No, thanks, I got this eHarmony!

I'm not looking to get married ever again. I came to that conclusion more than a year ago, the ink not even dry on my divorce judgment. Fresh out of a year-long relationship, I don't even want to date anyone!

So you might be asking yourself what I'm doing blogging about the online dating service, eHarmony. Well, I signed up last month for something to do and mostly out of curiosity. I didn't pay a subscription fee, I just created a well-rounded profile, uploaded a couple of pics and waited for the matches to roll in. And at first they did.

You see, anyone can put up an eHarmony profile for free. You can even upload pictures and bare your soul for the world to see. However, if you don't pay for their "expertise" you don't get to shop around too much, especially if you're a window browser like me. No, this site is only for the very serious--or desperate--depending upon how you look at it.

The first couple of weeks, I was receiving around 3 matches daily. This was apparently meant to whet my appetite. The entire time, eHarmony's been badgering me to pay to join their millions of subscribers. They don't know just how broke I am or how little I'm looking for a forever mate.

Suddenly, I stopped receiving matches. I get daily e-mails, mind you, but not matches. They've offered me free communication weekends--I'm already communicating for free, so that was bogus--free dating advice and discounts on membership. But really all their website amounts to is a huge marketing tool. And it was rated as one of the five worst websites by Time Magazine.

I don't pay for their help, so I don't even get to see profile pics of the other users. You know, because that would be superficial and shallow...not meeting their standards of compatibility. Since when is physical attraction not a key component of compatibility? Rather, I think the whole point is that they want to hold member's profiles hostage in order to make more money. And that's what this website is about. They don't care if you find a perfect match. All they care is that you keep looking...for as long as possible!

I'm really not looking...nor interested in dating at this point. I just wanted to see what eHarmony is about. It's about making money, plain and simple.

When I am ready, I'll try my luck on Facebook before I lay out cash for some website's help. At least I can see who I'm talking to...and make up my own questions for conversation starters. Follow Time's advice and steer clear of this money-grabbing website.

Love by example

When I was much younger and thought I had it all figured out, I was asked to give a talk on leaders to a group of men on a spiritual retreat. I used as the basis for my outline a book by Andrew Murray, titled Humility. Based on the wisdom of Philippians 2, this book lays out the simple life matrix of considering others before yourself, of loving sacrificially. And in the case of leaders, I argued, it means leading by example.

As I was making my morning pot of coffee, I was thinking about my girls who lay in their beds asleep, taking full advantage of the fact that it's spring break and they have no reason for which to set their alarms. In all my life, I've never taken to the concept of sacrificial love or employed it as I have with them. Those two precious souls are the lights of my life! I'd do anything for them, short of remarrying their mother. I'd step in front of a moving train if it meant saving their lives. I'd fight off a pack of hungry wolves, take a bullet or hurl myself into a raging sea...but most fathers would do the same.

It was while pouring my first cup of coffee that I had this thought about loving sacrificially and displaying that gift before my girls. Just as any leader would do, blazing a trail with his actions, not only his words, I determined that I would continue loving them by example.

In my doing so, they will not only see and feel what love is, they will come to understand a very key element to life. There are things in this life much bigger than us. Love, for example. Love is a transcendent concept. It is as critical to human beings as the air they breathe. But it is not just a bunch of sentimental ideas meant to make us feel good. It is tangible and real. It is meant to be experienced--touched by all of our senses and not just our hearts. It's more than a bunch of words in a blog or on a greeting card. It's in the mundane details of life, like a simple meal.

My youngest always tells me that the single most important ingredient in every meal I cook for her is love. She's only 9 and she's as wise as the Buddha. It's love.

Love, expressed in such a way that leaves no doubt in the person's mind, is the kind that is lived out daily. It might be secured with frequent confirming messages. "I love you," is something we don't say nearly enough. But it is amplified to soul-shattering levels when acted out in humility.

Back to the men's retreat some 20+ years ago and I'm talking about leading by example. I was telling the men to be the kind of leaders that the author Andrew Murray would be proud to write a book about, men who lead by humility, kinda like the guys who were serving on that retreat weekend as toilet scrubbers. Some of the dorm-keepers on that weekend were accountants, attorneys, sales executives and corporate leaders, yet they didn't think it beneath them to scrub a dirty toilet. And why did they do it? To show the other guys, not just about leadership, but about love.

Thinking back on that this morning, I came to realize that I've been loving my girls by example. I am their pack leader and that's my job. Upon that realization, I searched the web for an image that said "love by example" and the image at the top of this blog post is what I found. I obviously wasn't the first person to think of it, but I'm glad that I did. It's a transcendent concept. And in 45 years on this Earth, I've learned that not everyone gets it. Not everyone lives by the rule of humility, or understands what it means to sacrificially love someone else. I'm reminded by my daughters all the time what that means. And I'm committed to doing my best to love them by example.

Ghost roads to nowhere (Fallschase)

Dateline: Tallahassee

Disclaimer: I was provided these personal photos by a friend of mine and ghost hunter who did not want to be named for obvious reasons. The photos credited to Anonymous Donor are his property and are used with permission on condition of anonymity.

Photo credit: Anonymous Donor

There are ghost roads in Tallahassee that wind through moss-draped live oaks, heritage oaks and pine trees. They meander through an area stuck in time, it would seem, a reminder of what the east side of town used to look like before the urban sprawl. These long abandoned, curbed thoroughfares descend from Buck Lake Road through what promised to be Tallahassee's premier, luxury home neighborhood in the mid-1970's. It was the brainchild of would-be developer E. Lamar Bailey. Fallschase. Even the name conjured up images of pine forests with babbling creeks that cascaded over rocky falls and into a pristine lake.

I drove by the brick entry sign that spelled out Fallschase in block capital letters many times before ever venturing down those forgotten streets.

The sign but a mere memory now, razed when the development of a town center mall and new Fallschase Parkway were laid out in the first decade of the new millenium, was a landmark along Buck Lake Road. It pointed towards a never-realized promise of peaceful living among the massive trees, on sleepy, canopy-like roads, on a hill overlooking two lakes.

According to my research, it's now been 40 years since real estate developer/swindler E. Lamar Bailey laid out a master plan for a residential neighborhood in the forested, rolling hills between Buck Lake Road and Lake Lafayette. There's no need for me to document the entire sordid history, as you can read Bob Rackleff's timeline here (through 2003). Suffice to say, there was corruption, lawsuits, bankruptcies, bank foreclosures, federal grand juries and plenty of legal wrangling over this jewel on Tallahassee's east side. Sadly, nothing ever became of the residential part of it, but it wasn't for a lack of funding. There were millions in defaulted loans and somehow Bailey and his son have kept their hand in the proverbial pot the whole time.

Aerial view of Fallschase looking south, Photo credit: LAI Engineering 

As you can see from the aerial photo above, borrowed from the LAI Engineering website, this is what's become known as the Fallschase Town Center at the corner of Mahan Drive (US 90 East) and Buck Lake Road. The large white-roof on the right side is a Wal-Mart Supercenter and the building in the furthest corner is Costco. The dirt patch in-between those two giant retailers is now home to a Bass Pro Shop. Look to the back of Costco and you'll see a rectangular holding pond, a dirt patch and what looks like a small landing strip. That's the end of a road in the old Fallschase Development that still winds through the western half of the property over to Davis Road, where all the luxury homes were to be built.

The old house that served as E. Lamar Bailey's residence and home office, 4475 Buck Lake Road, is boarded up and stands along one of the paved, one-lane roads leading into the old development. You can still access this private drive off Buck Lake Road just past Fallschase Parkway. A team of ghost hunters entered the boarded-up residence in January 2013.

There is much evidence of vagrancy and vandalism in the last decade. That's unfortunate.

The residential section as drawn up by Moore Bass Consulting in June 2008

Through the years, many proposals have been submitted to the powers that be in Leon County, including the above drawing done for AIG Baker by Moore Bass Consulting in 2008. None of the proposals ever made it past that stage. And in the special taxing district's sordid 40-year history, only four homes were ever built. (See another AIG Baker conceptual design for the site, here.)

When I was driving through the mostly wooded neighborhood in the early 2000's, you could still drive up to a couple of the magnificent brick homes, one of which now lies in charred ruins (see below).

Photo credit: Anonymous Donor

Photo credit: Anonymous Donor

Photo credit: Anonymous Donor

WCTV reported a fire at an abandoned plantation house in Fallschase on the afternoon of March 31, 2010.
The Tallahassee Democrat posted an update that morning about the Fallschase house fire and provided a great photo. It was a sad end for one of the only traces of what Fallschase wanted to become in the 1980's. That's what those brick homes reminded me of...upscale subdivisions like the ones built near Carmel while I was attending a parochial high school on Indianapolis' north side (1982-86).

According to my friend, some of the curbed, tree-lined streets are still in good condition. The wooden bridges, for the most part, are as well.

Photo credit: Anonymous Donor

There are still brick walls along the main thoroughfare, a divided, two-way street, now covered with graffiti. When I drove those roads in early 2000, I noticed that the brick in those retention walls (and bridges) didn't exactly match the brick from the old entrance, photo'd above. I didn't really see the need for them, either, but it seemed to go with the mostly brick motif of the few houses and cul-de-sacs.

Urban Tallahassee reported in October 2012 that Columbus Pacific had bought out the property, including the town center mall and the proposed housing addition. Almost two years prior, it was reported that previous owner AIG Baker had filed for bankruptcy protection on the property. The company had posted to their website, "Residential ground breaking is scheduled for Fall 2008." No idea what Columbus Pacific plans, but AIG Baker had proposed more than 1500 homes in the Lake Lafayette watershed.

In early 2013, someone posted this ad to Urban Tallahassee forums. Apparently, the residential-zoned piece of Fallschase is again up for sale. It's now gone undeveloped for 40 years, since Bailey & Associates vision in the early 70's.

Unless someone buys this property, is environmentally responsible with it's development and actually builds some homes there, this land will remain unused and abandoned. From my friend's photos, it looks like a ghost town, a mere shadow of the prosperity of the 80's. And all those ghost roads, now blocked from Buck Lake and Davis Roads, as well as the parkway, continue to deteriorate as they lead no one to nowhere.

Here are more photos from the Tallahassee Explorations page on Tumblr.com, as well as an online presentation from Rachel Cohen, below.



UPDATE (3/18/14):
Yesterday, I found an old Tallahassee street map from 1987 that not only shows the original Fallschase Boulevard, but names all the residential streets as they were orignally laid out in the 80's.

Notice, the original alignment of Buck Lake Road (and I had forgotten this), was further east on Mahan than it currently sits. I can remember, there was a dead-end segment that came off Mahan near the current day intersection of the two roads, but in the 80's you had to go past that to the flashing yellow light (I believe the stoplight came later), turn right, curve south and the brick Fallschase sign was one of the first things that you saw.

Looking at a current Google Map, you can still search these street names and the pointer will show you where they are currently. For example, Sperrit Boundin would've run through the middle of the commercial property where Costco is, and Hidden Nest-Gardens End cross streets would now be underwater, thanks to the commercial property's large holding pond. The first visible roads off the main road are Hahnsum (or Hahnslim) Kerridge and Thorough Brace. From that portion eastward, the roads are still pretty much intact including an arm that runs north to the old Bailey home and Buck Lake Road, while the boulevard runs east to a ridge, just feet from the unpaved portion of Davis Road. Wish the old maps showed those roads, however the branch connecting to Buck Lake seems to be a private drive for the residence at 4475 Buck Lake Rd (i.e. the old Bailey home). Not sure yet who owned the home back in the woods at the end of Davis Rd, or if it still exists. You can zoom in on Google Earth and see the home and an unkempt property, obviously abandoned.

Love in your language

I know, two posts in one week! I've just been in a writing mood lately and getting in touch with myself. I recently ended a year-long relationship that I was certain I wanted out of, but was ill-prepared for the emotional fallout. That's partly what's got me writing so much, I think, but definitely has me thinking about love and the language that I speak.

What? You don't know the five love languages? Dr. Gary Chapman coined the phrase and explains the five love languages in a book he wrote in 1992 by that title.

Here they are:

This book helped me to identify the ways that I give and receive love by determining which was my primary and which was my secondary love language. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is searching to get in better touch with themselves.

When I came across the book's website tonight, I found a thoughtful blog about being sorry and making restitution. Here's what it says:

When Dr. Jennifer Thomas and I wrote the book: The Five Languages of Apology, we discovered that one of the strong languages of apology is Making Restitution. “What can I do to make this up to you?” If you don’t offer to make restitution, your apology may seem lame. What they want to know is: “Are you really sorry?” and “Do you still love me?” We also discovered that often what they want you to do in order to “make things right” is to speak their love language. One wife said, “I just want you to hold me, I feel so distant from you.” Her love language was physical touch and she wanted to feel that he still loved her. When you make an apology, don’t forget to ask the question: “What can I do to make this up to you?” Then, honor their request. It makes forgiveness much easier.

How often do any of us practice the art of restitution? I can say that I haven't. I usually do feel really sorry when I make a mistake and hurt someone's feelings. But I also know that sometimes the I'm sorry's fall well short of their intended mark--making the other person feel it, know it and accept it. The act of restitution is a way to speak with your actions. It not only says you're sorry to the offended party, but it shows them how deeply felt your apology is.

This goes along with another adage that I truly believe in--Actions speak louder than words.

In the art of speaking someone's love language, there is always that component called "loving actions." You cannot speak love to someone through physical touch without actually reaching out your hand. You cannot speak love to someone through gift giving without actually making the effort to create or purchase the gift. Love without actions is not really love. It's a sentiment and people can't always feel sentiments.

You can have the best intentions in your heart. You can even be motivated by great passion to love someone, but if you just say the words a lot, it doesn't necessarily speak love to the object of your passion. Don't get me wrong, everyone wants to hear "I love you." To what level they accept and believe it is often determined by your actions. How do you back up that love and passion? Remember, the other person can't live inside your body and experience the deep feelings you may have for them. You have to make it real to them in tangible ways.

For example, if your partner loves words of affirmation, go the extra distance and write them a love note or a letter. Spell it out for them, not just with spoken words, but with an action. Don't stop there, either, because written words are still just words. Show that person through loving actions. Say to them, "I don't just love that you are a romantic soul, but I am going to show you how much by..." (you fill-in the blank). This is just an example of not only speaking the persons love language, but backing those words with action.

You really should get to know which are your love languages. It not only reveals to you how you best receive love, but is also an indication of how you show it. If gifts and surprises mean the world to you, then you are probably one of those people who likes to give gifts or plan surprises for those you love. Be fluent in your love language. Naturally, you are going to be better at speaking the one(s) that speak the most to you.

In my case, words of affirmation are number one. I can speak that language very fluently when I want to. But on the flip-side, I have a very critical nature, too. It stands at great juxtaposition with the lover I am on the inside. I have to constantly bite my lip and refrain from speaking negatively to those I love. But when I am being conscious about my words and actions, I can be the best, most affirming person on the planet. This only became apparent to me when I started putting it into practice. And the words of affirmation I have spoken to those I love--heck, even to the people I didn't love that I had to work with--not only changed the expression on their faces, brightening their outlook, but it did a world of good for me, too.

That's the neat circle of speaking love and encouragement. It comes back to you. It's like instant Karma.

Well, I could go on and on, but take the time to read Dr. Chapman's original work, The Five Love Languages. It's probably available at your local library. Make a habit of not only speaking that language fluently, but look for ways to show it, too. Make your lover understand in the most tangible of ways how deeply you feel about them. You only live once. This is your chance to make the most meaningful statement. If you love the person, love them completely and leave no doubt in their mind. My next ride on the merry-go-round of relationships, you better believe that I'm going to!

Moving forward

It's crazy, sometimes, the path life's journey takes you down. It's never what you expect. It's always ripe with surprise twists and turns. It takes you to some uncharted territories, not just physical proximity, but in your psyche, as well.

These last two and three-quarter years have been quite an interesting part of mine. I've successfully navigated two moves--one almost 1,150 miles--a separation, a divorce, another failed relationship, several changes in employment, the ups-and-downs of life and the melodramatic changes in my attitude about all of it. I can't say that it's been boring. I lived on a barrier island near the boundary to the tropics, played in a rock band, dated a beautiful woman, made trips to the Florida Keys and to Tallahassee to see my girls...there were several adventures along the way, most recently an unexpected visit to Mile Marker 59 on Alligator Alley due to a blown headgasket.

I'm thankful for the experience of living on the beach...a lifelong dream finally realized, if only for a brief moment in time. I fully expect to get back there one day, maybe not to Fort Myers Beach, but definitely to a barrier island somewhere on the Gulf of Mexico. That's what the image above reminds me of--a public beach access to a white, sandy beach somewhere in that vicinity. I will have my toes in the sand and a cold beer in my hand, that's for certain.

For now, life has me landlocked in Tallahassee, where I spent more than 20 years of my life. It's a place near and dear to my heart for three reasons--FSU, where I earned my degree and fell in love with college football, and two daughters who stole my heart, both of whom I adopted there. I'm committed to remaining here as long as they are both living here in the moss-draped armpit of Florida. Besides those three draws to this city, I picked a great time to move back. Springtime in Tallahassee, while incredibly shortlived, is quite beautiful--warm temperatures, low humidity and plenty of fragrant, blooming trees and bushes. It could be a lot worse. I could be enduring yet another feet-of-snow-producing storm in central Indiana. I'll count my blessings in that regard.

I've spent the most time journalling throughout this segment of my journey than I ever have before. Beginning in earnest July of 2012, I have made entries on a near daily basis, filling up a dozen spiral-bound, college-ruled notebooks. While therapeutic for me, it has also allowed me the practice of writing and getting in touch with my feelings. It began, largely, out of my loneliness and needing someone to talk to and has become a much needed and relied upon outlet. I just wish I had started earlier in my life, capturing my thoughts and feelings on things I have experienced the last 25+ years.

I know that I have grown and changed a lot. Still unsure of what I want to do with my life, professionally, I know much better now who I am. I've grown to love that person exponentially. And at the risk of sounding quite vain and conceited, I really love the man I've become. If you knew how completely self-conscious and truly self-deprecating I can be, you'd understand and you'd be congratulating me. Learning to love myself as compassionately as I love others was a huge milestone for me in the last two years.

More than anything, I've put more value on my time with my children, two incredibly gifted girls that were meant to be mine, no question about it. They are daddy's girls through and through. With one of them about to become a teenager, there was no better time for me to re-engage on a daily basis than now. Neither of them are getting any younger, and my time away from them, missing them like a central organ in my body, taught me just how critical they are to my existence here on planet Earth. I need them just as badly as they need me and I'm not ashamed to admit it. The two weeks I've spent with them in Tallahassee, so far, has been very heart-warming and healing for us all.

This journey has surprised me in life-altering ways. I've learned things about myself even in the last month that have amazed me beyond belief. And as cynical and jaded as I tend to be, I am very hopeful for what the next leg of this journey holds. I'm still growing...still learning, at age 45. I'm much happier with myself and much easier on myself than I've been in the past. I still have my days. I can be a very gloom-and-doomsday, self-fulfilling prophet, but I bounce back much more readily than before. My realism certainly helps to balance the dreamer in me and I'm learning to love that counterbalance! Still a hopeless romantic, I'm very guarded these days about my heart...slow to trust, but eager to do so.

Well, before I get any gushier or ultra-transparent, let me end this blog entry here. I could go on, but that is mostly what I wanted to say. This is me moving forward.

What's so rockin about classic hits?

Whatever happened to Classic Rock Radio? Has anyone else noticed that it's disappeared from the radio dial? No longer can you tune in to find a station playing acid rock from the late 60's, progressive rock from the 70's, or the post-disco hard rock of the early 80's or the later hair metal. The powers that be at ClearChannel, Cumulus and Emmis have decided that those of us born in the last half of the 60's and early 70's can no longer feast our ears on the classics we cut our teeth on, like Jimi, Zeppelin and Deep Purple. If it's not the overplayed "Don't Stop Believin'," you'd never know that there was a Journey album before 1980. And forget classic Styx, Van Halen or Aerosmith. That Steven Tyler guy only started crooning after he appeared on Idol, right?

No, we have two choices now: Listen to the watered down "classic hits," which might include Abba and Elton John mixed in with a little Zeppelin or Hendrix; or Deal with the  overly distorted, headache-inducing screams of Disturbed and Five Finger Death Punch while you're waiting to headbang to "Back in Black" or airdrum to "Tom Sawyer." But there is no more in-between. It's either "Mellow" by Olivia Newton-John or "A Warrior's Call" by Volbeat. And you might just get lucky enough to hear a couple of the all-time great rock-n-roll songs in any one music set.

When I lived in Tallahassee the first time, 1986-2006, I always had Gulf 104. I knew that I could tune to 104.1 and get a heavy helping of Ozzy, early Foreigner, Aerosmith, Rush and Led Zeppelin. Then came the bit heavier 106.1 in the 90's, playing more Ozzy, Guns'N'Roses, Motley Crue and Yes. We actually had TWO classic rock stations battling it out back then. It was great! But that was before the deregulation of FM Radio and the buyout of every mom-n-pop radio station from Maine to New Mexico. So long diversity. Say goodbye to Album Oriented Rock, where you might actually hear a B-side that was better than the big radio hit.

What the likes of ClearChannel did to radio was dumb it down. Find the lowest common denominator and cater to that. Then they sterilized every local market, giving us Bob FM from Miami to Minneapolis, and stripping Programming Directors of any personal discretion. They would now play the plain vanilla corporate playlist. I know, I worked for ClearChannel when they moved all of the Tallahassee-owned stations into the John Knox Road complex.

When the powers that be decided Classic Rock wasn't generic enough to suit the masses, they toned down the hard rock and replaced it with soft rock. You may have still wanted "Black Dog," but you were getting "Band on the Run" a million times in it's place. Which reminds me, remember the request line? For those of you under 30, we used to be able to actually dial up a radio station, talk to an actual on-air DJ and request our favorite songs...then wait umpteen hours until they got around to playing it.

Now that I'm back in Tally, I can still tune into Gulf 104, but it's not the same. They even call it Classic Hits now. That means, what once had some balls, is now metrosexual and lame. No offense to any gender ambiguous guys, just saying the music has been neutered. I don't like it.

Am I the only one who hates the new format?

A daddy's time

Being a daddy to two beautiful girls is one of the highest honors in the world. I feel blessed to have two daddy’s girls in my life. It hasn’t always been easy being a dad, but it has definitely been one of the most rewarding challenges I have faced.

I’m the kind of daddy who takes time to sit and listen, to snuggle on the couch or in the bed, who notices when a favorite stuffed animal might be on the brink and searches the Internet to find a suitable likeness to replace it.

I was one of very few dads in Fishers (IN) who regularly walked his girls to elementary school or saw them to the bus on days when we couldn’t walk. I was the bus stop dad, standing on Estero Blvd every morning on Fort Myers Beach.

I always found time to invest in my daughters. And even when I wasn’t with them, I was always thinking about them—at work, at the grocery store or ballgame. Even now, when I’m setting up to play another gig on the beach, I’m wondering what they are doing so many miles away. I never went to the grocery store without picking up special items just for them.

I was their personal chef, their Xbox teammate, and their biggest fan. Well, I’m still their biggest fan because I think they are the most precious people on this planet. When I became unemployed, I decided to be a stay-at-home dad for a few years. I determined that I didn’t want to miss a single second of their young childhood. So I was the one who picked my youngest up from pre-school and kindergarten, helped both girls with homework, played hide-and-seek with them inside the house on inclement weather days and genuinely enjoyed spending time with them.

We have a special bond that can never be broken. But the physical distance between us is nearly unbearable. And while the Florida courts are supposed to give both parents equal footing, I’ve been awarded a paltry 54 nights a year with my daughters. Don’t get me wrong. I will cherish every last minute of that time, but 54 nights out of 365?

It wasn’t my idea for my girls to live 400 miles away from me. That decision was made for me. And the courts don’t care what sort of father I was/am to those girls, they only care about financial statements and unfounded characterizations. The best interest of the children wasn’t even a deciding factor, unless you believe like the courts (and most of society) that mothers know best.

This isn’t a knock on my ex-wife or even on the judge who presided over my divorce. It is an indictment of a system that fails great fathers every day. It calls into question state laws that presume to bring equal justice into our courts, but fails miserably all the time.

I don’t mean to sound bitter. I just needed to get this stuff off my chest.

I know or have read about plenty of no-good, deadbeat dads who don’t even deserve the title. I know many more, who like me have gone the extra mile to be an excellent caregiver even when they weren’t the primary breadwinner of their home. But what is more important? The cash I can bring home to my kids or the love, care and investment of time?

I’ve never been deficient in the latter, so why is it I get so little time with them now?

Helen Keller Memorabilia Lost in 9/11

Who says you can't learn anything from television? I spend a lot of time watching documentaries on channels, like Discovery, History, Animal Planet, PBS, etc. I find most of them to be educational and entertaining. Today, while watching Pawn Stars on History Channel, someone came in with a rare letter signed by the late Helen Keller. It was authenticated and valued at more than $1200. During the show, I learned that most of the Helen Keller collection, once stored in a Manhattan building a block from the World Trade Center, was destroyed on 9/11. That fact was confirmed by this article (it includes a photo of a bust that was recovered from the rubble of WTC):
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2020808/Mystery-lost-art-records-vanished-9-11-attacks.html

When I was a kid, there were TV movies and specials about the author and activist who was the first deaf-blind person to earn a Bachelor's degree. Helen Keller, who died 45 years ago this week, was also born in late June 1880. Among her many accomplishments, Keller fought for women's suffrage and labor rights and never let her disabilities hold her back.

This Google Image from biography.com shows Keller in her later years.
She lived to be 87 years old.

I hadn't thought much about her in recent years until today's repeat episode of Pawn Stars (Episode 59 from 2011 Season). It is sad that many of the artifacts from her collection have been lost for all antiquity, thanks to some radical Islamic terrorists. More surprising, though, is that I never heard about this in almost 12 years. As an avid watcher of CBS Sunday Morning, it is peculiar that this topic has never come up. In addition to the Keller collection that was lost on 9/11, there was also an archive of photographic negatives of the late President John F. Kennedy, taken by his personal photographer amongst the rubble. You'd think these losses would have received more media attention. (Note: I did find a CBS News story published on the 10th Anniversary of 9/11 that was basically a reproduction of the story linked above).

It makes sense that so much was written and filmed about Keller in the 1970's as her passing occurred on the year of my birth, 1968. President Jimmy Carter even proclaimed June 27th, her birthday, as Helen Keller Day in the U.S. So there was definitely a swell of interest in her during the decade that followed her passing. Still, a large portion of the evidence of her life and impact on our society was lost and we heard very little about it.

Just glad I caught the re-run of Pawn Stars today. See, Mom, I DO learn something from "boob tube."

Boxes can't hold us, or God

A Box by King's X

 

Lonely days will come and go,

nothing new unless you're bold,

revolution #19

brand new wave of anger
Stain yourself with pumpkin pie,

liquid tattoo I got mine,

don't forget forgetfulness,

call it Deconstruction
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.
Way down in the deep depress,

colder than the coldest yes,

we all know of loneliness
others to another,

just a place to run and hide
just a place to free your mind,

just a place to break the chains

and find whatever matters
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.

 

 

When I first heard this song, I was going through a deconstruction, of sorts, questioning my faith and all the things I was raised to believe as Truth. From what I know about Doug Pinnick, the singer for King's X, I know that he was struggling with these same Truths. That could be what led him to write this song, but I cannot be sure.

 

To me, this song talks about the futility of trying to hem God in. It reminds me that you cannot place the Infinite in some tiny little box that fits your puny understanding of things greater than yourself. I don't pretend to have God figured out. In fact, it's the mystery of the Divine that keeps me interested in the pursuit of knowledge and experience.

More than just a statement on God or faith, however, I believe the lyrics also speak to the deconstruction of one's self. Others may try to box us in, but the human spirit cannot be contained in tiny little containers, either. In fact, our bodies don't even do a very good job of hemming us in. Ever been around someone with a contagious smile or giggle? Or been around someone who is so charismatic, he/she enhances the atmosphere around them? I believe that is the spirit of the person leaking out of every pore of their body. It cannot be contained.

Yet, we are all guilty of trying to capture, analyze and label everyone like scientists. We want to fit everyone into tiny little boxes we can categorize and file away. And when they don't behave in the way we have preordained, then something must be wrong with them. We want God and others to fit in neat, rectangular boxes that we can carry and stow away for safekeeping.

How do those same boxes make us feel? Confined? Clausterphobic? Not understood?

That's where this song hits me the most. I don't want to be confined inside the small box of someone else's understanding. Unless they really get to know me or walk a mile in my shoes, they can't possibly understand me.

Boxes are confining. And unless we open the box of our small thinking, we'll continue to misunderstand others and the world.

I know from experience that my small thinking has caused me to be surprised by the world, and not always in a good way. When I thought I had things figured out--analyzed, categorized and arranged into boxes I could handle--I was thrown for several loops.

But back to the idea that our spirits--the essential part of who we are--cannot be contained in tiny boxes. I was recently reminded of this when I took part in the burial of my girlfriend's mother.

Her cremains were delivered to us in a small, retangular, black box. It wasn't Jean. It was just the ashes that her physical body had been reduced to. That body had not contained Jean for 10 days. Her spirit no longer dwelled there. And so when her ashes were placed in that box and we placed it in the ground, the lyrics of this song came back to me. "There is no room inside a box." There is no way that little black box could contain all that Jean was, her essence. That certainly lives on in some way, either in the spiritual world or in the hearts of her two children and grandchildren. The fact is, that box did not contain Jean. Her spirit was much too big for her own body, let alone that little box containing her ashes.

It served to remind me that I am more than this mortal body. And in the same way that I cannot be contained in some box, neither can God and neither can others. I need to keep my mind unboxed, as well, so that I can more easily accept new things and ideas. I can even accept that my girlfriend doesn't fit into the box that I try to contain her in. I can let others simply be who they are and accept the little surprises that life throws my way from time to time.

It's important to remember, "there is no room inside."

Three Chances at Life

Three Chances at Life

I don’t know many people who can honestly say they’ve had three chances at life. Mine came by way of four incredible people--first, of course, my parents. If they hadn’t met in high school and fallen in love, I would have never formed in my mother’s womb or drawn that first burst of air into my lungs. For the first two people I ever loved in this world, I am grateful. Next month, they will celebrate their 45^th wedding anniversary. Later this year, I will also celebrate that many years of life…thanks to them. I was their firstborn son.

Chance number two came in the most unlikeliest of ways—adoption. I had not done any research, hired an attorney or contacted an agency. No, in fact, I had just come out of the darkest period of my life in 2001 and getting that fateful call in August wasn’t even the faintest blip on my radar screen. But it happened and without time to even catch my breath, I said yes to idea of adopting a six-week old, bald and blue-eyed beauty, my Baby Sweet. I didn’t realize what a difference becoming a father would make in my life, most notably on my heart. I’ve always said that my oldest daughter saved my life. And maybe that sounds a bit melodramatic, but as I said, the year prior had been the darkest year of my entire life. Adopting my daughter made 2001 the brightest year of my life, followed three years later by the adoption of my youngest daughter, a mocha-skinned, brown-eyed beauty with the thickest and shiniest main of dark, “stick-up” hair.

Then came my divorce, making the last half of 2012 another dark and gloomy year for me. Separated from my daughters by more than 400 miles, I cried many tears and fought like hell from slipping back into a blackness so dark it seems like there is no escape. That’s how I had felt 12 years earlier and I had determined never to go back there again.

Chance number three at life came after I crossed the item off my bucket list that read “Play in a rock-n-roll band.” While it wasn’t the band that saved my life, per se, it was befriending the bass player in that band who would later become my best friend and lover. She helped me to believe in love again, then she delivered. Speaking my love language so fluently, she swept me off my feet and made me a very happy man. Ideally, I would have custody of my daughters, then I could say I’m the happiest I have ever been. Still, I am very content in the love I’ve found, a love that caught me off guard and came as quite a surprise at the very end of 2012. I am so thankful to have found her and to have found real love.

Very few people get that many chances at life. I’ve had three and I thank God for each of them and for those four very special people--well, five--who helped to make my life complete.

The need for self-compassion

I've always tended to be a self-centered person. In truth, I think all humans are self-centered to some degree. I mean, some sort of self-awareness is crucial to survival, but I'm talking more about the putting one's own needs--emotionally, physically--before the needs of others on a regular basis.

The problem I've found with my own focus is that I'm more keenly aware of my faults and shortcomings than I am with those things I do well. Self-centeredness that looks only for what's wrong is not a good thing. It's caused me to be negative, critical, judgmental and pessimistic. It really is a self-defeating mode of operation. It causes me to sabotage myself, my relationships and my goals.

I've worked on having a more positive attitude, but it takes real effort. As my partner of 19 years once pointed out, "You wake up in the morning just waiting for something to make you happy." She was right. I was a grumpy person first thing in the morning, especially before coffee, and if nothing good or promising presented itself, I kinda stayed that way throughout the day. So I attempted to change that by waking up in the morning with a thankful attitude. It worked occassionally well, but didn't really get to the heart of the matter.

As a critical, self-centered person, I needed to become more mindful of the way I speak to myself. That only became evident when I picked up a book at the library, titled "tthe mindful path to self-compassion," written by Dr. Christopher K. Germer. He explains that our self-speak should be just as compassionate as it would be for anyone else who is hurting, struggling or deflated.

What a concept! Show myself the same compassion as I would show unto others.

I had never considered it. But it makes perfect sense. When I was most down on myself, I'd usually turn to others for compassion and a "pep talk." It only dawned on me after reading the introduction and opening chapter of the book that I could be doing this for myself. Instead of judging, criticizing or chastising myself, I could be more affirming, affectionate and kind. And instead of beating myself up all the time, I could show more grace and love.

To some, this may seem like a no-brainer, but for the self-defeating pessimist, this is a real eye-opener.

My aunt, a therapist, has spoken to me before about mindfulness and I've put it into practice on occasion. It usually involves me taking in my surroundings, appreciating the beauty of the environment and living totally in the moment. In the book, Dr. Germer gives some exercises in mindful meditation that take it even further. His meditative practices encourage you to focus on your senses, your physical and emotional responses to your environment.

I haven't taken all of that to heart nor put it into practice, yet. The idea of meditation is still somewhat foreign to me. I have a hard time shutting off my brain to the multitude of distractions that lie in my subconscious, but I do see the benefits to it.

Still, the mere concept of self-compassion has me rethinking how I deal with myself. I know that I can be kinder and gentler to myself. As a life-long, worst critic, I believe that I can change that and become my biggest fan. It will take a lot of effort, but I am committed to living the second act of my life differently than the first. The first step in that direction is self-compassion.

Am I self-centered? Yes. Is that a bad thing? No, not necessarily. The important lesson I'm learning is how to speak to myself with more love, understanding and compassion. And I do believe that this, in turn, will help me to love and understand others better, as well.

Peace.

Comfort Music

Sitting in a quiet cafe this morning, nearly lulled to sleep by the hum of the overhead flourescent lights, I put in a 70's music CD I had made several years ago. The soft rock music instantly changed the atmosphere in the cafe and improved my mood, wiping away the cobwebs from my mind. It dawned on me that this music from my childhood is as good as comfort food. Hence, I donned the term "comfort music."

Just like it's edible counterpart, the style of music depends on the individual. For me, it is the music that played on the car stereo, the transistor radio/Walkman or the intercomm system at our house while I was growing up. Yes, our house had a built-in intercomm system with an AM/FM radio tuner that we managed to break the first or second year we lived there. Still, that music, which ran the gamut from Motown to Folk to Rock, that provided the soundtrack to my adolescence is what I would call my "comfort music."




This morning it was "Summer Breeze" by Seals and Croft, "Listen To What The Man Says" by McCartney and "Old Days" by Chicago, just to name a few. Like I said, it was a homemade CD of 70's tunes that I either plucked from another CD of mine or from an MP3 download site. It is full of tunes, like the ones mentioned above, that take me back in time and make me feel at home. When played on a great sound system, they wrap me up like a warm, wooly blanket on a cold Indiana day. Some of them remind me of childhood trips to our cabin in Sullivan, IN. Others remind me of driving through downtown Indy on the way to Pee-Wee Football practice at Riverside Park, or through Broad Ripple and past the mansions on Meridian Street. Those are great memories and the radio hits of the 70's were my personal soundtrack.

Okay, before I start to sound like a late night Time-Life Music Collection infomercial, let me switch gears. I also love Smooth Jazz. That upbeat, modern "elevator music" serves as a great backdrop to any number of things from chores to making babies (not that I've ever actually helped in making one). The syncopated and groovy rhythms sometimes get me motivated or make me want to jump behind a drum kit. But when I'm really looking for inspiration, to do chores, projects or workout (not that I work out that often), I switch into what I call 99X gear, mixing up classic rock from the 70's-90's with some edgier, newer alternative rock. See, I'm a complex music lover. But back to my point, and the informercial, I find comfort in the music of my youth. Back in my days of innocence, it was Paul McCartney and Wings, Stevie Wonder. the Doobie Brothers and James Taylor who provided the soundtrack. I think what that music does today, besides transport me back in time, it reminds me of when life was a lot less complicated and anxiety-ridden. That's why I call it "comfort music."

Toy Drive Article and My Memory

Call it old age, fading memory, failing synapses...I don't know why, but I have been absent minded lately. My friend, Janine, calls me forgetful because I only retain bits and pieces of her stories. Well, I haven't posted any of my news articles lately because I haven't had access to a scanner. DUH! I could have been taking photos, like the one below, the whole time. Now, I have quite a backlog to post. I'll get right on that (note my sarcasm)!

Pertaining to the news article, below, that appeared in today's Island Sand Paper, my father recently attended his high school reunion, where he learned that one of his classmates co-owns The Beach Pub right here on Fort Myers Beach. Talk about your small world coincidences. My father grew up in a small town that is just a spot on Old U.S. 41 in Southwest Indiana. His classmate, Tim Miller, is mentioned in the article. I interviewed co-owner Lou Caleca for the article, never remembering that Miller was Dad's classmate until my father called and reminded me Wednesday night, mere hours after the article had been submitted to my editor.

I'm such a dolt sometimes! Anyway, you can click on the image below to get a full-sized version of the article to read. I hope to get down to The Beach Pub this weekend to introduce myself to Mr. Miller...if I don't forget all about it before then.

Positivity, please.

Been awhile. Been busy...preoccupied. Have been journaling regularly and thought I'd share a portion of today's entry. I was taking some personal inventory and here is what I expressed:

...one thing of which I'm certain, my attitude helps shape my destiny. Positive thoughts always seem to breed positivity...attracts it even. I am determined to control my attitude and conquer the negativity to which I am prone and which dominated a large part of my life.

I've seen Joel Osteen on the morning shows and news programs promoting his new book, and while I don't subscribe to Osteen or his brand of religion, I do have to agree that affirming words help to shape our outlook on ourselves and life, in general. If we want to set a course for success, we definitely need to steer clear of negativity and affirm ourselves at every chance we get. Osteen offers 31 affirming words, one for every day of the month, and while they are probably laced with fundamental Christian ideas, it is the principle of affirming oneself with which I am aligning myself.

So today, I declare that I am a good person. Intrinsically, I want what's best for myself and for others. I seek out goodness for my life and I deserve good things to happen to me.

I am an honest person. I've been accused by others of being too nice and too honest. Well, I make no apologies, as those are character traits of which I am proud. I strive for honesty and despise deceit. I don't want to be lied to or about. I deserve honesty. I will continue to be an honest person and strive for truth. I will not hide behind falseness, lies and half-truths.

I will also strive for positivity. Positive thoughts are going to dominate me today.

Peace, love and happiness to you.

Stellar people, great friends

Okay, so my blog sat dormant for the majority of the summer. Part of the reason was personal and the other part was not having access to a scanner to keep my news articles posted. So here we are, approaching middle August and I feel the need to post something positive about two of the people in my life.

Here is a photo of their awesome family from about two years ago...

Shawn and Sherri Critser live on Fort Myers Beach and pastor the First Baptist Church--www.beachbaptist.org. They moved here from Henderson, Kentucky, near the area of Indiana where I was born and where my roots are. Needless to say, we hit it off right away.

I met their two daughters, first, at soccer practice at Bay Oaks Recreation Campus last August, nearly a year ago to the date. Their youngest played on my youngest daughter's team and their oldest daughter was goalie extrordinaire for my oldest daughter's soccer team. It wasn't until the season actually started that I met their family and all of the folks they usually brought with them.

To say that Shawn and Sherri are very vocal at sporting events, especially when their children are participating, is a HUGE understatement. It drew me to them right away. I tend to get very loud in support of my girls, as well. When I found out they were "old home folks," I immediately bonded with them and felt like family. It took some time for us to find space to interact and build on that "I've known you my whole life" kinda feeling, but it eventually worked out.

Now, I find myself living on their property in an RV they are letting me use...because they are just that kind of people--loving, kind, considerate and compassionate folks (though don't tell Shawn he's compassionate)!

To give an example of what I'm talking about, I asked Sherri if I could wash my first load of laundry in her house. She's basically said what is theirs is mine and to help myself to anything. Well, she not only said that I could, she offered to wash and fold my clothes for me. In fact, she insisted on it. That's the kind of friend you want in your life.

Beyond that, they have shown their true colors to me in many other ways. They are what I would call authentic people--genuine, forthright and honest--and "true" Christians. They have loved and supported me through the most difficult summer of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Nor would I trade Friday breakfasts with Shawn at the Heavenly Biscuit for all the money in the world.

I adore their children, their extended family and the good-hearted people at their church. It's been a pleasure getting to know them and become part of that circle of trust (i.e. their wolfpack of many). Well, that's all I had to say. It's good to have friends like that in your life.

A Man I'll Never Be

This song has always resonated with me...the lyrics, the melancholy in brad's voice that must have come from that deep, dark place where his demons were hidden...it's a shame that he's gone, but his memory lives on.

(Lyrics written by Tom Scholz)

If I said what's on my mind
You'd turn and walk away
Disappearing way back in your dreams
It's so hard to be unkind
So easy just to say
That everything is just the way it seems

You look up at me
And somewhere in your mind you see
A man I'll never be

If only I could find a way
I'd feel like I'm the man you believe I am
It's getting harder every day for me
To hide behind this dream you see
A man I'll never be

I can't get any stronger
I can't climb any higher
You'll never know just how hard I've tried
Cry a little longer
And hold a little tighter

Emotions can't be satisfied

You look up at me
And somewhere in your mind you still see
A man I'll never be

If only I could find a way
I'd feel like I'm the man you believe I am
And it gets harder every day for me
To hide behind this dream you see.........

I can't get any stronger
I can't climb any higher
You'll never know just how hard I've tried
Cry a little longer
And hold a little tighter
Emotions can't be satisfied

You look up at me
And somewhere in your mind you still see
A man I'll never be

If only I could find a way
I'd feel like I'm the man you believe I am
And it gets harder every day for me
I can't keep hidin this feeling

Thank you Tom Scholz for the great melody and rhyme, but thank you Brad Delp for pouring your heart and soul into the vocal performance! I feel you.

Game, Set, Match!

Here is my latest article from the May18th Island Sand Paper...it is about the Beach Volleyball League...happy reading!!!

...CLICK ON IMAGES FOR LARGE PRINT VIEW...

Beach PTO Teeing off for Education

CLICK ON IMAGES FOR LARGER PRINT VERSION

Loving the homeless

I just read an article about a homeless Naples man who was arrested on FELONY charges for "stealing" a cup of soda at a local McDonald's. REALLY??? This only highlights a growing trend of calousness towards the homeless here in Southwest Florida. I guess we've just gotten a little too hoity-toity down here with our gated communities sheltering us from the real world "out there."

Currently, there is a group of citizens in Bonita Springs who are fighting a homeless shelter that they don't want "in their backyard."

The Lee County Sheriff's Deputies are consistently harassing and tracking drifters on Fort Myers Beach. In fact, I was visiting a restaurant the other day (which shall remain nameless) and while I was visiting with the owner, a homeless drifter came up and asked to use the bathroom. Apparently, he did this every week and the owner didn't mind. But a deputy who'd been following the man approached us and asked the owner if he could arrest the drifter for trespassing. The owner said no and that he had no desire to press charges. After a little persuasion, the owner acquiesced and the homeless man was taken out to a waiting patrol car. One of the wait staff informed me that the owner was "too nice" and would never turn the guy away. All he wanted to do was clean up a bit, as he had spent the previous night on the beach.

Need I remind people that it is our job, as human beings, part of a global community of love, to help our fellow humankind? It's really not that difficult to give a guy your hand and help him to his feet, nor even to wash them.

All rights reserved by Kevin D. Hendricks

Here is my article on Earth Day activities from the Friday, April 20th, edition of the Island Sand Paper...

CLICK ON IMAGES FOR A LARGER VERSION YOU CAN ACTUALLY READ!!!