today was an emotionally draining day.  all is well though.  slept at my mom’s last night, woke up to return to the city around 10.  Brought a dolly back from my mom’s to help me wheel in the deep freezer i bought off craigslist yesterday.  I always told kallie that we can justify more freezer space when there were more than just 2 of us.  When she told me she was pregnant, I knew I had to make good on that promise.

Deirdre came over around noon and we talked and kind of caught up on what’s been going on with each other.

It doesn’t even feel like Christmas eve.  It’s silly warm outside.  Without anyone else reminding me about it, it’s easily forgotten.

Talked to Kallie for a bit around 4:30.  She comes back late Tuesday night and I think we both want it to come quickly.

I was supposed to play bass at church tonight, but they couldn’t get a drummer, so it didn’t really make sense for me to play.  As a result, I lost motivation to go as our holiday services are usually pretty thin.  I want to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but I need to find my own way to do that it seems because just going through the motions, traditions, and symbolic rituals seem to distract me from the tangible reality of the coming of our Savior.

I’m starting to think more about my daughter.  I’ve been focusing on having a baby, that i’d have to feed, change diapers, and all that jazz.  I was also aware of the stress of having a teenage daughter, keeping away the boys, but what I’ve forgotten about is that time in the middle.  There’s going to be a girl that will instinctively look to me for direction and also admire me, provided I do my job right.  I’m going to have a relationship with this girl.  I’m going to want to make her happy, I’m going to love her, and she’ll love me.  I’m going to have to learn about her, what she likes, what interests her.  It’s not just me changing her diapers or telling her what to do, it’s relational and even more organic than a rule setting father.  I decided I wanted to buy her a stuffed animal.  I want her to have something that she connects as being given to her from her dad[ddy].

I started repairing some damage ceiling parts in the office, started tearing down some stuff, but then realized the last time I used the joint compound, the lid was on tightly and it all dried up.  Quick hop online found that home depot is closed until Monday.  I had been hoping to get some painting done today and tomorrow so it would be dry by the time Kallie came back and the fumes would be gone.  Not sure what I’m going to do about that yet.  I started doing some other things on my list, but I’m really quite exhausted already.

9pm  – I’m spent.  Merry Christmas to everyone.  Good night.

When my dad passed away in December 2004, I had already not been talking to him for years.  During those years of not talking to him, I’d visit my grandma and she’d always tell me that I needed to make amends with him before something happened to him.

As I’m preparing to become a father myself, it strikes me funny that her warning were never “make amends because you need a father.”  I saw my relationship with my father as doing more damage than it was worth to maintain.  Truth be told, I still maintain that stance, but I am now ready to admit that I did not have a full picture of what a father has to offer, or even what a father’s role is.

I have so many questions.  Sure I can ask my mom as much as she’s comfortable with, or even my uncle, but they’re not my dad.  I have a step-dad, that is more like a good friend than an authority in fatherhood.  All this to say, I have sources that can serve as replacements, but they’ll never fill the shoes of my dad.  That’s not a result of my actions, or his, at this point either.  God called him home, and I don’t have to understand the purpose.

All I know, after more than 10 years, for the first time, I think I’m missing my dad.  I’m missing my dad, but also missing a dad.  That’s sobering, because you can get new best friends, but you will never get a new dad.

We all grow up, but some of us never leave home.  Some of us will always remain close to where we grew up.  It’s not a bad thing either way, sometimes it’s born out of necessity.  I know a lot of people who moved so far away from home, but they ended up moving back.

Growing up at my dad’s house, we had an above ground pool.  I think it was about 4 feet high and 24 feet wide.  We loved when the water got low, because that meant that  Jay Gillis was coming over with his water truck to fill it up.  He’d take the hose from his truck, hook it up to the rim of the pool at an angle, and flip the switch on his truck to send gallons of water rushing into the pool, enough to create a decent current for a whirl pool.  It was awesome.

Mr. Gillis was more than our water guy, he was sort of a family friend.  His daughter, Janna,  went to school with us at Bentleyville Wesleyan.  Jay was a quiet guy though, and I think that’s why I enjoyed him so much.  When he would deliver water for our cistern, he’d go sit on our porch or play with our dogs, and I’d go out and hang with him.  Sometimes, I’d take him something to drink.  I didn’t want him to be out there by himself.

Anyway, after my parents had split, and my brother had died, our church attendance was sporadic at best.  One summer day, we did go to church, and Jay was there.  When the pastor asked what good news anyone had to share with the congregation, Jay raised his hand and stood up.  He said that he had delivered water to us the day before, and it just brought him so much joy to see us kids playing and laughing.  I was so stunned to see the quiet guy I admired so much speaking up to everybody about us.

What’s so great about that memory is that we were able to bring him joy.  I know he’s still around, and we have a few degrees of separation socially, so he may stumble across this, but Mr. Gillis played a big role in the happiness and maturing of my childhood.  He was a man that I respected, appreciated, and enjoyed.

I had a pretty wicked dream last night about my step dad, Chris.  It was more like a short film itself.  It took place in this old time chinese town, with a royal family.  The first scene had this mother in a kimono at the door of a house on a rainy night, kissing her ~6 year old son good bye.  She was sad to see him go, but there was an urgency for his safety that he had to get away.  The boy is taken away by a guy in a long cape.  There was a guy with camera across the street that kept trying to take pictures of the boy, but was never able to get a shot of his face.  So there’s this theme of mystery around the son of the lady.

Next scene is years later, and a 20 something year old man, who is trying to find out if the lady is his mother.  They walk down a narrow path behind some houses with a waist high white wall to their left and these 1 story white houses/apartments with big windows to their right.  They’re walking and talking about their history, and she knows who he is, but she can’t admit who he is right away.  So, I’m like this bodyguard person walking with them, and every time we pass one of these large windows, I throw out my arms, grabbing my cape and blocking people from inside seeing the two together.  Then, one window has the same camera man behind it.  I bust through the window and try to chase him down, but I’m not successful.  He’s not able to get a shot of the man’s face though.  So I’ve done my job.

Then, we flash to modern day in my mom’s house.  I’m sleeping downstairs and I hear a noise upstairs.  I rush upstairs all ninja like, check the back bedrooms are clear, and when I come to the main door, it’s open.  Someone made their way into the house.  I’m yelling for Chris to let him know that the camera man is in the house.  I locked the door and start to make may way through the livingroom into the back bathroom.  Then I see the guy with the camera standing in the door way.  It’s friggin creepy to think about it right now.  So i lunge towards him, he goes into Chris’ room, where Chris and I try to corner him, but he slips back into the bathroom, still not being able to take a picture of Chris’ face.  When I go back into the bathroom area to find him, he had disappeared into piles of garbage bags of clothes that are all over the floor.  Our old dalmation, Dante, is there, and he sniffs him out and the dude jumps up out of the bags with his camera in hand and I throw out my arms with my cape and block a picture of Chris again. 

I woke up somewhere after that.  This dream is a little foggier than some of my dreams I write about, but the concept seemed pretty cool.  I could see a little short movie being made where the identity of the heir to the throne must be kept safe.

It’s been a while since I’ve put up a post in the "memories" category.  I was thinking about times I’ve almost died.  There aren’t many, I think, but still something worth sharing.

When I was in high school, I dug up my Uncle Jay’s 250 watt 15" Pevey bass amp from my dad’s barn.  The funny thing about this amp was that it didn’t have a ground wire in it.  It just had a 2 prong plug.  I ended up cutting off the plug since it was damaged and put a new grounded plug on the end, which at least gave me a sense of security that it wasn’t going to come out of the wall.

Later on, my Uncle Kenny gave me my first 4 string base.  IT was a black "series 10" bass.  Nothing special about it, but it did the job.  I had gotten it in my head that I’d like a natural wood finish instead of the black matte, so I got some sand paper and started to go to town on the bass.  This was a lot of work.  When it got time to get around the pickups and bridge, I had to undue the strings.  I had the bass plugged into the amp, and the amp on, just so I could hear the awesome tones as I detuned.

So there’s me, in a damp basement, sitting in a metal chair, next to a 250 watt bass amp, that’s plugged into a surge protector on the floor next to me with a bunch of other devices, and 4 nickel wound, 1/8-1/4 inch diameter bass strings flopping around in my lap.  As luck would have it, something like the alarm clock was barely plugged in to the surge protector, and one of the strings found it way in the gap.  You want to know how I was sure something was wrong?  Because one of the base string starting glowing bright orange.  I jumped out of my seat, which was enough to move the bass string, but after some damage to the surge protector, which I still use today.  Here it is:

I think that counts as almost dying. 

This post is classified under "memories" for those facebook readers that don’t see categories.  I wanted to write down my memory of the day I found out my brother had passed.  Mom – be warned.

Caleb and I slept in what would be called "Uncle Jay’s" room together when we lived at my Grandma’s house.  He slept in the queen bed and I slept on the cot right next to it.  I remember that when I woke up, I used to wake Caleb up, talking to him, or checking to see if he was awake.  I got in trouble once or twice for it.  I don’t remember what day of the week it was, but I remember waking up, and going downstairs, thinking not to wake up Caleb.  As I sat and watched TV at the table and ate breakfast, my mom went upstairs to get Caleb.  Moments later, My mom was yelling, "Mom!"  I saw her carry Caleb down into the living room and put him down on the couch.  A large EMT lady showed up with ambulance a while later.  I’m 8.  I don’t remember any other siblings being home but me.  I remember my dad coming to the back door and telling me to get Pap-pap.  I think there was a little bit of tension with letting my dad into the house, but ultimately, he ended up to being able to come into the kitchen at least.  That’s where I remember holding a 2×3 photo of Caleb and crying in the arms of my dad, saying things like, "Caleb is gone", but I can also remember not really understanding what that meant.  I just felt like that is what I should be doing, as if I was just doing it because that’s what they do on TV or something.

It was Friday, January 26th, 1990.  Caleb was turning 10 on February 9th.  I assume we had the funeral shortly after.  I remember school at Bentleyville Wesleyan was canceled for the funeral.  I saw a lot of people at the funeral.  I remember Uncle Kenny playing a song he wrote and leaving a casette tape in Caleb’s casket.  I want to say I even put in one of his wood cars.  The weird memory is that I remember Jim Henson dying around the same time, and images of all the Sesame street characters showing up at his funeral, and thinking about those same characters showing up at Caleb’s.  Jim Henson didn’t die until May 16th, but I guess the memories were still fresh enough in my head to make that imprint, or it’s been so long that they just seem to overlap.  I remember Jesse and Uncle Tom coming up.  Honestly, I’ve had quite a few funerals, most at the same exact place, so a lot of the memories I have in my head right now, are bluring together, so I’ll stick to the ones I’m sure of…at least, as sure as my memory let’s me believe.

Reposted from my friend, Neil:

*Top ten things Pittsburghers should do to celebrate if the Pens win the
Stanley Cup*

10. Flip over Mellon Arena’s dome and put it on top of PPG Place to make the
biggest, shiniest Stanley Cup ever

9. Load people dressed in penguin costumes into Giant Eagle shopping carts
and roll them down the Hill towards Mellon Arena

8. Everyone wrap themselves in tin foil and run amuck in the city, like
thousands of legged Stanley Cups

7. Mail jock straps (cups) to every “Stanley” listed in the local phone book

6. Egg the house of every “Joe” and “Lewis” listed in the local phone book

5. Use the Cup to serve borscht soup in tribute to Geno’s mom

4. Use the Cup to serve vodka in tribute to Geno’s dad

3. Fill the Cup with urine, give it to Hossa, and tell him it’s IC Light

2. Change the name of “Australia” to “Crosby” so “Sidney Crosby” owns yet
another one of the Capitals

1. Buy foreign cars

Here’s a first time truth story for you.  when i was 13 or 14, i was big into BMG music service.  I would sign up at my dad’s house, refer "Jay Hall" at my mom’s address, and I’d get 5 free CDs on top of the introductory offer.  I think it worked out to 12 CDs for $45.  That’s great.  Anyway, one day I got a trial offer flyer in the mail for Playboy magazine.  It had my BMG music info on it for my mom’s house.  You had to be 18 or older to sign up for the service, so I guess they’re just allowed to send you stuff like that.  I took it in to show my friends at school how cool I was.  Dallas and Travis and everyone were trying to convince me to fill it out and send it back in.  I wouldn’t do it.  Then Dallas said he would do it, so he took it from me, but I didn’t think he had the guts to do it.  We were at that age where we just taunted eachother to do bad things.  Dallas actually did it though.  If I remember correctly, Travis had a car at that time and he drove Dallas home from school that day and they dropped it off then.

Few weeks go by I guess, my dad and I are out running errands and he says we need to stop at my mom’s for something.  I actually don’t remember how it all unfolded, but it just so happened that Dallas and Travis and I were planning on going to a concert, X-fest a week or two later.  My punishment was that I would have to leave the concert early.  Total weak sauce.  I missed Green Day, and them lighting their drums on fire, the bassist from Jimmies Chicken Shack running on stage naked during someone’s set, and another band or two I think.  I also just missed out on the bonding time with Travis and Dallas.  I didn’t even do anything…but sometimes, it’s the lack of action that we end up paying for.

I have 2 favorite smells.  fragrant tobacco from a pipe and concrete.  Concrete reminds me of my childhood.  Not only was there a lot of concrete pouring going on around the house as I was a kid, but my dad and I used to go watch people make roads.  I love that smell.  I also, love concrete.  It’s basically like grown up play-doh.   Well, maybe not in the function of playing with it (or eating it) but that you can make whatever you want out of it.  It’s like a miracle solution transmogrification substance…yeah.  I like it because it’s functional and cheap.  You can make entire houses out of concrete.  Or just kitchen counters.  or stair cases.  or huge sculptures.  I plan on using concrete A LOT in a house that i would design and build.  You can color it, texture it, and shape it how ever you like.  I like customizable things.