway and just as I was feeling the relief and comfort in the fact that we did not end up at the local ER, Justin mumbled "Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Of course son what is it?" I replied without giving a second thought.
With a casual nonchalance of wanting to know the score of the Nets basketball game, he asked, "Dad…how do you know when you're in love?"
I wasn't sure if I heard him right because I expected something mundane related to driving skills, perhaps something to do with parallel parking, maybe a question about the road test.
But I thought I heard him mention "love" and it instinctively dawned upon me that a defining moment in our father and son relationship may be at hand. As a parent, these are the moments you look back and cherish. It's like coming to bat with the bases loaded in the ninth inning. It's like having the opportunity to take the winning shot with seconds left on the clock.
How can any father be prepared for such a question? This was something more fitting for the gods of love and I found myself searching for the words of Byron, Browning, and Tennyson. I needed some time to provide an answer eloquent and worthy of a teen's new found muse for love.
So with extreme sensitivity, I delicately asked "Run that by me again?"
Justin, looking agitated at having to ask the question again, hesitated a moment as if having second thoughts, then repeated,
"Like…how do you know for sure that you're in love?"
It was clear that the fervency of the topic had imposed upon him a sense of desperate urgency that gave him powers unbeknownst to himself to irrationally seek for answers despite any obstacles of trepidation. The confusion in the voice, the quivering of the body... he exhibited all the symptoms of the reckless delirium of teenage love.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with the ramification my answer would have generations down the road. How did Abraham answer Issac that subsequently led to David's fawning over Bathsheba? I had visions of Justin some twenty years from now telling his son "This is what your grandpa said when I asked him about love...". I was mortified of the possibility that they would chuckle and get a good laugh at the expense of good old Grandpa,"...may he rest in peace", they would add for good measure.
I found myself asking "what is love after all"? It brought back memories to the summer of '77. My first love may have been tender and sweet, but I remember it was also freak'n painful. She was visiting for the summer from Hawaii. Her big brown eyes would look right through you with a vulnerability that would make any young man believe he was in "love". Her dark exotic skin glowed like the silver moon and her long black hair with soft willow locks hung carelessly off her shoulders.
It was the summer of the infamous New York City blackout and Thelma Houston's "Don't Leave Me This Way" was the number one song. My parents' little bodega store on the corner of Boynton Avenue in the South Bronx was annihilated by the scavenging looters and the only thing that remained were the charred shadows of burnt remnants that once was our family's livelihood.
In the midst of it all there was hopeless love that defied even the casualties of war. There were times we talked carelessly into the night about everything and anything. Love only had compassion for love itself and everything else was insignificant. We gazed upon the stars and truly believed that we would be gazing upon the same stars together for eternity. During that magical summer, life without one another seemed like a realm of unfathomable possibility.
As the summer mercilessly came to a close and she went back to Hawaii, my heart wrenched with a physical ache I never thought possible. Nothing seemed to matter anymore and my world as I knew it shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces. As those shattered pieces came back to me, I didn't have the heart to tell my boy that the weak could never enter the kingdom of love.
After haplessly searching for the right words, I found myself only able to utter, "Justin, love is a beautiful thing...".
"Holy mother of God, SLOW DOWN!", "you're gonna hit that tree and have us KILLED!", "STOP! STOP! STOP!".
We were on this road adventure for a while when it started to rain. The wind shield wiper on the old Nissan was squeaking and struggling to wipe away the light misty raindrops. It was also getting dark so I decided this would be a good excuse to cut short our driving session for the evening and head back home.
As we were approaching our driveway and just as I was feeling the relief and comfort in the fact that we did not end up at the local ER, Justin mumbled "Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Of course son what is it?" I replied without giving a second thought.
With a casual nonchalance of wanting to know the score of the Nets basketball game, he asked, "Dad…how do you know when you're in love?"
I wasn't sure if I heard him right because I expected something mundane related to driving skills, perhaps something to do with parallel parking, maybe a question about the road test.
But I thought I heard him mention "love" and it instinctively dawned upon me that a defining moment in our father and son relationship may be at hand. As a parent, these are the moments you look back and cherish. It's like coming to bat with the bases loaded in the ninth inning. It's like having the opportunity to take the winning shot with seconds left on the clock.
How can any father be prepared for such a question? This was something more fitting for the gods of love and I found myself searching for the words of Byron, Browning, and Tennyson. I needed some time to provide an answer eloquent and worthy of a teen's new found muse for love.
So with extreme sensitivity, I delicately asked "Run that by me again?"
Justin, looking agitated at having to ask the question again, hesitated a moment as if having second thoughts, then repeated,
"Like…how do you know for sure that you're in love?"
It was clear that the fervency of the topic had imposed upon him a sense of desperate urgency that gave him powers unbeknownst to himself to irrationally seek for answers despite any obstacles of trepidation. The confusion in the voice, the quivering of the body... he exhibited all the symptoms of the reckless delirium of teenage love.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with the ramification my answer would have generations down the road. How did Abraham answer Issac that subsequently led to David's fawning over Bathsheba? I had visions of Justin some twenty years from now telling his son "This is what your grandpa said when I asked him about love...". I was mortified of the possibility that they would chuckle and get a good laugh at the expense of good old Grandpa,"...may he rest in peace", they would add for good measure.
I found myself asking "what is love after all"? It brought back memories to the summer of '77. My first love may have been tender and sweet, but I remember it was also freak'n painful. She was visiting for the summer from Hawaii. Her big brown eyes would look right through you with a vulnerability that would make any young man believe he was in "love". Her dark exotic skin glowed like the silver moon and her long black hair with soft willow locks hung carelessly off her shoulders.
It was the summer of the infamous New York City blackout and Thelma Houston's "Don't Leave Me This Way" was the number one song. My parents' little bodega store on the corner of Boynton Avenue in the South Bronx was annihilated by the scavenging looters and the only thing that remained were the charred shadows of burnt remnants that once was our family's livelihood.
In the midst of it all there was hopeless love that defied even the casualties of war. There were times we talked carelessly into the night about everything and anything. Love only had compassion for love itself and everything else was insignificant. We gazed upon the stars and truly believed that we would be gazing upon the same stars together for eternity. During that magical summer, life without one another seemed like a realm of unfathomable possibility.
As the summer mercilessly came to a close and she went back to Hawaii, my heart wrenched with a physical ache I never thought possible. Nothing seemed to matter anymore and my world as I knew it shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces. As those shattered pieces came back to me, I didn't have the heart to tell my boy that the weak could never enter the kingdom of love.
After haplessly searching for the right words, I found myself only able to utter, "Justin, love is a beautiful thing...".
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Dad...What's a Hickey? (uncut version)
Hickey (injury), reddish mark on the skin caused by amorous kissing, biting, or sucking.
Last spring we went on a family road trip to Washington D.C. to finalize Justin's college selection for the coming fall semester... class of 2015! At some point during the four hour ride to our nation's capital, we wanted to have lunch but not at one of those busy highway road stops where the choices were limited to waiting on long lines for the iconic American restaurants like Arby's or Roy Rogers.
We happened to be in an adventurous mood so we decided to venture into a small sleepy town off the Turnpike called Hamburg. It was a town that was sort of off the map, sort of middle of nowhere. We slowly cruised down Hamburg's Main Street in search of that perfect Norman Rockwell "middle of America" experience. We came upon a restaurant which seemed inviting enough named Tony's Italian Restaurant. There was something about the name "Tony" which conveyed a warm and fuzzy familiarity of "howyadoin" and "fuggedaboutit". By any other standard, Tony's was a pizzeria but in the town of Hamburg, it was "the" place for Italian cuisine.
We sat down to the creaky wooden chairs and and wobbly tables with the rigid cadence of foreigners entering a new country. There were old black and white photos of people that looked like celebrities whom I didn't recognize hanging precipitously off the grease smudged walls next to the cash register. The waitress, a comely young lady who probably was born in Hamburg and will probably live out the rest of her life in Hamburg, took our order with a restrained indifference as if she didn't want to make it obvious how odd it was to see four Asians walking into her restaurant on a lazy Friday afternoon.
We placed our order of Tony's special pizza and Philly steak sandwiches with a heightened ambivalence of ordering something exotic for the first time and lost ourselves in small talk and the wonder of us having lunch in a place like Hamburg which had the similar surreal feel of being in a mystical town in Kansas with Dorothy and the Munchkins.
But the "surrealness" of the moment came to a crashing halt when I noticed on Justin, who happened to be sitting across from me, a very small but distinct red mark on the side of his neck as the afternoon sun trickled its way through the window blinds and pinpointed at the perfect angle the rays of protracted sunbeam directly onto his neck.
My eyes were drawn to the red spot like a Google map zooming in from out of space and with a piece of sausage still dangling precariously from the side of my mouth, I couldn't help but blurt out "Is that a hickey on your neck?" At first Justin looked startled as if he himself had totally forgotten about the red mark and having recovered, looked even more surprised that his old man called him on it.
"It's a scratch from a tree..." he managed to sheepishly reply turning his neck away as if there was something on the other side of the restaurant he was looking for.
"Oh man, that IS a hickey isn't it? I know my hickeys son and I can tell you right now that's no scratch from a tree!" I vehemently blabbered.
By now, Ethan was fascinated with the conversation and asked "Dad, what's a hickey?" I could immediately feel Jeannie's deadly laser glare that was beaming me a telepathic message, "don't even go there".
I was torn. On one hand, darn it, I was rather proud of my son for sporting what I considered a small but significant sign of passage into young manhood. But on the other hand, I had to be mindful of a ten year old's budding and impressionable curiosity. Then, of course, there was Jeannie. One slip here and the entire road trip will be a long torturous journey into the black vortex of Dante's Inferno.
It was a very delicate situation. Do I react as "Pops" or do I react as a "Father"? As "Pops", I wanted to give Justin a high five and a wink-wink and say "You go Boy. Pops be proud of you son!". As a responsible father, I knew I had a duty to say "Son, these things are not appropriate to flaunt, especially in the presence of your mother and younger brother."
But then I couldn't help but start thinking about my own very first hickey. It brought back flood of memories. I was in the 8th grade and Jasmin Rodriguez put her soft peachy lips on my neck and just suckled until I got woozy. I was so proud of that hickey I wanted to show it off to the entire world and the fond memory of it must have brought out a spastic smile to my face.
Jeannie quickly snatched my goofy look with a deft precision of swatting a drunken fly and immediately brought me back to reality by hissing, "Dad, I don't think this is the time or the place to be talking about this", and maneuvered to change the topic of conversation to Justin's pending visit to American University.
Meanwhile, Ethan's curiosity reached a bubbling boiling point as he absolutely had to know what was a hickey as he panted like a delirious puppy dog, "Dad, what's a hickey? What's a hickey?"
At that moment, despite Jeannie's stare of death and her pending Vesuvian implosion, I felt that I owed my son a mature and responsible answer to his query. So upon some thoughtful reflection and careful consideration of the consequences, I turned to Ethan and said,
"Well, son, a hickey is something a girl gives a boy when she REALLY likes him a lot." I felt I needed to emphasize "really" because I wanted him to be mindful to the fact that it was something that involved a degree of commitment, responsibility, and that it wasn't something whimsically given.
Ethan's eyes lit up wide and bright like a Christmas tree and he desperately wanted to know, "You mean it's like a present?" Ethan was very excited because he loved presents.
I could sense the rumblings of Mount St. Jeannie reverberating nearby but I felt compelled to put a responsible closure to this momentous occasion. So with a look of sage fatherly wisdom I nodded, "Yes, son, it's like a real nice present...".
Last thing I recall about that eventful day is Ethan asking "Dad, how can I get one?"
Last spring we went on a family road trip to Washington D.C. to finalize Justin's college selection for the coming fall semester... class of 2015! At some point during the four hour ride to our nation's capital, we wanted to have lunch but not at one of those busy highway road stops where the choices were limited to waiting on long lines for the iconic American restaurants like Arby's or Roy Rogers.
We happened to be in an adventurous mood so we decided to venture into a small sleepy town off the Turnpike called Hamburg. It was a town that was sort of off the map, sort of middle of nowhere. We slowly cruised down Hamburg's Main Street in search of that perfect Norman Rockwell "middle of America" experience. We came upon a restaurant which seemed inviting enough named Tony's Italian Restaurant. There was something about the name "Tony" which conveyed a warm and fuzzy familiarity of "howyadoin" and "fuggedaboutit". By any other standard, Tony's was a pizzeria but in the town of Hamburg, it was "the" place for Italian cuisine.
We sat down to the creaky wooden chairs and and wobbly tables with the rigid cadence of foreigners entering a new country. There were old black and white photos of people that looked like celebrities whom I didn't recognize hanging precipitously off the grease smudged walls next to the cash register. The waitress, a comely young lady who probably was born in Hamburg and will probably live out the rest of her life in Hamburg, took our order with a restrained indifference as if she didn't want to make it obvious how odd it was to see four Asians walking into her restaurant on a lazy Friday afternoon.
We placed our order of Tony's special pizza and Philly steak sandwiches with a heightened ambivalence of ordering something exotic for the first time and lost ourselves in small talk and the wonder of us having lunch in a place like Hamburg which had the similar surreal feel of being in a mystical town in Kansas with Dorothy and the Munchkins.
But the "surrealness" of the moment came to a crashing halt when I noticed on Justin, who happened to be sitting across from me, a very small but distinct red mark on the side of his neck as the afternoon sun trickled its way through the window blinds and pinpointed at the perfect angle the rays of protracted sunbeam directly onto his neck.
My eyes were drawn to the red spot like a Google map zooming in from out of space and with a piece of sausage still dangling precariously from the side of my mouth, I couldn't help but blurt out "Is that a hickey on your neck?" At first Justin looked startled as if he himself had totally forgotten about the red mark and having recovered, looked even more surprised that his old man called him on it.
"It's a scratch from a tree..." he managed to sheepishly reply turning his neck away as if there was something on the other side of the restaurant he was looking for.
"Oh man, that IS a hickey isn't it? I know my hickeys son and I can tell you right now that's no scratch from a tree!" I vehemently blabbered.
By now, Ethan was fascinated with the conversation and asked "Dad, what's a hickey?" I could immediately feel Jeannie's deadly laser glare that was beaming me a telepathic message, "don't even go there".
I was torn. On one hand, darn it, I was rather proud of my son for sporting what I considered a small but significant sign of passage into young manhood. But on the other hand, I had to be mindful of a ten year old's budding and impressionable curiosity. Then, of course, there was Jeannie. One slip here and the entire road trip will be a long torturous journey into the black vortex of Dante's Inferno.
It was a very delicate situation. Do I react as "Pops" or do I react as a "Father"? As "Pops", I wanted to give Justin a high five and a wink-wink and say "You go Boy. Pops be proud of you son!". As a responsible father, I knew I had a duty to say "Son, these things are not appropriate to flaunt, especially in the presence of your mother and younger brother."
But then I couldn't help but start thinking about my own very first hickey. It brought back flood of memories. I was in the 8th grade and Jasmin Rodriguez put her soft peachy lips on my neck and just suckled until I got woozy. I was so proud of that hickey I wanted to show it off to the entire world and the fond memory of it must have brought out a spastic smile to my face.
Jeannie quickly snatched my goofy look with a deft precision of swatting a drunken fly and immediately brought me back to reality by hissing, "Dad, I don't think this is the time or the place to be talking about this", and maneuvered to change the topic of conversation to Justin's pending visit to American University.
Meanwhile, Ethan's curiosity reached a bubbling boiling point as he absolutely had to know what was a hickey as he panted like a delirious puppy dog, "Dad, what's a hickey? What's a hickey?"
At that moment, despite Jeannie's stare of death and her pending Vesuvian implosion, I felt that I owed my son a mature and responsible answer to his query. So upon some thoughtful reflection and careful consideration of the consequences, I turned to Ethan and said,
"Well, son, a hickey is something a girl gives a boy when she REALLY likes him a lot." I felt I needed to emphasize "really" because I wanted him to be mindful to the fact that it was something that involved a degree of commitment, responsibility, and that it wasn't something whimsically given.
Ethan's eyes lit up wide and bright like a Christmas tree and he desperately wanted to know, "You mean it's like a present?" Ethan was very excited because he loved presents.
I could sense the rumblings of Mount St. Jeannie reverberating nearby but I felt compelled to put a responsible closure to this momentous occasion. So with a look of sage fatherly wisdom I nodded, "Yes, son, it's like a real nice present...".
Last thing I recall about that eventful day is Ethan asking "Dad, how can I get one?"
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Confessions of a Parent gone Mad...
On a beautiful Saturday morning in August Jeannie and I decided to drive to Ithaca to drop off the residual packages for our college bound son who had gotten a ride to Cornell the previous week. It seemed his ride only had space for "essentials", so he decided to take his two guitars and the laptop. His mother and I agreed to drive up eight hours back and forth, and bring him the remaining "non-essentials" like clothing, food, bed sheets, medicine, and books.
Oh we didn't mind because it gave us the opportunity to check out his new dormitory where he will be spending his second year. It would also enable his mother to sleep at night with the assurance that his living quarters met the Korean maternal standards of habitation conducive to academic excellence. Once we got to the dorm, I watched with mind numbing reverence as she meticulously made his bunker bed with a maniacal fervency of epic proportions. Like a woman on a mission, she managed with precision to fold all his clothes into the cubically challenged mini-cabinet draws. Upon unpacking, she realized one of his shoes were missing and turned to me and barked, "Honey, make sure first thing Monday you send his shoes by UPS". I must not have acknowledged her command to her satisfaction because she repeated herself but with a slightly added hysterical conviction. This time, I enthusiastically acknowledged that I would.
We also got to meet his dorm mate and was comforted to know that he didn't look like a Columbine wannabe. He had a nice Korean face, very clean cut (no excessive tattoos or piercings), and was very respectful to the elders (he actually bowed). Just from his disposition, we assessed that he was from a good family, his mother and father was still married, and that his great-grandfather was probably a rich landowner during the Lee dynasty.
As we were winding down, we met the parents of one of our son's friends. They too were visiting from New Jersey with their son's residuals and suggested we all have lunch together. Their son Kevin and our Collin went to Peru together over the summer on a program similar to "Doctors without Borders". So naturally since there was a connection, we graciously agreed since we didn't want to impress upon them that Collin's parents were anti-social.
But I immediately realized that I would be engaged in one of those tedious "Who's going to pay for the check" battles when Kevin's father laid down the first preemptive attack and pridefully declared, "Kevin, invite all your other friends to join us for lunch". By doing so, he was essentially announcing to the world "I got this!" In the Korean protocol of condescending etiquette, this was his way of graciously relieving me of any obligation to pay for the check while simultaneously establishing the intricate and complex hierarchy of the Korean caste system.
He might as well have thrown a shoe at my face. How dare he I thought. I was flabbergasted, I was appalled, and I was indignified. I knew I had to respond. I had to salvage my pride, especially in front of my wife and child, so I immediately countered with "Son, invite all your friends AND their parents!" Take that I grunted to myself with my chest proudly protruded like a posturing Baboon when his territory is threatened by another Alpha male.
Incredulously, before I had a moment to relish my conquest, without missing a beat, Kevin's father countered "Yes, do invite EVERYONE!" He was raising the stakes to defcon 1 and I knew this battle would get messy. I realized that the outcome will ultimately be determined on the battle field.
Having established the ground rules, we finally agreed on a Japanese restaurant after a dizzy flurry of exchanges and counter-punches. Kevin's father insisted that we go somewhere "nice". I insisted that we go somewhere "very nice" and back and forth it went until finally Kevin's father once again tried to slam dunk me by turning to Kevin and asking "Kevin, what is the BEST sushi restaurant around here?"
I realized at that moment I was dealing with a pro. He was going for the ultimate and final kill. He knew that it would be an egregious affront and an insult to his integrity and honor if I dared to pay for the check after he publicly staked claim to go the "BEST" sushi restaurant in town. But what he didn't know was that he was dealing with a seasoned warrior whose motto was to "win at all cost". It came down to either preserving his honor or mine and I was determined that my honor would prevail especially in front of my son and his friends.
As we entered the restaurant I could tell Kevin's father was scouting the area like a hawkeye searching for the most strategically advantageous position to lunge for the check if it became necessary. While being seated, we both tried to out-maneuver each other for a position that would give us the most direct access to the waiter. Once seated and given the menu, before even checking the prices Kevin's father declared in one fluid motion, "Everyone, please order whatever you want!"
It drove me mad because he was one step ahead of me again and deep down inside I was beginning to admire and respect his precision, craft, and unrelenting approach to his mission. But I knew I couldn't let my sentimentality weaken my objective as I quickly refocused to prevent myself from succumbing to his psychological warfare. But now I was getting desperate. I even considered the possibility of resorting to the ultimate "pretend going to the bathroom and pay for the check" ruse. But I quickly erased that dirty thought from my mind knowing that such tactic would indeed betray my desperation.
Like two warriors in a zen-like state preparing for the imminent approach of the final battle, we sat across from each other, calm in the midst of the chaotic flurry of insignificant banter being thrown about and across the table. As the appetizers faded into dusk and the main entrees followed with the rhythmic marching staccato of Spartan warriors, in the distant background I can hear the sweet but cruel crescendo of the desserts looming.
I felt my senses reaching a climactic peak. My heart was beating faster and faster, picking up pace with each plate being cleared. I found myself with the superhuman ability to see everything in ultra slow motion like Neo in Matrix dodging the plethora of bullets. From my enhanced peripheral vision, I saw the waiter approaching from the corner of my eyes nonchalantly holding the check in the air. How cruel the gods are I lamented. To the waiter, the check meant nothing. To me, it meant everything. For a split second I became blinded and wallowed in self-pity.
During that momentary lapse, suddenly before I knew it, the check had landed right square in the middle of the table between us. Like two cowboys drawing for their guns we simultaneously reached for the check as if our lives depended on it. Incredibly, both of us had grappled one half end of the check and everything and everyone around us became irrelevant. His initial tug was a powerful one which revealed and confirmed that he was not an "imposter" who was only pretending to want to pay for the check. These imposters are the worst kind. They relish on the sadistic double dipping conquest of the rationalization that they did everything they could to pay for the check yet at the same time delighting in the sick satisfaction that they got away with a free meal. These imposters are such cowards that their initial tug at the check gives them away instantly.
As we struggled back and forth with cringing determination to overcome one another, I happened to catch a fleeting momentary glimpse of the lower portion of the check which stuck out from the padded folder it was entombed in. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw what I thought was the final amount of the check. It was equivalent to a Burberry trench coat I had my sights on since last September. Also flashing right before my eyes was the new IPhone I was hoping for after years of toiling away with a Samsung series 1 flip phone. Then, I was flooded with gut wrenching guilty thoughts about what I have done for my parents lately, the pair of sneakers long overdue for my little Ethan and of course my loving wife, the diamond ring I never got her. Where were my priorities? I became ashamed of myself that I would let my selfish pride among mere strangers dictate paying for this silly check at the expense of my family.
At that instant moment, it dawned upon me what was profoundly the right thing to do. So with humility and dignity, and without shame, I allowed myself to watch the check slowly slip away from the edge of my fingertips...
Oh we didn't mind because it gave us the opportunity to check out his new dormitory where he will be spending his second year. It would also enable his mother to sleep at night with the assurance that his living quarters met the Korean maternal standards of habitation conducive to academic excellence. Once we got to the dorm, I watched with mind numbing reverence as she meticulously made his bunker bed with a maniacal fervency of epic proportions. Like a woman on a mission, she managed with precision to fold all his clothes into the cubically challenged mini-cabinet draws. Upon unpacking, she realized one of his shoes were missing and turned to me and barked, "Honey, make sure first thing Monday you send his shoes by UPS". I must not have acknowledged her command to her satisfaction because she repeated herself but with a slightly added hysterical conviction. This time, I enthusiastically acknowledged that I would.
We also got to meet his dorm mate and was comforted to know that he didn't look like a Columbine wannabe. He had a nice Korean face, very clean cut (no excessive tattoos or piercings), and was very respectful to the elders (he actually bowed). Just from his disposition, we assessed that he was from a good family, his mother and father was still married, and that his great-grandfather was probably a rich landowner during the Lee dynasty.
As we were winding down, we met the parents of one of our son's friends. They too were visiting from New Jersey with their son's residuals and suggested we all have lunch together. Their son Kevin and our Collin went to Peru together over the summer on a program similar to "Doctors without Borders". So naturally since there was a connection, we graciously agreed since we didn't want to impress upon them that Collin's parents were anti-social.
But I immediately realized that I would be engaged in one of those tedious "Who's going to pay for the check" battles when Kevin's father laid down the first preemptive attack and pridefully declared, "Kevin, invite all your other friends to join us for lunch". By doing so, he was essentially announcing to the world "I got this!" In the Korean protocol of condescending etiquette, this was his way of graciously relieving me of any obligation to pay for the check while simultaneously establishing the intricate and complex hierarchy of the Korean caste system.
He might as well have thrown a shoe at my face. How dare he I thought. I was flabbergasted, I was appalled, and I was indignified. I knew I had to respond. I had to salvage my pride, especially in front of my wife and child, so I immediately countered with "Son, invite all your friends AND their parents!" Take that I grunted to myself with my chest proudly protruded like a posturing Baboon when his territory is threatened by another Alpha male.
Incredulously, before I had a moment to relish my conquest, without missing a beat, Kevin's father countered "Yes, do invite EVERYONE!" He was raising the stakes to defcon 1 and I knew this battle would get messy. I realized that the outcome will ultimately be determined on the battle field.
Having established the ground rules, we finally agreed on a Japanese restaurant after a dizzy flurry of exchanges and counter-punches. Kevin's father insisted that we go somewhere "nice". I insisted that we go somewhere "very nice" and back and forth it went until finally Kevin's father once again tried to slam dunk me by turning to Kevin and asking "Kevin, what is the BEST sushi restaurant around here?"
I realized at that moment I was dealing with a pro. He was going for the ultimate and final kill. He knew that it would be an egregious affront and an insult to his integrity and honor if I dared to pay for the check after he publicly staked claim to go the "BEST" sushi restaurant in town. But what he didn't know was that he was dealing with a seasoned warrior whose motto was to "win at all cost". It came down to either preserving his honor or mine and I was determined that my honor would prevail especially in front of my son and his friends.
As we entered the restaurant I could tell Kevin's father was scouting the area like a hawkeye searching for the most strategically advantageous position to lunge for the check if it became necessary. While being seated, we both tried to out-maneuver each other for a position that would give us the most direct access to the waiter. Once seated and given the menu, before even checking the prices Kevin's father declared in one fluid motion, "Everyone, please order whatever you want!"
It drove me mad because he was one step ahead of me again and deep down inside I was beginning to admire and respect his precision, craft, and unrelenting approach to his mission. But I knew I couldn't let my sentimentality weaken my objective as I quickly refocused to prevent myself from succumbing to his psychological warfare. But now I was getting desperate. I even considered the possibility of resorting to the ultimate "pretend going to the bathroom and pay for the check" ruse. But I quickly erased that dirty thought from my mind knowing that such tactic would indeed betray my desperation.
Like two warriors in a zen-like state preparing for the imminent approach of the final battle, we sat across from each other, calm in the midst of the chaotic flurry of insignificant banter being thrown about and across the table. As the appetizers faded into dusk and the main entrees followed with the rhythmic marching staccato of Spartan warriors, in the distant background I can hear the sweet but cruel crescendo of the desserts looming.
I felt my senses reaching a climactic peak. My heart was beating faster and faster, picking up pace with each plate being cleared. I found myself with the superhuman ability to see everything in ultra slow motion like Neo in Matrix dodging the plethora of bullets. From my enhanced peripheral vision, I saw the waiter approaching from the corner of my eyes nonchalantly holding the check in the air. How cruel the gods are I lamented. To the waiter, the check meant nothing. To me, it meant everything. For a split second I became blinded and wallowed in self-pity.
During that momentary lapse, suddenly before I knew it, the check had landed right square in the middle of the table between us. Like two cowboys drawing for their guns we simultaneously reached for the check as if our lives depended on it. Incredibly, both of us had grappled one half end of the check and everything and everyone around us became irrelevant. His initial tug was a powerful one which revealed and confirmed that he was not an "imposter" who was only pretending to want to pay for the check. These imposters are the worst kind. They relish on the sadistic double dipping conquest of the rationalization that they did everything they could to pay for the check yet at the same time delighting in the sick satisfaction that they got away with a free meal. These imposters are such cowards that their initial tug at the check gives them away instantly.
As we struggled back and forth with cringing determination to overcome one another, I happened to catch a fleeting momentary glimpse of the lower portion of the check which stuck out from the padded folder it was entombed in. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw what I thought was the final amount of the check. It was equivalent to a Burberry trench coat I had my sights on since last September. Also flashing right before my eyes was the new IPhone I was hoping for after years of toiling away with a Samsung series 1 flip phone. Then, I was flooded with gut wrenching guilty thoughts about what I have done for my parents lately, the pair of sneakers long overdue for my little Ethan and of course my loving wife, the diamond ring I never got her. Where were my priorities? I became ashamed of myself that I would let my selfish pride among mere strangers dictate paying for this silly check at the expense of my family.
At that instant moment, it dawned upon me what was profoundly the right thing to do. So with humility and dignity, and without shame, I allowed myself to watch the check slowly slip away from the edge of my fingertips...
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Raising Kids...(Awful, awful, awful...)
A young man just found out he and his wife are expecting twins. After learning of the news, he went to a nearby park and sat on the playground bench watching children running around in their delirium. He noticed a father with three little kids and felt compelled to ask, "So, what is it like having kids?"
The father turned to him, paused a moment, and looking frustrated and tired, replied, "You like punishment? Because it's just awful, awful, and awful. You have no time, you have no life, and you don't know who or what you are anymore."
The young man was confused.
The father continued as if thinking out loud,
"...but then...every once in a while, something magical happens...like a certain way they look at you or something they say, and it makes you forget for how awful awful it really is...".
The young man was relieved. But before he had a chance to take comfort, the father went on,
"But next thing you know, its awful, awful, and awful all over again", and gave the young man a look of pending doom.
Realizing that the young man was worried, the father slowly leaned into the young man as if wanting to share a secret and whispered,
"But just when you are at the brink, just when you think you can't take it anymore, and just when you think there is no hope, they do something miraculously magical and you're ready to take on all the awful, awful, and awful all over again".
The father turned to him, paused a moment, and looking frustrated and tired, replied, "You like punishment? Because it's just awful, awful, and awful. You have no time, you have no life, and you don't know who or what you are anymore."
The young man was confused.
The father continued as if thinking out loud,
"...but then...every once in a while, something magical happens...like a certain way they look at you or something they say, and it makes you forget for how awful awful it really is...".
The young man was relieved. But before he had a chance to take comfort, the father went on,
"But next thing you know, its awful, awful, and awful all over again", and gave the young man a look of pending doom.
Realizing that the young man was worried, the father slowly leaned into the young man as if wanting to share a secret and whispered,
"But just when you are at the brink, just when you think you can't take it anymore, and just when you think there is no hope, they do something miraculously magical and you're ready to take on all the awful, awful, and awful all over again".
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
My life is rife with love extraordinaire...
a smile
passing glances
goose bumps
scent of a woman
chocolate ice cream
a summer breeze
teardrops
restless nights
aching heart
unfailing love
passing glances
goose bumps
scent of a woman
chocolate ice cream
a summer breeze
teardrops
restless nights
aching heart
unfailing love
Monday, November 14, 2011
Dad, where do babies come from?
Son: Dad, where do babies come from?
Dad: Well son, people usually get married first.
Son: And then they have babies?
Dad: If God wants them to.
Son: And then they have babies?
Dad: It's not that simple.
Son: How come?
Dad: Well, you see, because the love between the husband and wife is very special, God allows them to express their love through physical love.
Son: Physical love?
Dad: Yes. Physical love.
Son: Like kissing?
Dad: Yes, like kissing but little bit more.
Son: How much more?
Dad: There's some hugging.
Son: Hugging?
Dad: Yes, and there's some touching.
Son: Touching too?
Dad: Yes touching too.
Son: How much touching?
Dad: Enough touching to show how much you love one another.
Son: You have to do physical love to make babies?
Dad: Yes.
Son: That means you and mom had physical love?
Dad: Yes.
Son: More than once?
Dad: Yes. More than once.
Son: How many times?
Dad: Well, sometimes it takes a few tries.
Son: Dad, I sure hope I get it right the first time.
Dad: Well son, people usually get married first.
Son: And then they have babies?
Dad: If God wants them to.
Son: And then they have babies?
Dad: It's not that simple.
Son: How come?
Dad: Well, you see, because the love between the husband and wife is very special, God allows them to express their love through physical love.
Son: Physical love?
Dad: Yes. Physical love.
Son: Like kissing?
Dad: Yes, like kissing but little bit more.
Son: How much more?
Dad: There's some hugging.
Son: Hugging?
Dad: Yes, and there's some touching.
Son: Touching too?
Dad: Yes touching too.
Son: How much touching?
Dad: Enough touching to show how much you love one another.
Son: You have to do physical love to make babies?
Dad: Yes.
Son: That means you and mom had physical love?
Dad: Yes.
Son: More than once?
Dad: Yes. More than once.
Son: How many times?
Dad: Well, sometimes it takes a few tries.
Son: Dad, I sure hope I get it right the first time.
A Message to my son...
Dear Son,
There is nothing you do or not do that could possibly make me love you less. Be absolutely thrilled, inspired and confident in the recognition of your failings, limitations, weaknesses, and pain... for they are the pure essence of a man profoundly justified before Him.
Dad
There is nothing you do or not do that could possibly make me love you less. Be absolutely thrilled, inspired and confident in the recognition of your failings, limitations, weaknesses, and pain... for they are the pure essence of a man profoundly justified before Him.
Dad
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Remain in me...
Today I saw angels, thousands of them, descending from heaven above. As they rested their wings beside me and embraced me, I heard the whispers of my father "...apart from me you can do nothing...remain in me."
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Whispering pages...
Whispering pages turning softly
in the early morning silence
of Bethel sanctuary calling
like wings of angels awakening slowly
to a mother's touch upon an infant's glow
a breath of life beckoning
in the early morning silence
of Bethel sanctuary calling
like wings of angels awakening slowly
to a mother's touch upon an infant's glow
a breath of life beckoning
Monday, October 31, 2011
The day I died...
Dead for 17,838 days.
But today, I was offered
power beyond comprehension,
love without bounds,
righteousness of self discipline
in exchange for ALL my fears.
I am stupefied by His infinite wisdom,
grace and unconditional mercy
that He sowed in my heart the desire,
the yearning, and the need
to come before Him
to be loved, be refined, and be humbled.
To want Him, to know Him, to love Him,
to be a willing captive shackled
to His uncompromising righteousness.
Grasp on to the edge of His garment
and never let go, never let go.
Consumed with joy and delight,
being one with Him.
Abandoning my insignificance and
clutching on to the undeniable significance
of merely and simply being in Him.
But today, I was offered
power beyond comprehension,
love without bounds,
righteousness of self discipline
in exchange for ALL my fears.
I am stupefied by His infinite wisdom,
grace and unconditional mercy
that He sowed in my heart the desire,
the yearning, and the need
to come before Him
to be loved, be refined, and be humbled.
To want Him, to know Him, to love Him,
to be a willing captive shackled
to His uncompromising righteousness.
Grasp on to the edge of His garment
and never let go, never let go.
Consumed with joy and delight,
being one with Him.
Abandoning my insignificance and
clutching on to the undeniable significance
of merely and simply being in Him.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Existentialism of Christ...
Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.
-Matthew 10:39
-Matthew 10:39
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Vaccine...
From now on, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.
Galatians 6:17
Galatians 6:17
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Deal...
Today, I was offered power, love and self-discipline in exchange for all my fears...
2 Timothy 1:7
2 Timothy 1:7
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Adam's Promise to Eve
You are bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh, and one flesh forever we will be.
Genesis 2:22
Genesis 2:22
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Judy and Emy...Best Friends Forever
Judy and Emy grew up together as best friends in Bayshore. They met in school and eventually became inseparable. When Emy got a job with Fiduciary Trust as an administrative assistant on the 90th floor of the World Trade Center, she recruited Judy to work next to her one row over. Best friends forever.
Emy had a fabulous smile. She exuded love and confidence. Judy was shy and reserved but felt and sensed everything through her bright brown eyes.
When Emy married Gabe, Judy was the maid of honor. When Judy married Ron, Emy was the maiden of honor. Best friends forever.
Gabe made the moves on Emy when he heard about the beautiful new girl and saw her smile for the first time. They had a little daughter Danielle. Emy, even after a long days work, would come home and cook rice and beans and steak for Gabe and read Danielle to sleep.
Ron and Judy fell in love at a chance meeting at a coin operated laundromat. They closed on their first home on the day of their wedding. Judy loved working out but more than anything Judy wanted to be a mom.
Like little girls, Judy and Emy shared long conversations deep into the night. They cried and laughed together about everything. Through Judy and Emy, Ron and Gabe became like brothers. They did everything together...Miami, Disney World, white water rafting, Broadway shows, countless barbecues.
When the first plane hit north tower, Emy happened to be on the phone with "Uncle" Ron talking about Danielle's birthday party. Ron overheard the chaotic background commotion of co-workers yelling about an explosion and the need to get out. Ron never called Judy because the priority wasn't for Judy to answer his call. He knew Emy would grab Judy and get out of there.
A co-worker who managed to get out said Judy and Emy were together during the last chaotic moments. He saw them clutching a door together. They were both thirty-two years old.
Best Friends Forever.
In memory of Judith Diaz-Sierra and Emerita "Emy" De La Pena.
Emy had a fabulous smile. She exuded love and confidence. Judy was shy and reserved but felt and sensed everything through her bright brown eyes.
When Emy married Gabe, Judy was the maid of honor. When Judy married Ron, Emy was the maiden of honor. Best friends forever.
Gabe made the moves on Emy when he heard about the beautiful new girl and saw her smile for the first time. They had a little daughter Danielle. Emy, even after a long days work, would come home and cook rice and beans and steak for Gabe and read Danielle to sleep.
Ron and Judy fell in love at a chance meeting at a coin operated laundromat. They closed on their first home on the day of their wedding. Judy loved working out but more than anything Judy wanted to be a mom.
Like little girls, Judy and Emy shared long conversations deep into the night. They cried and laughed together about everything. Through Judy and Emy, Ron and Gabe became like brothers. They did everything together...Miami, Disney World, white water rafting, Broadway shows, countless barbecues.
When the first plane hit north tower, Emy happened to be on the phone with "Uncle" Ron talking about Danielle's birthday party. Ron overheard the chaotic background commotion of co-workers yelling about an explosion and the need to get out. Ron never called Judy because the priority wasn't for Judy to answer his call. He knew Emy would grab Judy and get out of there.
A co-worker who managed to get out said Judy and Emy were together during the last chaotic moments. He saw them clutching a door together. They were both thirty-two years old.
Best Friends Forever.
In memory of Judith Diaz-Sierra and Emerita "Emy" De La Pena.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Tribute to Harry Ramos...
Yo Harry, you were the man.
Random name from a 9/11 Memorial Jar.
A photo of you on your memorial page.
You were a stud bro.
We both grew up in the hood and
had a thing for beautiful Latinas with green eyes.
I know your song was "Heaven must be missing an Angel".
You lived Saturday Night Fever every night
and Tony Manero was your hero.
But you may have been a better dancer.
I was right there with you bro.
I in the Bronx and you in Brooklyn,
hanging out on the stoops on sizzling summer nights
grooving to Tito Fuente's salsa magic.
You saved a fella name Victor.
A total stranger, and you sacrificed.
You were a carpenter by trade.
Really bro?
We both know another brother from the hood.
He too was a carpenter by trade
who knew a thing or two about sacrifice.
I know you must be dancing with the angels now.
Just another name from a jar.
-Respect from the Bronx
Random name from a 9/11 Memorial Jar.
A photo of you on your memorial page.
You were a stud bro.
We both grew up in the hood and
had a thing for beautiful Latinas with green eyes.
I know your song was "Heaven must be missing an Angel".
You lived Saturday Night Fever every night
and Tony Manero was your hero.
But you may have been a better dancer.
I was right there with you bro.
I in the Bronx and you in Brooklyn,
hanging out on the stoops on sizzling summer nights
grooving to Tito Fuente's salsa magic.
You saved a fella name Victor.
A total stranger, and you sacrificed.
You were a carpenter by trade.
Really bro?
We both know another brother from the hood.
He too was a carpenter by trade
who knew a thing or two about sacrifice.
I know you must be dancing with the angels now.
Just another name from a jar.
-Respect from the Bronx
Friday, July 15, 2011
Thank you for serving our country...
This morning I was rushing through Penn Station and caught a glimpse of a woman approaching a young soldier and heard her say to him "Thank you for serving our country".
Her gesture moved me so much when I saw another solider as I was exiting by the escalators I was compelled to approach him and say, "Thank you for serving our country."
He looked at me with a boyish innocence and said "Thank you for your support sir." I walked away with a big lump in my throat.
Her gesture moved me so much when I saw another solider as I was exiting by the escalators I was compelled to approach him and say, "Thank you for serving our country."
He looked at me with a boyish innocence and said "Thank you for your support sir." I walked away with a big lump in my throat.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Just when...
Just when I think everything is going wrong, that's when everything is going right.
-Paul Miller
-Paul Miller
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
A Rambling Discourse on Happiness...
Happiness trivializes the unfathomable depths of the human soul. It breeds illusory contentment doping on split second momentary fixes of high octane pseudo-amphitimite microbs of human interactions and counter-affirmations. Slap your face if you find yourself drolled into the culling lure of happiness. You are in a paralyzing dream infected by the millions and gazillions of suffocating gnomes that blankets you and the only thing that makes you recognize who you are is that awareness, that spirit which lies in the deepest recess of your soul that can decloak the phantoms of the matrix universe. Only the spirit can see through the phantom. And the phantoms are all around us in deliberate and non-deliberate disguises lurking to infect in an instant when it sees the daylight of weakness, temptation, pride, and defected humility. Noble hearts have not a chance with a defected humility. Don't just seek the kingdom, but only seek the kingdom and be armed with a desperate sense of urgency to battle each and every breathing moment. Be all-consumed with the power of your inner being to be made perfect through the agonizing pathos that besets upon you so that you may reach the unmeasurable and unfathomable depths of the human soul.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Lucifer, you are a naughty boy...
Spiritual arrogance infects and beguiles in the most humbling disguises...
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
One day I realized...
I am married to a girl who still looks at me at times with gazing eyes as if I was a superhero capable of moving tall mountains. Sometimes I'm afraid I will disappoint her. It makes me smile when she's still shy about herself around me. I like when she puts on a dress that softly caresses her body and asks if I like it. She doesn't know how to be pretentious. She can't sew or iron. She makes me go on Sunday morning walks with her. Twenty years and three boys later, one day it dawned on me that there couldn't be a person more important to me.
Collin, the first one is a dreamer. He loves his music, his friends, and his faith. He is stoic but enjoys a good comic book. He is allergic to apples. He makes a honking noise when there is too much dust. In almost anything he finds something funny.
Justin, the middle one, is more serious. He is tall and rugged. Captain of the varsity swim team. He has that swagger about him and he looks good in anything. He's a cool cat. He will be dangerous once he finds himself and realizes what he is capable of.
Ethan, the youngest, loves cooking, bird watching, and baseball. He is passionate about everything. He came home one day complaining that girls in his school were calling him names. I comforted him by saying that's what girls do when they really really like you. Next day he came up to me and said proudly "Dad, I know this girl that really really likes me." "Great! How do you know?" I asked. He replied with a big goofy boastful smile, "Dad, she called me stupid".
As for me, I am amazed. I am amazed that despite myself, I have what I have. I find myself in awe and wonder of the ordinary. I find comfort in my irrelevancy. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. But it doesn't seem that important anymore. I sell toys, I write, I practice law, I like working out at five o'clock in the morning and going to the church sanctuary and listen to the soft voices of angels singing.
Collin, the first one is a dreamer. He loves his music, his friends, and his faith. He is stoic but enjoys a good comic book. He is allergic to apples. He makes a honking noise when there is too much dust. In almost anything he finds something funny.
Justin, the middle one, is more serious. He is tall and rugged. Captain of the varsity swim team. He has that swagger about him and he looks good in anything. He's a cool cat. He will be dangerous once he finds himself and realizes what he is capable of.
Ethan, the youngest, loves cooking, bird watching, and baseball. He is passionate about everything. He came home one day complaining that girls in his school were calling him names. I comforted him by saying that's what girls do when they really really like you. Next day he came up to me and said proudly "Dad, I know this girl that really really likes me." "Great! How do you know?" I asked. He replied with a big goofy boastful smile, "Dad, she called me stupid".
As for me, I am amazed. I am amazed that despite myself, I have what I have. I find myself in awe and wonder of the ordinary. I find comfort in my irrelevancy. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. But it doesn't seem that important anymore. I sell toys, I write, I practice law, I like working out at five o'clock in the morning and going to the church sanctuary and listen to the soft voices of angels singing.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Prom Poem for Papa John...
Dad, can we talk?
Sure, what's up son?
Well, I wanted to talk to you about the prom weekend...
What about it?
Well, you know that it's tradition after the Prom night everybody goes down to the shores for the weekend... even Collin did it, you know.
Yeah, so?
Well, me and Christine and a bunch of people are planning on renting a house and wanted to stay there until Monday.
Excuse me? Until Monday? You mean from Friday all the way to Monday? Isn't Monday a school day?
Yeah but dad, all seniors cut school on that Monday...
Why can't you just come back on Sunday night? I think Collin came back next day on Saturday after his prom.
But dad, Collin didn't have any friends...
What do you mean Collin didn't have any friends? He had a lot of friends. He had Russell, Kevin Boyce, and what was that other boy's name?
Come on dad...
How many of you are going?
About twenty to twenty-five...
Twenty to Twenty-five? Are you kidding me? Is there going to be a chaperone?
No there won't be a chaperone, and dad, I want to be perfectly honest that there will probably be some alcohol.
"There will probably be some alcohol?"
Well, most likely.
So let me see if I got this straight. There will be twenty to twenty-five high school seniors, boys and girls, under one roof for three nights and four days, no chaperone, and there will be lots of alcohol?
No dad, there won't be "lots" of alcohol...
Well, why didn't you say so... that makes all the difference.
Dad, you gotta trust me.
I trust you but it's the situation, the circumstances, which can make the smartest people do the stupidest things.
Dad, we won't do anything stupid, I promise.
Common sense tells me that it's way way too long. I'm inclined to say no but I will think about it.
Dad, I'm about to go to college pretty soon and you know, both you and mom will have to let me go at some point...
Speaking of college, if you want to help your cause, I have a great idea. Why don't you start practicing your writing skills by writing your Papi a letter.
A letter? What kind of letter?
Instead of me asking you a million questions about what you'll be doing at the shore, write me a letter.
About what? About how much I love you? You already know that Dawg!
I want you to tell me what kind of man you think you are right now and what kind of man you want to be. Something simple, nothing fancy, just something for you to think about...
Who am I?
I don't know.
I know I am satisfied, happy, and content.
But that's my nightmare.
I am a wandering caterpillar waiting to be hardened.
I am a lost bird looking for its flock.
I am a rose in a field of daisies.
Who am I?
I don't know.
My cell is hard and keeps me locked in,
And I am just waiting until my sentence is over.
Or should it be?
The shell around my heart is cracked with the things I lack.
Appreciation, dependence, love, compassion, and desire.
The fire burns...but only for so long.
The mountain peak that I think I am on,
Just keeps getting higher and higher,
A farther clime, a never-ending climb.
I am a lab experiment gone wrong,
Ready to experience the rest of my life.
Love your neighbors as you would like to be loved,
The hole that you dig up for me, give me the hope I need,
To come out victorious and shine in peace and patience.
The kindness you shine on the poor, the helpless, the needy, the enemy,
Put the goodness on me.
Let me know my identity.
The faithfulness of my loved ones, companions and you.
Let me be a knight in your bright and shining armor.
Cleanse me in your gentleness, make me a fragile piece of work.
But most importantly, keep my composure.
The face of gambler, the heart of a lion, self controlling and protecting his ground.
Feed me with your fruits.
Sure, what's up son?
Well, I wanted to talk to you about the prom weekend...
What about it?
Well, you know that it's tradition after the Prom night everybody goes down to the shores for the weekend... even Collin did it, you know.
Yeah, so?
Well, me and Christine and a bunch of people are planning on renting a house and wanted to stay there until Monday.
Excuse me? Until Monday? You mean from Friday all the way to Monday? Isn't Monday a school day?
Yeah but dad, all seniors cut school on that Monday...
Why can't you just come back on Sunday night? I think Collin came back next day on Saturday after his prom.
But dad, Collin didn't have any friends...
What do you mean Collin didn't have any friends? He had a lot of friends. He had Russell, Kevin Boyce, and what was that other boy's name?
Come on dad...
How many of you are going?
About twenty to twenty-five...
Twenty to Twenty-five? Are you kidding me? Is there going to be a chaperone?
No there won't be a chaperone, and dad, I want to be perfectly honest that there will probably be some alcohol.
"There will probably be some alcohol?"
Well, most likely.
So let me see if I got this straight. There will be twenty to twenty-five high school seniors, boys and girls, under one roof for three nights and four days, no chaperone, and there will be lots of alcohol?
No dad, there won't be "lots" of alcohol...
Well, why didn't you say so... that makes all the difference.
Dad, you gotta trust me.
I trust you but it's the situation, the circumstances, which can make the smartest people do the stupidest things.
Dad, we won't do anything stupid, I promise.
Common sense tells me that it's way way too long. I'm inclined to say no but I will think about it.
Dad, I'm about to go to college pretty soon and you know, both you and mom will have to let me go at some point...
Speaking of college, if you want to help your cause, I have a great idea. Why don't you start practicing your writing skills by writing your Papi a letter.
A letter? What kind of letter?
Instead of me asking you a million questions about what you'll be doing at the shore, write me a letter.
About what? About how much I love you? You already know that Dawg!
I want you to tell me what kind of man you think you are right now and what kind of man you want to be. Something simple, nothing fancy, just something for you to think about...
Who am I?
I don't know.
I know I am satisfied, happy, and content.
But that's my nightmare.
I am a wandering caterpillar waiting to be hardened.
I am a lost bird looking for its flock.
I am a rose in a field of daisies.
Who am I?
I don't know.
My cell is hard and keeps me locked in,
And I am just waiting until my sentence is over.
Or should it be?
The shell around my heart is cracked with the things I lack.
Appreciation, dependence, love, compassion, and desire.
The fire burns...but only for so long.
The mountain peak that I think I am on,
Just keeps getting higher and higher,
A farther clime, a never-ending climb.
I am a lab experiment gone wrong,
Ready to experience the rest of my life.
Love your neighbors as you would like to be loved,
The hole that you dig up for me, give me the hope I need,
To come out victorious and shine in peace and patience.
The kindness you shine on the poor, the helpless, the needy, the enemy,
Put the goodness on me.
Let me know my identity.
The faithfulness of my loved ones, companions and you.
Let me be a knight in your bright and shining armor.
Cleanse me in your gentleness, make me a fragile piece of work.
But most importantly, keep my composure.
The face of gambler, the heart of a lion, self controlling and protecting his ground.
Feed me with your fruits.
The Room...
Staccatos of three inch Manolos
Sweet scented perfumes approaching
Marlboro's seductive light meanders
Curling through unsuspecting
Flirtatious whispers softly dancing
"In the room where women come and go
talking of Michelangelo".
Spirit of night malingers
Oh Johnnie B, Oh Johnnie B
Jack is a lost soul
Your contemptuous spirit
crackling ice glaciers unforgiving
Submissive to God's calling
"Is it the perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?"
Eyes glistening through light flickers
Soft tender brushes against one's laces
Black river elixir stroking deep glances
"Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
but in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair".
Darkness swallows Bayou moon reflecting
Dream catcher's fleeting moment suspended...
"A time for you and me...
before the taking of a toast and tea".
Sweet scented perfumes approaching
Marlboro's seductive light meanders
Curling through unsuspecting
Flirtatious whispers softly dancing
"In the room where women come and go
talking of Michelangelo".
Spirit of night malingers
Oh Johnnie B, Oh Johnnie B
Jack is a lost soul
Your contemptuous spirit
crackling ice glaciers unforgiving
Submissive to God's calling
"Is it the perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?"
Eyes glistening through light flickers
Soft tender brushes against one's laces
Black river elixir stroking deep glances
"Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
but in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair".
Darkness swallows Bayou moon reflecting
Dream catcher's fleeting moment suspended...
"A time for you and me...
before the taking of a toast and tea".
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Songs of myself...
in all people I see myself,
none more and not one a barleycorn less
and the good or bad I say of myself
I say of them...
Leaves of Grass
none more and not one a barleycorn less
and the good or bad I say of myself
I say of them...
Leaves of Grass
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The Look
(gazed, gaz·ing, gaz·es. Gaze is often indicative of wonder, fascination, awe, or admiration: gazing at the stars.)
Sweetie, can you give me that "look"?
What look?
You know, that "look".
What look are you talking about?
The look you use to give me.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
It's that look Christine always gives Julius.
And what look is that?.
It's the look that says "you are MY man!"
It's the look that says "my world evolves around you!"
Please...I'm tired.
C'mon sweetie. Show me that look just once. Slightly open mouth, glassy eyes, wide eyed look of wonder. You know, it's that gazing look...
Honey, gazing requires looking up and Julius is much much taller than you.
Sweetie, can you give me that "look"?
What look?
You know, that "look".
What look are you talking about?
The look you use to give me.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
It's that look Christine always gives Julius.
And what look is that?.
It's the look that says "you are MY man!"
It's the look that says "my world evolves around you!"
Please...I'm tired.
C'mon sweetie. Show me that look just once. Slightly open mouth, glassy eyes, wide eyed look of wonder. You know, it's that gazing look...
Honey, gazing requires looking up and Julius is much much taller than you.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The End of the World...
"The world's coming to an end"
"Really? When?"
"Well, they say this Saturday"
"This coming Saturday?"
"Yup, this coming Saturday"
"What are you doing this Saturday?"
"We have a wedding to go to...how about you?"
"Going to a birthday party."
"Hey, is that James' 50th?"
"That's the one. You're going too?"
"Yup, right after the wedding."
"Really? When?"
"Well, they say this Saturday"
"This coming Saturday?"
"Yup, this coming Saturday"
"What are you doing this Saturday?"
"We have a wedding to go to...how about you?"
"Going to a birthday party."
"Hey, is that James' 50th?"
"That's the one. You're going too?"
"Yup, right after the wedding."
Friday, May 13, 2011
Mama Fat Anthony
Fat Anthony was my best friend when I was twelve years old. We grew up in the projects together. Mama Fat Anthony believed that a good whupping was good for the child's soul. Every once in a while, Mama Fat Anthony would smack Fat Anthony upside his head for no good reason and I would ask Fat Anthony why Mama Fat Anthony did that and he replied without batting an eye "she says it's an advance for something I'm about to do."
Thursday, April 28, 2011
FORTY DAYS AND FORTY NIGHTS
It is no longer I
So I surrender and
Allow you complete liberty
Falling off and spiraling
Can't have you see me this way
Yet you save me despite me
Darkness and dismay
Endure, what wonderful joy
Your grace sufficient
Perfect in weakness
Pain and heal
Have your way with me
Patiently I wait
Oh delight my heart
Faith, love and joy
Never deceive, never deceive
I decrease and follow
You are everywhere
Don't know anymore
Confusion and liberation
Come You say
Obey and joy unrestrained
Expect with childlike wonder
Give back the breath
Succumb to self control
Totally consumed, I've lost sight
If I had only known
I have been scattered
Time for you and me wrapped up in universe
I am in awe, time to let go
Time is nothing to eternity
Spirit lives invincible
Call You without ceasing
Sunlight glistening
I see me
Privileges of man
Be armed and seek the kingdom
I see You
All the time
No longer I that live...
So I surrender and
Allow you complete liberty
Falling off and spiraling
Can't have you see me this way
Yet you save me despite me
Darkness and dismay
Endure, what wonderful joy
Your grace sufficient
Perfect in weakness
Pain and heal
Have your way with me
Patiently I wait
Oh delight my heart
Faith, love and joy
Never deceive, never deceive
I decrease and follow
You are everywhere
Don't know anymore
Confusion and liberation
Come You say
Obey and joy unrestrained
Expect with childlike wonder
Give back the breath
Succumb to self control
Totally consumed, I've lost sight
If I had only known
I have been scattered
Time for you and me wrapped up in universe
I am in awe, time to let go
Time is nothing to eternity
Spirit lives invincible
Call You without ceasing
Sunlight glistening
I see me
Privileges of man
Be armed and seek the kingdom
I see You
All the time
No longer I that live...
Thursday, April 21, 2011
40 days (Day 38)
"We look for God to exhibit Himself to His children, but God only exhibits Himself in His children."
O.C.
O.C.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
40 days (Day 32)
No power on earth or in hell can conquer the Spirit of God living within the human spirit; it creates an inner invincibility.
O.C.
O.C.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
40 days (Day 31)
This is God's will for you...
Be joyful always.
Pray without ceasing.
In all circumstances give thanks.
1 Thessalonians 5:16
Be joyful always.
Pray without ceasing.
In all circumstances give thanks.
1 Thessalonians 5:16
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
40 days (Day 27)
Irrelevancy of time for you and me...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled and walk the beach...
Do I dare eat a peach?
Time for you and time for me
Time for all things wrapped into a ball
and thrown into a universe...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled and walk the beach...
Do I dare eat a peach?
Time for you and time for me
Time for all things wrapped into a ball
and thrown into a universe...
Monday, April 4, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
40 days (Day 21)
Expect Him at every turn...it will give our life the attitude of childlike wonder.
O.C.
O.C.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
40 days (Day 14)
Never deceive yourself; when carnality is gone, you will know it - it is the most real thing you can imagine...And you will never cease to be the most amazed person on earth at what God has done for you on the inside.
O.C.
O.C.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
40 days (Day 13)
Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self control...
Monday, March 21, 2011
40 days (Day 12)
A faith that transcends all imaginable limits- a faith that only comes from the Son of God...
40 days (Day 11)
Delight yourself in the Lord and He shall give you the desires of your heart.
-Psalm 37:4
-Psalm 37:4
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
40 days (Day 8)
A life free of pain is a miserable life. It is out of pain that true healing and treatment can be administered...
-Dr. Paul Brand
-Dr. Paul Brand
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
40 days (Day 7)
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
2 Corinthians 12:9
2 Corinthians 12:9
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
40 days (Day 6)
"But when the darkness of dismay comes, endure until it is over, because out of it will come the ability to follow Him truly, which brings inexpressibly wonderful joy."
-Oswald Chambers
-Oswald Chambers
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
40 days (Day 1)
Transformation...
It is no longer I that live but He that lives in me.
Surrender all pretense I am anything and wait for His spirit.
It is no longer I that live but He that lives in me.
Surrender all pretense I am anything and wait for His spirit.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Designificance of being...
More and more I am realizing the significance of the designificant being...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Happy Birthday 할 머 니 !
I know that since I'm in college I don't get to see you very often, but I am truly blessed to have a grandmother who loves as unconditionally as you. I am so thankful that God has allowed me to be your grandson. I know you say you're proud of me, but I want to come back every semester and make you even prouder than before.
I love you, and please assure grandpa that I'm "doing my best".
Love,
Bhong Hyun
PS: Please don't look at my face I look weird when I sing...
javascript:void(0)
I love you, and please assure grandpa that I'm "doing my best".
Love,
Bhong Hyun
PS: Please don't look at my face I look weird when I sing...
javascript:void(0)
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A Love Poem...
Come, let us go, you and I
as evening dusk falls
and soft trinket stars
blanket upon deserted streets.
Meandering night back alleys and
whispering voices careless
from lantern windows calling.
Restless night murmurs
through bodies enchanting
in a room where perfume
from a dress makes me so digress.
A tribute to T.S.Eliot
as evening dusk falls
and soft trinket stars
blanket upon deserted streets.
Meandering night back alleys and
whispering voices careless
from lantern windows calling.
Restless night murmurs
through bodies enchanting
in a room where perfume
from a dress makes me so digress.
A tribute to T.S.Eliot
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Moments...
"Can you drop him off school today?"
"Is he ready to go?"
"He should be."
"Bob, you ready to go?"
"Dad, you're driving me to school?"
"Yup. Come on come on, Dad's running late"
"Honey, don't forget your coffee..."
"Oh shoot, where's my keys?"
"Mom, dad's driving me to school?"
"Yes he is. You packed your lunch?"
"Honey, what time will you be home tonite?"
"Not sure, I'll let you know."
"Where's Bob? I need to get going."
"He's already outside waiting for you. Don't forget your coffee..."
"Bob, in the car, in the car, lets go buddy."
"Put on your seat belt and don't sit on the hat."
"Dad, over there, wave! That's Jose the crossing guard. He's awesome."
"Where should I drop you off?"
"You're not suppose to stop here. It's the middle of crossing."
"Then where? Further down?"
"Further down there."
"By the sign?"
"Right here. This is good, dad."
"Alright. Here we are. Be careful and study hard."
"O.K. I love you dad."
"Is he ready to go?"
"He should be."
"Bob, you ready to go?"
"Dad, you're driving me to school?"
"Yup. Come on come on, Dad's running late"
"Honey, don't forget your coffee..."
"Oh shoot, where's my keys?"
"Mom, dad's driving me to school?"
"Yes he is. You packed your lunch?"
"Honey, what time will you be home tonite?"
"Not sure, I'll let you know."
"Where's Bob? I need to get going."
"He's already outside waiting for you. Don't forget your coffee..."
"Bob, in the car, in the car, lets go buddy."
"Put on your seat belt and don't sit on the hat."
"Dad, over there, wave! That's Jose the crossing guard. He's awesome."
"Where should I drop you off?"
"You're not suppose to stop here. It's the middle of crossing."
"Then where? Further down?"
"Further down there."
"By the sign?"
"Right here. This is good, dad."
"Alright. Here we are. Be careful and study hard."
"O.K. I love you dad."
Justinian Rap-sody
You say "Pops" goes the weasel
But neva forget you be my diesel
So you'll be a gra-du-ating
Despite some fluc-tu-ating
My Slim-Jim-Bojangle
I know I got ya once mangled
Outta three you in da middle
But in between ya ma bo-diddle
Ma-nigga, Ma-nigga, Ma-nigga,
Yo, Yo, Yo, you Ma-nigga
But neva forget you be my diesel
So you'll be a gra-du-ating
Despite some fluc-tu-ating
My Slim-Jim-Bojangle
I know I got ya once mangled
Outta three you in da middle
But in between ya ma bo-diddle
Ma-nigga, Ma-nigga, Ma-nigga,
Yo, Yo, Yo, you Ma-nigga
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Embrace the heartbreak...
Embrace the heartbreak, disillusionment, and the tribulations for the sole reason that these things keep us unmoved in our devotion to the ultimate hope...
-Oswald Chambers
-Oswald Chambers
Monday, January 31, 2011
Reckless Abandonment...
From this moment...live with reckless abandonment in Him.
It's absolutely liberating.
-Oswald Chambers
It's absolutely liberating.
-Oswald Chambers
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The Amalgamy of the Soul...
Fear, doubt, uncertainty, anxiety...
Through the looking glass.
Where are you?
Lost in paradise wasteland.
Have mercy, have mercy...
Through the looking glass.
Where are you?
Lost in paradise wasteland.
Have mercy, have mercy...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Does God have a wife?
"Dad, does God have a wife?", the little boy wanted to know.
"Why do you ask son?" the father asked.
"Well, if we are all his children, he sure has a lot of children", the boy said.
"That's true. God does have a lot of children indeed", the father confirmed.
"Well, if that's the case, God must do a lot of physical love with his wife..."
"Why do you ask son?" the father asked.
"Well, if we are all his children, he sure has a lot of children", the boy said.
"That's true. God does have a lot of children indeed", the father confirmed.
"Well, if that's the case, God must do a lot of physical love with his wife..."
Thursday, January 20, 2011
A Tale of a Near Tarantulan Tragedy...
"Its dead. Look at it. It's all curled up in a nasty ball", Justin said.
"Hey shut up. O.k.? Just shut up!" Collin's face was pale white. By the sound of his voice there was an epic failure. Something had gone terribly wrong.
3 days earlier...
"Dad, don't forget the Philippino sweet bread..." Collin reminded me as we were loading our bags for the three day getaway trip.
"Don't worry bud, I got it. I just need to take it out of the freezer before we leave." I assured him.
Collin wanted to take some of his favorite Philippino sweet bread back to Cornell. Naturally, being a parent that can't help but indulge every little ounce of neediness of his child, the father in me enthusiastically obliged by making a special trip to Jersey City to buy the sweet bread the night before the trip.
I even took careful measures to freeze it in the garage freezer to keep it fresh so my son can take the sweet breads back to school and ravish them upon his whimsical pleasure. Just the thought of it pleased me immensely and at the same time made me realize what a pathetic parent I have become.
"Don't forget your own backpacks" mom barked at everyone as we loaded the car.
Mom had planned this Martin Luther King holiday weekend trip to Greek Peaks Mountain Resort, a brand new ski resort with a gigantuan indoor water park that was conveniently thirty minutes from Cornell. The trip was methodically coordinated with driving Collin back to college for the start of his second semester and simultaneously squeezing in a long overdue family vacation. Only mothers can find treasures like this.
"Honey, don't forget the adapter for your laptop", she reminded me since Justin planned on studying for his mid terms and Ethan planned on finishing his Martin Luther King essay. Mom was determined that this trip was not only going to be fun, but darn productive for everyone!
We finally finished squeezing everything into the car with a last minute chaotic frenzy and readied ourselves to hit the road when Ethan blurted "Hey, what about the tarantulas?"
Sometime back at the beginning of Collin's winter break...
"Hey mom, is it o.k. if I baby sit a couple of tarantulas for a friend from school?" Collin nonchalantly asked.
"Tarantulas? You mean those deadly spiders?" mom squealed incredulously.
"Absolutely not! Collin, how do you intend on taking care of tarantulas when you can't even take care of yourself?" mom asked not waiting for an answer...
"I mean, you have things to do this break. You need to look into your summer internship, plan course work for your junior year, and start thinking about your future..." Mom was now on a roll.
"Mom, I kinda already said yes." Collin interrupted. "Actually, my friend dropped them off already", he sheepishly confessed.
"Where are you going to keep them?" Mom asked with a sense of indignation and resignation.
"I'll keep them in my room mom. They are really low maintenance. I just need to feed them and they'll be fine. And they're not deadly." Collin assured her.
"Collin, you will absolutely not keep them in your room. What if they crawl out of the box in the middle of the night and go into Ethan's room and bite his face and poison him?" Mom was very serious about this possibility.
Ten years ago after coming back from family vacation in Aruba when Collin was Nine years old
"Baby, that goldfish looks dead", I astutely observed.
"Are you sure? It looks like it's still floating", Jeannie replied.
"Yeah, it's floating on its back..." I noted.
"...did you turn off all the heat before we left for Aruba?" I asked.
She didn't need to reply. The look on her face said it all. Apparently, Collin's pet goldfish had frozen to death.
"What should we tell Collin? He's going to be devastated." Jeannie thought Collin would be permanently scarred for life.
"We'll just tell him that he died of natural causes...that he had a heart attack or something." I assured Jeannie realizing the need to take control over the situation.
"Goldfish have heart attacks?" She asked, desperately wanting to believe.
"Yes, sweetheart, they do have heart attacks like everyone else. We just need to give him a proper burial that's all..." I said in my stoic wisdom.
"Proper burial? What do we have to do?" She inquired apologetically for not knowing.
"I think we need to flush him down the toilet..."
Back to the future...
As we finally hit the road heading for Greek Peaks, mom reminded everyone, "When we arrive at the hotel, make sure we leave Collin's things in the car."
"Oh, but make sure we bring the tarantulas in the hotel room because it will be too cold for them in the car", she said as her maternal instincts were kicking in without her even knowing.
I was able to let myself finally bask in that warm patriarchal glow knowing that everything was accounted for and we managed to accomplish the insurmountable task of fitting all the bags, equipment and boxes into the suv. Even the tarantulas were tucked away safe and sound in the protective crevices somewhere in the back. I was feeling rather good about myself.
But then, all of sudden, without warning, in a very creepy way, things started to take a strange ominous turn.
"Honey, where did you pack the laptop?" Mom asked as if running through a checklist in her head.
"Laptop? I thought YOU packed it since you asked me about the adapters." I said with incredulous wonder.
"Honey, do you know how many things I had to get ready for this trip?" she barked back.
But before I said anything I might regret, I reminded myself it wasn't the end of the world. Not a big deal. No need to get all riled up. And I decided to take the higher road.
"I'm sorry sweetie. I just assumed you got it. My bad. It's all good." I humbly supplicated, patting myself on the back at the same time.
But the pendulum had already started to shift in the direction of the twilight zone as mom then muttered in passing, "I hope you didn't forget the Philippino bread..."
The Last Day...
No laptop, no Philippino bread, no matter. It was all good. All in all, it was three glorious days of skiing, snow boarding, swimming, arcade game playing, eating, sleeping, and just corny good old fashion family bonding.
"Everyone wake up! We're going to the outdoor pool one last time before we check out" Mom was determined.
It was the coldest of all three days. But swimming in the backdrop of the snow capped mountains in the steamy heated pool perched on the cold brisk open air was the highlight of the trip.
After the swimming and finally checking out of the hotel and loading the car, mom had one of her brilliant "lets make the most of it" ideas to head back to the slopes one more time for family snow tubing before heading off to Cornell.
Oh it was glorious indeed. Mom was right yet once again. We tied our tubes into a family formation and all came down screaming together. Up and down the hill we went. It was frost bite freezing cold but we drank hot chocolate, we laughed, we cried, there was not a worry in the world. Everything in the universe seemed to be in a perfect state of equilibrium.
And so we thought.
The Epic Failure...
"Its dead. Look at it. It's all curled up in a nasty ball", Justin said.
"Hey shut up. O.k.? Just shut up", Collin's face was pale white.
"What happened?" I asked as I was the last to walk in the dorm room with the box of vitamin water.
"It's dead dad. The tarantula froze to death while we were snow tubing". Ethan cried.
"How do you know it's dead?" I inquired while cautiously approaching the dead tarantula as if it might jump out of the box without warning.
"You know sometimes these suckers defrost and come back to life." I said with a National Geographic authority.
"Really dad?" Ethan asked with childlike wonder about the possibility.
"My friend told me that when they die, they curl up into a ball just like that." Collin said with a heavy sigh pointing to what looked like a curled up black cotton ball in a box.
"If only we didn't go snow tubing he would be alive..." Ethan said looking toward mom.
"Maybe it's in a cocoon", mom said feeling the need to say something.
"Mom, it's dead. It's not in a cocoon." Justin said with a matter of fact indifference.
We all looked at each other and shared an awkward moment of silence for the tragic death of a tarantula. Afterwards, we realized we were hungry and decided to have Asian wonton noodle soup for lunch.
The Dead Goldfish...
As we were walking to the restaurant, in my attempt to comfort Collin as a loving dad, I wondered out loud, "Hey, remember Collin's pet goldfish he had in the fourth grade?"
"Oh yes honey. I remember. He was a such a good goldfish", mom agreed realizing the need for consoling.
"Didn't he die?" Justin was good enough to reminded us.
"Yup, that good old boy also froze to death while we were on vacation in Aruba and we ended up flushing him down the toilet" I said.
"You flushed Collin's goldfish down the toilet?" Ethan asked.
Collin suddenly stopped and with a look of a dazed deer lost in headlights, mumbled, "My pet goldfish froze to death and you flushed him down the toilet?"
The Resurrection...
"Son, I did a little story on the blog about the tarantula. I hope you enjoy it." I emailed Collin.
"HAHAHAHA dad, the tarantula came back to life the next day around 2 o'clock in the morning..." HAHAHAHA!
"Hey shut up. O.k.? Just shut up!" Collin's face was pale white. By the sound of his voice there was an epic failure. Something had gone terribly wrong.
3 days earlier...
"Dad, don't forget the Philippino sweet bread..." Collin reminded me as we were loading our bags for the three day getaway trip.
"Don't worry bud, I got it. I just need to take it out of the freezer before we leave." I assured him.
Collin wanted to take some of his favorite Philippino sweet bread back to Cornell. Naturally, being a parent that can't help but indulge every little ounce of neediness of his child, the father in me enthusiastically obliged by making a special trip to Jersey City to buy the sweet bread the night before the trip.
I even took careful measures to freeze it in the garage freezer to keep it fresh so my son can take the sweet breads back to school and ravish them upon his whimsical pleasure. Just the thought of it pleased me immensely and at the same time made me realize what a pathetic parent I have become.
"Don't forget your own backpacks" mom barked at everyone as we loaded the car.
Mom had planned this Martin Luther King holiday weekend trip to Greek Peaks Mountain Resort, a brand new ski resort with a gigantuan indoor water park that was conveniently thirty minutes from Cornell. The trip was methodically coordinated with driving Collin back to college for the start of his second semester and simultaneously squeezing in a long overdue family vacation. Only mothers can find treasures like this.
"Honey, don't forget the adapter for your laptop", she reminded me since Justin planned on studying for his mid terms and Ethan planned on finishing his Martin Luther King essay. Mom was determined that this trip was not only going to be fun, but darn productive for everyone!
We finally finished squeezing everything into the car with a last minute chaotic frenzy and readied ourselves to hit the road when Ethan blurted "Hey, what about the tarantulas?"
Sometime back at the beginning of Collin's winter break...
"Hey mom, is it o.k. if I baby sit a couple of tarantulas for a friend from school?" Collin nonchalantly asked.
"Tarantulas? You mean those deadly spiders?" mom squealed incredulously.
"Absolutely not! Collin, how do you intend on taking care of tarantulas when you can't even take care of yourself?" mom asked not waiting for an answer...
"I mean, you have things to do this break. You need to look into your summer internship, plan course work for your junior year, and start thinking about your future..." Mom was now on a roll.
"Mom, I kinda already said yes." Collin interrupted. "Actually, my friend dropped them off already", he sheepishly confessed.
"Where are you going to keep them?" Mom asked with a sense of indignation and resignation.
"I'll keep them in my room mom. They are really low maintenance. I just need to feed them and they'll be fine. And they're not deadly." Collin assured her.
"Collin, you will absolutely not keep them in your room. What if they crawl out of the box in the middle of the night and go into Ethan's room and bite his face and poison him?" Mom was very serious about this possibility.
Ten years ago after coming back from family vacation in Aruba when Collin was Nine years old
"Baby, that goldfish looks dead", I astutely observed.
"Are you sure? It looks like it's still floating", Jeannie replied.
"Yeah, it's floating on its back..." I noted.
"...did you turn off all the heat before we left for Aruba?" I asked.
She didn't need to reply. The look on her face said it all. Apparently, Collin's pet goldfish had frozen to death.
"What should we tell Collin? He's going to be devastated." Jeannie thought Collin would be permanently scarred for life.
"We'll just tell him that he died of natural causes...that he had a heart attack or something." I assured Jeannie realizing the need to take control over the situation.
"Goldfish have heart attacks?" She asked, desperately wanting to believe.
"Yes, sweetheart, they do have heart attacks like everyone else. We just need to give him a proper burial that's all..." I said in my stoic wisdom.
"Proper burial? What do we have to do?" She inquired apologetically for not knowing.
"I think we need to flush him down the toilet..."
Back to the future...
As we finally hit the road heading for Greek Peaks, mom reminded everyone, "When we arrive at the hotel, make sure we leave Collin's things in the car."
"Oh, but make sure we bring the tarantulas in the hotel room because it will be too cold for them in the car", she said as her maternal instincts were kicking in without her even knowing.
I was able to let myself finally bask in that warm patriarchal glow knowing that everything was accounted for and we managed to accomplish the insurmountable task of fitting all the bags, equipment and boxes into the suv. Even the tarantulas were tucked away safe and sound in the protective crevices somewhere in the back. I was feeling rather good about myself.
But then, all of sudden, without warning, in a very creepy way, things started to take a strange ominous turn.
"Honey, where did you pack the laptop?" Mom asked as if running through a checklist in her head.
"Laptop? I thought YOU packed it since you asked me about the adapters." I said with incredulous wonder.
"Honey, do you know how many things I had to get ready for this trip?" she barked back.
But before I said anything I might regret, I reminded myself it wasn't the end of the world. Not a big deal. No need to get all riled up. And I decided to take the higher road.
"I'm sorry sweetie. I just assumed you got it. My bad. It's all good." I humbly supplicated, patting myself on the back at the same time.
But the pendulum had already started to shift in the direction of the twilight zone as mom then muttered in passing, "I hope you didn't forget the Philippino bread..."
The Last Day...
No laptop, no Philippino bread, no matter. It was all good. All in all, it was three glorious days of skiing, snow boarding, swimming, arcade game playing, eating, sleeping, and just corny good old fashion family bonding.
"Everyone wake up! We're going to the outdoor pool one last time before we check out" Mom was determined.
It was the coldest of all three days. But swimming in the backdrop of the snow capped mountains in the steamy heated pool perched on the cold brisk open air was the highlight of the trip.
After the swimming and finally checking out of the hotel and loading the car, mom had one of her brilliant "lets make the most of it" ideas to head back to the slopes one more time for family snow tubing before heading off to Cornell.
Oh it was glorious indeed. Mom was right yet once again. We tied our tubes into a family formation and all came down screaming together. Up and down the hill we went. It was frost bite freezing cold but we drank hot chocolate, we laughed, we cried, there was not a worry in the world. Everything in the universe seemed to be in a perfect state of equilibrium.
And so we thought.
The Epic Failure...
"Its dead. Look at it. It's all curled up in a nasty ball", Justin said.
"Hey shut up. O.k.? Just shut up", Collin's face was pale white.
"What happened?" I asked as I was the last to walk in the dorm room with the box of vitamin water.
"It's dead dad. The tarantula froze to death while we were snow tubing". Ethan cried.
"How do you know it's dead?" I inquired while cautiously approaching the dead tarantula as if it might jump out of the box without warning.
"You know sometimes these suckers defrost and come back to life." I said with a National Geographic authority.
"Really dad?" Ethan asked with childlike wonder about the possibility.
"My friend told me that when they die, they curl up into a ball just like that." Collin said with a heavy sigh pointing to what looked like a curled up black cotton ball in a box.
"If only we didn't go snow tubing he would be alive..." Ethan said looking toward mom.
"Maybe it's in a cocoon", mom said feeling the need to say something.
"Mom, it's dead. It's not in a cocoon." Justin said with a matter of fact indifference.
We all looked at each other and shared an awkward moment of silence for the tragic death of a tarantula. Afterwards, we realized we were hungry and decided to have Asian wonton noodle soup for lunch.
The Dead Goldfish...
As we were walking to the restaurant, in my attempt to comfort Collin as a loving dad, I wondered out loud, "Hey, remember Collin's pet goldfish he had in the fourth grade?"
"Oh yes honey. I remember. He was a such a good goldfish", mom agreed realizing the need for consoling.
"Didn't he die?" Justin was good enough to reminded us.
"Yup, that good old boy also froze to death while we were on vacation in Aruba and we ended up flushing him down the toilet" I said.
"You flushed Collin's goldfish down the toilet?" Ethan asked.
Collin suddenly stopped and with a look of a dazed deer lost in headlights, mumbled, "My pet goldfish froze to death and you flushed him down the toilet?"
The Resurrection...
"Son, I did a little story on the blog about the tarantula. I hope you enjoy it." I emailed Collin.
"HAHAHAHA dad, the tarantula came back to life the next day around 2 o'clock in the morning..." HAHAHAHA!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A Message to My Boys about Girls...
Love, adore, protect, cherish, indulge, listen, and embrace them under all circumstances.
But, don't ever ever try to understand them...
But, don't ever ever try to understand them...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A Message to My Boys...
Be fearless.
Have absolute unconditional faith.
Every man dies. But not every man lives.
Be men of honor, integrity and compassion.
Have absolute unconditional faith.
Every man dies. But not every man lives.
Be men of honor, integrity and compassion.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Birds and the bees...
"If you don't get into a good college, mom and dad will have another child and replace you", the older brother Collin playfully chided the little one.
"Hey, I'm learning about physical love in my health class and I know mom and dad can't have a baby because they can't do physical love any more", little Ethan confidently boasted.
"Excuse me? Boy, you don't think mom and dad do the physical love thing anymore?" Dad asked.
"Mom? You and dad still do physical love?" Ethan asked incredulously.
"Honey, don't ask me, ask your dad..." Mom replied.
"Dad?" Ethan asked desperately seeking some reassurance.
"Son, first of all, just because you do the physical love doesn't mean that you automatically make a baby." Dad propounded in his infinite wisdom.
"The sperm does not always connect with the egg, if you know what I mean", dad continued.
"You mean you have to do it more than once?" Ethan asked quite exasperated.
"Dang right son. Sometimes you HAVE to do it more than once", Dad replied.
"That's gross. I really hope I get it right the first time..." said the little one.
"Hey, I'm learning about physical love in my health class and I know mom and dad can't have a baby because they can't do physical love any more", little Ethan confidently boasted.
"Excuse me? Boy, you don't think mom and dad do the physical love thing anymore?" Dad asked.
"Mom? You and dad still do physical love?" Ethan asked incredulously.
"Honey, don't ask me, ask your dad..." Mom replied.
"Dad?" Ethan asked desperately seeking some reassurance.
"Son, first of all, just because you do the physical love doesn't mean that you automatically make a baby." Dad propounded in his infinite wisdom.
"The sperm does not always connect with the egg, if you know what I mean", dad continued.
"You mean you have to do it more than once?" Ethan asked quite exasperated.
"Dang right son. Sometimes you HAVE to do it more than once", Dad replied.
"That's gross. I really hope I get it right the first time..." said the little one.
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