All’s Well That Ends Well – AKA: This Means War

Posted on May 29, 2019 | 2 comments

Dear son,

I don’t usually address you directly in my blog. But astute readers will note that you form part of my target audience of two. I started writing this blog many years ago when you were just six weeks old as a way to document our travels together. Over the past eleven years it has morphed into something of a “Notebook” wherein I document our life together. Recently you have discovered my writings and begged me to read them to you every day. I have certainly loved sharing so many memories with you and I greatly appreciate your love not only for what I wrote but for me.

Of course, I love you and your sister more than anything. That’s why I’m going to tell you this little story by way of offering some fatherly advice.

Six months ago I started working in education once again. After a one year hiatus I was given a chance to return not only to the classroom I love so much but to school administration – something I always believed I could be good at. And once again God has provided a magnificent setting for me. The school is awesome! The kids are awesome! The principal is awesome! The third season of Dallas is awesome but that’s another story.

The school year ended last week on a high note. I got to call out awards at the award ceremony. I got to shake hands with each of the graduates at the graduation. I met with the other high school teachers this morning to discuss our plans for next year. And I did what I love best about being a teacher at this time of year. I walked out the door for some well-earned vacation time.

You also know that since recovering from my second spinal fusion a few years ago I’ve been making a very strong effort to get in the best shape possible for a man of my age. Here again, the school comes in handy. There is a small but adequate weight room in the basement. Tonight I went over to lift weights with a friend who’s kids also go to the school. I left feeling pumped – literally and in spirit. What could possible go wrong? I mean, Kim Jong Un could launch a missile at Hawaii but these things are always likely when, as Sam from Wendover says, “you give a two year-old a Minecraft server”.

Well… Here’s what “went wrong”. Seems some of our students had some free time on their hands and spotted me leaving the school. They followed me home. The unloaded a roll of toilet paper on my car and our neighbor’s crepe myrtle tree. I inadvertently scared them off when I went to close the garage door your grandmother had accidentally left open a few minutes earlier.

When you came outside with me and asked what all of this meant I explained the common (and most lame) high school prank known as “teepee-ing”. Your response was classic.

But I thought your students liked you?

They do, son. They’re just teenage boys. We can’t fault them. The frontal lobes of their brains haven’t finished forming yet. At this stage of the game they have room up there for all of three simultaneous thoughts and two of them involve food. What they do not think about are consequences. As in, Daddy is Irish. The Irish don’t forget things. We invented the phrase “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” What’s that, son? Shush now. Yes, I know the Bible says “Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord,” but this isn’t really vengeance sayeth Daddy. It’s more of an issue of justice, which is a virtue. Stop looking at me like that. How else can I be expected to help form them into fine and productive men for God? Even if that formation might take place years from now when they least expect it. Hey, education is a lifelong endeavor.

So my advice to you is this. Don’t ever do something so stupid. I’ve mastered the long game and your parents like me, I mean, you know what? This will be settled. War is hell, Irene. War is hell. What’s that? Who’s Irene? Son, don’t you know your memes? I can see there’s a lot of advice Daddy hasn’t dispensed yet. But I’m glad YOU are on my side.

PS: This is all part of the fun of what I do and who I am. No harm, no foul, as they say. The boys were just having some fun (albeit not thought out ahead of time since cameras were involved) and I truly bear them no ill will. In fact, they’re my students. I love them. See you in September, boys…

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Stars, Oil, and Me

Posted on May 4, 2019 | 2 comments

Today I am enjoying many blessings. My niece and her husband have brought their two beautiful boys to visit. On that note I am reminded of what I told my students years ago when my oldest nephew and his wife brought their first son into the world. “Kids, my first great-nephew was just born!” “You’re a great-uncle?” they asked.

“I’m the best.”

We have taken the whole family to the Science Museum where there is some kind of celebration called “Star Wars Day” taking place. Joy. Lots of little kids constructing light sabers while their parents run around in costume living out some kinds of George Lucas fantasy. I just suggested that my wife affix some cinnamon rolls to her scalp. She was not amused. I am not a Star Wars fan as you could probably tell. Nonetheless I am mildly amused at the display from many of these parents. Whatever… You do what you have to do as a parent to amuse your kids. If you happen to be able to engage your own psychoses at the same time then all the better.

Thinking to self: why do these science museums not have a bar? Looks like someone missed a great profit opportunity.

Head ‘em up and mooooove ‘em out.

This being Texas there is a wing dedicated to the oil shale. It’s next to the “Death of Dinosaurs” room. The former is a gloriously well-lighted and large room featuring many happy motifs of the Lone Star State. It inspires great pride. The latter is a bleak 4’X4′ closet. It is black as there are no lights. Inside a few bones are thrown on the floor. They look rather like the remnants of a rack of ribs. Dinosaurs, if they ever existed, were terrible people. Therefore God smited them and gave us oil. God is good.

Next up is the IMAX theater. Five toddlers just stumbled out the exit door with parents in tow. All of them – parents and children – are vomiting profusely and struggling to walk. The feature? “An Aerial Drone Tour of Fort Worth”. I believe the drone’s operator was a child. On amphetamines.

Note to self: Must check this film after lunch.

On to the planetarium. The show this afternoon is called “The Stars at Night: the Texas Night Sky”. One patron who was exiting the previous show was heard to say “I didn’t know the other states received no starlight at nighttime.” Another was heard to say “I had heard there were other states.”

I do believe I will rustle up the herd and head on out. We’re fixin’ to get ourselves somethin’ to eat now.

Who knew science (and Texas) could be so entertaining?

More to come…

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Posted in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Family, Humor, Kids, Lone Star Life, Parenting, Sights, Texas

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The Passion, Art, and Moms

Posted on April 19, 2019 | 1 comment

I have been in the Fatherland going on a week now. I am here to visit and spend time with my mom who is in the hospital.

It is also now the Sacred Paschal Triduum. I have been able to slip out of the room to make my way to a piecemeal collection of beautiful Catholic churches in order to observe the liturgy of the Church during these holiest of days.

Yesterday – Holy Thursday – I started out the day looking for a place to confess my sins. I mean, I could confess them anywhere and to anyone but I kind of wanted to do it to an ordained priest. Something about actual absolution and all… Here’s the thing. I am in the habit of going roughly once a week. But as we enter into these three days, surprisingly, confessions are rather limited. I don’t know if it’s that the priests are all of a sudden really, really busy or what. But I was able to find a scheduled round of confessions at St. Michael’s, a church tucked away at the lower end of Broadway near Bloomfield Ave. in the North Ward. Those familiar with the area will know exactly what this looks like. I can’t adequately describe it. OK, I could adequately describe it and I will one day but it would take pages. For now, I would like the artwork of the church tell the story. You see, most churches in this part of the world look like this one. Old, traditional, built on the donations of the mostly poor immigrant Catholics who brought to these shores their Old World style and peculiarities.

The thing is that in the art I was reminded of the story. The story here is the love of a mother for her Son and the love of the Son for the whole human race including you and me. Let’s start…

Here we see the Last Supper. Appropriate since this was taken on Holy Thursday. Note the detail and use of brilliant color.

Now let’s look at the Woman and her Son.

Not quite what you were expecting? I know, it’s Easter-time, not Christmas. But take a look at what was hanging on the wall just next to this particular window.

From His infancy to His death He was always close to His mother. It was in her arms that He rested in life and in death. Imagine her joy and her sorrow. I want that when my children read this in years to come they recognize something my parents taught me – that devotion to Our Lord comes through devotion to His mother. As He was pleased to rest in her arms we must turn to her in prayer and always be devoted to the Mother He gave us from the cross.

Here now, some other pieces on which to meditate…

  • Resurrection!
  • Santisima Virgen de el Cisne
  • Virgin Caridad
  • Crucifixion in stained glass, above the high altar.

And finally…

He is STILL with us, alive and awaiting YOU.

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My In-Flight Style

Posted on April 11, 2019 | Leave a comment

This Saturday I shall take to the friendly skies as I head home to visit my mom. She’s had a health scare recently. Although she appears to be fine I still like to “pop in to town” to let her know I love her.

This got me thinking of an old article I wrote about flying. There are many old articles I have written about flying, in fact. This one, however, made me laugh out loud while reading it to my son tonight. And so I present to you, my lovely audience, the re-printing of My In-Flight Style (originally published October 9, 2011):

When Flying Was Glamorous

Just came across an article on Foxnews.com detailing the level of formality (or lack thereof) people choose to display when flying, particularly evident in their attire.

I can remember my dad, who was born in the 1930’s, always recalling how “in the old days” people didn’t dare attempt to board an airplane unless they were appropriately dressed. It was as much a social thing as it was a matter of pride. Apparently this meant men wore suits and ties, ladies wore a nice dress. To him, people getting on planes in jeans, shorts, tee shirts, generally unkempt was an abomination. I’ve been watching that new show Pan Am* and I can see what he meant. It must have been an incredible time to fly!

These two travelers embody the light, carefree attitude of the modern and sophisticated aeroplane flyer.

According to the article there are six basic in-flight styles ranging from the “ethnic adventurer” (whatever that is) to the “beleaguered parent” (which I have been on a few occasions). For instance, the “suited frequent-flyer” is, as the name implies, one who flies a lot, typically for business. He or she is recognized by the ability to pack everything with precision into a perfectly regulation sized carry-on bag, and zip through security like it’s no one’s affair. This person has been around the TSA screening line before and his or her sole purpose at the airport is utilitarian. Get in. Get on board. Get to the destination.

After much thought I have decided to review my own recent airport episodes and have concocted two profiles.  The first is the type of flier I imagine myself being and the second is who I actually am.

The Flying Man I Want to Be

In a perfect world, I am driven to the airport in a black Lincoln Towncar.  Although I banter freely with the driver I am not personally interested in his life — except in so far as it is fodder for my blog.  Oh, I forgot to mention, there is soft smooth jazz being piped into the back seat of my ride.  I am neatly pressed in my appearance, calm in my demeanor, and ever so excited about my destination.  I am delivered curbside where a skycap opens the door, collects my bag, which is black and showcases an elegantly stitched “HARVEY” near the top.  Another skycap hands me a chilled Sapphire and tonic and leads me to the lounge.  I, of course, given my importance, bypass security altogether.  Once in the lounge I mingle effortlessly with the elite of the world and we trade quips about the weather and the latest offerings from Brooks Brothers.  A stewardess dressed in stylish garb approaches.  “Mr. Harvey, we’re ready for you.  But first, the captain wishes for you to review his flight plan for your satisfaction.”  “Gladly, my dear”, I respond, my voice now bearing a strange British accent.  As we walk through the jetbridge I pass framed 8×10 sepia-toned prints of myself holding plastic models of various aircrafts, not smiling, simply presenting.  After checking in with the flight crew I am seated.  Another stewardess switches out my drink while still another approaches with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and still a third offers to light my cigarette.  My sportcoat has been placed on a hanger and my shoes stowed overhead.  I am now in a red velvet robe and slippers.  The flight is magnificent — no turbulence — and we land safely, three hours ahead of schedule and, miraculously, my hair is still in perfect form.

See the elegance and grace with which they board the aircraft!

The Flying Schmoe I Really Am

Meanwhile in the realm of reality, I am dropped at the curb by my wife in our white Chrysler Town & Country.  The musical selection is Veggie Tales’ The Princess and the Pop Star.  I try to offer my kids a heartfelt kiss good bye.  “Daddy’s going on a trip now.  I love you!”  “Hurry up, I’ve got to get back in time for Pan Am“, my beautiful spouse informs me as she tosses my bag out the door and speeds away.  At this point I realize I have left my phone in the car and my iPad has zero battery life because my one year-old daughter decided to watch Backyardigans 18 times this morning.  I enter the terminal where I attempt to swipe a credit card for my boarding pass only to realize that my card has my middle initial on it and my flight information does not.  In frustration I kick the machine.  I break three toes on my right foot.  Damn, that’s a long line I’m going to have to stand in.  Shouldn’t have done that.  Meanwhile, in my attempt to get my card back into my wallet I have actually sprung loose five other cards (two of which will remain missing in action for good).

With a smart cocktail in hand and a kiss from a pretty stewardess we’re ready to take off into the future of flight! Lucky Lindy, eat your heart out.

I spend the next half-hour on the line for security only to be touched in ways no one should be by a woman twice my size.  Past security, there is no lounge for me.  There is only the dull passenger waiting area where there are absolutely NO seats to be had.  I am last to board a plane that smells like popcorn and urine.  I do believe the lady sitting next to me is drunk.  Well, that’s a given, she just threw up.  And… OH!  She missed the vomit bag.  I’d hate to be the owner of that jacket she just soiled.  Oh wait, I AM the owner of the jacket.  “Miss, you can keep that jacket…”  The flight takes off with all the gracefulness of an elephant leaping from a waterfall.  It is turbulent for twelve hours until finally crash landing at the wrong airport.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I know we were supposed to be flying into Newark but our pilots both fell asleep for a while. It happens.  You’ll be enjoying a nice weekend in Manchester, New Hampshire!”  And, oh yes, they lost my luggage.  Meanwhile, I still have not been handed a single drink by a stylish stewardess.

Is it any wonder the airline industry has been teetering on the edge of collapse for some time now?!  At least I have Pan Am!

*Pan Am was cancelled the day after this post was first published or thereabouts.

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Posted in aviation, dad blog, Dad Stuff, Disasters, Humor, Reblog, Travel, Writing & Blogging

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Where We Are Right Now

Posted on April 7, 2019 | Leave a comment

I’ve been reading a lot of my older, archived posts to my son lately. It’s a fun trip down memory lane for both of us, except in his case he doesn’t really have a memory of most of it. The stories I’m reading him mostly happened when he was very young. Still I’ve observed some things.

Gosh, I’ve been having fun with this family of mine for a long time now. I look back and realize how much time has elapsed since these older posts were written and see how little has changed in the “Dad loves being Dad” department. It’s kind of like it was my calling or something.

My kids’ personalities were present even when they were super-small. Let me backtrack a moment. My kids were never super-small. Reading about their antics from 8 or 9 years ago I can clearly see large bits and pieces of who they are now and not even some kind of nascent, infantile hint of a trace. No, full on stuff here. Then again, I also see (to my chagrin since I strive to live a life of modestly false humility) that a certain someone who wrote those stories had a fat role in how their personalities formed. In other words, DNA strikes again.

I miss the old prompts. I started the writing of many of those posts as a response to a series of writing prompts. Granted I was always able to take those prompts in bizarre directions but that was a large part of the fun. Perhaps I’ll seek out new prompts.

Tonight I was wondering how I would answer this prompt I just made up (because I’m so clever)…

What are you doing right now?

I apologize to the Federation of Prompt-Writers because that one literally cried out to heaven for vengeance. But let’s go with it for a moment. Smile, sip, repeat. So what am I doing? Right now? Geez, so precise tonight. Oh wait, I wrote the prompt. I suck. OK, I’m sitting in my recliner, watching – wait for it – Nancy Drew. It’s the daughter’s choice. Yet somehow the four of us watched it. Actually, wife and son have fallen asleep and despite the fact that this cinematic gem features a leading actress who resembles Molly Ringwald (not an MR fan), daughter and I are invested in this nonsense. I’ve just finished grading a bunch of quizzes. I’m patting the head of my terrier who has come to sit by the side of my chair. He’s a good boy.

Not the movie we were actually watching but a close approximation. Or… This could be a representation of me trying to do deadlifts a few days after breaking my back.

Ask me the same tomorrow night and you’d get a completely different answer probably along the lines of “Currently doing crazy” or some variant. One thing I hope to say tomorrow night at this time is that I jumped back into some semblance of a workout. Despite my recent posts and my insistence that I was just going to ignore every shred of medical “advice” and hit the weights anyway; a few things changed my opinion. I’ll let you in on a secret. Broken bones hurt. And they need time and rest in order to heal. Fortunately my night job hasn’t been too busy lately so that covers that half of the day. But even doing mundane tasks like standing (as I do when I teach) can put stress of the spine. I ought to know this by now.

And the truth is that I do know this. But I also know how dedicated I’ve been to lifting and how I hate being told not to do something. So that next day I mentioned – the one where I was going to get back to my weights? Yeah, I decided I didn’t need anymore painkillers so I didn’t take ’em, see? Yeah, see… And no one could make me either! You just read that sentence in your mind as Jimmy Cagney. Now read this next one as Cagney and Lacey. Harv, how stupid are you!? By 8PM I knew I had made a mistake and that I would simply have to follow orders and rest. So that’s what I’ve done. And it’s only been two weeks since the break. I tried some basics tonight to see what I could manage. Knocked out a few sets of pushups. A set for me is at least 40 pushups so I think I’m at least able to ease back into this. I’ll play it smart and not overdo it and all that. And I still have some of those lovely little Tramadol things they gave me in case I go too far. And I’ll get those gains all over again.

The prompts never did tell us how to end.

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Posted in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Family, Fitness, weightlifting, Writing & Blogging

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The Rest

Posted on March 26, 2019 | 1 comment

My dear mother commented on my last blog (but on the reposting of it on Facebook, not here). I had mentioned that I think I got my “grit” from her. I learned long ago, kids, that your grandma was one tough cookie. I also learned that toughness does not mean one has to be cruel or brutish or a boor. She’s also one of the kindest, warmest, and most loving people you’ll ever know.

Her comment simply read “I love your grit as well.”

Thanks, Mom!

The Rest Is Over

Inspired by these words, children, I think your old man has had about enough rest and recuperation. A compression fracture certainly isn’t the end of the world. Come to think of it, the doctor didn’t even put me under any specific restrictions. That could be because it was almost 6:00 on a Saturday evening and I was their last patient. Nonetheless I believe in the old adage of listening to one’s body as a guide to pain management. And this body of mine is saying “Go on now, old man, time’s running out. You’re not getting any younger and you NEED to do something.” I still have these nifty painkillers they gave me and I’ll continue to take them as needed.

But tonight I was called out on four jobs requiring me to move a few hundred pounds worth of medical shipments. I was leery but you know what? I did it. I figured it out. I didn’t hurt myself (at least the pain hasn’t set in yet) and I survived.

I’ll probably never look like this dude. My feet point in different directions. And I only have two of them.

You know what that means? I’m getting back to the gym tomorrow. And when you read this years from now you’ll see that your dad was nothing if not determined. He’s determined not to be sidetracked. He’s determined not to let pain rule his life. He’s determined not to get soft. And he’s determined to continue to go after the hard things in life. I still don’t think I’ll go anywhere near a trampoline anytime soon but free weights?

Never Give Up

I can’t let myself down. I’m going to get shredded if it kills me

I can’t let you kids down. You deserve a dad who can physically do all you demand of him.

I can’t let the high school athletes down. They look up to me. On this last point I’m mystified because if they could have seen me when I was their age they would have kicked sand in my face assuming we were anywhere near a beach.

Life goes on, my children.

And for everything else… say it with me. “There’s Percocet!”

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Posted in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Fitness, health, Kids, weightlifting

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To Pray for Nine Months

Posted on March 26, 2019 | 1 comment

Still one of my favorite novenas, so I’m sticking the post up top.

This wouldn’t be the personal blog of a Catholic dad if I didn’t occasionally mention things like novenas. And speaking of novenas…

On March 25th (I’m a day late, sorry, blame it on my back) we as a family started the Incarnation Novena. We’ve prayed this one before. It’s a beautiful (and beautifully short) set of prayers.

Unlike other novenas, however, the catch is that this one is to be prayed every day for nine months instead of nine days. The theme is to prayerfully attend to the Virgin Mother during the nine months of her pregnancy. Look, if you’re Catholic you might just “get it”. If you’re not, I’m happy to explain in further detail in a future post. The last time I prayed this novena was a powerful experience for me as I did indeed find myself drawing closer to Our Lord in a unique way. To meditate on the first, hidden nine months of His Incarnate Life was a joy and a blessing and one that my kids entered with me.

Here now, the novena… God bless you today and please offer a prayer for yours truly.

Happy praying!

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