I won the Daddy Lotto!

Spectacular people.   Bright lights in human form.  You know those people that walk into a room and everyone and everything brightens?  I am drawn to them and can tell you, they are few and far in between.  My dad was one. That was him.

It lasted a short twenty years, but during that time I was shown, in great detail, how to be a spectacular person.   I would watch him with my eyes glued, while my mother whispered commentary quietly in one ear. He was so positively effective in peoples lives.

In my childhood years I was surrounded by some pretty spectacular people. Some famous, most not. Spectacular attracts, well...spectacular. But the greatest thing about my dad, was the way he treated those who weren't spectacular. He had the ability to make them feel like they were. He could find that tiny shred of spectacular that everyone of us has and bring that out into the light. That was his true gift. And the more you were around him, the more spectacular you wanted to be. The more you believed you could be.

Now that I think about it...that is his legacy. That's the gift he left behind. We all are spectacular in our own way. We just need to find that bit of ourselves, dust it off and bring it back out into the light. Much the way he would have done for us, if he were still here.

It was 40 years ago today....

April 22, 1970 Philadelphia, Fairmont Park. Ground Zero - Earth Day.

I was 14 years old. I told my parents that I was going to a “science fair” that my science teacher was also attending. That was sort of true. It was about science, right? And my science teacher was attending. Just not with me.

I arrived at the breakfast table in the tie dyed shirt I had crafted the night before and was promptly told to go upstairs and change into “normal clothes”. So I did what any self-respecting teenager would do. Went upstairs, changed my clothes and stuffed the shirt in my homemade hippy bag. Off I went.

Arriving late, we had to park a mile away, so even though we missed The March, we walked some of the route along with other latecomers. We arrived at the park to a sea of people. Amazing. Estimates ranged from 20 to 40 thousand. We settled into our tiny piece of lawn and got to know our neighbors.

People were walking through the crowd handing out bags of “food”. I opened mine to find a slice of bread and an 1/8 cup of uncooked white rice. There was a note that stated “if every single person on the planet shared the existing food supply, this is what we would eat each day”.

Senator Edmund Muskie was on stage calling for “an environmental revolution”. He was criticizing government priorities, which was spending “twenty times as much on Vietnam as we are to fight water pollution…”. Sound familiar?

Up until this point, I had lived in a bubble that was my parent’s world. This day, I saw the world that I wanted to be a part of - every age, every size, every color, every, everything - all coexisting in cooperation. We were full of hope and belief that we could make a difference.

Looking back I realize the first Earth Day had nothing to do with climate change. It was all about the simple idea that we needed to change our attitude toward the land we lived on, the water we drank and the air we breathed - that we needed to show respect for the very basics that we depend on for our own survival.

Now that I think about it, that remains our truth today.

It was a day that remains in my top ten Best Days list.

I ran across this post while researching some old haunts. This was a FREE Springsteen concert. Posted on "Brucebase"

04/28/74 - SWARTHMORE COLLEGE, SWARTHMORE, PA
ONE afternoon outdoor show, double bill, with Springsteen & The ESB headlining and acoustic outfit WIRE AND WOOD (F.C. Collins, Craig Bickhardt, Rick Bell, Bill Shulz, Joey Alfonsi, Fred DeTomasso) opening. According to the school’s newspaper if the weather was poor this show was to be held indoors (in Clothier Building Auditorium) but if the weather was fine it would be held outdoors in the school’s small, stunningly beautiful Scott Amphitheater. Perfect, unseasonably warm, weather prevailed so the concert was held outdoors in front of an audience of less than 300 lucky patrons. Apparently the quaint, picturesque atmosphere elicited a particularly jazzy performance by Bruce and the band. Swarthmore was an all-girls school and Philadelphia Inquirer critic Bill Mandel, who attended this show, described Bruce and the band as performing “to a glade-full of barely clad satyrs and nymphs who writhed and danced in and out of the trees”.

“Swarthmore College’s intimate Scott Amphitheater, site of Springsteen & the ESB’s April 28, 1974 concert. Without doubt the most beautiful, magical location Bruce and the band have ever performed”

Photo by Steve Meade

What a day. We went back stage after the show and continued to party with everyone. Somewhere there is a photo of me with my wide brimmed Chinese hat that was filled with fresh flowers. Now that I think about it, I guess I was one of those "barely clad" nymphs and yes, we were dancing, happy and full ... of tequila!

We have been very lucky in love.

It was thirty years ago today.    The first date.   One of us was divorcing, the other was six months out from the end of a relationship.   I can remember the beginning of our first date, but I can't remember it ever ending.   We have been together ever since the first 'clink' of the glasses that night.

Through the years, we hear people talk about how marriage takes "work".   We always look at each other, shrug our shoulders, and wonder, "are we doing something wrong?".   We have just always fit with each other.   Our individual wants and needs have always been closely aligned.   As have our hopes and dreams for ourselves and each other.

We were two people whose lives intersected by happenstance.   Now that I think about it, we were very lucky indeed, as well as, in love.

Some places are just down right perfect.

Once in a while, life is perfect at the very moment you find yourself in a perfect place. It all comes together and washes over you like a dream that you have wished for all your life. These are glorious times. Nothing can touch you. Your connection to the beauty of nature has such a solid bond, that for an instant, you feel you will never break away. You don't want to break away. And when you do feel its release, you go away savoring every detail of the memory. For a long time.

It's just another fish story.

It all started with that silly movie. You know the one. All the sudden every guy I knew wanted to be able to throw a fly line and tie the perfect flies. So when faced with the choice of becoming a fishing widow or joining the journey, I chose to go for the ride. And it was a long and bumpy one. I was not what you would refer to as a "natural". Quite the contrary. The first five years were pretty much skunked. That's right. Five YEARS! But I was determined and slowly but surely, I began to land fish. Or at least get them close enough to look them in the eye.

I remember my first fish, because it was my first. A respectable 16" trout. Then a couple years later, I remember that big hog wild rainbow (swear it felt like a salmon) that my buddy Bill had to help me land. That sucker jumped five times and almost spooled me. And now, I remember this one. It was my first lightweight (3 wt.) take and I was being cheered on by many of my favorite people as I brought this beauty in.

When I got started in this I really didn't understand the deal. But now that I've been doing this for ten years, I get it. Now that I think about it, fishing provides me the stillness that I need to balance out my ever moving, ever changing life! So here's to you my slimy, scaly, little (and not so little) friends. Thanks for the tight lines and quiet times.

Not all gifts come wrapped in packages

There was no Christmas tree this year. There were no presents. No pretty packages waiting to be opened Christmas morning. There were no stockings filled with goodies. There was no feast in my oven or guest list to check off. Nothing. If someone had told me that this kind of Christmas would be a season of joy for me, I would have asked them what kind of happy pills they were taking. And then ask for a few.

But, surprisingly, that's the way it turned out. My gifts this year came in the form of people from my past. People who I once loved to the core of my soul. Some of whom I had not seen in over 30 years. Old classmates, old girlfriends, old boyfriends, and even my maid of honor. Never have I been surrounded by people who reveled so deeply in the joy of being together. One more time. Our voices danced and swirled about the old kitchen where we once gathered together all those years ago. It was truly the sound of joy. Repeat...the sound of joy.

I sat Christmas morning in my hotel room, surrounded by the pictures and the memories of that night. It touched me to the center of my being.

Now that I think about it, they were my gifts this year, making it one of my warmest and most loving seasons.