Puppy Love. At least that's what it was called when it afflicted me....several times as I recall. I'm glad I no longer suffer from the condition. It had the power to make you do strange things.
I recollect one such instance when I was “overwhelmed” by a particular girl at school. Don't remember her name, or whether we were in middle or high school, or whether we even attended the same school.
Nevertheless, Puppy Love had infected my soul. So much so (I think), that I wanted to do something special for her. Something unique.
After much thought, I decided to what all jocks do (lol) and write a poem. That I did (with great pain I might add), as writing was not my forte in school. The completed masterpiece was given the title, Love is Time Not Lost.
After you've had a chance to compose yourself, please know that I am 100% certain about the title. Love is Time Not Lost. After all, it was the only poem I ever wrote. I kept a copy for myself and even re-read it several times over the years.
I don't remember how she reacted when I gave her the poem, although I'm sure it was a good experience. As is the case with many of my memories, the poem is now lost. Other than the title, the only recollection I have of the composition is that it was deep. Either I pulled it from way down in my soul or it was piled high :-)
Regardless, I'm sure I could reconstruct some of the poem if only I could remember the first few lines.
So, on this Valentine's Day occasion, could you help by telling me what you think those first few lines might have been?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
My Worst Fears
The headaches wouldn't stop, and I couldn't help thinking the worst had come. After all, both my parents had died at a young age from chronic conditions. As many people do when faced with seemingly dire conditions, I put off a visit to the physician.
My oldest daughter and I were driving home from swim practice one day when it happened. She was texting on her cell phone like she always did and asked me to look at a photo someone had sent. It was a pic of a tornado. I glanced at the photo when we reached the next red light. “Nice”, I said, even though I couldn't see it. I realized then that my headaches and recently acquired poor eyesight must somehow be related. Yes, my fears were now confirmed.
That evening, my daughter showed her mother the photos. Excited, she called me over to look at them as well. I declined, describing the events earlier that day. “Have you had vision problems recently”, she asked in a tone that told me we were about to enter into a nurse/patient relationship. “Well.... Yes”, I replied, recounting how I could no longer read the fine print on sales papers. She gave me a pair of glasses and asked me to read some small print with them on. “O my God”, I could see the print perfectly.
A few days later, an optometrist confirmed my diagnosis and prescribed a pair of reading glasses.
I love my glasses, they make me look smart.
My oldest daughter and I were driving home from swim practice one day when it happened. She was texting on her cell phone like she always did and asked me to look at a photo someone had sent. It was a pic of a tornado. I glanced at the photo when we reached the next red light. “Nice”, I said, even though I couldn't see it. I realized then that my headaches and recently acquired poor eyesight must somehow be related. Yes, my fears were now confirmed.
That evening, my daughter showed her mother the photos. Excited, she called me over to look at them as well. I declined, describing the events earlier that day. “Have you had vision problems recently”, she asked in a tone that told me we were about to enter into a nurse/patient relationship. “Well.... Yes”, I replied, recounting how I could no longer read the fine print on sales papers. She gave me a pair of glasses and asked me to read some small print with them on. “O my God”, I could see the print perfectly.
A few days later, an optometrist confirmed my diagnosis and prescribed a pair of reading glasses.
I love my glasses, they make me look smart.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
It All Started...
I had many life events growing up that I wish had been documented, but we didn't have the means. All that remains of my childhood are bits and pieces from the few photographs that were taken.
I was determined to ensure that my kids didn't suffer the same fate, so I learned how to create slideshows and burn them to DVD. I also discovered a way to use photos creatively in printed materials. Thus a hobby was born. It didn't take long for me to realize that photos and videos sometimes fell short in preserving the stories. I created this blog for that purpose.
In upcoming posts I'll relate a few things in my life that are memorable. I'll tell the story of a little boy's redemption and another about an event related to my worst fears. One of my favorites is the Grandma Tree, a story explaining what Sept 11 and a chamilia shrub have in common. Others around me will have their stories told as well. I'll even share some events involving Sasha, Cody, and other family pets that lived their entire lives with us. If you follow this blog, there will be an occasional surprise meant especially for you....but more about that later.
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