A Death In A Family
Each day the Christopher Smith family placed a marble in a jar, counting the days their son was deployed in Afghanistan. Less than twenty lined the bottom of the jar when two military officers arrived at their doorstep. Marine Lance Corporal Zachary Smith, 19, and three comrades were killed by a roadside bomb in the Helmand Providence.
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How Mark Twain Saved Heidelberg
In 1945 Allied and Russian troops crushed Germany from the west and east. Berlin, Hamburg, and all the major cities were destroyed by bombers and artillery. General George S. Patton’s 3rd Army roared through the Rhine Valley pummeling Frankfurt and Manheim without mercy. The army raced south and lined its tanks and artillery along the Neckar River. Across the water was the thousand year old city of Heidelberg. The old college town residents took one last look at the ancient walls and cobblestoned streets before fleeing east. To the surprise of both sides, Patton’s guns remained silent and the city peacefully surrendered, preserving a treasure of architecture and culture. Who could imagine the spirit that kept the guns quiet was none other than Samuel Longhorn Clemens, aka Mark Twain.
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My Goddaughter
Tomorrow is the baptism of my niece, Alexandra Paige King, and I am the Godfather. Lexi is not a blood relative, but our families are close so ‘Uncle Mark’ comes natural. I am so proud, but a little nervous. This is a Roman Catholic service and according to the rules, “A Godparent must lead a life in harmony with the faith and the role to be undertaken.” That is a high hurdle.
Born and raised Catholic, I considered being a priest with some pressure from our pastor and my mom. I took Latin in high school, hoping to be either a priest or a lawyer, but ended up somewhere in between. As a somewhat unruly student in parochial school, (putting it mildly), the punishment was daily mass as an altar boy. That was more a penalty for my Dad, who each morning took me to 6:00 AM mass. I once calculated that I attended enough masses that averaged one mass per week for 46 years. That average diminished during the last decade.
Recently, my Godfather passed away and we said the rosary at the funeral home. I asked my Mom, “When did they insert a long prayer at the end of each mystery, (or every ten Hail Mary’s?).” Mom rolled her eyes and said it was over thirty years ago. My mother can also count my trips to mass – when she visits me, when I visit her, marriages, and funerals.
Well, my sweet little Lexi, my catechism needs some polish and oil plus a translation from Latin to English. Not a problem. Your parents are wonderful, so watch them and follow their footsteps. I will be there to hold you. Together, we will celebrate, laugh, cry, and keep on a positive pathway. With all my Latin, I can help translate strange words, but you must depend on your Godmother for spelling. I want to be your mentor, and you mine. The Chinese say a teacher learns twice.
Lovely Lexi, in a world of spin I can meet the Church’s rules as your Godfather. From my heart we will fine harmony with the faith and the world, together.
Perils at Copacabana Beach
Imagine waking just before dawn. The tip of the reddish-orange sun is barely breaking the horizon. Across the street lies an absolutely gorgeous beach curving around a bay of emerald hills. People are gathering at water’s edge enamored with the kaleidoscope of colors lapping on the shores. You join them. Back home there is at least two-feet of snow and grey skies. It is a few minutes after six, but the temperature is approaching 70. The crowd is quiet, almost spiritual, as the warm waves caress our feet. About a half hour later the blazing sun clears the horizon, volley ball nets are going up and the assembly disperses. An hour later I am in a suit joining my hosts for breakfast. Upon hearing about my sunrise stroll, their jaws drop and a blend of surprise and fear creases their brows. They immediately inform me my walk was extremely dangerous. Too polite to call me an idiot, they leave no doubt I just survived a near-tragic experience.
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Worst Books of 2009
As a youth I was in the habit of borrowing more library books than I was able to read. My mom insisted that once I opened a book it must be completely read before I started another. This rule was not only a good habit, but it really reduced my library fines. The rule is torturous when you run into a novel that is disappointing and/or terrible. I segmented the worst ten books into: those with big expectations and huge disappointments; and those I chose, even though they were probably bad. On behalf of my mom and me: avoid these books and finish what you start.
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Snowfall Derby
For those worrying about the relevancy of newspapers the local Rochester Democrat & Chronicle offers its daily ‘Snowfall Derby.’ The cumulative snowfall, as of today, is 47.9 inches – a six-year high. Unfortunately, we are behind Buffalo and Syracuse, who respectively lead with 48.7 and 57.7 inches. We are not even at the midpoint. The average local snow fall season is 100.3 inches.
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A Bag of Books
A very welcomed present from a dear friend is a laptop backpack. There are at least three other briefcases, gathering dust somewhere, to protect my PC. This one is a bag for my textbooks. There are four, ranging from eight ounces to five pounds each. Add the computer, notebooks, chewing gum and other needs, and it’s like carrying rocks. Consider the pressure on a five-foot freshman where the carrying weight may be a third or more of their own mass. Painful!
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Romancing A Roll Top
I first became enamored with a roll top desk while browsing through a Norman Rockwell print book as a teen. In the artist’s sentimental style there was a couple applying for a marriage license, a golfer sneaking out of his office, and a doctor diagnosing a little girl’s doll. An oak roll top desk is the centerpiece for each image. While I possessed no desire to be a justice-of the-peace, a duffer or doc, the desk became my passion.
After a three-year search at auctions and antique stores a damaged oak beauty, blackened by a blaze, was purchased at a fire sale price. For months I bleached the burns, re-glued loose drawers, sanded cubby holes and stained the rippling roll cover – not that it ever closed. Upon completion, she gleamed. I posed next to her, gently stroking the curves, and imagined Rockwell setting up his easel. Within a few days I abandoned my beauty for over thirty-five years.
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Top 10 2009 Books
Armed with my Kindle, IPOD, and car CD player, I read or listened to over fifty books this year. Ironically, only one was printed on paper – but that is another blog. Here are my top ten books for 2009. In a few days I will post the worst ten.
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The Count – Part 2
It is Sunday and I am in my office stacking boxes full of three-plus decades of souvenirs and nick-nacks on to a push cart. Where did the last 20 working days go? 4 weeks and 160 or more hours in meetings, presentations, back-slapping and a few hugs flew by. Tomorrow I hand-in my pass, computer, Blackberry, secure ID, and well-worn American Express card.
I push the cart through the building lobby. It is a magnificent five story atrium of glass and black marble. It took a year and tens of millions to build the entire structure. The grand opening included an employee town meeting where I was on the agenda to speak. On the day of the big opening, my chair was empty. I was miles away in a hospital surrounded by cardiologists.
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