• Now what?

    Once every couple years things fall into place, and I loose myself in a book for the day. It would probably happen more often, but my life has it’s share of distractions (though not necessarily the bad kind). Today was one of those days. Beth spent half the day with her youth group at church. Adam was locked in a low-grade fever/daze, playing uncharacteristically low-key in the other room, or resting quietly by my side. I was excused from laundry due my own cold, that’s just beginning to bloom. And I had a book I couldn’t put down, not that I wanted to… or even thought about it.

    My mind was MIA all day. Along the way I shed a tear, but finished with a satisfied smile.

    Now I feel a little lost, a little bummed. The book is done and nothing in my queue feels like it can measure up. I’m a junkie that doesn’t know where to get his next fix.

  • Spell me

    This morning my son asked me to spell one of the character’s names from Cars.

    Without hesitation, I replied:

    M – A – T – T – E – R

    “That’s not right dad! There’s only one ‘T’ in Mater.”

    Then he went to his dry erase board on the fridge to show me:

    MATER

    “Yep,” I said, “that looks right Adam.” Inside I was thinking, ‘Jeez… I just figured he wanted to know. I didn’t think this was a quiz… or that I’d fail.’

    Something’s not right when your three year old is correcting your spelling.

  • Have you seen me?

    fromGermany.jpg


    I don’t who I am.

    I think I may be a Giese or a Petznick, but even that’s really just a guess (based on the stack of pictures I was in). As long as we’re guessing, I might as well add that someone suspects my family came to America from Germany sometime between 1881 and 1885 (according to US Census records). I’m told this same “someone” has spent months (not all at once) looking through immigration records and passenger rolls looking for a good match, but there were a whole bunch of folks with the name “Giese” arriving in New York at the same time, making it pretty much impossible. And it’s not like the boy Wilhelm’s first name, or date of birth, is helping much either. There were several.

    It’s a little frustrating to see the care that went into preserving my picture: carefully wrapped up and protected from the elements – without a hint to suggest who I might be.