Riding Metro-North. With Pink Galoshes.

train-commute-photography-black-and-white

Monday, November 17, 2014: Rain. 35° F.

The Work Day Monday starts on Sunday. The peaceful easy feeling of Saturday drifts into the grace of Sunday morning, and comes off the mountain in slow motion, the avalanche building momentum until it covers the village at the base of the mountain. It’s 3 pm on Sunday afternoon and my attention shifts to the work that I planned, but failed to get done on Saturday.  There’s my briefcase, bulging with those good intentions from Friday afternoon. (A white-collar Suit but a dues paying member of the proletariat. A plebe, never freeing his rough, calloused hands from the shovel. Need to dig. Never finished. Never complete. Never good enough. And the bell tolls. And the bell tolls.)

I’m reviewing Monday’s calendar. A 7:30 am Breakfast with a colleague. A commitment that was made a month ago. Let’s have breakfast! This will require a 5 a.m. wake up call, a 6 am train, a 7 am arrival at Grand Central and a brisk 15-20 min walk to breakfast. (Why are you pushing the clock? Last time you checked, you were the Boss. Who’s running who? Just cancel and reschedule to a later date. You had a conflict that came up. Who would know?)

I ask Rachel what train she is catching. 7:34 a.m. Father-daughter will ride in together. (I cancel my breakfast meeting. A last minute conflict came up. Unavoidable. My apology covered in a mist of guilt.)

We’re standing on the platform. She has her spot. She knows where the train stops, where the doors open, where she can position herself to get a seat.  She’s in front, and holding her ground.  Other crafty commuters, a herd, all huddle around her. The rain is rapping on the tin roof, and spills over onto the tracks. [Read more…]

Sunday Morning: Life


Take one minute…and watch. Full stop.


Notes:

  • Inspiration – Albert Einstein: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
  • Source for video share: Stepsonmysunlightfloor

Man and his Best Friend

funny-Inception-dog-Leo-DiCaprio-eyes

DK:
What kind of Dog snarls at the hand that feeds him? My hand. For no apparent reason?

RK:
Dad, you mean you haven’t noticed?

[DK: It’s the end of a long day. I lift my eyebrows, but don’t respond. Rachel assesses her Father’s reception and interprets the non-response as a green-light.]

RK:
Well, let me explain it to you.

RK:
You are both moody.
And wildly unpredictable.
You can go aggressive “at boo.”

RK:
You coming running at the sound of a fridge door opening.
You’ll eat anything.
You don’t share your food.
You wolf down your food without tasting it.
You slurp your soup.
You lick the bowl. And your plate.

[DK: I shift uncomfortably on the couch.]

[Read more…]

Riding Metro-North. Looking too closely.

train-green-light

It’s dark. 5:40 a.m. I’ve got an early morning jump, and I’m high stepping it to the station. It’s October 14th and the weatherman is calling for mid-70’s. (And it’s damn humid before sunrise.)

I’m feeling Prime this morning. Another night of solid sleep. Something is working, exactly what, is unclear.

I strap on my earphones. I get off the train. I’m lost among the throng, and fidgeting with my ear pieces. (Apple.co can drag music from the clouds and shoot it into my head but can’t seem to get these earbuds to stick.)

I enter the main Grand Central terminal. The wall size Red, White & Blue greets me. O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

As do Police. Police Dogs. Bullet proof vests. And Guns.

I glance up as I exit the station. Nestled within a green leafy planter on a pole eight feet up is a sign: NYPD Security Camera. And surrounding the station are Police Cars. Police Vans. Unmarked Cars. And more German Shepherds.

I turn up the music to drown out the dark, and I continue down 42nd street. Fink is playing: Looking too Closely. Looking too close. No. No. No. 

I pick up my pace. Everyone is standing still, or moving in slow motion; I’m passing them on my right, on my left. (The DK Express is hauling a**.)

With no safe jaywalking opportunity available, I wait for the Walk sign. Dark thoughts roll back several weeks.  (Ocean Voung whisks in: “There’s enough light to drown in but never enough to enter the bones & stay.)

It’s mid-morning, mid-week in August.
[Read more…]

Moved.

Licia-Ronzulli-child-work

She has been coming to work with her mother since she was just six weeks old. And now it seems three-year-old Vittoria Cerioli, daughter of Italian MEP Licia Ronzulli, is taking an ever more active interest in mummy’s work as she joined her in a session of the European Parliament in Strasbourg yesterday. Stealing the show at this month’s session in eastern France, adorable Vittoria took part in proceedings as she lifted her arm up along with her mother to vote.

Don’t miss the full set of pictures here: Enchanting Little Girl Following In The Footsteps of her MEP Mother


Riding MetroNorth. With a moment.

woman-painting
The moment, this moment has been orbiting. Gently closing in, then dimming, and working itself softly back into consciousness.

Millions of thoughts slide in and out – – moments of significance, yet these seeds on the blooming dandelion blow away. This ordinary moment hangs on. Why?

She met me in the hallway in front of the elevators. We were both finishing our day. She looked fresher, wearing a blue skirt and jacket, standing with a colleague – offering up a “Hey, Dad.”

It’s early evening in Midtown. The humidity, stifling. Crowds are milling around the theatre ticket booths. Father and Daughter are out of the building looking to catch the 6:49.

We reach a “Don’t Walk” and I point down to 47th. She tugs at my suit jacket.

“Dad, I’ve timed it. It’s not faster to zig-zag. Just wait. Take it straight down. It’s faster.”

She’s timed it. It’s faster. [Read more…]

Rachel: Your Dad was a wee bit ahead of his time…


The Huffington Post: Colbie Caillat Rallies Against Photoshop In ‘Try’ Music Video:

In her music video for “Try,” Colbie Caillat takes a stance against Photoshop. She starts off the video looking like (as MTV put it) “a cartoonized version of Mariah Carey in a Dove ad” and proceeds to un-Photoshop herself, ending the song as her natural, unedited self, alongside a wonderfully diverse set of women, who undergo the same transition.

“When I shot the first scene with no hair and makeup on in front of an HD camera in my face, flashed with bright lights, everyone was watching,” she told Elle. “I thought, ‘Oh my god, I bet they’re all looking at my blemishes, thinking that I should cover them up, or that I should put some volume in my hair.’ But it also felt really cool to be on camera with zero on, like literally nothing on. And then when it got to the full hair and makeup, I actually felt gross. I was just so caked on.”

[…]Take your make-up off
Let your hair down
Take a breath
Look into the mirror, at yourself
Don’t you like you?
Cause I like you


Thank you Liz.


The quiet irreplaceable and companionable presence of a daughter

father-daughter-beach-walk
Joy is a meeting place, of deep intentionality and of self forgetting, the bodily alchemy of what lies inside us in communion with what formally seemed outside, but is now neither, but become a living frontier, a voice speaking between us and the world: dance, laughter, affection, skin touching skin, singing in the car, music in the kitchen, the quiet irreplaceable and companionable presence of a daughter: the sheer intoxicating beauty of the world inhabited as an edge between what we previously thought was us and what we thought was other than us.

~ David Whyte


Notes:

  • For Rachel, on your Birthday today.
  • Sources: Poem/Quote – Thank you Makebelieveboutique.com. Photograph: dpf.peterFather & daughter walk along beachTofino, BC, Canada — Image by © Henry Georgi/Wave/Corbis

There’s Joy. There’s Exaltation. There’s You.

Rachel - five - swimming
22 years ago, you came in our lives.
Here you are at five.
We couldn’t imagine our lives without you.
Happy Birthday Honey.

Mom & Dad


Family Dinner

The Four Freedoms, Freedom from want

6:30 pm. Saturday evening. Family sits for dinner.

Susan is sitting to my right. A hummingbird, fluttering her wings, spreading honey.

Rachel to my left. Her boyfriend Andrew, next to her. Rachel’s jabbering on about her first week of full-time work. She’s coming down, down from the high of college graduation, and seeing the next 30 year highway of her life. Commuting. Work. Exhaustion. Weekends. Loop it back and hard again. (Is that the gratitude Bus Rachel has pulled up for her Mom & Dad?)

Eric, is down at the end of the table. He’s sneaking glances at his phone. I glare. He puts the phone back in his pocket.

Zeke’s laying under the table. Hoping for something, anything to hit the floor.

And there’s The King, at the head of the table. Fork in the right. Scepter in the left. (Surveilling the landscape. Inhaling it deep into the lungs. Same somber script running. Eagles and Peaceful Easy Feeling is playing. Sand racing through the hourglass. How many of these do we have left?)

“Dad, look at Eric’s guns.”
“Guns?”
“His biceps. They’re bigger than yours.”
I glance at Eric’s “guns.”
He looks down. And blushes. (Did I see a smirk?)
[Read more…]

Father’s Day 2014

trees-sky-sun-light
Kids are rustling me awake from my mid-morning nap in the backyard.

Dad, Dad, it’s time to open the gifts!

(A flash of Christmas mornings past. Wow, that was quite a nap, Rip.  They’ve migrated up from cologne and neck ties. Hmmmm. Right pocket, left pocket, transfer of funds? All within Dad’s pant pockets? Not nice Dad.)

Thank you. Wonderful Gift!

Family sits together for brunch. Scrambled eggs, western style, bacon, sliced peaches, English Muffins (with jam, of course). (Family sitting around the table. Soul warming. How many of these moments are left?)

We head outside. 68º F. Low humidity. Wind gusts at 16 mph. Trees rustling overhead. Zeke is barking, while giving chase to the Frisbee flying to and fro overhead. The Kanigan family exercise for the Day.

I reach for my book. Zeke is sprawled out on the back stoop, basking in the sun, and watching Blue Jays pecking at seed in the feeder.  Rachel and Eric shade their eyes from the sun, and their iPhones, as they check their texts. I settle in on the lawn chair with my book. (Front doors unlocked. Families sitting together for meals. Kid’s playing catch with Dad in the backyard, or playing outside with friends. Pick-up games. Fishing. Exploring the mountainside.) 

[Read more…]

Smother


  • See bio for Daughter and Related Post here.
  • Find tune and album here: If You Leave

In our hearts we still pray for sons and daughters


Allman Brown and Liz Lawrence are London based singer-songwriters who have collaborated for Sons and Daughters.  

And I’ll build a fire, you fetch the water and I’ll lay the table
and in our hearts, we still pray for sons and daughters
and all those evenings out in the garden, where we went
These quiet hours turning to years

And I, I’ll wrap myself around your heart I’ll be the walls of his heart
And I, I’ll keep light on, to call you back home…


Notes:

Truth

Mother's-day-Father's-Day-Funny-Fallon


Source: Fallontonight

Can’t sleep boys?

Nigerian-School-girls-kidnapped

What a mistake it was, before my bed time, to read the finishing line in The New Yorker article titled Captivity:

They are perhaps thinking only that night is falling again, and that the men will come to each of them again, an unending horror.

Fellas, here’s my short good night prayer to you:

May you find it in your heart to let them go.
All of them.
NOW. Safely. Untouched.

And if you have no Heart and remain in Darkness,
I hope you watched the News today.
And saw that your government has accepted U.S. assistance.

You may be hearing Footsteps.
We’re coming.
You may be hearing Thunder.
We’re coming.
You will see Lightening. You will feel Rain. The skies will Open.
It’s coming.

Sleep well Boys.

It’s coming. Hell is coming.

DK


Image Credit: CNN.com

Our hearts beat faster

Rachel-2014

The collegiate alumni chairperson of Rachel’s sorority asked the parents of graduating seniors to write a letter to their daughter, which was read out loud to them by their little sister at the traditional Senior Send Off event for the sorority.  The event was held this morning. Here was Rachel’s text to us.

Rachel-text-message

Here’s our letter to Rachel:


Dear Rachel:

Let’s just say that you were difficult from the get-go. Your Mom and Dad tried for 9 years (9 YEARS!), and we almost gave up.  And then you just appeared. Voila! A tadpole on a monitor.  Roll the tape forward 9 months plus 23 hours of labor (23 HOURS!) – – your Mother threw up her hands and Doc pulled out the scalpel.

They say that all babies are beautiful. Hmmmmm. The forceps stretched your head. Your eyes were disproportionately LARGE and bulging. You were WAILING. I had to double pump the scissors with my trembling hands to untether you from your Mother. I was flooded with images of E.T. – – “E.T. Go Home!”  I needed assurances from Doc that all of this, this, was normal.

You had colic for 6 months. You started up when I arrived home from work and stopped during our long walks down Biscayne Blvd.  You were strapped in a papoose tight to my chest. With the fronds on the palm trees clapping in the gentle evening breeze, there you were looking up at me.  Sobbing, then sniffling, then quiet.

We’d come home. I’d turn on Annie Lennox – – “Walking on Broken Glass” – – and you would settle. I would slump down on the couch, exhausted, and let you sleep on my chest. The little hair that you had, was matted and glistening with sweat. Your cheeks and eyes, swollen and red.  Your little fingers clenched my t-shirt. Your heart pitter-pattered on my chest. And your intermittent, puffs-puffs of baby breath – – you, all of you, a miracle.

And then the frames would pass. Minutes, days, weeks and years.  All accelerating.

You left home to go to College. We cried on the long drive home.

You lit up sharing your experiences with Special Olympics, Habitat for Humanity and St. Jude Children’s Hospital – – freezing me in place as I listened to your Sunday night updates. I have yet to find my God, but I could feel something working me through you.

My chest swelled when you were named President of your Sorority. When you made Dean’s List. When you landed your Summer Internships. When you received your first job offer.  (I just cut the cord. We just dropped you off for your freshman year. Where did it go? Sand slipping through my fingers.)

I know you are listening – listening to these words – sitting among your friends.

It’s time.  Time for me to put on my headphones and play “Walking on Broken Glass” in a loop.  And roll the time back to remember the beautiful moments in between then and now.

I can feel you.
I can feel your fingers clenching my t-shirt.
I can feel your puffs of breath.
I can feel your heart beating.
And when your heart beats, my heart beats faster.

Love you Honey.

Mom & Dad


A Message to Mom

mother-daughter-sad


“Mom, this might be my last chance to tell you I love you.”

A text from a high school student who was aboard the ferry that capsized yesterday off South Korea’s southern coast. Four passengers were killed, 55 were injured and more than 280 are missing. (via latimes)


Photograph: Yvette Depaepe; Quote source: Larmoyante

Dear Pudding


Dear Pudding:

As I told your Mom in our wedding vows,
I promise to love you fiercely too.
One day, when you’re a Mother, you’ll know the kind of love that I am talking about.
A love that makes my eyes well up with tears of joy when you simply hug me.
A love that moves me to rise from bed and check on you at three in the morning mostly because I just miss you when you sleep.
A love that makes it hard for me to let go of your hand when you try to balance on something because I know you need to learn from your mistakes.
I promise to look you in the eyes when you come to me with a problem.
I’ll always want to fix it for you right then and there.
I promise to listen as to whether you’ll want a hand or just an ear.
I promise to drop you off at college and when I do, I promise to do my best to contain my excitement for you so that I won’t embarrass you in front of your new friends.
I promise to have a reputation amongst your friends as a Dad that intimidates your boyfriends.
I promise to raise you to be strong and independent.
I promise to cry when I let go of your hand when I let go of your hand at the alter…
…I want you to know that every time when you open the door when I come home from work you’ll see a smile on my face
My arms already open ready to catch you
I’ll always be ready to catch you…


For you, Rachel…


Dad reads. Eyes (and heart) moving down the page. Then bows his head.

delta delta delta,photography,hand symbol

Dad didn’t like it.
Dad didn’t support it. (Story here.)
Dad gets rolled (ignored is a better word).
Daughter does it anyway.

Last night, Daughter as President, addressed Seniors and incoming Freshmen in her final official duty.

Daughter sends Mom and Dad two text messages last night.

“Everyone Loved it.”

“They all cried.”

Here’s a summary of her speaking notes:

[Read more…]

Departure Day

fade-away-Scott-Marshall

It’s Departure Day.
Eric is scheduled on the 7:40 am flight.
Rachel is returning later in the day.

There’s the awkward milling around the kitchen.
When everyone knows what’s coming next,
yet no one is a hurry to get on with it.
He’s scurrying around with his last minute packing.
I hover at a distance.

It is Dark.
And Cold. Temperature locked on 32° F.

We’re in the car.
The Kanigan Men are short (very) on small talk.
We ride in silence. [Read more…]

Guess what day it is?

funny, humor,laugh,children,parents,

5:58 pm. Today.

Rachel: Hi Dad!
Dad: GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS?
Rachel: What?
Dad: GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS?
Rachel: DAD! Why are you yelling?
Dad: GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS?
Rachel: OK Dad.  It’s Monday. What’s Up?
Dad: You didn’t return my call last night.
Rachel: I didn’t have time.  I was busy studying for a big test.
Dad: Really?
Rachel: Really.
Dad: GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS?
Rachel: (Silence. She’s been at this show before. Boom coming down)
Dad: Honey, today is PARENTS’ APPRECIATION DAY!
Rachel: What?
Dad: Yes. From 7pm to 10pm, you will appreciate your Parents.
Rachel: (Silence. She’s not sure where this is going but she knows it’s a bad place.)
Dad: I checked our bill during the time you were busy doing homework last night.
Dad: Looks like you had plenty of time to send text messages to your friends.
Rachel: (More silence)
Dad: So, your cell service will be cut off from 7pm to 10pm.
Rachel: OK Dad.
Dad: Love you Honey. Can you hear me now?

 


Image Credit

Daughter


Daughter is an English indie folk band originating from London in 2010. Originally the solo work of Elena Tonra, they are now a trio with the addition of guitarist Igor Haefeli and drummer Remi Aguilella.  The band released their debut album, If You Leave, in March 2013. Charting at Number 16 in the UK, it was also received favourably in the press; “An album as beautifully conceived as If You Leave is one you follow from start to finish, riveted by the story it weaves and the emotion it bleeds.” (Source: wiki)

Q: In a similar way, descriptions like ‘haunting’, ‘ethereal’ and ‘achingly beautiful’ are mentioned a lot, but it’s difficult to describe your music any other way, do you like that praise?
A:  Erm, yeah, I don’t really like reading too much [laughs] It’s really lovely when people say things like that about our music, it’s really complimentary, and it has some kind of impact, but yeah, I try not to read too much of what people say in reviews and stuff. They can completely bum you out, and then do the reverse and make you feel really wonderful, and that’s shit as well cause you get lazy and you just think you’re great [laughs] I like being very pessimistic and working hard because I never feel like I’m good enough anyway…Read full Interview with Elena Tonra at Outlineonline.com.

Find their album on iTunes at this link.


Running with E.T. August Logs.

E.T. - The Extra Terrestrial


6:00 am, August 4, 2013: 60F. Gentle morning breeze: 3 MPH. Spectacular day for a run. I’m off. Thoughts chattering. Legs pumping but heavy. Thighs stiff. Bottoms of feet tender. All aches emanating from yesterday’s run. Marquis whispers: “Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever.” Yep, that’s about right.

5:30 am, August 4, 2013: Morning weigh in. 60 days left in the Biggest Loser Challenge. I expect a bad outcome. Expectations realized. Loser! Weight: Back up 1.8. And this after yesterday’s grueling 6-mile, rain-soaking trail run with the wolf pack — slopping around in wet woods, dancing on slippery rocks, and sinking in gooey mud. Somehow escaping injury. Rambo. No, Chubby Rambo. I step (waddle) off the scale in disgust. It’s all about intake and yesterday’s feedings.* So Mr. Lewis**, when? When do I learn?

7:30 pm, August 1, 2013: Rachel returns home from work. Dragging. In a mood. She runs upstairs. Comes down. Attired in florescent, glow-in-the-dark green shorts. Matching shoes. Ear buds in. iPhone in hand. Styling!

“I’m off for a run.”
“Wait, I’m coming with you.”
“No Dad. I would rather go alone.”
“NO, I’m coming.”
“NO Dad. I don’t want you to come. I’m not interested in running a time trial.”
“Rachel, you stand right here and wait. I mean WAIT.”

She waits. We go. Road narrows. Evening traffic heavy. I slow to let her pull in front and we run single file. Her hair tightly wrapped in a single braid which bounces up and down in the center of her back. She has a graceful, confident stride. In contrast, my legs are heavy – – long day at work… 3.5 plates of pasta for dinner…laboring to keep up. I’m breathing heavy.

[Read more…]

21. And counting.

black and white; photography

She turned 21.

Our celebration dinner was at home earlier in the week.
Family was seated together. She was at the head of the table.
Champagne glasses filled. Dad with his Snapple. A Toast.
Her favorites. Cheesy Parmigiano-Reggiano breaded chicken breasts.
Buttery mashed potatoes. Long stemmed broccoli and cheese.
Followed by vanilla flavored birthday cake with thick gobs of frosting.
Cards from Grandparents.
Earrings.
She opens a small box from her Brother. Beaming. She slides on a ring.
I turn my head away to keep it together.
Discussion turns from sharing stories to plans for the evening.

“I’m staying in the city with a friend.”
“You mean you’re not coming home tonight?”
“No, Dad”

Flash of anger. Rolling to disappointment. Then settling into Sad. Turning deep, down and inward.

Dad’s leaning into a gushing current.
Water rushing over, under, through.
Hopeless to stop it. Yet he keeps trying.

Happy Birthday Honey…


She’s coming home…

Lady in Moon Light Illustration

The image has been
a counterweight to darkness.
Pitch Black.
Every Father’s nightmare.
I call it up. The image.
To block. To deflect.
Her sinewy silhouette shimmering against the moonlight.
Waves lapping her toes on the shore line.
Her eyes closed.
Wind gently rustling her hair.
A need to believe.
No.
A longing to feel.
Her at Peace.
That she is safe.
Today.
She’s coming home.


“Parental love, I think, is infinite…Not infinitely good, or infinitely ennobling, or infinitely beautiful. Just infinite…”
~ Adam Gopnik


4:22 am. And Inspired.


Wednesday mornings are customarily reserved for my selections of fellow bloggers’ inspiring posts of the week.  We’re departing from our normal fare. My Rachel shared this 6-minute clip last night.  I was captivated. No more words. WATCH.


Note to Rachel. Your short email to me said: “good video about how we (women specifically) perceive ourselves.” Your subject heading was “awesome video.”

I do believe you missed a few sentences in your email.  Here’s what I read between the lines:

“Dad, you were relentless and I didn’t like you for it.  How many times did you tell me I didn’t need eye make-up? Hundreds, I think.  How many times did you tell me that I didn’t need hair color.  That nail polish didn’t matter much.  That I didn’t need any make-up at all.  That I was beautiful just the way I was.  I’m beginning to get it now Dad.  You were right. (Again)  Thank you Dad.”

You are welcome Honey.  You are more beautiful than you think.  Yes you are.

As it should be…

Steve Carell, funny, laugh, true, parents, children,kids,call home, Mom, Dad


My daughter Rachel’s response when I shared this with her: “hahahahhahahahahahhaa so so true!!!!”


Source: themetapicture.com

Rachel. Leading from the front.

Sorority, College,

SEPTEMBER, 2010: START OF RACHEL’S FRESHMAN YEAR

Dad: Don’t do it. Don’t join a Sorority.  I didn’t join a Sorority…I turned out O.K.

Daughter: Dad, you’re a hermit.

Dad: Honey, it’s all about drinking, parties, and trouble. Don’t do it.

Daughter: Dad, you don’t know what you are talking about.

Dad: Honey, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You are 19 now but I wish you wouldn’t do it.

Daughter: (Ceases conversation on topic.  Cuts yet another infuriating side deal with Mom.  Does it anyway.)

Dad to Mom: If Grades tank, Katy Bar the Door.  There will be a Day of Reckoning.

Kanigan Household: (Ignores Dad.  And life goes on.  King goes back and sits on his throne mumbling.)

SEPTEMBER 2012: START OF RACHEL’S JUNIOR YEAR

Rachel is named President of her Sorority, Delta Delta Delta (aka Tri Delta).

JANUARY 24-26, 2013: TRI DELTA NATIONAL LEADERSHIP CONFERENCE. MEMPHIS, TN.

Here’s the email she’s pecked out on her phone to her Mom and Dad late last night…

[Read more…]

Let there be light…

child, bicycle, sad, bike, child riding bike, illustration, black and white

5:45am.

I’m in the car off to work.

It’s dark.

It’s cold.

It’s wet.

I’m scanning my playlist to find a match to my mood.  I’m challenged.  Nothing seems to fit.  Nothing that is, except the weather.

Mind pans back ten years. A sunny day in Miami.  A lazy Sunday afternoon.  She loves car rides.  The sun roof is open.  Andrea Bocelli is crooning on the cd player.  We’re crossing the Rickenbacker Causeway.  The City center is on our left.  Biscayne Bay’s shimmering aquamarine blues are on the right.  A warm tropical breeze is gushing through the windows.  I look over and her eyes are closed and her hair is blowing in the wind.  A portrait of youthful bliss.  An indelible image that can be pulled up at will.  [Read more…]

Oh my God…look at the fishies!


Queensland, Australia. Father. Daughter. In a canoe. Have encounter with two Humpback whales which can measure up to 50 feet and weight up to 40 tons. Apparently Humpbacks are “famously” curious toward boaters. This is a WOW.  Here’s the direct link.

Hi Daddy…

Rachel:   Hi Daddy!

Dad:          Hi Honey.  What’s up?

Rachel:   Daddy, I scored an 88 on a brutal Managerial Accounting Test!

Dad:          Wow, that’s amazing Rachel.  Well done!  I’m proud of you.

Rachel:   OK Daddy.  Just wanted to let you know.  Gotta run.

Self:           “Daddy.”

45 second phone conversation with daughter on car ride home from work.  Priceless.


Image Credit: Thank you abirdeyeview

Related Posts:

Jackson Pollock: 3-way inspiration…

image


  1. Jackson Pollock #3 by Jackson Pollock
  2. Rachel Kanigan’s Jackson Pollock inspired pumpkin (2012). Beautiful Honey!
  3. Leroy Pollock’s quote to his son Jackson Pollock via Hammock Papers.  See entire 1928 letter @ BrainPickings.org

She’s home.


She arrived Thursday night via Amtrak.  Traveling alone.  Now in her third year at college.  Time flowing like water.

Tall black boots.  Long hair hanging free down her back.  Carrying a black duffle.  Walking with a quiet confidence.  She’s pivoted following the summer internship in Manhattan.  A bridge she’s crossed.  A new found self awareness…I can play.  I can hold my own.  Her grades have popped up, even raising her own eyebrows.

Zeke’s nose recognizes someone familiar in the dark.  Then it hits him.  Rachel!  His entire body writhing with wiggles…he smothers her with kisses. [Read more…]

Guest Post: The Final Act of Love

I asked Mimi, my blogger friend, to write a guest post for my blog while I was on vacation.  I have come to value her friendship, her thoughtful comments and her inspiration – as if she was a member of my family.  And now, those of you who don’t follow her, will see why.  Her post below is so beautiful.  So inspiring.  So touching.  Bless you Mimi…you moved me this morning.

By MimiWaiting For The Karma Truck

I’m a sky-gazer.  It makes for some very dramatic tumbles and some slapstick recoveries to a standing position (degree of difficulty depends upon the severity of my clumsiness – but some could qualify as Olympic-level gymnastic floor routines).  This need to look up and out is not folly, it’s my dad.  I’ve been aiming my perspective upwards for nine years.

There’s so much written about father/daughter relationships that I hesitate to even tiptoe around this topic.  I fret that my words will sound cliched and not really offer much to a potentially tired topic.  But, there was nothing tired or trite about the man – and the insistent tapping of rain on the skylights in my kitchen suggests to me that he feels quite confident that there is more to say. [Read more…]

So, let me tell you about my day Dad…

daddy and daughterWeek 3: Rachel’s summer job in Manhattan where she’s interning in a Human Resources Department.  She’s been coming home and thematically asking this line of questions:

How’d your day go Dad?”  (For 19 years, I’d come dragging through the front door at the end of a long day. She’d be lying on the couch watching continuous loops of reality TV.  Not a peep from her on how my day went.  Now she’s asking.  Hmmmm. Until you walked a mile in a man’s shoes…) 

Let me tell you about my day Dad.”  (She proceeds to jabber on and on and on about her day…giddy almost…youthful exuberance.  Anxious. Yet excited.  Learning.  Being stretched into new territory.  Unsure footing.  No worries Honey.  It will come.  It will surely come…) 

Dad, did you read about the Greek vote in the Wall Street Journal?”  (Read what, where? Rachel reading a newspaper?  The WSJ?  I’m getting woozy.)

[Read more…]

19 years old, but still Daddy’s Girl…

father-daugher 2It started about a week ago.  Rachel asked me to take her into the city.  She was nervous.  She doesn’t know her way around.  She needed to get her paperwork completed and her picture taken for her summer job.  She asked me again, 2 days later.  And then again. (Why does she keep asking me, when I’ve told her that I would do it? She doesn’t think Dad will show.  That’s it.  All those other times.  One excuse or another usually all tied to work. Couldn’t make it.  Something has come up.  I’m busy.  Mom will take you.)

Thursday night.  She asked again.  I glare at her.  She backs up.

Friday morning.  You can see she didn’t get much sleep.  She’s nervous.  She’s dressed.  OMG.  My girl is wearing a suit.  Nicely dressed.  Professional. My eyes well up.  I have to turn away.

We’re waiting for the train.  It’s early.

[Read more…]