If you wake tomorrow morn

If you wake tomorrow morn

To frost covered limb

Take care where you step

Be wary of whim

For the chill made brittle

What once was warm

Shut off from light

Anticipating the storm

Footfalls leave proof

Of your reckless ways

Compressed by the weight

Signifying your lack of praise

And when light shines

Upon the damage done

Tracks turn to mist

Rising toward the sun

Yet the pain persists

Though no proof remains

Of a life once loved

And a love wrought with pains

Where the pavement ends

Where the pavement ends

And the road turns rough

My journey begins

And I call my own bluff

Tis the light of life that I request

To receive without fear

An illuminated soul as blessed

As Your mothers virgin tear

Would the heavens open to me

Your love shall guide me home

The Fathers hand will set me free

And no more shall my soul roam

Oh the stories your hands could tell...

If a picture paints a thousand words, how many words are contained in the stories your hands can tell?

For no particular reason I was looking at my hands yesterday and began to think of the many events in my life reflected in the scars and disfigurements of my hands. Of course, some of these stories have left visible reminders, yet others exist in wrinkles of my mind, only to be shaken loose by the mere sight of these instruments of tenderness, toil, passion and anger.

On the underside of the middle finger on my right hand there lies a scar just above the 2^nd knuckle. I must have been three years old when it happened. I scarcely remember how I received the injury, except that I had decided to climb the face of metal shelving and at some point had lost my footing leaving me dangling from a shelf, gripping the edge. Regardless of the shelving being upside down or right side up, the ledge that I happened to be clinging to possessed a lip which sliced into the meat of my fingers on both hands. Why I don’t have more scars, or a missing finger is a mystery to me. I can only imagine how freaked out my mother must have been.

Both of my pinky fingers are disfigured, yet fit snuggly against the ring finger on each hand. Several years separate each injury, yet both occurred in my youth.

My family took frequent camping and fishing vacations when I was young, and one such vacation took us to a park in eastern Iowa. It’s funny how I can’t remember if it were Strawberry Point or Keokuk now. Either way, I was as apt to wander off into the thick of the forest then as I am now. However, at that point, probably aged 12 or 13 I didn’t know the difference between a hand and a machete. This was made clear to me when I was karate chopping the weeds in front of me, clearing a path, when one of those weeds happened to have a thorn which lodged itself in the knuckle of the little finger on my right hand. Needless to say, this was painful and resulted in one of many trips throughout my life in Iowa to Dr. Velma in Schaller, 7 miles east of where I grew up.

My left little finger decided to take a left turn at the 2^nd knuckle during the 1^st half of a basketball game. It could have been Jr. High or High School and the game was, luckily for me, in Schaller, home of Dr. Velma. It occurred on an inbound pass and as I received the ball I had a momentary loss of sanity and attempted to catch the ball by ramming my little finger into it. This act resulted in a large “pop”, a ball dribbling back out of bounds, and me, doubled over clutching my deformed hand. ``Somehow, my mother was able to reach Dr. Velma who met us in her office only a couple of blocks from the gymnasium. Of course, nearly everything in these small Iowa towns is within a couple of blocks of each other. She reset the joint, which wasn’t pleasant, splinted it and of course, I returned to play the 2^nd half J

Being a lover, not a fighter, I had a serious issue with taking my frustrations out on inanimate objects by punching them, including school busses and steel reinforced gym lockers. This was clearly preferable to punching people, but as a result I have no knuckle to speak of on the little finger of my right hand and the middle knuckle of my right hand is permanently swollen and flat. Nice huh? This level of insanity may have preempted a few actual bouts of fisticuffs, but of course, that’s only my biased opinion. It’s a fact that after putting some serious hurt on a couple of school busses, nobody seemed to bother me much with the single exception of one freak of nature, who was ironically my wife’s boyfriend at the time of our confrontation. He decided to get into it with one of my friends, and being the goof I was, I stepped into the fray and left with a nose bleed and a bruised ego. Like I said, I was a lover, not a fighter.

There is a scar on the top of my right middle finger, just below the fingernail, where there used to be an enormous bump, it may have been a wart of some sort. I had it removed a few years ago after several years of getting it caught on things. It was in a most inconvenient location after all. I tried several times to remove it myself, each time resulting in much pain, blood and a larger growth. It started in the basement of my parent’s antique store when I was 15 or 16. The basement contained my father’s workshop where we made and refinished furniture. On this occasion I was making a cut on the table saw when my wood slipped through accelerating my guide stick forward and pushing my hand into the blade. I totally freaked out, and ran to the main floor. The cut was deep and my finger throbbed like the dickens. How my parents put up with me I’ll never know.

These stories are the easy ones to remember, and it probably says something about my persona that the easiest stories to remember are those involving injury and pain. There are others though.

In high school, as now, I was a very physically demonstrative lad. I didn’t have many girlfriends then, or ever, but I seemed to often have one from my sophomore year. After consolidating schools that year with the neighboring town of Holstein I dated two girls throughout the remainder of school, both of them were members of the percussion section in our high school band, as was I. Our lunch room was in the grade school building located two blocks west of the high school meaning we got a 4 block walk each day for lunch. Of course two small town blocks are about the length of one city block. When I was going “steady” with someone it was common to make this walk to and from lunch holding hands. Would that even be allowed today? I don’t even know. I’ve seen much more contact these days than we might have imagined then… well… maybe I imagined it, but really… that was the grist of the rumor mills then, not reality.

Sweaty palms. Sweaty palms seemed to be the benchmark of whether someone really liked you or not, or so was the ole wives tale. So, we’d make the 4 block walk to and from lunch, sweaty palms and all.

These are the hands that stroked my wife’s soft as silk hair and marveled over how electric and magical the touch of her skin felt. These are the hands that held each of my children in their first moments of life and the mystery of life that spark radiated from their little bodies, through my fingertips, up my arms and warmed my soul.

Each wrinkle and every line contain another story, another memory and yet cupping both hands together, they hold the future; my future and that of those I love. What will be drawn from my mind as I gaze at these hands many years from now?

A very doggy halloween

So what does it mean? Well, it means that I spent the day hiding from the office so I could make some progress on more planning only keeping in touch via email and a couple of phone calls. This works actually.

It was a mostly sunny day but chilly. I think the temp reached nearly 50 degrees. Thank goodness the wind wasn't blowing as bad as Mom and Dad had said it did in Iowa yesterday.

I promised my daughter that I'd be home early so we could go Trick or Treating. She'd surprised me over the weekend by asking to get a costume. She'd not wanted to go the last couple of years and with everything considered we didn't push the issue. I took her to "Party City" last night and we walked out with a Gangster Hat and Pimp Cane for her and custumes for each of the dogs. I bought my self a foam clown nose :-)

For some reason I thought my wife was working from 5-9pm tonight, but it turns out it was 1-5pm so I dressed the silkies and took them for a walk around the cul-de-sac... the really seemed to enjoy wearing their little costumes and prancing about!

After our little walk we took pictures of them for posterity, undressed them and got ready to take Harry out with Erin. Even though she's 14 I still didn't want her roaming around alone and she seemed to have no problems at all with going out with Dad :-)

To complete my daughter's costume I gave her one of my "skinny" white dress shirts and she borrowed a tie from her brother.

We set off into the chilled darkness, my daughter with an enormous pillowcase to carry her loot in, and of course Harry dressed as Count Dogula.

It was a good walk for all of us. Harry and I truly enjoyed watching my daughter delight in something she's missed for a few years now.

I hope all had a wonderful Halloween and I'll be speaking at you again soon!

Last weekend

I've fallen behind on journaling so this is a bit of catch up work.

Friday 10/27/2006

Friday was chilly and gloomy. No good for photo taking. I canceled my weekly staff meeting since most of my staff was either at a customer working or on vacation. Instead, I spent the day racing to submit training requirements for the staff and dealing with corporate politics. I was able to spend a little time on our E-Myth business development too.

After getting home I watched part of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre with my daughter and the dogs My wife had also ordered Chinese for delivery. :-)




Saturday 10/28/2006

I couldn't have been happier to wake up to sunny and clear skies Saturday morning. It turned out that my daughter had a confirmation retreat that afternoon and I said that I'd take her to it. After some odds and ends I set out for downtown Naperville to take some photos. I'm convinced there isn't a better downtown area in the Chicago suburbs, with the Riverwalk, shops, and restaurants not to mention the frequent events that the township and merchants hold.

I spent the first part of the morning strolling along the Riverwalk and taking pictures. It's so nice to walk along, greeting strangers with a smile and taking everything in.







As I was walking back to my car I noticed a lot of kids in costume with their parents heading toward the downtown area... It turns out that there was a "Trick or Treat" thing happening with the downtown merchants. Being the photohound I am, I found a great place to watch and catch some shots. I am blown away by how many families participate in these events... I think it's great, even though some of the participants didn't exactly look thrilled. Sometimes the parents were flustered, other times the kids had had enough.




It was getting close to noon by now so I called home to make sure my daughter was getting ready for the retreat. I was surprised when my wife answered the phone as I expected her to be at the barn with the horse. She said she'd make sure my daughter was getting ready and that she'd be at the stable by then so I could pick my daughter up and take her to church. I snapped a couple of additional pictures with the extra little time and made my way back home.

Now home I let the pups outside for a spell and made sure the future confirmee was ready to go. I was pleased that she didn't put up a fuss and delivered her to the church on time. Not knowing or remembering the drill, I went in with her to learn that she'd be there until the 5 o'clock mass and I said that I'd return and be at the mass with her.

On the return home I decided to take my Australian Shepherd, Harry out on an afternoon adventure with me. I asked my 13 year old son if he'd like to join us, and of course he declined.

I no more than reached into the drawer in the laundry room for his leash when he began to dance and mewl in anticipation of a w-a-l-k. I grabbed the leash and miniature garbage pale containing the doggy bags and headed out the door with my sidekick.

I decided to return to downtown Naperville and walk along the riverwalk again. By this time, about 2:00 pm the costumed kids had cleared out and had been replaced by the ever present shoppers and strollers.

Harry was thrilled to be be out and about and as we people, goose and duck watched from the banks of the DuPage river.









We had a great day together, Harry and I. He truly enjoyed the walk and extra attention he received by passers by. Having spent about 3 hours strolling the riverwalk and making a loop through down we decided to load up and head home so I could clean up and get to mass.


Mass was awesome. I sat in the last row behind a young family with 5 children all under the age of 10; 3 boys and 2 girls. The love between the kids and parents as evident and a real boost for me. I wanted to tell the father what a beautiful family he had, but I thought that would come across as creepy so I didn't do it.

The Gospel reading was Mark Chapter 10 versus 46-52 about Jesus healing the blind man along the road outside of Jericho.

¹ They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging.

On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, "Jesus, son of David, have pity on me."

And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, "Son of David, have pity on me."

Jesus stopped and said, "Call him." So they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take courage; get up, he is calling you."

He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus.

Jesus said to him in reply, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man replied to him, "Master, I want to see."

Jesus told him, "Go your way; your faith has saved you." Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

The parish Priest is not emotive, but his faith is evident to me. He related to us, in short, that sight was just not simply a physical healing, but also a spiritual one. I want to see... I want to see the path...

I made chicken, pasta and green beans for supper and it was yummy.
Sunday 10/29/2006

How happy was I to see another sunny day? Well... not as happy as I might have thought, however I set out anyway for another day of adventure. For some reason I just couldn't see... I couldn't find the beauty I wanted to capture. I drove about and listened to my audio books searching... thinking... "Am I burned out on photography? On adventure? Why do I continue to do this?'





I wanted to get some covers for the rose bushes so as I drifted I looked for a garden shop to get my rose covers.

I was listening to the Bears kick the crap out of the 49'ers and behold, as I am making my way back home I drive through Downers Grove and discover a parade! I find a place to park, got a cup of decaf Caribou coffee and located a strategic place on the street.






We never had Halloween parades when I was young... at least not that I remember.

I got the rose covers, but everyone was sold out of wire stakes and I only had a few left from putting up the chicken wire fencing earlier in the summer. I put up four covers and cut back the roses, butterfly bushes, hibiscus and other plants that needed to be cut back.

That's what my weekend was like... how was yours?

Sunday Sunday

After sorting the bills and writing checks for those due in the coming week, I decided to take a drive. I lit out for the western territories and within 5 minutes I spotted two red tail hawks perched upon telephone poles within 100 yards of each other. A rare find. I quickly pulled off to the side of the road and attempted to capture them with my trusty camera. The first one flew off as soon as I stopped the car. The second one did too, but landed on another pole not far from me.

Have I said how much I like birds of prey? No? I'll have to do that...

I proceeded another 10 minutes west until reaching the Fox River in hopes that the bald eagles had returned. Alas, no bald eagles. But I did spot a vulture soaring high above.


I also spotted a tree full of large birds. Unfortunately I couldn't get close and the skies were cloudy and hazy so the photos aren't clear... I don't know what the heck they are.

Leaving the Fox River, I decided to explore areas I'd not been in a long while and drove west past Aurora. Some roads were beautifully lined with trees begining their seasonal changes.


I kept wandering until I came upon a park I'd not heard of before, and the name caused me to stop. Bliss Woods Nature Preserve seemed to be a good place to take a walk, and I was right.

The preserve is full of mature hardwoods with beautiful foliage, even though the leaves aren't quite ready to change.


I was surprised how few birds there seem to be in these woods. Usually if I can't see them, I can at least spot their movements in my peripheral vision or hear them. There were very few sounds, other than distant traffic and what sounded like gunfire. I came across a biker that asked if I'd seen the deer from where he'd just come and then directed me to where he'd seen it.


No deer.

I did see a number of chipmunks and squirrels though. They were busilly readying themselves for the winter... I'm sure there's some old time lore about when the rodents ready for the winter and an indication of the coming weather.

The park was split by a road, which I crossed and began to hear more gunfire and over time I was convinced the park neighbored a gun range. I did find a halloween tree through, and had a very nice walk in the process.

I left Bliss Woods and began the drive home. I was alternating between James Pattersons "Honeymoon" and Demone on the CD player. I really didn't see anything of consequence on the way home either, so I snapped a shot of a combine harvesting beans.

So, I got home, checked email, and played with the dogs.

I'm working on some homework for work, ironically an E-Myth exercise called "Key Frustrations" lol. You're supposed to make a list of things in the business that frustrate you and work through a system of classifying them and making a plan to solve them.

I hope the sun shone on you today, warmed your face, and if not your soul.