Umbraphile

 

I have a confession to make.  Ever since 2017, I have been an umbraphile. There, I said it and I am proud of it.  For those who don’t know, an umbraphile according to Latin is someone who chases shadows.  The word is associated with those of us who chase eclipses.  Some of you laugh when I say that and speculate how you can chase an eclipse when it is right above you.  There is more than meets the shaded eye.

Growing up and hearing about eclipses I was intrigued but soon disappointed in the results of an off-centered shadow on the sun. The results were less than spectacular and the sky never turned dark.  And there were the lunar eclipses  that would highlight the colors and lines on the moon, but they were a passing phase (Pun intended.) and I looked at one and thought I had seen them all. 

In elementary school, we were given the glasses and the instructions to make devices to watch and catch the light from solar eclipses, but the devices never panned out where I was.

Then one day I talked to a friend of mine and he mentioned the word, “totality”.  Totality is the main line of travel that the moon takes in front of the sun that causes the shadow on the Earth.  If you are not in the totality, you do not get the full effect of the eclipse. I would like to say my scientific curiosity peaked, but alas, I was just a bit nerdy and wanted to see this for myself.  And so, my friend and I planned our scientific expedition to the totality of the eclipse of August 2017.  We tracked the path and found several places to go watch the passing of the moon overhead.  We settled on the mountains of Georgia thinking it would give us a place of quiet viewing and not be too crowded.  We headed out on the allotted day to prepare and ended up at Tallulah Gorge State Park in Clayton, GA.  We were excited and toured the waterfalls and the gorge the day before.  (Another story for another time.)  Upon early arrival the day of the event we were in a long line of traffic and the first to be turned away from the state park because of overcrowding.  We were devastated as we had no plan “b”.  We drove down the road and decided to get snacks at a local Walmart.  Upon arriving at the Walmart we discovered people setting up tailgate parties to view from the parking lot.  We staked our claim and set it up to view as well. 

The neighboring sky explorers had so many different ways of viewing the sky.  One family had matching welding masks, and some college kids had pitched a tent extending from their Pinto and were taking turns watching and napping. One kid had taken an old Spiderman mask and used film slides for eye holes. But directly next to us were a group of Mexican scientist who had equipment set up that was far beyond anyone else.  One of their major telescopes was hooked to a computer and already tracing the path of the sun in the sky.  The scientist let us look through their scope and I was amazed to see a bar code going across my view of the sun.  It was a mere speck, but that is what it looked like.  The scientist got excited when I mentioned it and looked as well.  It seems I was watching the International Space Station going by.  The icing on the viewing day. 

To the left of the Walmart was a wooded area and someone with a camper had telescopes on top of their camper and were in deck chairs flying drones and sipping from their drinks.  People with animals and kids running around and visiting each other and inventorying where each came from.  I went to Walmart to get snacks and water for the next couple of hours while we waited for the event.  At the entrance, there was a setup of fundraisers to help with a local children’s hospital.  They were getting a lot of visitors because of the crowds in the parking lot.  And to make this story even a bit more bizarre, the greeter was selling photos of himself from childhood.  It seems he was the kid who played the banjo in the movie Deliverance.  The whole area was a strange gathering of eclectic people who were waiting for just a few minutes of spectacular cosmic theatre.

As the eclipse started taking a more visual effect on us, I discovered the true meaning of totality.  The sunny ski grew darker and the temperature dropped almost 20 degrees.  The shadows were crisp with no running over the lines.   The animals in the area were restless and nervous.  Suddenly there appeared squiggly lines on the ground like heat from a summer sidewalk.  Some people thought they were snakes and started screaming.  The eclipse was reproduced on flat surfaces as it was shown through different devices and windows.  People across the parking lot looked alien in their protective glasses and welder’s helmets.  It was happening. The moon was like watching a giant packman devour the sun. Slowly the light disappeared.  The dogs around began to howl and only the artificial lights from the parking lot and Walmart were visible.  It was spooky, to say the least.  Then suddenly there was a flash of light around the moon better than any special effect that Hollywood could produce.  The circle was exploding with silent color.  There was an eerie silence that was suddenly broken by the crowd applauding.  We took off the glasses to watch the full effect.  It was amazing.  I thought of primitive societies and how the eclipses affected them and their religious beliefs. How they might think a god is angry or causing mischief. 

In less time than I can tell the moon kept moving and we had to return our protective glasses back to our face.  I was hooked.  I wanted a rerun.  I wanted to see what I had seen on film at least.  No image or video that I saw could do it justice.  The excitement of the moment had me giddy.  I was filled with a spiritual warm fuzzy and wanted more.  After the return to supposed normal, we set off back home.  A miserable drive due to the amount of skywatchers.  My friend and I talked about the eclipse and the effects and feelings we had during the event.  It was decided that we would try to do the next eclipse when it came across America again.  The next trip would be better planned with a place to settle ahead of time and not worry about being turned away, or somebody playing Deliverance music, or being stuck in back-to-back traffic for hundreds of miles. 

Saturday, October 14, 2023, is the next one we will see.  It will be an “annular” eclipse.  The moon’s orbit will not block out the sun completely, but it will create a ring of fire.  Again, this description is only in totality.  I am east of the totality and will only see about 79% of the eclipse.  This will make a crescent shape and still need to be viewed with special glasses.  My excitement level is not as high for this one.

However, because of the trip in 2017, my best friend and I will be set up and ready for the Great American Eclipse of 2024.  The moon’s shadow will come up through Texas travel in a slight arc and disappear at the tip of Maine all in a matter of minutes.  The shadow is moving at over 300mph.  The closer you are to where the eclipse begins the longer the duration of viewing. In Texas, you see the eclipse for almost 4 minutes in Maine just 2.  Our quest is planned and we actually have a plan “b” and “c”.  We are going to a town in Texas with a lot of history, open skies, and some great Airbnbs.  My gadgets will consist of a camera, a small telescope, and a colander (to make weird shadows and art).

I think that the event will grow as it approaches the date of the occurrence, but as long as I see the eclipse I will be happy.  The next opportunities to experience a total solar eclipse over the United States will be in 2044 (in North Dakota and Montana) and 2045 (as it crosses from California to Florida). I will be an old man, but I intend to be in their totality as well.  Keep looking up to the sky and enjoy.

Standby Curtain:

I don't care what they say, everybody knows the absolute best stories always begin..."Okay, so this one time backstage."

 

I have been involved in theatre for over half a century and have watched both the bad and the good.  My favorite mantra is walking into a show and saying, "Impress me."  However, I want to be entertained, not have my social conscience raised.

 

Oscar Wilde, said in his 1889 essay The Decay of Lying, "Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life". Oscar pushed his current events, man's struggles, and the life he knew.  Today, we have more choices, more theatre, and a chance to see life like we know it or life as someone else takes it in.  I am a fan of unpredictability in the performances.  The formula for a situation comedy that recurs in so many shows is ridiculous and makes me mad that I paid for the ticket. A great show has a great plot, high energy, and actors that push themselves to be better than they have been before.  Directors, actors and crew must really involve themselves and love what they are doing to create an artistic piece that the audience enjoys.  You really have to love theatre to be involved because it is an unmerciful life.  To enjoy a show it had better be as good as the price of the show, the dinner before, and the costs of the babysitter as well.

 

Cue Curtain...

Remembering the Airbase Fields and Baseball

 

As a child I remember going to the old Airbase ball fields.  My dad was a part-time baseball coach and worked some tiresome hours training a lot of young boys.  I was too young and way too small to play organized sports at the time and hung around my older sister, Lucy when we were out at the airbase.  We played in a small area of grass and trees and watched across an open air sewage ditch at the ball fields where the teams practiced. The fields were dusty, hot, and humid and the grassy area was a shade cooler.  While playing we had to be aware of snakes and insects that bite in the sometimes tall grass.

 

My sister and I played many a game in the grass and trees and watched a lot of wildlife come out from behind trees and get startled right back where they came. We were explorers.  One of the reasons that the grassy area had grass was a huge cylindrical concrete basin about four to five feet round and about four feet tall.  It had two metal tubes, probably lead, on the top facing each other and sprayed water in two arches into a concave dip of a bowl with a drain.  The tubes had running cool clear, clean water coming from them.  It was built to be a water fountain but today would be an excess and waste of resources.  There was a small step at the base of the basin that allowed small children, like me, to reach the top part of the concrete and lean over to the spout and enjoy the water as well.  Sometimes different types of birds would enjoy the water and the basin as also.  If the drain was stopped up by leaves or anything then the water would overflow and dose the surrounding areas.  Thus helping in the growth of the grass nearby.

One of my favorite things to do when we were there was to look for towers of mud structures that were anywhere from an inch to eight inches tall usually in the mud nearby.  These were the homes or entrances to a crawdad hole.  Some people call them crayfish, but that just means that they aren’t from our area.  We would take a small piece of raw bacon and tie a string through it and drop it into the hole of the crawdad mound.  As we lowered it we would swing it back and forth like fishing.  Suddenly you would feel a pull on your string and you slowly started pulling it up.  It was an art form to get it right, but once a crawdad had grabbed the bacon, they would not let go of it even after you pulled it out of their hole.  We caught quite a few small ones and quite a few large ones.  These were not the eating kind though because they were to near the sewage creek and lived there as well.  So, we let them go again.  The thrill was in the capture and their size.

When we tired of the grassy area we would head toward a sewage ditch also paved with concrete from a more industrial time.  The water was a dark but clear green and you could see all sorts of minnows and weeds growing in it.  The ditch was maybe four feet wide and maybe about 18 inches deep and a lot of the older boys jumped the ditch instead of using the old green wooden bridge.  If one of them missed they weren’t in any major danger other than pride and smelling funny in the hot sun. Mom was smart enough to keep us away from playing in the ditch, but we wanted to use nets and catch the minnow and sometimes small fish that came down the way. 

When you crossed the bridge you would see the baseball practice fields.  They were old and torn up and worn.  They had been used during World war two for several things and I was told in the fifties they were nice ball fields.  By the time I came around they were a dust bowl with a broken down fence and backstop.  The outfield blended into an area of tall weeds and the unknown, behind that was Hawkin's Airfield still in use.  The Backstop was a cyclone fence that looked like a bulldozer had changed its mind in mid destruction.  The bases were all worn out but in the right positions, but the track to them could be deadly with uneven ground.  The outfield was worse with uneven terrain and holes.  Once past the infield the sand and dirt didn’t quit.  You were in a Dutch oven the entire time you were out there.  Horse flies and mosquitoes were constantly biting. 

I later played ball here on a team that wasn't my dad's it was just as hot and not as fun.  I was not fully coordinated then and was behind some of the others my age in playing well.  My only advantage was my fast speed.  I was a jackrabbit then.  I just remember the heat and the effects it had on all of us.  Back then hydration was not a science and the coaches kept us from water from the time we arrived at Saturday practice at 7:30 am until noon.  Then we all ran for the concrete basin in the grassy area.  Being the small one I was last, the bigger boys were always first and the parched, sandy mouths had to wait for them to guzzle their fill.  If coaches thought you were doing poorly, and had lost a lot of water from sweat, then they gave you a salt tablet or two.  My first coach was an incredibly lean man who always had the most beat up baseball cap and a five o’clock shadow and a huge chew of tobacco in his mouth.  My memory of him includes the way he would spit the tobacco out if we made a mistake and yell, "Stupid, stupid, Stupid!"  He reminded me of a character from Andy Griffith except I was scared of him.  Another memory of these days was meeting at Rain's Elementary on Saturday mornings and all piling up in the back of a 55 Chevy pickup and lining the back rim of the bed of the truck and going down the road to the air base.  There were at least 20 of us boys bouncing and laughing in the bed bouncing and busting our back ends on the rim of the truck bed. The only place you were not allowed to sit or lean was the tailgate for fear of it opening.  As far as I know we never lost anyone out of the truck. 

Baseball was and is a way of life in my family.  I was not interested because of the lack of ability when I was younger and some bad coach/player experiences along the way.  Part of me wished I could stay home on Saturday Mornings to watch the cartoons, but the neighborhood was a baseball group and you were expected to play and be there.  I continued to play Little League in West Jackson with a group called the Iroquois League.  The team was sponsored by Parkview cleaners and we had ragtag wool uniforms that were hand me downs from teams long ago.  I finally got on my dad’s winning team in what was called Pony League.  I was older and wiser and a little bit better a ball player but my heart wasn’t in it.  Dad was a tough coach who had a winning team.  I was still smaller than most of the others.  Somewhere in the season, I decided I have had enough and didn’t want to play ball any more.  I wish I had stuck out the season, but I made up my mind.  Telling my dad that night was the hardest thing I had to do.  He was always happy when I played any sports because they had been such a part of his life.  I pulled a stool next to his chair and presented my case to him and quit the team.  I felt both relieved and also like I had failed.  My dad didn’t get upset, though I am sure there was some disappointment.  He told me that night how proud he was of me and that I could have the courage to come tell him I didn’t want to play ball anymore.  He told me he would help me find other things that meant more to me.  He kept his word and helped and encouraged me with Theatre later in my life.  My dad never ever made me feel like he was anything less than proud of me.  Baseball stayed in my life with him as a coach and my family playing on various teams and migrating to softball. Now my nephews have their stories of baseball and sports to tell.  Life truly goes in circles and there is great joy in watching them achieve their victories as well.  Dad would still be proud.

Peace

a quick note I put on Facebook.

I love going through my friends list that has the profile pictures. Each week I try to go through it and pray for all of you individually.  I find it amusing the diversity of my friends and family.   I have conservative, liberal, Christian, atheist, moderates,democrat, republican, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Indians,gays, straights, mean spirited, kind hearted, radicals, introverts, extroverts, capitalist, socialist, hard headed,soft spirited, similar, unique, normal, bizarre and much loved by me.  I may not agree with all you believe, I might even get really frustrated with what you do....but all in all I still believe in each of you as individuals and yes I will continue to pray for you all, no reason necessary except it is who I am and what I believe in.

Let their be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.


~curtain~

Why we are

     Ever wonder why we are the way we are?  Some will say environment, some will say heredity,some will say it is chemical, and some will say, “He just ain't right.”  I haven’t been right lately.  Stress has been a monster to me.  The monkey on my back so to speak.  I have let it take over.  This week at our school a student based worship service was taking place.  Because of this service I had extra duty standing in the cafeteria for an hour watching the students who didn't want to be a part of this event.  On top of that I am competing with a group in a festival, competing on an individual level as well.  Plus I had detention duty and test duty all in the same week.  I lost sleep and I haven’t seen many friends in the last week or so.  My budget is tight because it is right after Christmas.  In class I caught myself almost complaining about the worship service jokingly calling it a hop-a-long Jesus thing (A term coined by one of my deeply religious college professors).  One of the students in the class asked me, “Mr. McDade, are you a Christian?”  This is the first time in my life I have ever been asked directly by someone that wasn't about to ask me for money as well.  It caught me off guard.  Can’t they tell?  All my life I have been associated with church or church work.  When the doors of the church were opened I was there, when they closed, I was there to turn out the lights.  I considered several times in my life going into the ministry.  I wanted to be a preacher, a missionary, a youth leader or at least a Christian Comedian.  Instead I felt called to teach.  Not at first, but God has a way of putting you where he needs you.  Whether you want to go or not (Think Jonah).  Sometimes he has to hit you with a two by four before you start singing, “He touched me….”  “Yes,” I told the student.  Then I wondered what I had done to share my commitment to Jesus Christ in recent years.  I pray before meals, more out of self-defense than thankfulness. I lead the students in prayer before shows.  God and I talk constantly.  Sometimes He laughs at what I say too. I try to listen, but I get caught up in the mundane of daily living.  I get beat down by giving myself so much to do that I don’t take out the time to rest.  I do believe.  I also believe that God wants us to take time out and rest.  God showed us an example on the last day of creation by resting.  He tells us to take the time and come to know him.  The Bible is filled with “Be still and know I am the Lord, or Peace be still, or come unto me all you who are weary and I will give you rest.” God promises peace to those who take the time to listen and trust.  I am Kenneth McDade and I am a worry-a-holic.  I stress, I get depressed, and bummed out.  I want to quit sometimes and just say, “That’s it”…but I know there is more than the low times, there is the time I reach out for Christ and he is already there waiting for me, just to rest. I wonder sometimes if I hang on to things too much and too tightly, or am I letting go before I should.  The problems of a worrier.  My best times are when I give my problems to God and let go; hardest thing to do, but He is going to be up all night anyway, might as well let Him handle things.  I have a strong faith, it will not be easily shaken.  My foundation in my faith is strong.  I had praying parents, Grandparents, siblings, and family.  Later I had friends whose faith also helped me along.  But it wasn't until I made that personal step to have that relationship with God that my life changed.  Yes, I was very young, but what happens when you start loving someone is you want to do things that please them.  I love the God and all that He has done for me and my family.  I try not to over use the word blessed but I am and I am thankful.  So, please forgive my grumpiness as I push aside the me, that is oh, so human and strive for the better person I can be.

~Curtain~

Wrote down these thoughts on Christmas while out Christmas shopping:

1.Picking out the right Christmas tree is a science. Sneaking into your neighbor's yard to cut it down is an art.

2. I just put Santa hats on all my Halloween decorations.

3. Oh the weather outside is delightful, the balance on my account is frightful, what happened to all of my dough, I dunno, I dunno, I dunnnnoooooo.

4.Well, the people outside are frightful.

5. Giving me a Christmas ornament as a Christmas gift is like bringing vitamins to my funeral.

6. To all those who received a book from me as a Christmas present....They are due back at the library next Monday.

7. It only takes about 3 times of hearing the song "Frosty the Snowman" before I wish someone would push him into a hot tub.

8. If Jesus is the reason for the season.......why is that the church parking lot is empty and the WalMart parking lot is full?

9. Man, just think how crazy Gollum goes on the 5th day of Christmas.(For my nerd friends.)

10. If Santa’s helper takes a picture in the mirror, is that an elfie?

11. I love Christmas presents wrapped in bubble wrap... it's like two gifts in one!!.

12. In Dec, cops should take off the blue lights and make them green. It's more festive... Like getting pulled over by Santa.

13. What happens under the mistletoe stays under the mistletoe. (Actually saw this on a sweater...but it fit my list.)

14.He's making a list & checking it twice. ...sounds like Santa has OCD.

15. BOx of Batteries, Toy not included.

16. Handmade presents are scary because they reveal that you have too much free time.

17. If you haven’t got any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble.

18.You know you’re getting old, when Santa starts looking younger

19.Christmas is a race to see which gives out first your money or your feet.

20. Christmas hospitality does not extend to driving.

That should do it for a while. Looking back over this list may explain why I am not even halfway finished with my shopping. MERRY CHRISTMAS to you all. Remember there was only one real Christmas, the rest are just anniversaries. 

The Angel that Troubled the Waters

The story of “the pool at Bethesda” alludes to the following excerpt from the Thornton Wilder play, “The Angel that Troubled the Waters”. The play is based on the biblical verses of John 5:1-4, but it changes the end of the parable from the Biblical story that Jesus tells.

The play tells of a physician who comes often to the pool of Bethesda, hoping to be the first in the water and healed of his melancholy and depression when the angel appears and troubles the water. Everybody at the pool also hopes to be the first in the water and thereby healed of their malady.  An angel appears and blocks the physician at the moment he is ready to step into the pool and be healed.

Angel: “Draw back, physician, this moment is not for you.”angel1

Physician: “Angelic visitor, I pray thee, listen to my prayer.

Angel: “Healing is not for you.”

Physician: “Surely, surely, the angels are wise. Surely, O Prince, you are not deceived by my apparent wholeness. Your eyes can see the nets in which my wings are caught; the sin into which all my endeavors sink half-performed cannot be concealed from you.”

Angel: “I know.”

……………Interlude………………

Physician: “Oh, in such an hour was I born, and doubly fearful to me is the flaw in my heart. Must I drag my shame, Prince and Singer, all my days more bowed than my neighbor?”

Angel: “Without your wound where would your power be? It is your very sadness that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children on earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In Love’s service only the wounded soldiers can serve. Draw back.”

Later, the person who enters the pool first and was healed rejoices in his good fortune then turns to the physician before leaving and said:

“But come with me first, an hour only, to my home. My son is lost in dark thoughts. I — I do not understand him, and only you have ever lifted his mood. Only an hour . . . my daughter, since her child has died, sits in the shadow. She will not listen to us but she will listen to you.” 

_________________________________________________________________

For me, this story has an incredible story and, because the message is—“Without your wound where would your power be? “— This phrase carries so much meaning. I feel that it is only through my weakness I can see others like Jesus does.  I believe, for me, it is my whole foundation for who I am.

Beautiful Flaws

I discovered a lot about flaws this week.  A photographer I know with an amazing ability to make wonderful portraits of people made some pictures for my students.  They were some amazing head shots.  The funny thing was that he had used Photo shop and taken away smile lines, freckles, circles under the eyes and more.  Then he accented the eyes with an eerie glow.  I realized that this is the modern way to go but it looked weird.  I couldn’t put my finger on it until I showed the students.  They immediately complained.  These are kids in high school that always complain about the way they look, about certain parts of them that they wish could be changed.  The changes had been made on the photographs and one young girl turned to me and said, "It's not me."  "But it is you," I replied.  "No, it isn't.  There are no flaws, I don't like it."  Here was a simple truth.  We all have flaws and they make us who we are.  We are different from each other and all quite unique.  Here were a bunch of photos that represented a flawless, yet eerie world that wasn't quite real.  The flaws are part of their perfection. Another girl  commented on her freckles disappearing in the picture.  “I hated them as a young kid, but I don’t look right without them.” She said. The same girl commented on the circles under her eyes.  “These are circles that make me look like people in my family, we all have circles under our eyes.  It is how I see my family when they are away from each other.”

I have my flaws, not just the physical ones like being overweight, big lips, etc. I'll admit I have many flaws, imperfections beyond your wildest thoughts.  I have a temper, I like things done my way, I am systematic and chaotic within a moment or two.  I have been called rebellious, wrong, black sheep, different,, weird...all because I have refused to be what everyone else is.  I stand on these beliefs.   I get hooked on things, both good and bad.  I love too much and play too hard.  I am not about to change though, for you, or anyone.  My flaws balance out with my good qualities and make a perfect storm.  What is life if you don’t have the mistakes, the mystery,  or even the adventure.

As flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken or flawed, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving something that is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room. Flaws make a better story.

Psalm 139:14

New International Version (NIV)

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;    your works are wonderful,     I know that full well.

“Being called WEIRD is like being called Limited Edition, meaning you’re something people don’t see that often.”

Friends, Please indulge me. 

Today would have been my Dad's 78th Birthday. 

Happy Birthday Dad. I miss you. No one has ever or could ever fill your shoes. No exclamation points, just how it is.

But you know, the memories of you are super! I miss our talks and our weekly trips. I have met people who don't know you but share a kindred spirit in the sense of caring for their own kids and other kids as well, people who go beyond the barriers of just feeding and clothing their kids. These are people who go the distance to touch lives for no other reason than the caring hearts that they have.

I see you Dad. Not just in my family but hidden away in the hearts of others. I try to look for you when things don't go well. .. It is then that I feel you are sending strong people to be around me. Hearts that care, hearts that are strong, hearts that push through the daily struggles that try to force us to give up. Thank you for who you were, are and will always be to me. I love you.

MATH

Math

~75% of all Americans are poor at Math…That's nearly half. ~

I have Math Anxiety.  I know this is a term that can have several meanings but what it means to me is a lot more.   Math has always been a bane to my existence.

 In elementary school we were force to write our answers on the chalk board for all to see.  We would go up by rows and show our skill to the rest of the class.  I would freak and never be able to do it quickly.  I was a finger counter and still occasionally use my digits to do math.  We sat in alphabetical order and Teresa Gilbert sat in front of me my first few years of school... and she was great with math.  The problem was given and she would write the figures down and solve it at the same time.  I and my board mates were still writing it down as she finished  up. 

My imagination would extend for the time I had up at the board to an infinity with fellow class mates laughing at my stupidity for not being able to finish.  It was at this time I learned that I had great peripheral vision and could see Teresa's work out of the corner of my eye.  Rather than risk the stigma of being called "stupid" I cheated.  I used her answer to stay up with the class.  I never finished fast because I thought that would give it away.  I pretended to think it through by touching the numerals with my chalk.  Finally I would swoop the numbers down and go back to my seat while others struggled to finish their work.  This usually went well, but Teresa's family also traveled and she would sometimes go with them.  This  left me next to Sam Lumberton who was as skilled as math as I was.  To look at his answer was to invite trouble.  I would try to finish before him, but the numbers always looked so foreign to me and I usually didn’t get the know-how to finish before one of the teachers would call me out and publically humiliate me by pretending to help me go through all the steps. 

   

 "You remember this Kenneth, you did it yesterday.  Teresa was beside you and you finished right after she did."

I was not sure whether the teacher was playing dumb or if she was really dumb, either way, I was worried. 

Years of embarrassment of having to pass my paper back one person to let another student grade as I received the one in front of me.  One year In Algebra I sat all the way in the back.  After a hard night of trying to figure out my homework I had to pass my paper to the front as everyone else passed theirs back.  The girl on the front row was loud and nasal.  She raised her hand and spoke at the same time with out being acknowledged.  Yes, I remember her name.

    "Mrs. Ratcliff, I don’t think Kenneth did the right ones, he didn’t get any of the answers right"  More public humiliation.  I hated math, I wasn’t too fond of that girl either.  Years of math torture and humiliation. 

     Jump ahead a few years, college. Stood in line to register for being an electrical engineer, I had always loved tinkering with electronics.  The counselor on the other side put down the syllabus of all the classes I would need to complete my major. 

"Whoa, Mr.  I am afraid you misunderstood me, I wanted to be an electrical engineer, not a math major."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?  There are over 3 math classes for each semester of this program. "

"Correct. You have to have that to graduate."

I slid down to the next chair and looked at the man behind the table.  "What have you got I asked?"

"Theatre, he replied."

"How much math is involved in the major?"

"Just one college algebra class during the second semester."

I looked at the first man and took the syllabus of the theatre degree and signed my name.  I should have signed it in blood.  Who knew what I was getting into.  I thought  practically no math and I can meet a lot of girls.  I discovered that people who work in colleges will lie to you about what the major consist of.  I had more math in theatre than I had ever seen.  You have to have math to figure up how to build sets, focus lights, and budget a show.  This came okay with me because I never believed it was real math.  I struggled three times to pass college algebra only to withdraw each time.  It always held me back and kept my grade point average at a lower level.  Finally, it made me leave school.  I had done all my other classes but lacked the math I needed to graduate, I gave up.

Jump ahead to a later date.  Back in school, determined to graduate.  When you are gone for a while the schools will determine that you need at least two years of giving them unorthodox amounts of money to cover things they feel like you have forgotten.  Finished all my classes with straight 'A's, I had not forgotten….then came the math class. 

I am sorry to say I can not remember the teacher's name, she was a true artist.  Not the kind of artist that draws or paints or sings, but she was an artist with math.  She saw it in ways that most people could not understand.  She would sit in the lobby of the student union and work math problems for fun.  I thought at the time that she was mentally disturbed. She was encouraging and dedicated to show me how to work problems out.  I fought to keep my focus on the work.  I went home and worked on math for hours and days.  I went to co workers who were good at math to show me certain things.  I asked my Dad and Mom to help as well.  Both of them savants with math.  Mom was a great teacher, but Dad could do the figures in his head and would tell me if my answers were correct or not. 

     It is here that I need to say that my math anxiety  ruled my temper.  If I couldn’t do the math, I would get mad at it and shut down my thoughts.  If it didn’t work the way I thought it was supposed to then it was not right.  My anger was intense with math.  My Mom and Dad were saints.  They put up with my explosive hatred, yes, hatred of numbers.  But, after five weeks of working on nothing else but math I was getting a pretty good rhythm in finishing with the right answers.  Then the questions got harder, but I stayed with it.  One night I was trying to work a problem and told my Dad the problem as well. I could see him struggling with it as well.  I was worried.  He, for the first time, pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down, greek I think and then talked me through finishing it for myself and I understood.  Really understood what he was talking about.  I finished that nights work and closed my book taking my first real breath with out sighing. He looked at me and smiled. 

"You know, she is teaching you more than Algebra don’t you?"

"What? I replied"

"She is teaching you trigonometry and higher levels of math than just college algebra."

"That witch, I said." 

Then he just laughed.  He said to me,

"You haven't worked on plain algebra for at least two weeks.  What you are doing  is the math that I have to do in figuring up roadway designs and bridges."

 I couldn’t argue with him.  I just didn’t know.

I wish I could tell you all that I made an "A" in that class.  It would be a cold hearted lie.  I was worried about passing.  Working homework was one thing, but taking tests was another.  The last night of class I struggled with the beast inside of me to keep my temper in check and not shut down at the insanity of math.  I was stressed and the last to finish the test by at least 45 minutes.  The teacher smiled at me when I turned in the paper, she knew  the trouble I was going through.  The next morning and most of the day I worried about passing, about fighting this dragon that chased me through life.  I am by no means an unintelligent person, but math crippled me.  Then about three in the afternoon I got a call from my teacher, she thought I would like to know the results of the test before she posted them.  I took a deep breath…

"You passed."

 I thanked her profusely and hung up the phone.  Then I cried and shook all over, a soft cry that shook from within and released a warrior who could do anything.  I had defeated the one thing in my life that I felt held me back.  My last dragon was slain.  The future is mine.

~Curtain~

Hello to my younger self. (50ish talking to Jr. High self)

Hey you.  Hold on, don’t get in such a hurry.  Trust in your abilities.  Believe in yourself, take more chances.  Take some risks.  Lose some weight and learn about carbs.  Don't worry about the bullies, just stay clear as much as possible and don’t let them define who you are and who you can become.  If they beat you down every day, then stand back up every day and say, "see ya' tomorrow".  Focus on the things that will get you through.  Discover all aspects of the things around you.

 The teachers who are there in school are human too...Don't be quick to judge, but learn to move fast anyway… " Talk to the girls even the dorky ones, it doesn’t mean that you like them in a romantic sense, it just means that there are other people out there that  can be your friends and support group.  Be kind to everyone, everyone has bad days and needs to be brought up.  Don't judge to harshly...

Find a way to get more academic, but also stay close to the fun classes as well.  Art is an oasis, enjoy what it teaches.  No, Mrs. Swayze's Pacer car isn't as cool as you think it is.  Listen in her class, that is one of the few you like.  Get comic book friends sooner, this will help you survive. Don’t bring your best ones to school.

In the cafeteria, eat slowly, stay in as much as possible and stay out of the courtyard.  The courtyard is a target zone for your minority. Watch what you eat in the cafeteria, if others are getting sick from it, then stay away.  Believe the ones that say they are going to throw up and step back.  Teachers eat in the cafeteria as well, Watch out for their illnesses too. Mr. Hayes is not immune to food poisoning just because he's a farmer.

Don't ever bring money with you to school, if you do, keep it in your shoe.  If it is in your pocket it will be found by someone hitting against you.  If you leave it in your clothes during gym, the money will disappear out of the locked basket and you will also lose your pants.  This will make you furious and you will be embarrassed for having to wear the white boxer underwear looking gym shorts that the state regulated that you wear. 

In the gym itself, if you are a minority, make yourself as invisible as possible.  Group with others like yourself.  If you play a lot of sports disregard the next few comments as you were a category unto yourself.  The people you hang out with in gym help as much as they can, but can only do so much.  Inside games you are expected to be a goal or target for large spherical objects to be hurled at you at an amazing speed.  Yes, it hurts and injures.  Try to get duty in the office or library, it will help.  A doctor's note for dressing out will also help.  You will find though that you usually are forced to dress out at the first of the class by a coach who you never see on this side of his glass, walled office.  Outside gym class is also something to watch out for.  You do have more space to distance yourself from fights and run by hitting.  However, you will be required to play sports where you are given the ball and immediately tackled for the pleasure of others.  While down you will experience other pain as well, ie. biting, punching, kicking.  Stay calm...It only lasts two years.

Make sure you stay away from bleachers and stairs as much as possible.  There will be a wrestling show where the wrestlers propel themselves in the air and come down on their opponents head with their elbow.  This will make you dizzy and make it hard to focus.  You will get beat up, you will get in fights and you will think that you are dying and the world will end for you soon.  Keep the faith of tomorrow.  Things do get better. Trust your family, they will be stronger than you think and will help strengthen you and guide you in a better direction. 

Also, The little guy who stared at you in gym when you tried to talk to him... he is just gauging who you are.  The both of you will share an amazing journey there and at church and in life.  He's your best friend and the one thing worth taking out of that time.  He is a constant in your life.  You share a lot of humor, a lot of grief, and a lot of occasional disagreements, but he has always been there.  Treat him nice, learn from him.  He's a nerd, but hey, you're a geek so that's a good start.  He will do well in school with his smarts and you will ride on the outskirts of education with your charm and common sense.  He got the better end of the deal.  Enjoy his jokes, they help your comedic timing as well.  Please just hang in there and trust that God will lead you through it.

~curtain~

Growing Old.

I have been dealing with growing older for the first time in my life.  Not wiser mind you, just older.  I am now at the age where people turn to me for advice and I find myself worried about things I say. 

I think in a way we become younger in our growing older.  It is a time of "Firsts" again.  We are like a toddler exploring a new land and frontier and no one speaks our language.  Hair grows in new places, joints and muscles don’t move the way we expect.  Our sight and hearing are diminishing and our memories , well, they are vivid, yet not always accurate as they were in years past.

We finally get the bravery to try new things only to realize our bodies won't allow the physicality to complete our new found courage.  I have grown old.  Not because my body is giving up, but because I have.  I have forgotten how to look at things like they are new.  I dwell on the negative aspects of this season of life. 

    One of the reasons for this negativity is the loss of lifetime friends and other friends going on to meet their maker.  These were risk takers and adventurers' to me.  Now when I get an ache or pain I worry…is this my last day, is this the pain that takes me down?  Later I will burp or cough and it goes away and I laugh at my silliness but still hang on to the fear.    That is the key word now, my friends death have taught me to fear.  I have been fearless for years and believed myself invulnerable to  growing old.  I was Peter Pan.  I want to be fearless again.  I want to believe in making the impossible improvable, but not impossible.  I am still an optimist in so many ways, but not like I was.  I teach young children starting their lives, I live for their energy and enthusiasm.  It gives me strength.  In them I hear the voice of God that used to speak to me directly.  I do not ignore God or his talking to me I am not sure I listen as closely. 

Each week brings a renewal of work where I push to reboot my optimism.  I pray and ask God for help.  I am never unhappy with his answer, though I am in conflict with my thought.  Part of me lives in this depression and another part of me lives in this hope.  I bounce from one to the other like a toy ball slammed into the concrete.  I rise to new heights but come crashing down within minutes only to pick myself up again and rise even higher.  The lows scrape me and beat me up and try to keep me down.  The highs sing with all the glory of looking to the future and pushing away  the clouds.  I reach for the sunshine, I reach for family, I reach for friends…I have become needy.  I want to be more than my existence.  Yet some days I feel like all I am doing is existing.  Where is my wonder, my creativity, my adventurer, my lust and love for life?  Is it buried in a depression or just shuffled aside while I remake who I am?  Change, a necessary thing in our lives...just wish I had more control over it.

~Curtain~

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

     Right before a show I am in a state of total focus and fear, I have dubbed a term for this as "being in the jazz".  Several weeks of planning and practice have gone into the creating of a production.  It all begins with hopeful hearts wanting a part at auditions and not understanding why they all don't make it.  I see tears of joy and tears of sorrow.  I hide in the distance and watch the faces and the reactions and learn about the character of the person by how they react.  Some wander off quickly with a hollow expression, others congratulate others.  There are ones who make it bounce and are joyous, they, unlike their adult counterparts have not yet learned to control or hide their emotions.  The unrestrained joy is a blessing after seeing the sorrow of the un-cast.  It is a lesson that they need to learn.  I regret being the one to teach them that lesson.The school wants to give each child the same opportunity at times, they want them all to have parts in the show. Usually there is a large number of children who audition, sometimes near 100.  If all the kids are special and get a part, then no one is special or more talented.  The competition is there and makes us strive to be better than we are, to raise our personal standards.  If there is no obtainable goal to reach then why reach.  The challenge makes us stronger.  

I stay in the shadows of backstage and watch them grow and then leave the stage.  An empty spotlight in the memory of an illusionary art.  I give them dreams, goals, and confidence to face life. I draw the curtain closed for another year and push them into the limelight of their own beginnings.  The stage goes dark, the applause dwindles, the chairs are emptied.  The shows go on.  I stand backstage and give the last cue and throw a switch to say goodbye, hello.

~Curtain~

Home from the movie...barely. Car overheated on a dark route. Made it to Northside in Clinton by 11:15. Nearest service station closes at 11:00. Had the hood up after pulling into a church parking lot. Five minutes of assessing and getting ready to walk when a vehicle pulls in with lights shining on me. Out jumps somebodies mother or grandmother. You okay, do you need something? I told her that my car overheated. She said she lived in a subdivision right across the street and would bring my car some water. 

She drove off and disappeared into a wooded area. Another vehicle pulls up and a big guy rolls down his window and asks to help me. (It is here I will point out he was an African American because of recent events I want to stress there are great people helping strangers of any race.) I tell him the situation and we decide that the water is all I will need. As he drives off, the first car drives back up and my rescuer has brought a green flower water jug.

I pour it all in and my radiator absorbs it. Not enough. We walk around the church and look for a faucet. This woman doesnt know me and is walking in the shadows of a building with a stranger to help him/me. We cant find a faucet so she volunteers to go get more and off she goes. The air is humid again and she takes no time in getting back with not only the green flower waterer, but a huge cooler. We fill the radiator and she offers to follow me home. She refuses to take money or the green flower waterer back. God blesses me continuously. When driving past the wooded area where she had disappeared I realized it was the Gore residence. Mr Gore is known for his statues and his art, but now I know Mrs. Gore for her courage and heart.

Last night I was pulled over by a Jackson Police Officer.  I have so much  respect for most of them, however, this young man quickly pushed all of my buttons.

This is our conversation as I remember it.  the parenthesis are comments I wanted to make or embellishments for the readers enjoyment.  I do not believe this is what most officers are like.  Most that I have dealt with are respectful and professional.  This one was young and saying a lot of the wrong things.  I still think we should respect and appreciate these officers.  In his behalf, he didn't know who was in my car and whom he was approaching.  It was a late dinner and after 11:00 pm.

Officer: Sir, Did you realize this was an interstate?
Me: Yes sir (My pat answer.)
Officer: That means that we have a passing lane and a riding lane.
Me: Yes sir
Officer: You were riding in the passing lane.
Me: Yes sir. (Notice the pattern, I am establishing with the officer, builds the best relationship with them.)
Officer: I was about to chase another car, but I couldn't get around you.
Me. I just came off of 1-55 from the bridge. (Though, I am not sure you just made a fat joke.)
Officer: The bridge is nearly a mile behind us, you had plenty of time to move to the riding lane and I wanted to catch that car.
Me. Yes sir. (Would that be the bridge twenty yards behind us?  And where is this non existing car that you were seeing.)

Officer: Sir, where are you coming from?
Me. Supper with a friend. (Please don't say anything about him ending a sentence with a preposition, Please don't say anything about him ending a sentence with a preposition.)
Officer: How much have you had to drink?
Me: I don't drink, sir.
Officer: Laughing, Everyone drinks.
Me, Not me, not a lot of my family and I am pretty sure there are some religions that don't allow drinking. (notice the parenthesis were gone at this point.  Temper was starting to show and patronizing was about to begin.)
Officer: Whatever, I need to see your license and your proof of insurance.
Me: Here you go.
Officer: That was fast.
Me: I pulled them out when you pulled me over, I felt like you would be asking for them.
Officer: Is that a guilty conscious.
Me: No, it is a kind soul, not wanting you to wait, knowing you are probably busy chasing down Jackson's criminals. (Large smile, showing teeth.)

     * NOTE: the showing of teeth can be seen as friendly or aggressive, use at your digression.

Officer: Sir, do you have any weapons in your car?
Me: Two non firing revolutionary rifles, 7 western colt forty fives, also not firing, one track start up pistol, no ammo and three sturdy wooden chairs.
Officer: Are you trying to be funny?
Me: Not without pay sir.  I am a theatre teacher.
Officer: Is that all the weapons you have?
Me: I have no more guns or knifes in my car.
Officer: What does that mean?
Me: That I am not carrying any more guns or knifes....
Officer: Why did you say it that way?
Me: I wasn't sure what you were considering a weapon.  I have heard in self defense classes that keys can be a weapon and a pen can be a weapon...maybe that is why they say the pen is mightier than the sword....Oh yeah, I also have to fencing foils with a blunt tip in the back.
Officer: You have an answer for everything.
Me; (You have a question that isn't specific enough.)

Officer:  I am about to go run your license, is there anything I need to know before I go back there?
Me: I'm a donor and O positive.
Officer: I mean is there anything that is going to turn up on this card that says you've gotten in trouble before and are still in trouble.
Me: No sir. (There was an incident in the third grade, but surely that isn't still on my permanent record.)
Officer: Sit still.
ME.  (That is how it started in the third grade.)
Officer returning: Mr. McDade, your record seems clean.
Me: Seems?
Officer: Is there something I should know?
Me: I thought you were getting confirmation that it WAS clean and not seemingly clean.
Officer: Dispatch said you were okay.
Me: (Tell them I think they are alright themselves.)
Officer: I am going to let you off with a warning now, but I want you to know about the passing and driving lanes.
Me: (Thanks son, I probably saw more training films on it with bicycle safety during the 60's than you did on Sesame Street in the 90's.)
Thank you officer.  You have a good night.
Officer: Remember what I said.
Me: I will. (Because I am going to write this one down.)

Our streets are safe.

Candles reignited  
This is an update to a blog from 2008.  Reminded of it today and moved by some of the people no longer here.

by Kenneth McDade on Wednesday, December 10, 2008 at 12:47pm

The main point of this is to list 16 things most people dont know about you and then list 16 of your friends and something about them. Thought I would jot a few. Takes a little bit of self indulgence and introspect but kinda neat. Took the liberty of joining two that were so close together, I thought they should be one. 

1) I used to try to fly with a Superman cape. 
2) I get emotionally moved by old movies. 
3) I am allergic to Chocolate. 
4) My college years were awful and I hated them. 
5) I used to repel from mountains in Tennessee. 
6) I worked four summers at a Girl Scout camp, and became an honorary girl scout and earned merit badges. 
7) I love doing what others say is impossible. 
8) I have many friends who dislike theatre and don’t understand it. They help keep me grounded. 
9) My first paying job was making explosives at a firecracker company. 
10) I have never found my niche, but still enjoy the journey looking for it. 
11) I was going to be an electrical engineer until I got to college and discovered how much math was involved. 
12) I conquered Math as an adult, yet still have anxiety about it. 
13) I got beat up or pushed down almost every day of junior high…I survived Monster ball, beatings and two knife fights where I didn’t have the knife. 
14) I still have nightmares about junior high. 
15) God loves me so much, that He personally sent for me, His Son, to die. 
16) I love life and the adventure of everyday…I don’t know how to be bored. 

Clayton Southerland – A great actor with only himself as his limits. 

Brandi Southerland – A joy. My superheroinne friend with amazing superpowers. 

Lavonne Bruckner – An inspiration, never heard the word impossible. I think of the letters WWLD when I am asked to do an impossible task. Great Spiritual and Career leader, my hero.   Still amazed in 2012 by her not slowing down.
Kevin Ross – brother in spirit, art and life. No limits. Makes me stretch my imagination further than the extreme.  No longer physically here, but emotionally and mentally, he haunts my life.

Juniper Wallace - There is so much talent that she shows like an iceberg, you wonder if you have just seen the tip of it. There is an undercurrent of untapped talent waiting to emerge…we’re waiting. A spark is going off.....wait for it...

Wyeth Sibler- like a moth to a flame, so much energy and passion for theatre, give it time. The light is always there. Learn to fly more circles around it. 

Lori McDade – My sister, God’s favorite. We have shared the best jokes and stories. Bless her, she gets way to much of my humor. I am honored to be her friend and brother. Love her more every day.

Taylor Noelle – A true joy in my life. I so love the way she sees things as an adult and still keeps that kid inside. Now she is becoming a beautiful young lady and still sees the world in a wonderful light.

Lucy Chappell – My other sister and God’s other favorite. I always wanted to be like her. Still do. Never a dull conversation. Love her more every day.

Mitch Chappell – A champion, I am proud of his ambition and strength. His love of God and his commitment to work and getting things done. His growth into adulthood has been an adventure for me.  So proud, so, so very proud.

Brent Chappell – Never have I seen you follow anyone’s footsteps, you make new paths for others to follow, but you make sure God is leading you. Dreamer with big ideas and still finding the means to make those dreams come true.  Proud of you too.

Pattye Archer – My new friend and so underrated for the amount of things she does for so many people and organizations. At the time I wrote this I had no clue she did all the things she is doing still.  A true amazing role model and sweet heart. Thanks for all you do, you are an inspiration!
Beth Kander & Danny Dauphin – Two sides of a royal card. I met them about the same time and enjoy their wit and humor. Plus they do make an adorable couple. You two give off hope when you are not even trying.  Apart... super individuals with remarkable dreams and abilities...Together, a dream team.

Lea Freeny Browne – a true inspiration in the Spirit of God. She helped save my life by stepping out of her normalcy and stretching both of us to our limits. Good thing we don’t have any. Fearless.

Margaret Sullivan – A free spirit artist untamed by expectations. She was a student, then a friend. I wish I could see the world through your eyes one day. Your poems and stories help me see my own soul. Haven't seen as much of her, but know the free spirit is still souring...

Dan McDade, - My real brother.  Finally online. We went through hell to get along with each other over the years, but we always loved each other. Best adventures were with Dan when we went on journeys where there were no adults guiding us.  We walked to the moon and back and saw the world in a different light.

Ben McDade - Adventurer, artist, scifi-er.  Love your heart and soul.  You were/are always a joy in our life. You are loved.

Stephen McDade - Karate kid who would spend summers playing in our trees and selling lemonade in our driveway.  You are an entrepreneurial spirit with a heart of gold.  You are loved.

Samantha Johnson: Sweet little Sam,. a true spirit of energy and caring.  You take care of so many people and have the biggest heart.  You are wonderful.  You are loved.

My Mom... a role model in every way.  Love you.

Crash

CRASH

Earlier this week my computer crashed.  Normally this would cause a lot of pain and suffering to most people, but I am one of those people that backs up files.  I know I can retrieve the files if needed.  Still, my computer crashed.  This may not seem like a lot in this throw away world, people say, go, buy  another one.  My laptop is special, it is more than a writing tool or an access port to social frenzies.

 My computer was one of my last physical gifts from my Dad before he passed away in 2007.  Now I know not to put too much into that, the computer is a thing, not really a part of my dad, still he pushed hard to get each of his kids a computer before he left us.  His reasoning behind it was that he saw the computer as a way of reaching out to knowledge and education and he wanted us each to have these things.  Out of his four kids, my computer came first.  It was a top of the line computer for 2007 and had a processor that moved with amazing speed.   Dad had done well and he was still alive when it arrived and he was so proud of it for me.   I was out of work at the time and looking for a job.  I had just left a job that was both rewarding and demeaning, my self esteem was low.   The computer picked me up and gave me a hope for a future I couldn’t see clearly.  Suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.  Dad helped me open it and was the first to hold it.  He handed it back to me and sat in his chair worn out by the opening of the box and the Cancer he was fighting, smiling from ear to ear.  It was a great moment.  I wish I could give the moment to my little sister, her computer came later after his death and I was there to help her open it.  She broke down in tears wishing more for her daddy than the cold inanimate object in front of her.  I understood.

My computer has been a great holder of family history with genealogy (the real reason I back up files), pictures, (another reason) and my writings.  The computer sends me anywhere in the world with just the touch of a few buttons.  It is a portal through time and space and a reminder of the responsibility we have to each other.  When my computer broke down I took it in to a computer doctor friend and received a call today that told me it was finished.  The hard drive can be replaced, but it is so old in computer years that a new computer would make more sense.  I was quiet on the phone and didn’t say anything for a while.  My friend was equally quiet, that is what makes a good friend.  My computer is not my dad and I have a wealth of beautiful memories from a great man that hug and haunt me at different times.

I watched my dad coach and steer young people of all ages to try to better themselves and respect others, baseball was his best outlet for this.  I played some baseball but my favorite thing about the sport was how my dad shaped a group of people into a team filled with self-respect and the courage to achieve whatever they wanted both on a sporting field and in their personal lives.  The lives he touched are still reaching out and touching others like a long lost stone rippling in the water.  The ripples are still reaching out.

 This week is emotional because I have been working hard on another theatre performance and I am tired and a little sentimental about a lot of things.  My little computer made me happy because it came from a giant of a man.  The giant gave me a lot of other things as well, things that carry on in my adulthood that make me try each day to be a better man.   I miss my dad, my computer can be replaced.  Dad, he was one of a kind.

~curtain~