Foreword As it turns out, I never mailed this letter. I did not know where you were, and didn’t know where to send it. It seems even your parents have moved on, so here this letter has sat. I have no illusions that you will someday happen upon this letter here, so I’m not exactly sure what my motivation is in placing it here. For that matter, I have no illusions that many people at…
Despite myself, I am optimistic.
My job brings me to court twice a week to work on child support cases. The cases we see are predisposed to be the the worst of the lot. They can be the ones which no other form of persuasion has prompted someone to be a good parent. We are taking the action of last resort, we are going to court. If that were not enough, the atmosphere is charged by the inherently…
On the day your first child is born you are at once overwhelmed and at peace.
When he or she first learns to walk you are enveloped by a sense of wonder; things you typically took for granted seem like tiny miracles.
When he or she first learns to talk its like their personality is finally breaking through the shell of infancy.
When he or she first defies you, you question wether you patience will…
(Note, I’ve changed the names of those involved.)
I’m in court and I call the next case. I call the mother on the case, and ask to speak to her in the waiting area, outside the court room. The mother is a middle age white woman. She is of average height, with slightly above average girth. She is wearing more make-up than she should. She explains to me that she just got the kids back…
What can I say, I feel good. Do I need to appologize? I’m not going to. For the most part I have what I want. I have a wife I love, who seems to feel the same for me. I have a healthy daughter, who is a joy (most of the time). My wife and I have steady, stable jobs. We have a place to call home, and a place we feel we can continue to call home for some time. I have hobbies I enjoy. I like my…
July 4, 1997 makes it eight years since my own independence day. It was July 4th, 1989 and I was just starting my first semester at UF. I remember sitting alone atop the Broward Hall parking garage. I remember thinking that I should be happy, that I was free on this Independence Day. In reality, I was free to be alone that night. I was free to worry about my future. I was free to have life’s…
If talking to yourself is a sign of mental illness, what about writing to yourself? Either way, I’m looking forward to the next month. It’s more than Cheryl can say. The only thing Cheryl likes about this month is it’s the last of her pregnancy – and my heart goes out to her. She has handled all of the discomfort with grace, something I couldn’t equal if I were here (thankfully…
I’m tired, but I don’t want to go to bed.
I want to do something, but I’m too tired to do anything.
I want to be creative, but wanting is not enough.
I like my job, but it makes me feel unapretiated.
I like to play tennis, but it is too hard on my knees.
I want to go on a bike tour of north g-ville, but I fear that no one wants to go with me.
I like cold weather, but I live in Florida.
I…