B.Y.O.B. (Bring Your Own Bag)

I'm proud to say my family is almost completely plastic bag free. We have been for several months now, with my mom taking the lead quite awhile ago. We now use cloth bags for grocery shopping, with special insulated bags for hot or frozen food.

The other day, my brother sent this slide show to me, and it's made me realize just how smart the decision was to abandon plastic and how good I really feel about the change.

It took some time to get used to, and there still are some habits we have to work to break. It's a culture change, for sure, but it all starts with one person.

Thanks, Tony, for putting this out there.

Look at the grouse!

My mom get's to do some pretty cool stuff as a teacher, and this is one of them. The photo is her holding a newly hatched House Wren chick at the Kellogg Biological Station.

She also said she learned the old story about mother birds rejecting their young if they've been touched by a human is a myth.

One for the WTF file

Today started like a great Saturday. I was up at 6 a.m. and met my brother-in-law at 6:50 to golf. We left my car at the D Avenue carpool lot, by US 131, and headed off for 18 holes. Felt great. Had a good round, lots of fun, just a little rain.

Sounds great, right?

When I got back in my car and started it to head home from the carpool around 2:15 p.m., it sounded like the world was coming to an end. I panicked a bit, shut the car off after only a few seconds, and tried it again. The noise was horrific and my eyeballs were vibrating in their sockets.

Someone had stolen my catalytic converter; reached underneath my car and cut the thing off. WTF!?

After a few hours of calling the police, talking with my insurance company and visiting the local mechanic, I still have the noisiest car in the Western Hemisphere and I am looking forward to paying about $850 to repair the damage caused by someone who will get about $120 for my used catalytic converter at a scrap yard.

I have two thoughts here. The compassionate thought is not to get upset, because really, there are greater tragedies. And clearly someone has hit rock bottom if they've resorted to stealing and selling catalytic converters. Perhaps I should be more sympathetic.

The other thought is to rip the S.O.B.'s heart out through his throat.

I'm trying to stick with the first one, but I'm an angry man. Who the &#$@ does some stupid !*^% like that? What the #@*$ were they thinking?

Do my job for me

As the Enquirer's politics reporter, I get to talk with some pretty interesting people. This election season, I'll get to interview candidates for two congressional districts, four state House districts and a smattering of others -- including presidential candidates -- who may pass through the city.

Since these folks are elected of, by and for the people, I'd like to know what you, "the people," would like to ask of your potentially elected representatives. It's your questions I want them to answer, since they will answer to you if they are elected.

Let me know what you want to ask in a comment on this post, and I'll do my best to work it in.

Peace and love.

From a son and a father

Today is the one day of the year when Dad’s expect to get obnoxious ties, hand tools, homemade cards or any one of the various and sundry Father's Day gifts from their children, and I promise you they’ll cherish those gifts for as long as they live.

As a son, I think it’s important to remember the man who taught me how to throw a baseball, bait a hook and to always tell the truth. (I still have nightmares about hairbrushes.) I owe my dad a debt of gratitude for showing me the kind of father I want to be. Because of him, I understand what fatherly love feels like and what it takes to show that kind of love to your children.

As a father, I want my sons to be able to look back someday and know they were loved, respected and encouraged. No matter how hard I try to explain my feelings for my sons, I don’t think they’ll ever understand until the have children of their own. My only hope is that my efforts to show them how much I love them aren’t in vain.

I hope 20 years from now, my sons will look back on our time together and realize that everything I said and did was an honest effort to make them better men. And I hope they realize I did the best I could, and that they forgive me for my shortcomings. No one’s perfect.

Today is the day to call your dad, send him a card, stop for lunch or just keep him in your thoughts. Remember the good times and the bad, the hugs and the angry looks. Remember the times when you didn’t think it would ever be possible to be happier, and the times when you promised never to act like that when you had your own kids.

Remember all those things because they are part of a father’s love; they are his wishes, dreams and hopes for your life spread over a lifetime in small fragments and embedded into your every day.

See, Dad? I was paying attention.

I love you.

A little history for you

Sonora Smart Dodd, born in Creston, Wash., was a daughter of Civil War veteran William Jackson Smart, and she was so inspired by her father’s selflessness in raising six children by himself, she proposed a celebration of fathers.

Dodd initially suggested June 5, the anniversary of her father's death, but there wasn’t enough time to make the arrangements so the celebration was deferred to the third Sunday of June. The first June Father's Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in Spokane, Wash., at the Spokane YMCA.

In 1924, President Calvin Coolidge supported the idea of a national Father's Day. In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the third Sunday of June as Father's Day. President Richard Nixon signed the law which finally made it permanent in 1972.

Relay photos

Here's a link to my brother's Web site where he has some photos posted from our Relay for Life weekend.
Go team!

Back in the saddle again

It's been almost a year since I last had a chance to write, and a lot -- I mean A LOT -- has changed since then. (Beside the new blog, which is REALLY annoying.)

Kris, the boys and I have moved into a new house with my mom. It's amazing; the house, the neighborhood, the arrangements. All of it. We live on a cul de sac, which is perfect for street hockey and riding bikes. It's quiet and peaceful. No more airplanes or highway traffic all night. For the first time since my childhood, I can fall asleep to the sound of crickets and wake to chirping birds. Nice.

Michael just finished the second grade and Anthony the first. They're growing like weeds, and I couldn't be more proud.

I'm still at the Enquirer, but I was promoted a year ago to the politics beat, which is the premier beat at the paper... At least, that's what I've been told. I don't feel any more important, just busier.

A couple weeks ago, we walked in the American Cancer Society's 24-hour Relay for Life. Mom, Dad, Angie, Tony, Julie, Kris, the boys and I split up the 24 hours. Grams and Gramps were there for the "survivors' lap," which was appropriate. We were "Team Daphne," after all. All told, we raised more than $1,200 to help fight cancer, and I'm damn proud of us. Next year, we're hoping to get a lot more people involved, walk a lap, raise some cash. You know, pick a few free agents in the off-season.

The only real other piece of news is I finally got my shot to try out for a professional hockey team. The Battle Creek Revolution is one the newest Mid Atlantic Hockey League teams, and I got called back for another tryout this fall. The coaches told me I was good enough to play professional hockey, but I need to lose about 40 pounds. Talk about being on a mission.

I'm sure there's lots more. I just can't get it all in tonight. Be patient with me. I'll try to post more often than annually.

Stay tuned.

Peace and love.