handwritten on May 25, 2019
As a kid, we used to see how fast we could spell Mississippi. It has a rhythmn to it. A taste of sweetness. Those letters slide off the tongue like a whimsical passing of the breeze. In Buffalo, NY, there is a place we used to visit as kids called Mississippi Muds. How's that for alliteration? And this place is the definition of whimsy. Just picture a somewhat worn down diner looking stand with a tarnished banner that says "Mississippi Muds." There is a place for you to eat up above outside on a deck overlooking the water and the clouds as they pass by. We sat down to a loving conversation with bees buzzing passed us as we enjoyed an ice cream and sweet potato fries with honey. It's just a...
handwritten on May 24, 2019
I have never been one for transitions. And I say this with complete honesty and no shame.
I almost bit a hole through my lip during my transition to kindergarten, there were tears at the end of 1st grade when I had to say goodbye to one of the most fantastic and vibrant teachers (one who ironically happens to be retiring this year.) I remember getting choked up at my last soccer game on the school team, my final jazz band performance in High School. You know-I think even as a young child, even though I could not articulate it, I just knew that the beginnings and the ends were hard. They were hard because often times I was enjoying life so much that transitioning into something else was...
handwritten on May 24, 2019
I think begin stuck in a place is sometimes the best thing for our souls.
My parents always made car rides enjoyable for us as kids.
I actually used to enjoy long car rides to the beach where my mom played books on tape. And we ate tasty snacks. My dad being the food king always had snacks in a cooler- sandwiches packed and ready to go. And on those longer car rides we sometimes played the "job game" or a "guess who" game in teams. It was a time to read books and listen to George Winston and think about important events that lie ahead or the school year we had just left behind. It was almost like sitting down to eat at a dinner table but extending it a few hours maybe even 6 or 7.
Even...
handwritten on May 23, 2019
Every year I attempt to attend as many band concerts and orchestra concerts as possible. One of my good friends happens to be the band teacher at our school and his work with the elementary students is nothing short of whimsical.
There is great beauty in supporting others for that is what we are supposed to do in our lifetime. Because supporting passes off a love and a whimsy unmatched by others. Support sharpens the mind, lifts the spirit and instills a fire beneath our feet that cannot be extinguished. Because when we support, we are passing the strength in the wings given to us by another and allowing another to experience His great flight. As I have found, there really is nothing more...
handwritten on May 22, 2019
One of the clearest memories I have as a child is sitting in my fifth grade math class, being given 100 multiplication problems and trying my best to finish within one minute. I could not quite put my finger on it, but there was this feeling deep within my soul where my stomach would essentially rise into my heart, and I felt like the minute that timer went off, I was flying over that page. And I have to say, though mathematics in elementary school today is much more conceptually based and less procedurally based, being able to memorize something fully, recite a poem, know your facts. To me, back then, it was still a source of great pride. A feeling of magic.
And so though I want my...
