Sofia

Unfortunately for us, Sofia has gone home to Spain.

For those of you who did not get the opportunity to meet her, Sofia was a Spanish exchange student here to learn English. She was with us for less than a month, but she made a very large impression on all of us. We are a better family for her having stayed in our home.

Little did we know when she arrived late last month, that we would learn to care so much about this young Spaniard. I guess we figured that she'd be going to English class so much during the day that we'd never have much time to get to know her.

But as the month progressed, we noticed that she was in class a lot less than we'd bargained for. And we're all grateful for that fact. As you can see from the photos, we were able to go to New York City and to Washington, DC with her. She also went to a lot of Jacob's baseball games and Hannah's dance practices.

But it was more the times when we were just sitting around the house or doing something close to home, as a family, in which we really got to know and love her.

Her infectious laugh, her easy way with the kids, her effusive thankfulness for anything anyone did for her. It was easy to like her. Now it's much harder to love her, because she's not with us.

One day, maybe, she'll be able to come back. I think I speak for everyone in my family when I say, that day can't come soon enough.

Sending up Shoots - Part III

Walking briskly through the turnstiles at the Central Park North station, John gripped the satchel tightly and glanced quickly from side to side, expecting him to emerge suddenly from the inky shadows like an evil specter. He tapped his Red Wing postman shoes nervously as he thought about the past year and what it would mean if his secret were let loose on the wind. It was the worst episode in his life and he wanted to keep it that way. Dealing with Tony would be child's play compared to the pain it would cause his friends and family if his unimaginable secret got out. Pushing past the other weary travelers on the platform, John looked down the tunnel toward the oncoming light. The rumble of the train moved from the platform and entered his feet , moving rapidly from cell to cell until his whole body shook. The squeaky brakes yelled in his ears as a fat, hairy index finger tapped him on the shoulder. Wheeling quickly, John caught the savage eyes he'd now despised for nearly a year. They were a disgusting shade of green, almost like something you'd find in the subway restroom. Every time John saw them he felt like he'd taken a bath in sewage. "Nithe to thee you again, Johnny-caketh," said Tony in his awful mixture of lisp and South Bronx accent. The sound of it made John's stomach turn. Tony grabbed John by the arm of his coat and pulled him behind the others in the station. "You got the money?" he said. Without saying a word nor looking his blackmailer in his horribly deformed face, John opened the satchel and showed him the cash. The requisite $5000 lay therein, and it brought a toothy grin to the villainous thug's lips. "That'th a good boy, Johnny," he said, reaching for the bag. "Thame time nextht month?" John looked deeply into the eyes he'd so easily learned to despise. Narrowing his own eyes to try and block out some of the rest of the hideous face, John handed the satchel to Tony. "How can you do this?" he asked with the proper amount of disdain in his voice. "How can you do this evil thing to me every stinking month?" Tony laughed. Spittle hit John's face as Tony folded the satchel under his arm and put his nose at the tip of John's. "How could you do what you did, Johnny?" he whispered eerily. "From what I remember, you thaid it made you the thcum of the earth, didn't you? Seemth like what you did ith way worth than taking a few buckth from you every month. Wouldn't you agree, Johnny?" Looking at the shoes he'd so carefully shined that morning, John turned and walked toward the exit, Tony's harsh laugh echoing in his ears. Tears started to form in his eyes and he let loose the biggest sigh of his life. "When will this ever end?" he thought. "Thee you in a month, Johnny-boy!!" yelled Tony. "Ba ha ha ha!!" ------ Coming soon - Part IV

Gainesville National League All-Stars Greatest Hits

The Gainesville National League All-Stars (11/12) finished third in the Virginia District 10 in 2011, beating a good Coles team (3-2), Annandale/North Springfield National (13-0) and SYA West (16-13). As coaches, we are VERY proud of each of the boys. The following shots were taken during the Coles game and the Chantilly American game. Congratulations boys!!

Gainesville National League All-Stars - Part II

Pictures from the game against Chantilly American, 07/14/11

Sending up Shoots - Part II

Elizabeth dipped her clenched fist into the warm seawater and opened it slowly. She was not disappointed when the water before her became a roiling morass of orange, black, purple and yellow. It had happened the same way hundreds of times. Fighting each other for a share, Mamo, Kikakapu and countless other smaller fish jabbed and parried at the tiny niblets of fish food that laid in her palm. It was a really tourist-y thing to do, she thought, but she enjoyed it as much now as she had her first time there.

Elizabeth had been to Hanauma Bay a hundred times since her dad was transferred to Pearl Harbor in 1977. She was only five when he was promoted to captain and assigned duty on the USS Columbia. To ease the pain of leaving some of her kindergarten friends in San Diego, he'd bought her a Bugs Bunny diving mask and a matching snorkel on their first day on Oahu. She still had them in a box, stuffed in the attic. Numerous other pairs had found their way into her possession in the 25 years since, including the one she wore on top of her head.

“Excuse me.”

Elizabeth continued feeding the fish, acknowledging the voice with an almost imperceptible "Mmm hmm". It was another fat, sunburned tourist, no doubt, asking again one of the vapid questions she'd heard a million times before.

“Hi. Um, I have been watching you feed the fish," said the voice, "and was wondering if you could tell me where I can buy some of that food. It looks like fun.”

"I knew it," she said to herself, though barely silently. Closing her eyes to keep her frustration bottled inside, and shaking her hand to clear away the rest of the kernels, Elizabeth stood erect and wheeled toward the voice.

"Listen," she said impatiently as she turned. Taking in a large breath, she was ready to unleash it on the unsuspecting intruder. "I...I...I..."

Stammering in front of him, seawater just covering her knees, she wriggled her toes an inch deeper into the sand. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. His gray eyes shot shivers through her skin. The proverbial Hawaiian shirt he wore barely concealed a muscular, tanned frame that had been fine tuned in a garage gym. Playful dimples danced on his cheeks.

“I..I..I’m sorry?” she muttered, trying to buy herself some time to recover.

“The fish food. I’d like to buy some. Can you show me where to get it?”

Looking into her now empty hand, she laughed nervously and pointed to the kiosk on the edge of the beach. “Over there,” she spluttered. “Over there. It’ll cost you 50 cents.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning slowly and gracefully as he smiled and winked.

Elizabeth watched him intently for a few seconds before she found herself instinctively walking after him. She felt drawn like the needle on a compass. It was an attraction that reached to her most central fiber.

“Excuse me?” she called.

Stopping, he turned quickly towards her.

She looked quickly at the white, sandy beach. Instantly she was 12 again, asking Heath Gilbert if he'd like to go to the 6th grade dance. “Ask!” her brain shrieked at her. “Ask!!”

Furrowing her brow, she gripped her courage with all her might and said, “Would you like to feed the fish with me?”

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Coming soon - Part III

Sending up Shoots - Part I

"That's not a real word!" she exclaimed, setting her Diet Pepsi back down on the table with a sudden plop. "Crapulous? Come on! There's no way that's a real word."

John smiled. "You going to challenge it?" he asked. "I'm warning you, though. I just got that word on my word calendar a couple of days ago. Trust me," he added, with a villainous gleam in his eye.

Yea, trust you, she thought. She loved John more than life, even waiting anxiously for him to pop the question, but trust him? In a game? "I don't think so," she said.

Sliding the Webster's toward her, he watched as she flipped the cover open and thumbed quickly toward the C's. "Are you sure?" he said, baiting her. "You'll be sorry!"

The sound of his patronizing tone grated her nerves like 40-grit sandpaper. She hated it more than anything she could think of, but it was worse during competition. John had this air of superiority slathered all over his 6 foot 1 inch frame and it never ceased to make her feel like she was trying to catch a greased pig.

"Crap!" she said as finger fell upon the word. She could feel her one remaining nerve twitch. "It's no fun playing Scrabble with you," she whined.

"Why? Because I'm so devastatingly handsome?" he asked, smacking his hands together and leaning over for a kiss.

She peered at him through slatted eyes and paused ever so briefly before leaning over to reciprocate. "No," she muttered. "It's because you're so smug."

Though nearly imperceptible, John noticed the slight hesitation and it pierced him like an ancient sword. She wasn't the first to slight him in such a manner, but that whole series of unfortunate events had taken years to be excised from his heart. Now he felt the pain again like an aching fire.

He had searched his soul on countless occasions, hunting for the right words to tell her about his past. He'd wanted to confess the foul deed to her a thousand times, but the courage always seeped away before he could get the secret out.

"What is it, John?" she'd ask him quietly in some of their most intimate moments. It was like she was looking through him with a magnifying glass, examining every dark corner of his existence. She always had that way about her. Though never intrusive, she could get to the real subject of the matter with amazing alacrity.

"It's nothing," he found himself muttering on more than one occasion. "Really, it's nothing. I'm fine."

Tonight, peering anxiously for rescue out the back window of his studio apartment, John could see the Empire State Building glowing like a lighthouse warning lost souls on a foggy evening. She cuddled up next to him, letting her hand rest on his and accidentally spilling half of the Scrabble tiles on the floor.

"It's beautiful tonight, isn't it?" she said, looking toward the radiant monolith.

John sighed. "It's always beautiful," he replied, looking deeply into her soft blue eyes. "Always."


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Coming soon - Part II

Gainesville National League All-Stars

Pictures from the game at Coles, won 3-2 by Gainesville.

A Moment to Boast

I hope you will be patient with me if I brag just a little bit.

See, I have the two best kids there could ever be. Sure, they give us fits from time to time (afterall, they are pre-teens), but by and large they are exemplary. They help some around the house (and when I say "some", I mean some), they do well in school and they're both about the most talented kids I've ever known.

That's what I want to brag about.

Hannah has been dancing since she was 4-years old with a dance organization over in Manassas. Her teacher, Miss Lisa, is a terrific teacher and very patient. Hannah loves her. When she got into the 4th grade she was eligible to dance on company, so she tried out and made it.

Every year, though, the girls (and a sprinkle of boys) have to audition for the company again. Nothing is guaranteed. If you were on company last year, it may give you a brownie point or two, but it does not mean you'll make it if there are more talented and dedicated dancers.

Hannah tried out for it again this year and made it. She starts those practices next week (I think). It means more parades and other competitions this fall and winter, and we can't wait. I'm so proud of her.

Jacob, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with dance. His big thing has always been baseball. He's played on a team at least twice a year since he was five, whether it was machine pitch or boy pitch (he skipped t-ball). He's played a lot of ball.

He got elected to the All-Star team in the American league three years ago. It was his first year of eligibility and we were thrilled for him. He got elected the two following years, too, both in the AL.

This year we took him off of that AL team and put him back into the draft. He got drafted onto the Braves in the National League, and now he's been elected to the NL All-Star team. Not many kids can say they've played for both. I'm very proud of him, too.

Actually, to say that I'm proud of my kids is an injustice. I don't know what the right word is, but proud doesn't touch it.

Know what, though? I'm not proud of them solely because they made the dance company or because they made the All-Star team. I'm proud of them because of the way they live. I'm proud of them for never giving up. When others told them they weren't good enough, they basically just said, "Oh, really? Watch this!"

I'm proud of them for not being quitters. I'm proud of them for how hard they try in school and other endeavors. I'm proud of them because they don't lie, cheat or steal. And I'm proud of them because they are trying to live right.

I'm just plain proud of them for being who they are.

I've got some danged good kids.

Now if they could just be a little more respectful to their mother, I'd almost expect them to be saint-ified.

Ok, well, maybe that's going just a tad too far.

They are such little demons sometimes.

The Dumbing of America and the Demise of Baseball

You know what? I've finally figured out why football has replaced baseball as the most watched game in the United States. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier because it's oh so very simple.

Simply put, it's because this nation has turned into a country full of dolts.

I know. Harsh statement, right? Don't get me wrong. I like football. It's not my favorite game (that spot will always be reserved for the real National Pastime), but I do like it.

In fact, I was at every single football game in Cougar Stadium in 1984 when BYU won the National Championship. I loved those games. It was exciting, I admit it.

I'm not saying, either, that football fans are dolts. Quite to the contrary. I think some of them are quite brilliant and talented people. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that there are a lot of baseball fans who ARE dolts. There's one in every crowd, as the old saying goes.

For me, though, there is still nothing like a good old baseball game on a warm summer's night. I love sitting in the stands, eating dogs and even keeping score. I love the smell of a baseball, the feeling of dirt on my pants and the sound a wooden bat makes when it solidly hits a speeding ball. No sound in football, or any other sport for that matter, can compare to that. The only one that even comes close is the sound of a small, white, dimpled ball dropping into the bottom of the cup. It's close, but still, it's no cigar.

Nuances in baseball abound. Catcher getting signals from manager. Pitcher getting signals from catcher. Coaches getting signals from manager. Batter and runners getting signals from coaches. To sit and watch, from the dugout or from the stands or even from the field, it's intellectually stimulating. Will the runner go? What pitch will be thrown? Will the batter bunt? Where does the fielder go if the ball is hit to him? There are a million things to consider, and it all takes less than a couple of seconds.

You've got to be quick on your intellectual feet in a baseball game. Fielders have to constantly think about the play they will make if the ball is hit their way. Pitchers and catchers have to constantly think about pitches and their locations. Runners have to constantly think about what they'll do when the ball is hit. Do they take an extra base? Do they steal?

Drag bunt? Hit and run? Run and hit? Fair or foul? Delayed steal? Double play? Change up or curve? Pitch out?

It's a thinking man's game.

I'll go to my grave insisting that baseball, to be truly appreciated, has to be thought about. It was made to be slow.

Today, though, most people aren't slow. We drive fast to get from here to there. We sleep 5 or 6 hours a night because there's too much to do. We play video games all day long and have nothing but instant gratification.

I know one guy at work who is at his desk every single day before I get there at 7:30am and he's there when I leave at night just after 4. He won't take a day off when he's sick because he says there's "too much to do," so he comes in and tries to infect the lot of us. As far as I know, the man lives at the office. I'm all for dedication, believe me, but there's such a thing as going too far. The man has bags under his eyes, for Pete's sake.

Every day I hear on the news that so-and-so was killed in a car accident because he was going too fast.

I talk to parents who work 60-70 hours a week and hardly ever get to see their kids because they get home from work too late.

I hear about homes in which both parents work and leave their kids to a nanny or even to fend for themselves.

I hear about people who lose their temper in line at the grocery store because it's taking too long.

I heard yesterday about a guy driving down the Interstate who was the victim of road rage. Someone ran into his car with a motorcycle, for heaven's sake, because he slowed them down! Tore his rear view mirror off and left a big scratch down the side. A motorcycle!! Seriously?

We've become a nation of do-it-in-a-hurry, gotta-get-it-done now, winning-is-the-only-thing dolts. There's no time anymore for sitting and reading a paperback novel, studying and pondering the scriptures or just listening to good music. We don't go and visit our neighbors, we don't go and visit grandma and we don't write letters, unless they are sent via email.

Baseball is slow. It's counter to the way America is nowadays. We all move at the same pace at which football moves. Fast-paced. Breakneck speed. Put your head down and plow through the line.

Just a word of warning here before I close.

Watch out football.

One of these days the country is going to be going faster than you, too, and then you won't be the most watched sport in America anymore.

We'll all be hockey fans instead.

Serendipi-dog

I stumbled upon web site this morning that included someone's idea of the 100 most beautiful words in the English language. My brother, Marc, is an etymologist and quite the grammarian. I have never considered myself such, though I love to learn new words. But I thought it might be fun to write a blog with as many of these "beautiful" words as I can, along the lines of Cat in the Hat. Following is my attempt. See if you can pick out the "beautiful" words. At the end I'll tell you how many I actually used.

One word of warning - BEWARE the red herrings! I have included other words I like, though they are not included in the list of the 100 most "beautiful" words.

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I have never been an ailurophile. I've never even had a ripple, not one scintilla of affinity for the animals, though I was an erstwhile owner about 10 years ago. They were minx's, though, with no tails. The two of them, named Skeeter and Midnight, were born in a rabbit hutch and were wild as bucks. We got them just after they were born, but they beleaguered our home with their endless scratching. So much to my wife's chagrin, our ephemeral proprietorship ended.

If the truth be told, I was imbued by my parents with much higher regard for dogs. Not only are dogs much more becoming to me, they're just a lot friendlier. Sure, I'm a little inured, since I've owned dogs since I was just more than 7-years old.

Shortly after Kelly and I were married we bought our first dog. His name was Slider. He was a comely dog, the conflation of a German Shepherd and a Beagle, and I actually cared about him for a time.

But being the spawn of those two lines of canine pedigree, he was the shedin'-est dog I've ever known. It didn't take long before he was my nemesis, The Riddler to my Batman, the Kryptonite to my Clark Kent. The efflorescence of our friendship faded quickly, as Mother's Day flowers in a dry vase.

Slider was with us for 14 years, but as with all things, he grew old. He became desultory and languid. His lassitude turned to indolent lethargy, and he began marking his demesne, both inside and outside the house. Good times with him became fugacious, and I could tell that he longed for the halcyon days of his youth when he would gambol uncaringly among the daisies in the park across the street from our condominium.

Slider died on a Friday morning. They told us at the vets office that they would cremate him and sprinkle his ashes in a bucolic atmosphere out in Strasburg where he could run and play with abandon for eternity.

The kids, of course, were woebegone with grief. The imbroglio we experienced in our family after Slider died was labyrinthine. One day I was the bad guy for not liking the poor dog and the next it was Kelly, because she took him to the vet that day. Neither of us were winners in the minds of our children.

So Kelly and I talked about a new dog, one that could be an inside dog, one that the kids could walk and take care of.

It turns out that we've had that dulcet little pooch for a week today. Her name is Charlie, the mixture of a Bichon Frise and a Poodle. A Bichon-Poo. Her effervescent ebullience is contagious, and though she's still in her very incipient growing stages and is a relative ingénue, she seems to be a panacea for all things wrong in our home. She is a lot of work, no doubt, but her enthusiasm calms the heart of even this savage beast. She's already brought a lot of felicity to our tiny bungalow and is the cynosure of all the neighbors. We've got dog-sitters lined up from now to eternity.

Interesting thing is that we were actually just looking around for another dog. But the epiphany hit me this morning. It's been serendipitous. We actually found a lot of cure while we were looking for a dog.

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I used 35 of the "beautiful" words in this blog. How many did you pick out? Leave me a comment!