Last night, Friday evening, we attempted to watch the Centerville high school marching dan’s end of band camp parent show.
Rained out.
We ventured on over to Beavercreek high school to watch their end of many band camp parent show at 8 PM. My student, Alex Loree, joined us.
Due to more inclement weather, the marching band stood, and played their show in the Fieldhouse. Great job.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Three years ago, my world went through some incredible changes.
I found my self an empty nester after my youngest son moved out.
The house was rearranged; I got the very large room taking up the second floor of my Cape Cod style home. My former bedroom was transformed into a much larger study, and my former study/studio was turned into a cherry, warm guest bedroom.
A few months later, July 29, 2013, three years ago this morning, I lost my beloved dog, Flyer. Although her passing was expected, and even a blessing for her, it was absolute hell for me.
But, the hell only magnified five months later when another beloved dog, Navi, was hit by a car right in front of the house. After a few hours, we had to say goodbye to her.
Four days later, I returned from the Taylorsville Road exit with two bundles of energy: Bailey and Harrigan.
From May 2013, and for the next few years, I battled PTSD following the rigorous journey of raising adopted sons with tremendous baggage, and anger issues, and a number of foster sons with even worse issues.
Throughout this three-year period, I was also in the process of re-identifying myself following my slight career hiatus while raising sons. Just as I was on top of the world, and back in the game, a very abrupt change occurred in my life: a new son.
While this much unlooked-for event has turned into a blessing, I am faced with the tug-of-war of a new journey, a completely different path than the one I was so enjoying.
I am typically one to go with the flow, to a welcome change eagerly, and to make it as enjoyable, and positive as I possibly can.
I am still doing all of the above, but this time it’s more of a struggle. I’m older. I don’t have the energy that I once did. I’m still in transition mode.
I’ve been operating on nonstop energy these past three weeks, and I’m still recoiling from the shock of a life-change.
It’s funny that, earlier this morning, I wish shriving myself for experiencing a low mood. Finally, I backed off to allow myself the experience of being a fully functioning human being capable of all levels of very human feelings.
While scrolling down my Facebook feed, I noted two or three posts from friends who have welcomed babies into their lives over the past several weeks.
They were marveling at the abrupt life changes they are now experiencing:
“I don’t get any sleep or have any time to myself.”
“The house looks like a tornado came through.”
“I’m tired all the time and I don’t feel like doing any of the things I need to do.”
“I love this child but I really do miss my days of non-parenting.”
“Why in the hell did such a joyous event create such chaos in my life?”
I began chuckling with the first few posts I read, then it turned into howling out loud.
For those with newborns, and those of us who find ourselves with a 17-year-old in the house, it will all pan out.
It always does.
And while you are coping with any of life’s wonderful changes, don’t forget to make it a great day!
At 11 AM earlier today, our neighbor boy, Gabriel, 15, showed up at the front door the follow through with his offer on helping us get G’s room in better shape.
I must say, it truly reminded me of when I had more sons at home, along with several of their good friends who were always absolute delights when they visited. It only took a few minutes for the two boys to corroborate in theart of teaming up on me. If G was not poking me in the armpit, or side, Gabriel was spraying me with the water bottle he found.
After about 90 minutes of work, we showered and headed up to Huber Heights for a pizza buffet. Watching the two boys eat pizza was so reminiscent of the days when I would take my boys, along with Michael Loree, Will O’Hanlon, Nick Budich, Dan Moore, and and several others who served as fantastic role models for my sons, to Cici’s Pizza in Kettering.
Since we were in that neck of the woods, we headed over to Charleston Falls where we hiked, and enjoyed the scenery, as well as a good deal of fun.
Gabriel is just one of those kindhearted, endearing young men born with a servant’s heart. I am so glad that Gabriel, his mom, Amy, and his wonderful grandparents, Juli and Connor, are a part of mine, and my family’s life.
Last night, after finishing his lesson, Alex Loree joined G and I for some Awesome Yogurt. For the past two years, following Alex’s lesson, we typically go out for dinner, or ice cream, which is basically just an excuse for some extended chat time. Alex and I hold so many of the same interests in politics and history, and he is one of my favorite conversationalists. Gabriel, Alex, Michael, and their mom, Lea, I’ve been such a blessing to my family for years.
It’s a little after 7 PM, and I have been on the deck for 90 minutes. I just do not feel like moving, or lifting a finger to accomplish anything more. There is so much to do, but my body just feels one with the chase lounge.
I woke on the deck at 3:00 AM, and headed upstairs to my bedroom.
I woke again at 8:15 AM, hearing the rain showers outside my window.
The deck has been my solace for this morning, and I know the busyness of the day is about to begin. My neighbor boy, Gabriel, will be coming over at 11 AM to help G and I continue the process of getting his bedroom settled.
Between a slight sinus infection, and continued mental fatigue, I feel as though I’m functioning on minimal energy.
The dogs appear to be experiencing some sort of transition anxiety. They no longer have access to the room that, for the past three years, has been there hang out. The house is an obstacle course of items to find new locations, and I’m hoping that once it is completed the dogs will bounce back. Chief seems to be the most affected.
I would prefer to remain here in my chase lounge on the deck. I’m enjoying the familiar voices from Mayberry, and chuckling at Andy Taylor lecturing Opie not wasting food. Apparently, Opie is still not a teenager!
On with the day…
A Wednesday night selfie with Zach Stamper at Awesome Yogurt.
MIAGD: make it a great day
The rain is taping on the tent, the mourning dove is cooing, Shroyer Road is busy with traffic, and the wind pushes the metallic tubes into one another.
The deck is my sanctuary. Some might call it my “man cave,” but it is so much more.
It’s a place where my body finds rest.
It’s a filling station where my energy can be replenished.
It’s my personal temple for meditation.
It’s that still place to which I can unleash my mind, or that place where I can charge my creative juices for writing.
A friend of mine from Muncie, Jan Richard, has a beautiful, large, screened in gazebo on her property. This where I learned the art of having my own sanctuary. Jan is absolutely perfect. I am quite certain it is her “go to place.”
I remember my Ball State Univeristy music professor, Fritz Mountford, explaining to me the importance of having a sanctuary, either external or internal. He explained that when he needed his quiet place, in his mind he could hear the squeaking inches of a screen door I have a home from his childhood out west.
We each need that sanctuary, that quiet place in which to seek, discover, heal, recharge, release, know quiet, and practice our deep breathing. It can be a physical place we go to, or a quiet place within.
While you are searching for, or enjoying your own sanctuary of peace and quiet, don’t forget to make it a great day, Folks!
MIAGD: make it a great day
Now that it is finally Wednesday, the end of my teaching week, I can finally relax a little bit more, and not feel so packed in.
Last night, G opted to stay inside to play piano, and watch musical theater on YouTube rather than joining me on the deck at 10:00 PM. It was probably a good thing because I promptly fell asleep in my chase lounge, and remained so until 2:30 AM.
I am sorely missing my documentaries, and my regular connections to US history. Yesterday afternoon, my teaching day ended at 4:30 PM due to students at cross country camp, band camps, and something else, which I’m already forgetting.
Immediately after a very early supper, another unique thing in my day, G wanted to watch a movie.
I have returned to the mindless, crass, mildly funny world of teenage boy movies. We watched SCAREY MOVIE.
SCARY MOVIE
Yikes!
Over the next three days of not teaching, I intend on getting my documentary/history fix. However, there’s also a house that is badly in need of attention and organization, especially G’s room, and his closet that is still filled with my items.
The one thing I learned with the older boys, was that I always had to take some time for myself. Since I am a single fatherI really need to stick to my guns on this.
All parents need their own personal time. Be sure you grab your own personal time! It’s healthy.
While you are taking time for yourself, never forget to make it a great day, Folks!
In one of my online groups to which I belong, a member had posted a photograph of a book, as well as a personal line about “poisoned parents.”
The post read:
“Directors, I truly am not a bookworm, but if you’ve ever been the director of a program where parents/students have sabotaged your leadership, then you MUST read this book. I so wished I had read this prior to my last teaching assignment…4 years of hell that truly rocked me to the core of my educational beliefs. It’s filled with strategies to arm the teacher especially in a school where there is poor administrative leadership skills.”
Since high school, I’ve been privy to observe what the above author mentioned.
In the past few years, I watched the characterization of an area high school ensemble disintegrate into a circus of drama, vengeance, and bullying.
The children of these parents were apples that had not even yet fallen from the tree. It’s been difficult to determine who has been the worst: the parents, or the children.
Many parents isolated themselves because they did not want to get sucked into that inner circle. Others finally gave in when they discovered their children would not be afforded more prominent positions in the ensemble.
Several of my director friends have dissolved they’re toxic parent boosters. They were smart.
There is no reason any educator, or director, should be forced to work with poisoned parents. It’s not healthy.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Sometimes we are too hard on ourselves. I know I am.
I can be patient with the entire world, but I have a severe lack of patience with myself.
This adoption placement, though strenuous in many ways, is forcing me to go easier on my self. My own personally prescribed expectations are not lowered, but I am learning that, as people tend to say, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
The entire house looks like a fraternity house Sunday morning after homecoming. There are no beer cans littering the lawn, or empty kegs stacked in the driveway to be redelivered, but my orderly, neat home is a jumble of stuff.
And, I’m OK with it.
I’ve going to sleep, several nights, not worried about how the house looks. I know it will get done. I also comprehend that my students and families understand. But those who know me, know this is a severe test.
And, i’m OK with it.
Last night, when we could’ve grabbed an hour to get a little more settled, I took G to explore one of the popular landmarks at 10 PM last night. We returned home, grab some food, and set on the deck watching videos, laughing, chatting a bit, playing with the dogs, and just enjoying one another’s company.
The last time I remember looking up at my clock, it said 1:30 AM. At 4 AM, I looked up to find G standing over me. I had fallen asleep in my chase lounge, and he didn’t want to go to sleep until he knew I was safe inside. But, he said he also wanted me to get my rest.
And, I did.
I had slept soundly on the deck, trotted upstairs with the dogs at 4 AM, and immediately found sleep, not waking until 8:45 AM. Even three pooches allowed me to sleep. Fortunately, my 9 AM lesson and 10 AM lesson, both an hour long, are on vacation this week.
Sometimes, we just have to take it easy on ourselves.
As a single dad, I learned to readjust my workaholic lifestyle, taking every opportunity to spend time with my sons. After they were asleep, I worked even harder to catch up on things.
Yes there will be deadlines to meet, and so many other things to accomplish, but, for us parents, if we don’t take it easy on ourselves we will miss so many opportunities with our children. Since my sons come to me nearly full grown, I can’t afford to waste a minute.
While you are learning how to take it easy on yourself, don’t forget to make it a great day.
My morning visitor, Mr. Cardinal
I am still wading through the muck of exhaustion. I just cannot seem to grasp renewed energy. But, once the transition is more settled, I can continue pacing my self.
My day began with a visit from AAA to jump-start the van. G had not shut the side panel door completely. I did not say anything to him.
This evening as we were exiting the van, he said, “Be sure to shut your door better this time so you don’t run down the battery, again.”
He was very sincere. And, clueless.
Teaching was a blast. My body and mind, weighed with tiredness, was revived with today’s lineup of students.
During my dinner break, Pat Hill, our social worker, and director of ACTION Adoption arrived for the official first visit.
Jennifer Resseguie stopped by to bring G a really neat comforter once belonging to her son.
Jennifer and Tim Stamper were riding bikes, and stopped in toward the end of Gwen’s lesson. We actually got to chat for a while.
Tim and Jennifer mentioned The Greene, and since G had not been there, we drove over, and took a walk through the Pokemon Go infested streets and walks.
Now, we are seated on the deck watching Netflix. My body is yearning for sleep; but my heart is cemented to the deck, enjoying some chuckles with G.
Every now and then, he looks up, and smiles. One moment, he smacked my knee to get my attention just to smile at me.
He’s happy.
I cannot go to bed knowing there’s a teen wanting to simply share a smile, feeling secure that the foster care days are over, and fully aware he’s in a home surrounded by family, and many wonderful friends who love him.
I’ve always been aware of the power of a smile, but there’s nothing so tender as one that comes from your child.
MIAGD: make it a great day
The Haaseinda is turned upside down as we transition from empty nest status to one more son.
Not one room in this Cape Cod dwelling is undisturbed with a lack of organization or stacks of stuff. The chaos is a bit of a challenge for my organized nature, I’m actually cool with it.
When I first began adopting sons, I quickly realized foster/adoptive parents are often held to a different strand of parental expectations. There’s a stigma attached to fostering children, and even some for adopting children.
I also became quite aware that single dads electing to adopt children were also held in a different light than a single mother adopting children. This I did not find surprising. Women, historically, are the better sex at nurturing, cooking, taking care of all the household items, and doing all the volunteer work for school and other organizations.
The Haasienda operated rather smoothly, and everyone became accustomed to a single dad raising all those boys – adopted and fostered. It did, however, aggravate me when folks would act so surprised that a single man could have a career, manage all aspects of home life and school, while raising all those sons.
Our family’s mission in any adoption discussion is all about educating others. I know some adopted families bristle with any questions that may seem invasive, or insensitive. I always encouraged the boys to be educators about adoption.
I’m sitting here on the deck listening to the sounds around me, hearing the swish of traffic on Shroyer Road, hoping to hear the marching band get started on the field, soon, all the while knowing so many items are not being tackled at the moment.
Years ago, as a new dad, this would never have happened. No matter what it took, everything in the house was addressed. The house was never a mess, everything was put away, and order and organization reigned throughout the house.
Process.
As we watch our children grow, we often identify the process through which they are traveling. All too often, we fail to recognize that we, too, are also changing, and going through a natural process.
Parents often joke that there are not as many photographs of their younger children as their honor of their eldest. Many families laugh about how strict parents were with the elder children, but far more relaxed with the younger children.
As I look back on all these years as a single dad, the above scenario has held true for me. I’m a lot more relaxed as a parent.
Some of it is due to the maturity as a parent and knowing which hills to die on, and selecting battles carefully.
Table manners have always been a major issue with me. My newest addition needs a little more coaching in this area, but right now, that simply is not an issue for me. I’m sure many family and friends are wanting to call the paramedics to check my pulse.
There is a strong sense of liberation in the parenting process when you reach this level. Doesn’t mean I am not going to be a hands-on dad as with previous sons? Hell, no.
The job will get done. It always has.
I have a new son, entirely different than the previous ones, with an entirely different set of needs given his background with birth family and foster care. The items in my parenting plan that were once priorities, are no longer pushing their way to the top of the list.
And, that’s Okay. Really, it is.
This son is entirely different than the others. There’s still the baggage, but there’s a different, much more positive attitude with this new son.
The job will get done.
And while you are recognizing your own life’s process, or journey, don’t forget to make it a great day.
11:45 PM. My head was beginning to feel the fatigue-ache from the long, sleepless week. The weight of fatigue was drowning.
I was just packing up items on the deck to head inside to bed when my son stepped outside.
“What’s up, Kiddo?”
“I just wanted to come out to sit with you. Netflix?”
When a toddler wants to hold your hand, you grab it. When a teenager wants to spend time with you, do not move.
After a while, it will be slumber times.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Somewhere, in my 47 years of reading about Abraham Lincoln, I remember seeing a quote where, as president, Lincoln said, “I am so tired. I wish I could find the button to relieve it.”
As I look back now, I wonder what kind of a button it was Lincoln would’ve been pushing. Did they have buttons to operate things in the 1860s?
Right now, I’m too tired to investigate that piece of history.
For the past 11 days, I’ve been operating on minimal sleep, broadened mental capacity on never ceasing mode, folks needing things from all directions, and life changes. The approaching new week does not appear to be much less of what I’ve known these past two weeks. I’ve been operating with the aide of caffeine and humor, and a tremendous amount of support and love.
Right now, I’m sitting on the deck, looking up at the clock that continues to move forward. In a few hours, my Hoosier family (Mother, my brother, sister-in-law, and four of the most adorable nephews and niece in the world could ever imagine) will have arrived.
What am I doing?
I am sipping my hot, caramel vanilla laced caffeine, having a staredown with a very defiant three hands on a face of numbers, knowing that this is not a battle I will win.
All too often, when we are exhausted on all fronts – mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual – we reach for the negative. We want to find “that button” to relieve our tiredness, freeing us from grumpiness, irritations, the ability to concentrate, and even the opportunity to enjoy life.
When we are confronting certain life situations, there’s often very little we can do to avoid fatigue. However, like 99.9% of life, we stand before the buffet of choice making.
Sometimes, we cannot avoid being tired. But, we can damn well be in control of how we utilize our tiredness. We can elect not to be grumpy, or agitated. We can regain, and readjust our mind’s focus and concentration.
It is so easy to use “I am so tired,” as an excuse. We use it as an excuse to avoid things, to allow ourselves to swim in the grumpy pool, and to vegetate, writing the raft in a pool of unproductiveness.
We constantly surrounded by folks who cannot afford to make improper choices, and they tend to run a continued feeling-fatigued race.
Nurses
Doctors
Farmers
The President
Police officers
Fire fighters & EMTs
Teachers
Caregivers for elderly/ill
Many utilities workers, especially during storms or catastrophes
Small/private business owners
Parents (especially those with infants, multiple children, and children with various special needs)
and many more…
With the exception of the president, I know scores of folks from each of the categories I listed. I can also personally identify at least a dozen individuals from each category. It’s these folks I never hear complain about being exhausted.
This morning, the clock’s hands have not stopped despite my glares that have demanded just a few more minutes of quiet time.
Some folks never get to enjoy the few minutes I’ve had to relax on my deck, sipping delicious caffeinated water with all kinds of substances heaped in, listening to the swish of traffic on Shroyer Road, enjoying the visits from cardinals and mourning doves who entered the yard to serenade me, and the gentle metallic tones of the windchimes. Of course, there wouldn’t be many people actually joining me on my deck. The closest one would probably be my beautiful next-door neighbor lady, Kay, whose TV room window parallels my deck.
Knowing exhaustion is somewhat reassuring. To me, it’s a footnote that I have been productive, that I’ve done something with my time – making the most of the time afforded me, and that I contributed something to my world.
I’m blessed with modern comforts that even my grandparents, and family generations before them, never knew. These comforts probably never entered their imaginations. But even they abandoned exhaustion pity.
As each of us launch into our day, whether energized, relaxed, or teetering on a tight rope of exhaustion, never forget to make each moment, make each day, great!
MIAGD: make it a great day
It’s pushing on 9:30 AM, I have a brand-new day, a long one, but a damned exciting one chomping at the bit to get underway.
Over on Rockhill Drive, a work crew is busy pounding an drilling away at pavement, preparing the driveway from my neighbors, Bob and Chris.
To the west of me, I can hear one of the band directors’ voices amplified, giving instructions to the 2016 Marching Firebirds as their season gets underway with rehearsals.
On one of the telephone cables in the easement directly next to my property, two cardinals are having a major jam session.
It’s perfect.
I’m always a little frustrated when I hear folks say things, such as, “oh, it’s just another day,” or “I got a make it through this day,” or “thank God it’s Friday.”
No! No! No!
It’s 9:30 AM, and I’ve still not accomplished anything more than hitting the deck, drinking my coffee, eating a doughnut, telling the girls to get away from the door that leads to Griffith’s room, texting with my sister-in-law about preparations for the weekend, tidying up some emails, checking out next weeks teaching schedule, and…
Dang! I may not have moved from my chase lounge on the deck, but I sure as hell accomplished quite a bit without moving. That movement part is coming next.
It’s a new day. Regardless the newness of the day, it’s already a great day.
Once upon a time, I would’ve been frustrated if I’d been all dressed up, and dribbled toothpaste down the front of my shirt.
Last week, I didn’t even notice until the end of the teaching day that I had a ton of toothpaste down the front of my shirt. I laughed, and tossed it into the dirty clothes basket.
It’s a new day.
While you are starting your new day, listen to this song from the Broadway musical, THE WIZ, and make it a great day, folks.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Something with this meme resonated with me this morning…
Sometimes I believe we too often feel we are tested when, in actuality, we are simply experiencing the wonderment that life brings.
I feel society has turned into either whimps, drama queens, or both.
“They screwed up my order at the photo lab. God must be testing me.”
Huh?
But we all know people like this.
Yes, there have been a few times where I’ve been tested throughout life. I could say, “I was tested in my early years with having an alcoholic father.”
Perhaps.
Perhaps, not.
Was it a learning experience? Yes. Did I grow from that experience? Yes. Did it make me stronger? Perhaps. Was I tested? Not really.
It was life. It was the life I knew. If anyone was tested in this scenario, it would have been my mother raising three children, and juggling a myriad of life responsibilities.
I’ve had folks tell me that by raising four very difficult sons, some foster sons tossed into the mix, that I was tested.
No. No. No.
A few times out of the hell I experienced, yes. But 95% of it was navigating them through a new life as they clung to their baggage wrought by previous adults in their life, trying to offer them experiences they’d never had and finding those experiences to build on life, and to work through the traumas, the PTSD, and working with the life-mares (life’s nightmares) that refused to leave.
This was not me being tested. It was life.
It was a life I chose.
Don’t be whimps. God/Life is not out to get you. If you believe so, YOU are out to get YOU.
Take off the crown of Dramaland: you’re not the king or queen.
Look at what you might wish to call “tests” and think of it as growth, education, life.
Save the really big stuff as your “tests.” If not, you may not have the ability to handle, even recognize the real tests in life.
While you are finding the joy in the process of life, don’t forget to make it a great day!
3:24 AM.
I’ve not had more than three to four hours of sleep each night for nearly a week, and tonight is not fairing as well. Soon, I’ll be seeing Mother’s “likes” on Facebook, and Jeff Carter’s blog posts from England will soon arrive.
I was so eager for sleep when I made my way upstairs at 1:15 AM. It did not take long for this much welcomed sleep to arrive. Sadly, less than thirty minutes was all I got
Thursday, Cody and Cooper, my Fairmont Rent-a-Wrestlers, will be here at 9:00 AM to do some yard and inside-house work. 11:30 AM a field investigator will perform a fire safety inspection. My list of things to complete seems endless.
After my final lesson for the week, Alex, a senior, and I hit The Greene for some ice cream. We walked for 30 minutes, seeing countless individuals and groups playing Pokemon Go.
I’ve loved seeing this fad take over. I pooh-poohed those grumblers who sought to promote the negativity. However, I witnessed a young lady, driving and using her phone while playing the game. She was clearly NOT in control of her automobile.
Still, I’m loving the atmosphere.
My eyelids are heavy, and I’m hoping sleep will soon take over my very tired body and mind, and refresh my spirit.
MIAGD: make it a great day
There are always those days when you wake with a heaviness of heart because things are not proceeding as planned.
I am a planner. I am organized. Sometimes, things happen that do not fall within the structure I carefully prepare.
Normally, I am fine, and as they say, “go with the flow.”
This morning was not one of those “flow-filled” mornings. The mind was spinning like a kaleidoscope, my head ached, my vision was blurry, my stomach had a knot in in, and I was far from feeling refreshed, and exuberant.
And, then, just when I needed it, a mother of an eleven year old voice student posted this message from her son.
At Muse Machine, a fine Dayton performing arts center, the students/cast were asked to describe their hero.
Sam wrote:
“my hero is my voice teacher Darin Joliffe Haas. If to have a full day is to have a good day, then Darin has never had a bad day in his life. His shear charisma and talent amazes me. That is why Darin is my hero”
I woke feeling anything but a hero.
An hour later, after a few tears have dried, and my day is fully underway with teaching, I feel back in my personal game.
GAME ON! Watch out Wednesday – WOW – the old boy is back!
Thank you, Sam! Thank you for believing in me, and expressing it just when I needed it most! Love ya, Kiddo!
Go out, and be someone’s hero. It doesn’t have to be big. Just do it. Make someone else’s day great while you are making it a great day, too!
MIAGD: make it a great day
What did I miss?
The past 72 hours have been an absolute whirlwind of filling out forms, trying to make connections for other items needed to secure this adoption placement, teaching, communicating with my wonderful caseworker as we frantically attack requirements for the adoption process, trying to give attention to my three dogs, and just trying to breathe, and keep the house, and life, together.
So, what did I miss?
“What Did I Miss?” is actually one of my favorite numbers from the new musical HAMILTON that is taken the entire world by storm.
Daveed Diggs as Thomas Jefferson
What Did I Miss – clip
This morning, after perusing Facebook, I discovered that I seem to have missed out on some things the past 72 hours.
What did I miss?
More officers have been attacked.
Pokemon fever is taking the country by storm (how cool to see young people outside, and to see families and friends on these quests together!)
The GOP 2016 Convention got off to it start in Cleveland Ohio, just about four hours away from here. Apparently, one particular speech is receiving tremendous attention over acts of plagiarism.
And, there was more.
When you feel as though you are riding inside Uncle Henry & Auntie Em Gale’s cabin as a Kansas twister carries it to exciting new lands filled with marvelous adventures, don’t forget to look out Dorothy’s bedroom window to catch glimpses of all the things going on around you… the good, the bad, and the ugly….
Don’t miss a thing, and make it a great day!
For those of us who are old enough to remember the hypnotizing,velvety voice of the legendary Mama Cass Elliot, probably can recall her signature hit, “Make Your Own Kind Of Music.”
The song…
My Uncle Ron joined the Navy, and was stationed in Norfork Virginia. Our family made frequent trips to the East Coast, and forty years later, they still remain some of the most vivid, and thrilling highlights of my childhood.
During one visit when I accompanied my grandparents, Uncle Ron drove me to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was exciting just to spend the day with him, but I was terribly mesmerized with the narrow roads bordered by water on each side.
I can still remember the tiny outline of Cape Hatteras lighthouse in the distance. As we continued on our southerly route, the lighthouse became enchantingly larger.
When we turned into the park nestled against the small community of Buxton North Carolina, Mama Cass Elliot’s hit came on the radio. My uncle joined the popstar by singing along with her.
We climbed to the top of the lighthouse, and looked out into the water. There was a distinct eeriness, mingled with the thrill of seeing skeletons of a number of ships that had sunk out in the ocean before us.
In 1987, my uncle’s life abruptly ended. It was 12 years before I could return to Virginia, and the Outer Banks.
I took that vacation of 1999 because I figured it might be one of my last for a while since I planned to adopt children soon. Little did I know I would be returning quite often over the next 12 years.
As I drove along the sand-sided highway, a lump caught in my throat when I spied the Cape Hatteras lighthouse in the distance. The healing process was finally nearing its end.
As I pulled into the park, my head begin spinning as Mama Cass Elliot sounded from my radio with “Make Your Own Kind of Music.”
I immediately concluded: my uncle was still very much with me.
The summer of 2003 I took my two oldest sons, Joshua and Matthew, to the Outer Banks for a vacation. I had explain to them how Mama Cass Elliot had played a part in my two previous visits to the Cape Hatteras lighthouse.
Once again, as we pulled into the park, the same familiar, haunting melody poured out of the speakers. The boys thought I had planted a cassette tape with the song. Nope. It was really happening.
Several times between 2005 and 2011, Mama Cass Elliot made a repeat performance during our visits to the Cape Hatteras lighthouse.
This afternoon, I was chatting with one of my student’s parents about the impending adoption of my newest son. I mentioned that I wished several family members could have known my sons.
After my last student left, I sat down at my desk to attend to some business, and more adoption paperwork. I turned on the television set to simply keep me company. Within a few minutes, I heard:
Nobody can tell ya;
There’s only one song worth singin’,
They may try and sell ya,
‘Cause it hangs them up to see someone like you.
But you’ve gotta make your own music
Sing your own special song,
Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.
You’re gonna be knowing
The loneliest kind of lonely,
It may be rough goin’,
Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do.
But you’ve gotta make your own music
Sing your own special song,
Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.
So if you cannot take my hand,
And if you must be goin’,
I will understand.
But you’ve gotta make your own music
Sing your own special song,
Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.
I will understand.
But you’ve gotta make your own music
Sing your own special song,
Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.
Always, always, always make your own kind of music.
I’ve had an incredible journey these past 51 years. It’s been exciting, sometimes sad, thrilling, sometimes painful, but it’s always been filled with great joy, and tons of laughter.
Three years ago, I began the journey through my empty nest chapter. Many of my friends who had entered this phase of life before me, lamented having their children out of the house.
I, however, welcomed it.
I had adopted 12-year-old boys with incredible issues, tremendous loads of anger, depression, and a closet full of PTSD. I got the job done, but I was very tired at the end.
The past three years, I battled PTSD. I’ve come to recognize the fact that many adoptive parents experience the same. One of my current missions is to make this PTSD factor with adoptive parents more widely known.
This past year has been extremely refreshing. I made an incredible amount of changes in my life, in my home, and in my career.
The house was rearranged, and many unused, unneeded items were either given away, or hauled away. I also cleared away a number of toxic individuals, both friends, and a number of students who were behaving improperly in their music classrooms at school, adopting unattractive attitudes, or bullying other students.
I took complete charge of my life, and cheered myself on to new growth. I had created a very comfortable life, and was beginning to explore new things in my world, and beyond.
Nearly one month ago, I recognized my journey’s path was approaching a fork in the road. One section of the fork was the pathway I had envisioned, and joyfully created. The other section of the fork involved a 17-year-old student whose newly adoptive had to come to the realization that the responsibilities involved with raising a teenager fresh out of the system, was extremely taxing. And, it is a demand on one’s body, mind, and soul.
Never being one to truly slow down, I charged ahead, fully aware a decision needed to be made.
Would I remain on this new, and exciting road I had paved for my journey, or would I assume the frustrating role of my GPS, and reroute?
There was no question. I’ve rerouted my journey.
Somtimes, we just need to shut down the GPS before it announces, “rerouting.”
We’ve already taken the other side of the fork.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Breathe.
It sounds so simple.
If it’s so simple, why in the hell do we forget to do it when we need it the most?
Instrumentalists and singers rely on breathing technique. The funny thing is, we are born with the very same breathing technique that we musicians continually strive to perfect.
People spend tons of money, and hours to master diaphragmatic breathing in through yoga classes, Lamaze classes, music lessons, martial arts, and a variety of other means.
Deep breathing is cleansing. It is refreshing. It reduces stress. It is vital.
Why must we always be reminded to breathe deeply?
Whatever the reason, just remember to do it. Bree. Take nice deep slow breaths’s. And while you are breathing, always make it a great day.
MIAGD: make it a great day
Just swing! Don’t stand there doing nothing: SWING! Even if you miss, swing!
I use a lot of baseball analogies in teaching. I played baseball as a kid, and it’s really the only sport I know. I enjoy watching soccer, but that’s about it.
Thursday morning, a student’s family offered me several tickets for the Dayton Dragons baseball game later that evening. I grabbed two recent post grads, one of whom is a fantastic baseball player. We had a blast!
I love seeing a batter get a hit off of the pitch, but I still love the ones where the batter takes a swing, and misses.
Even if it’s a miss, becoming s strike, it still shows that the individual tried.
These were my mental notes from last night:
Keep your eye on the ball
Just swing
Run fast, run hard
Be aware of your surroundings
Be careful how far away you get from the base, but never be afraid to try to steal to the other base
Sometimes you have to go headfirst, sometimes you have to slide
You don’t always have to sit with the crowd
Be positive – always
Sometimes you must sit on the sides, sometimes you have the focus while standing on the mound – love both
Whatever you do, keep swinging, and make it a great day!
For the past several years, while I am playing at the piano, I sometimes feel a nudge; something actually nudges by butt.
I often turn around expecting to find Chief, Bailey, or Harrigan… but, there is never a dog behind me.
It happened again, Tuesday morning, during a lesson, and I whirled around, expecting to find one of my trio’s faces. No dog. They were in the guest bedroom, snoozing.
My student inquired why I had turned around so abruptly. I explained “the gentle nudges.”
“You might think this is crazy, but do you… do you think it might be Flyer or Navi?”
I didn’t even need to ponder her suggestion.
Yes… I am now certain I know from where those “gentle nudges” are coming…
It’s always those little surprises that add a huge a smile to my day.
Today, it was running across a 2009 Christmas greeting from the Ron & Duneen DeVore family, featuring a photograph of their young boys, now grown men.
I met the DeVore family, Dr. Ron, Duneen, Erick, and Nick when I became director of music at Normandy Methodist Church twenty years ago. Duneen sang in the choir, and she and her sons were in the musicals and cantatas.
It’s been wonderful knowing this family, and watching the peeps grow up.
Erick lives in Los Angeles where he is a film score composer, and Nick, a police officer, lives in Centerville.
Nick & Erick, April 2016
Thanks for adding to my day…
Know you are all loved…
MIAGD: make it a great day
I love looking at band instruments because sometimes you see spectacular, very interesting reflections.
Growing up, I seldom heard my mother reminded me to choose good friends.
I
First of all, I attended Washington elementary school in Elwood Indiana. You could not find a better group of students and teachers in the entire world.
Mother always said that when we went to junior high school, where we would be intermingled with the other two, much larger elementary schools from our hometown, she never was all that worried about our choices and friends.
The past several years, I’ve watched a group of people related to one particular organization, become a blemish rather than a boost. Sadly, what used to be a neat group of adults has turned into a group with deviant intentions, oft resembling bullies.
Sadly, there are a number of adults who do not wish to participate simply because they do not wish to be labeled as “one of them.”
I’ve seen this a number of times throughout the years: not-so-good charismatic people magnetizing others as a recruitment lure. Everyone wants to hang out with the cool kids. However, sometimes we sadly discover the cool kids are not so cool, and even cruel.
Unlike my mother, I did have to keep a close eye on the friends and acquaintances of my adopted sons. They had not been blessed with an early life of growing a firm foundation such as the one I knew. Therefore, we often had to discuss some of their choices with friends. But, don’t get me wrong: they did acquire some really outstanding friends. I just had to constantly monitor.
It was difficult to get them to understand that even hanging around at lunch with someone holding a questionable reputation could reflect on them.
And, they could also reflect on others.
My one son had a questionable dating reputation. His senior year, he fell madly in love with the girl down the street. However, her parents pleaded with me to help avoid the labeling and tarnishing of their daughter’s reputation because of her association with him.
Be wise in choosing your friends. There’s always the reflection.
While you are reflecting beauty, positivity, energy, and love, don’t forget to make it a great day, Folks!
MIAGD: make it a great day
They are everywhere.
Outside voices… voices surrounding us. Voices that charm us. Voices that manipulate us. Voices that serve as aural voo doo dolls. Voices that attempt to influence our thinking. Voices that control us in a variety of ways.
They are there.
The voices never cease in the news media, the social media, commercials, advertisements, music, art, literature… and the list never ends.
Are you in charge of you, or are you merely a human incasing a robot that follows orders from external powers?
Politicians and ministers try to tell us what we should believe, and think, often throwing in the fear factors to secure control.
The media, and whomever their owners/controllers are, play another game of mind control with carefully worded messages, and images that seduce our subconcious into following a designated path in order to control.
It’s out there; however, we’ve become so complacent, even as adults, to allow ourselves to be manipulated and controlled. It is much easier to have someone else do the work, or do the thinking for us.
Sadly, far too many adults are afraid to step out of the control zone to think for themselves, to form their own beliefs, and to think, and to live as fully functioning human beings.
We also allow ourselves to be inflicted with guilt when we don’t conform to the needs, or control of others.
I admire those politicians who either break away from their party, or stand up to their party, going against the grain. They receive my attention because I know they usually, truly have something to say.
The same is true for religious leaders who think outside the provided box. Dr. Robert Schuller, and Bishop John Shelby Spong are two of my favorites. There is a common title in most churches, C & E people: those who only attend church on Christmas and Easter. Most return on those church holidays for family, or for the sake of tradition. Sometimes I wonder if they don’t have it right by skipping the other 50+ services. Maybe they’ve learned to think for themselves?
There is a fear in nonconformity. The fear is there because others have told us we need to conform to their thinking, or to their beliefs systems. When all your family and friends have conformed to a way of thinking, who wants to be left out?
Make an effort to begin the process of finding you. Begin the process of thinking for yourself, and not thinking what you hear on the news, in church, by politicians, or read on social media.
Don’t allow others to rent space in your brain!
Find the real you!
And while you are finding the real you, make it a great day, Folks!
The Haasienda on Shroyer... 