Fun In The Mickey Way

So I made it, we all made it actually; five days at a Disney World Resort with a pregnant wife, a five-year-old, and a large man who sweats slightly—but only when in motion or at rest. And ya know what? We all had a blast.

The factors were trying; the heat & humidity, un-cooled water fountains with sulfur-tasting Florida water, llevar a un bebé en el interior, y the pure excitement and exhaustion of a child. Casting aside the standard family bonding and subsequent memories as a given, there was one thing that made it all worthwhile.

After the standard hugs and photos with the toy that became a boy, the first thing she saw when we entered the Magic Kingdom, I turned REW so that she was looking down Main St. USA.

“Look, sweetie, all the way down at the end.” The look on her face when she saw Cinderella’s Castle made all of the trials of parenting disappear.

Other hightlights included:

REW thinking Alice’s name is Allison Wonderland
Talking with Crush about my offspring
Princess Jasmine
The water fountains at Epcot
The Disney 3-D movies
Eating in Cinderella’s Castle
And a 50-Foot can of Play Doh

By Thursday, I was done….DONE! We had made our way through nearly all that Disney has to offer, including Epcot, Animal Kingdom, and MGM. While riding the bus back to our hotel, I was doing just about anything I could to stave the whines, including letting her take countless photos while I made funny faces. Little did she know that while shooting, she captured the EXACT thought that was running through my head.

As a side note, just as I had explained in the previous post, the princesses certainly had it going on. The rest of the family photos can be found here.

Ya Got Yer Ears On?

And so it begins. When I should actually be asleep, I'm writing a blog. It's 2am. I will be boarding a train in a mere four-and-a-half hours, and I'm sure this train is not bound for glory.

I'm not actually riding on a train, it's a jet. I was listening to some rockin' gospel tonight and I just can't get that song out of my head.

The prego wife and I will be exposing our daughter to the finest in American commodities marketing within twelve hours of this post. I make it sound bad, but it's not, really. I mean, c'mon, who doesn't like a land where all of our dreams come true?

Up until this point, I never realized that I've had dreams of sore feet, cranky-tired women, and three-fiddy Cokes. Thanks Walt. Preecsh!


I know, I know, I'm being a big downer about this whole thing. It's really kind of an act, like the one I pull with REW when she laughs at me because Daddy is having lunch with Cinderella in the castle this coming Wednesday. I fain caring, as if I would have any desire to eat with Cinderella.

Have ya seen the whole Magic Kingdom promo thing? Cindy kinda gots it going on, knowwhatImsayin'. I figured that one out during the trip pictured up top, and right about that time when those teen hormones start kicking in.

Actually I'm very much looking forward to this trip. It's been a really long time since I've been on a family vacation, probably the trip to Bermuda that Mom and I took. As you can see, I was looking pretty cool in the mirrors and the LAGNAF t-shirt.

Wait, there was the trip with my brother and his family to the promise land - OH-IO. I was awakened during the drive by the smell of food. Unfortunately, it was food that was being regurgitated upon me as I slept listening to Jerry & Dawg. Who knew TW got so car sick?

I'm not sure that trip counts as a family vaakay.

So I'm off to Tomorrow Land. Except this time I'm going to realize what it was like for my father when he took me in 1977.

A Dumb State

As a father of a brand-spanking new kindergartener, I’ve suddenly become very interested in the public school system offered by my state, the lovely and wonderful South Cackkalacky. The following is what scares me….and then there is this video that just drives it all home.

Alliance for Excellent Education Report – June 2007

• Only about 54 percent of all students in South Carolina graduate on time from high school with a regular diploma.

• Each year nearly 30,000 students in South Carolina do not graduate with their peers

• Dropouts from the class of 2006 cost the state more than $7.8 billion in lost wages, taxes, and productivity over their lifetimes.

The Education Trust Report – 2005

• Two states, New Mexico and South Carolina, have decided that as long as graduation rates in their high schools don’t actually decline, schools have met the improvement goals of the federal law.

South Carolina Kids Count Report - 2007

• South Carolina ranks an "uncompetitive" 46th on the well-being of children, (ahead of only Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama and New Mexico)
• On both state and national tests, especially PACT and NAEP, over 30% of 8th grade students in South Carolina do not achieve minimum academic standards and 70% fall short of the proficient level deemed necessary for skilled participation in the international marketplace

What’s up with that?

Crayons, Funky Ears, the God Thing, and Shootin’ the X

If I had a nickel for every…..wait, clique……My time seems to be slip slidin’….cheezzzzy…..If time was a vice squeezing my nuts…..wait, too dirty….Let’s just say that my wife and I, like most working parents, have a lot going on during the summer.

The biggest challenge that is literally coming down the pike (I flipin’ hate that expression) is the product of my X. And I guess I really shouldn’t call her a challenge because she ain’t so much trouble right now. I guess the big news is that it has actually become a she. Or as the doctor explained, “You’re either going to have a girl or a very disappointed boy”. So much for dump trucks, racecars (without the “s” it’s a palindrome, ya know), motorcycles, and other testosterone-laden times. Alas, I’m destined to play with pretty particulars and pink things for the rest of my life.

My future holds a house of three females, five if you include the cat and dog. Don’t get me wrong, little girls are the shiz-nit. If a snap was all I need do to change my life, I wouldn’t even consider it. However, girls eventually bring boys into the mix. Now I’m going to have to worry about twice as many gropy little paws and shit-talkers. If I’m able to teach my girls one thing—and only one thing—about boys, it’s going to fall into the realm of kicking them in the nuts without hesitation. I know it seems harsh, but I was a boy, and I skirted—but completely deserved—getting a few shots during my teen years.

And the list continues….

My daughter starts school...SCHOOL…in two weeks. How did that happen? School supplies cost about $70 and included 800 glue sticks, 400 boxes of Crayolas, a sack-full of additional crafty-type things and a bag of M&Ms. When did M&Ms become school supplies? Are they included in the back-to-school tax-free weekend list of items?

In three weeks I have the pleasure of taking a 5-year-old and a pregnant woman to Disney World for 5 days. I’m going to eat lunch with the Disney princesses in Cinderella’s Castle one day. The next day I’m going to eat dinner with the Disney princesses in some other location. I wonder if the prince’s will be there. I figure we can shoot a little pool, smoke cigars and talk of conquering the world while the women eat. It’s a castle; they have to have a pool table, don’t they?

Last week I went to Promise Keepers. I’ve never been an overt Pentecostal-type Christian, per say. My religious beliefs and/or actions usually come in quiet form of being a faithful servant to God, my family and others. This, in addition to prayer, personal reflection, and fellowship with other Christian men at Brookwood Church.

PK, however, is the X-Games of Christianity. The program, at the very least, will make you stand up and take notice of your life. Dynamic speakers grab your attention with exciting stories of faith, adventure and leadership. Blasé Christian pop and a capella standards are kicked into high gear with the Promise Keepers band, PK7.

Highlights for me included comedian Brad Stein. The truth behind his Wussification of America bit is as real as it gets. Bob Cornuke told his tales of proving the bible, having AK47s pointed at his head and posing as a doctor to escape execution. I wonder if his captors ever considered filing a malpractice suite against him? Dan Seaborn hit so close to home with stories of normal family life that it made me fall in love with my wife all over again.

The embedded video is a project that I put together from a hodgepodge of video I shot at Promise Keepers 2006 in Atlanta, photos that I shot from PK 2007 in Columbia, SC, and video that I borrowed from the PK Website. It’s only about 4 minutes and well worth a look.

…and the beat goes on.

A Seemingly Strange Request

Bamn! It’s just been kicked up three notches. No, not a spice-injected fried turkey or zesty meatballs, my life. Although, metaphors for the first two could probably be fashioned.

My lovely wife is pregnant and feeling it hardcore. Must have something to do with her pregnancy category, that of advanced maternal age so says the physicians general. Then there is the fact that today, July 27, 2007, is her last day of work. She starts a new job on Monday.

In addition, I’ve just returned from my 20-year class reunion. This is where I figured out that I’m finally too old to hang out with the boys for four days in a row. They’re too old also. It didn’t stop us; the after effects just tend to linger longer.

I saw on several accidents my 9-hour drive home. Being in a sentimental state of mind, I started thinking about all of the lives affected by such tragic events. Will those people live or die? Will they be brain damaged or have a full recovery? Do any of the accident victims have a pregnant wife?

Any of those accidents could have involved me. Who knows, really, if or when it might happen? It’s not something about which that I concern myself by thinking. However, the question that I pondered most was that of memory. Will the victims remember what happened?

I want to know, so I’m going on record right now with a request. Should something –anything- tragic happen that leaves me unconscious or unresponsive in a hospital, I want my friends and/or family to document everything. I want photos. I want video. I want interviews with family and friends during the process. I want tears and stories and laughs. I want physician progress reports to the family video taped. I want a video camera by my bed so that any visitor can pick it up at any time and document what’s happening.

If rehab is involved, shoot it. If I have convulsions, shoot it. If I’m drooling all over myself, shoot it. Interview my friends and family at my bedside, in the waiting room, or taking a smoke break. Do not ponder any questions of integrity or morality or scruples. If you have such discussions, shoot those too, but do not haggle over what seems right or wrong. It’s my life, and I give you unwavering and unquestionable permission to document any and all progress (or lack thereof) and/or state of being.

The only person who can request that you stop documenting is my wife; not my mother, my brother, or anyone else, and only if you, the shooter, believe it’s detrimental to her present well being. The next day, start shooting again.

Should I die, give all documentation to my brother, first, or my wife, second. My eldest child, at the appropriate age, should be given possession of the documentation to do with as she/he pleases. Should my wife want possession, all documentation can be given to her with a promise that she doesn’t destroy it.

Why? That’s easy. When I recover, I want to know what happened. I want to see what I looked like, sounded like, acted like. I want to use my experience to help others, if possible. Memories during such emotional states are simply unreliable. Videos and/or photos don’t have such issues.

Yes, I know, it seems like a morbid, slightly strange request. The funny thing is, I’m in a great mood. So many positive things are happing in my life that I can’t even begin to explain. However, I can’t seem to get these thoughts out of my head.

A good portion of my life revolves around documentation. It’s my gift. My documentations of the lives of others could easily tell a significant portion of my life story. So it only stands to reason that when I can’t document what could possibly be a major hitch in my stride, should it ever happen, I need my family and friends to do it for me. It would be the greatest of favors.