Month: July 2013

Age, Just A Number?

On Monday I received my most recent  job rejection from a company I will call ABC, it read;

Dear Dale,

 Thank you for your interest in employment with ABC.  We have reviewed your resume and have carefully considered your qualifications.  While your skills are certainly impressive, we have decided to pursue other candidates for the Procurement Manager position.

Please let us know if you would like us to maintain your resume in our candidate database.

Again, thank you for your interest in employment with ABC.

I have received this type of letter more than once, but this one was especially frustrating for a number of reasons.

First of all I didn’t think they were lying to me, I really do believe ABC thought my skills were impressive.  In fact when I sent my resume, the biggest fear I had was that they wouldn’t believe it because my work experience and qualifications seemed to fit too perfectly with their job description.  The match was so identical that I briefly considered dumbing down my resume out of fear that ABC would think it was a fabrication, written specifically to match their ad.

Along with the position requirements, ABC had also clearly stated “No phone calls please.”  Understanding how resume’s can get lost in the shuffle (but still wanting to follow their instructions) I opted to send a hand written letter to the VP of Human Resources, thanking him for accepting my resume and giving him a heads up that I was a qualified candidate.  I hoped at the very least, the letter would get ABC’s attention.

I then began to mention ABC to everyone I talked with.  As luck would have it I stumbled across a couple of friends who did business with them and knew people in management there.  They promised to put in a good word for me and I have every confidence that they did.

With a resume that matched the job description perfectly, a handwritten note to bring attention to it and some personal references passed on to people who could make a difference, I was feeling pretty confident that an interview was imminent, until I received the email on Monday.

So what went wrong?  Did it have anything to do with the fact that my resume shows being employed 33 years with the same company?  I think maybe it did.  You don’t need to be a mathematician to figure out that 33 years of service puts me somewhere in the 50 to 60 year old range.  Don’t get me wrong, this is not meant to be sour grapes.  I still believe that companies should be allowed to hire who they want to, regardless of age, sex, race, religious affiliation or almost anything else.  If it’s your business, you should within reason be allowed to run it as you see fit.  What I’m trying to point out, because so many of us now fall into this range, is that age does matter.

Now maybe it doesn’t matter to us, because we know that we haven’t gotten old, we’ve just aged, and we understand the difference.  And while it’s true that many of our views and opinions were formed long ago, it doesn’t mean they’ve been set in stone.  On the contrary, we are wise enough to be flexible, mature enough to be understanding, and experienced enough to be mentors.  Not only do we still have the energy, we also have the desire and the work ethic to contribute greatly.  However, the reality is that so often we are not seen this way.

There’s delusion associated with youth, a kind of defense mechanism that can cause the young to believe this “aging thing” will never happen to them.  It can affect the way they make decisions.  There’s also an arrogance which allows them to think that if the unthinkable happens and they do age, they’ll never be looked upon as old.  We probably shouldn’t judge them too harshly for this, because we’ve been there.  They’re young, they’ll learn just like we did.

There’s a saying I heard many years ago that I really didn’t understand, probably because I was too young.  It goes; Young men think old men are fools.  Old men know that young men are.

Now I get it.

How Do You Feel?

I’m tired of athletes with Twitter accounts.  I’m tired of entertainers with microphones stuck in their face.  I’m tired of reality stars who open their mouths and allow words to come out.  Hell, I’m just tired of celebrities in general.

Why we give so much time and attention to the opinions of people who can barely put two intelligent words together unless they’re reading them off of a script or cue card is beyond me.  And why we hang on every one of the 140 characters punched into an I phone by any idiot who was fortunate enough to be blessed with opposing thumbs, remains a mystery.

We seem to have become a nation obsessed with celebrity.  A place where if you have a number one single, can dunk a basketball, or act well enough to convince people that you really are an action hero, then any idiotic thing which comes out of your mouth, or thumbs for that matter, is automatically labeled, at it’s best intelligent or at it’s least news worthy.

The sad thing is that we’re the ones who’ve convinced these people that their opinions matter.  For so long we’ve told them how wonderful they are, that they’ve grown to believe it.  We’ve told them that if they’re rich and famous, or either, then their thoughts must be profound and we should take note of them.

My blood pressure began to go up once again when I made the mistake of reading some celebrity tweets on the George Zimmerman trial.  For example;

And our taxes paid for that trial. We just paid to see a murderer walk free after killing an innocent unarmed little boy.  Nicki Minaj  (entertainer)

All them jurors should go home tonight and kill themselves for letting a grown man get away with killing a kid.  Roddy White (football player)

America justice system is a joke.  Kendrick Perkins  (basketball player)

This is America waddya expect? The only thing u aren’t allowed to kill in an instant is a fetus. Hey Zim, find another hobby now that u won.  Bill Maher  (not really sure what he’s supposed to be)

Finally, David Simon, a television producer and the creator of an HBO show called, ‘The Wire.’  He decided to vent his outrage concerning the Zimmerman trial and wrote the following;

“If I were a person of color in Florida, I would pick up a brick and start walking toward that courthouse in Sanford.”  and this, “Tonight, anyone who truly understands what justice is and what it requires of a society is ashamed to call himself an American.”

Take a minute to let that sink in.  He seems to be implying that if he were black he would riot.  Then he suggests, if people had any brains at all, (I guess like he does) they should be ashamed to be Americans.  I can only presume he’s saying this because six jurors who heard all of the evidence in the trial, evidence which in some cases only they heard, came to a conclusion that was contrary to what he thought it should be.

I don’t always consider myself to be the most ardent flag waver and patriot, but I do need to say this; With all of the problems this country has, and there are many, it still allows people like Mr. Simon or anyone else to speak like a fool without fear of punishment.  It also allows them to pack up their belongings and find a different country in which to live if that is what they choose to do.  If you are ashamed to be one of us then please go.  There will be no hard feelings, I promise.

However, if you choose to stay, then sing your songs, say your lines, shoot your three point jump shots, produce your TV shows, and make your millions.  But please stop believing that fame or money somehow make you the smartest person in the room.  Maybe then I’ll start caring about your opinion.

Until then I’ll try and focus my attention on people like Donte’ Stallworth a professional football player who somewhat renewed my faith, when he tweeted the following;

Instead of rage & anger, let’s direct that emotion towards a positive movement. Like education, poverty & black on black crime in the hood.  Well said Mr. Stallworth.

A Man Walks Into A Bar

There’s a very old joke you may have heard that goes like this;

A guy named Charlie wakes up one morning and makes his hour and a half commute to work.  Once in his office he opens his email and the first thing he sees is a message from his wife.  It reads, “Charlie, by the time you read this the children and I will be on our way to my mothers house.  You will find the divorce papers on the kitchen table, Goodbye, Your EX-wife, Janet.”  Charlie is sitting there stunned, not believing what he’s just read, when his boss walks in and closes the door behind him.  “Charlie” he says, “I hate to do this but we are going to have to let you go today.  You’ve been downsized.”  Reeling from this second piece of bad news Charlie, zombie like, collects his belongings and trudges out of the office to begin his hour and a half commute back home.  About 2 blocks from his house, a fire engine roars past with sirens blaring.  As Charlie turns onto the block where he lives he sees the reason for the fire truck.  His house is in flames.  He jumps out of his car, drops to his knees, looks to the heavens and screams, “Why Lord, why me?!”  A booming voice comes down from above and says, “I don’t know Charlie, there’s just something about you that pisses me off.”

Have you ever felt a little like Charlie?  A couple of days ago, during what is turning out to be the hottest week of the year so far, our air conditioner broke down.  Along with that, our furnace is on it’s last legs, yesterday the clothes dryer became so hot to the touch that it would probably cook dinner better than our oven and today my wife discovered a leak in the dishwasher which has allowed water to seep under the hard wood floors causing some seams to separate.  All of a sudden it seems as if we’re incurring one expense after another.  To say it’s a bad time for all of this to happen would be an understatement.

I understand that my problems aren’t unique, I’m sure everyone could tell similar stories or worse.  So what have we done that would cause God to be so upset with us?  The answer is, a whole Iot!  After all in some ways we probably deserve it.  Can any of us in all honesty say that we’ve been more saint than sinner.  He has every right to be angry with us, to even punish us.  But to paraphrase Homey the Clown from the old “In Living Color” television show of the early nineties, “God don’t play that game.”  And we should be thankful that He doesn’t.

These speed bumps in life are nothing more than attention getters.  Kind of like when you’re watching TV and you hear that high pitched tone followed by the words, “This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system.  If this had been an actual emergency you would have been informed where to tune for further information.  We repeat, this is only a test.”  I believe our problems are God’s emergency broadcasting system, with His message being, “This is only a test.  If this turns into an actual emergency, trust me…… I’ll handle it.  I repeat, this is only a test.  I  still love you.”

I had a high school basketball coach who once told me that the time for me to worry wasn’t when he was yelling at me but when he stopped, because that meant he had given up on me.  Isn’t that what God is doing by allowing us to go through these challenges.  Isn’t that His way of saying that He still believes in us?

I hope so, because that weird rumbling noise I just heard wasn’t my stomach.  I’m pretty sure it was coming from the refrigerator.

Does Jesus Do Facebook?

A few years ago my cousin Dede asked me to join Facebook as a way of keeping in touch.  I didn’t really have any interest at the time, but because I love her I did.  Boy do I owe her a big thanks.  How could you not enjoy Facebook.  It can make you “LOL 🙂 ” and “sigh 🙁 ”  You can “Share” things, and  “Comment” on peoples “Status.”  You can boast about how much candy you’ve crushed or just give someone a “Poke.”  It keeps you informed as to what your friends are up to and you can let them know what you’ve been doing.  When you “post” something you can check back every five minutes to see how many “Likes” you’ve received.  A large number of “Likes” can boost your self esteem and even give you the illusion of popularity.  A small amount of “Likes” can cause you to send out more friend requests in the hope of getting better “Friends.”  You can secretly “Block” people who’s constant status changes annoy you, without them ever knowing how annoyed you are with them.  You can become the virtual ruler of your own little Facebook kingdom.

But the one thing I didn’t know about Facebook until recently is that apparently it can somehow receive communications from the great beyond.  I discovered this just the other day while scrolling through all of the “Top Stories.”  That’s where I came across the following post,  in case you haven’t seen it I’ve recreated it for you, it read;

Say this slow  “God I love you and I need you”  Now if you mean it Repost & a miracle will happen tonight.  Ignore and all will go Wrong

I couldn’t tell if there was an exclamation mark behind the word “Wrong” because the ‘g’ was cut off on the post that I saw, but I assumed there had to be, because this appeared to be quite an urgent message.  The part about a miracle happening “tonight” suggested that this was very possibly a message directly from God Himself!  Who else would know that a miracle was going to happen?

I began to read it aloud, very slowly as instructed.  Possibly too slowly, because the next thing I remember was waking up and staring at the screen saver on my computer.  I jiggled my mouse and up popped the exact same message I had just been reading a few minutes earlier.  The exact same one!  A miracle for sure!  Was this the miracle the ominous post had been talking about?  No, it couldn’t be, I hadn’t even reposted yet.  I started to read again, a little faster this time.

When I had finished it became apparent to me that according to this post, just loving and needing God wasn’t good enough, I had to repost this as proof of my devotion.  If I did that, he would provide me with some kind of miracle.  Kind of like one hand washing the other I supposed.  It seemed so simple that I though there must be a catch.  What could it be?  Then I saw it, the last line.  The warning.  Ignore and all will go Wrong (this is where I think the exclamation point was supposed to go)

I stopped for a minute to think this over.  Is it possible that Jesus is monitoring Facebook in order to find out how much I really care about him?  Does He have His own page?  If He does, should I start to worry because He hasn’t sent me a friend request?  As a precaution should I begin friend requesting everyone named Jesus?  Maybe I should just play it safe and repost this.  OMG now I’m just acting ridiculous!!

But I think I’d better clarify something.  I’m not taking His name in vane.  The G in OMG stands for Gosh.  Really Lord, it does!!

Look, just because I don’t think He does Facebook doesn’t mean He isn’t reading my blog occasionally.

Not Only Swimming Lessons

I took my grandson Leland for a walk the other day and saw some kids enjoying themselves in a backyard swimming pool.  The beautiful summer day along with the sound of kids playing, reminded me of the summer of 1963 when my mom signed my brother and I up for once a week swimming lessons at the community park pool.

To us it sounded like a great idea until our first lesson.  Rich and I thought the class was just going to be a bunch of kids splashing and screaming, with maybe a fifteen minute break thrown in for snack time. To discover they were really going to try and teach us how to swim came as a shock, the fact that we were actually going to be expected to learn something during summer vacation made absolutely no sense to us at all.

What happened the next three weeks was like something out of a Leave it to Beaver episode.  Mom would drop us off at the pool where we would happily walk inside, wait about 30 seconds until we were sure mom had pulled away, and then promptly walk back out.  Confident that our plan had gone undetected we would then proceed to walk around the park and look for kids playing baseball to see if we could get into a game.  Always mindful of the time, we would head back to the front of the pool and be waiting when mom arrived to pick us up, but not before first placing our swimming suits in the drinking fountain and splashing water on our towels in order to make it appear we had attended our lesson.

You might say things were going along swimmingly, until the day the pool called mom to ask why she was paying for lessons but not sending her kids to class?

Mom never let on that she had been tipped off to our scheme.  She was sneaky like that.  At dinner on the day mom had received the call, dad nonchalantly asked how swimming was going.  My body stiffened as I stared at my plate and mumbled “Okay I guess.”  “What did you learn today?”  dad said.  My brother, suspecting that I was going to cave in, gave a nervous laugh and answered, “How to swim, whadda ya think?”

That’s when mom decided to spring like a tiger, informing us that, “Your father and I already know you have not been swimming for three weeks!”  She had set a clever trap, and we as stupid kids often do, fell right into it.  Busted!

I can’t exactly remember the rest of the conversation but I know it went something like this.  “But Dad I’m scared of the water.  With the stuff they make us do I’m afraid I’ll drown!”  “Son, if you don’t show up for swimming lessons next week, drowning will be the least of your worries.”

It was a different time.  A time when mom and dad didn’t always try to reason and rationalize with you.  They didn’t talk to you as if they were negotiators trying to get you down off a ledge because you were threatening to jump.  They were the guy in the movie who ran up 14 flights of stairs, leaned out the window, grabbed you by the arm, yanked you inside and said, “Okay, enough of this nonsense!!”  In other words, they talked to you like parents, and you were expected to understand that certain things were non-negotiable.  It was a time when you could expect some form of punishment for not obeying, but few if any rewards for being obedient, because obedience, along with mowing the lawn cleaning your room, and helping with the dishes were the few jobs that you had as a kid, and no one thought it was too much for you to handle or that you needed to be rewarded for pitching in and being part of the family.

We attended the rest of our swimming lessons and never once came close to drowning.  I learned a little about swimming and a little about life that year.  It was a great summer.

A Little Sensitive Dale?

Last week on Facebook I mentioned how I had been watching the Champions Golf Tour on TV when I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me.  I decided to start Google searching the age of the players in this 50 and older league.  I didn’t realize this was a truly bad idea until I discovered that seven of the first ten players I searched the ages of were younger than me.   Immediately I became aware of why a few years ago they changed the name of this tour from the Senior PGA Tour to the Champions Golf Tour.  No one needs a constant reminder that they have become a “senior.”  You might say I’ve started to become a little sensitive about it.

The scene:  My wife and I are sitting at the kitchen table.  She’s putting on her make-up and fanning herself with last Sunday’s church bulletin.  I’m looking at Facebook, and drinking a piping hot cup of coffee wearing a long sleeve shirt, sweatpants and furry slippers;

Me:  Will you please stop doing that?  You’re creating a draft!

Sue:  Are you nuts?  It’s hot in here!

Me:  You already know the answer to your obviously rhetorical question about my sanity and as far as it being hot in here, you’re the one who’s nuts.  It’s freezing!  If you stuck your tongue to my nose right now you’d end up like the kid in that movie A Christmas Story.

Sue: (Laughing)

Me:  Go ahead try it, I’m serious!

Sue:  I know you’re serious, and I have to be honest, that worries me a little.  I’m not going to stick my tongue to your nose, I heard you sneezing before.

Me:  I sneezed because you have the thermostat set at 60.

Sue:  Actually it’s set at 70.

Me:  Same difference.

Sue:  In what world is 60 and 70 the sa……forget it, please don’t answer that.  Boy, in the last year I’ve noticed you’re cold a lot.

Me:  You don’t really want to go there do you?

Sue:  What?  I’m just saying.

Me:  I know what you’re saying, you’re saying my blood is thin.  You’re saying I’m getting old.  Don’t think I don’t remember us laughing about your Great Uncle Fred being dressed in earmuffs and a parka on 85 degree days in the middle of summer.

Sue:  I never said you’re old.  All I said was that you seem to be cold a lot.

Me:  Old, cold, what’s the difference?

Sue:  No difference Uncle Fred.  No difference at all.

A Letter To Walmart

Dear Mr. Tovar,

I recently read the statement below with great interest;

“We are ending our relationship with Paula Deen Enterprises and will not place new orders beyond those already committed,” said Dave Tovar, a Wal-Mart spokesman. “We will work with suppliers to address existing inventories and agreements.”

I noticed you did not specify in your statement why you were ending your relationship but I’ll assume it has something to do with the use of that offensive N word that has been so highly publicized in the media.  I would first like to say that I’ve never really been much of a Paula Deen fan and fully support your right to end a business relationship with anyone you choose, and for any reason.  I think there is already too much government interference in how people run their businesses.  But I fear your company is sending out mixed signals.  As I was browsing through the music section in your fine establishment I noticed some CD’s by artists I found curious you would be carrying.  I was wondering if you may want to “end your relationship” with them also.

Let me illustrate my point by sharing with you a portion of one of Snoop Dogg’s songs titled “Murder Was The Case.”  Knowing how sensitive you are to offensive words I’ve placed the naughty ones in parenthesis using only the first initial.

Man he’s Snoop Dogg  Man (F word) that (N word!!)
(N word) man!  Get that (N word) man!
Man get up fool man, get up man, don’t be tryin to run man
Get up on that fool man, I don’t give a (F word)
What set you got now? (F word) you (N word!)
Yeah (N word) whassup?  (N word?)
Yeah (MF word)  Yeah (N word), one less (N word)
Yeah (N word), youse a dead (MF word) now

Admittedly his grammar isn’t the best, but there are two more verses and a chorus that are just as good as this.  A true masterpiece.  That was an attempt at sarcasm sir.

And here is part of the song A.D.H.D. by Kendrick Lamar.  You carry his CD’s in your store also;

(F word) that  8 doobies to the face (F word) that 12 bottles in the case
(N word), (F word) that 2 pills and a half, wait (N word), (F word) that Got a high tolerance When your age don’t exist

While undoubtedly destined to go down as one of the true classics right up there with the likes of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas there are some who might find the lyrics offensive.  I’m sorry, yes that was more sarcasm.

And finally one of my personal favorites from R Kelly.  I found one of his CD’s in your store too;

Gettin that money my (N word) Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha ha gotta laugh at this (S word) get.. this.. money
Gettin this money my (N word) Yeah, ohh oh ohh oh
Oh it’s too late to get scared (N word) get.. this.. mo-ney
It’s way too late now… gettin this money my (N word) get.. this.. mo-ney
Gettin that money my (N word)

I believe Mr. Tovar, that most people now a days are looking for some consistency.  It bothers us when we’re sent mixed signals.  We don’t really like to be told that something is offensive one minute but perfectly fine the next.  And for Walmart to carry this type of music does not seem to be consistent with the high standards you purport to have.  Forgive me for being confused and I hope you won’t be offended by my asking, “What the dif (MF word)?”  Oh, MF doesn’t stand for My Friend?  Sorry.

Very Sincerely,

Dale A. Massaro

P.S.  Can you do something about your shopping carts?  The wheels wobble.

Do You Know a Schmuck?

Recently I had the opportunity to interview a gentleman by the name of Dr. Ima Schmuck.  Dr. Schmuck is a research scientist, with his expertise in the field of…. well just read the interview;

Me:  Good morning Dr. Schmuck, thank you for agreeing to this interview.

Schmuck:  Hello, thank you for asking to be enlightened.

Me:  Can you tell me about this theory of yours.  You call it devolution?

Schmuck:  Actually Dale it’s pronounced devo-lution.  It’s a long E.  You pronounce it as you would when saying the name of that band who used to wear those funny cone shaped hats.

Me:  Regardless of the pronunciation, you do know that the term devolution already has a meaning don’t you?  You didn’t just invent it.

Schmuck:  Yes I did, I put a hyphen in mine.

Me:  Good thinking.  Anyway, is devo-lution anything like the theory of evolution?

Schmuck:  Actually Dale, it’s quite the opposite.  While evolutionists believe that we have evolved from a lower life form into a more intelligent race, I believe we were created as intelligent beings and are beginning to change into a lower life form.  We are not evolving, we are actually de-volving or regressing.

Me:  And how did you come up with this theory Mr. Schmuck?

Schmuck:  Doctor.

Me:  Huh?

Schmuck:  Dr. Schmuck, I’m a doctor.

Me:  Oh, I forgot.  How did you come up with this theory Doctor.

Schmuck:  I read a lot of newspapers.

Me:  That’s it?  You’re research is based solely on reading newspapers?

Schmuck:  Yes, the theory of devo-lution came to me after reading about all of the terrible things going on in the world, things like terrorism, drugs, war, the Miami Heat winning another NBA championship, I suddenly realized that we are becoming more like animals than humans.  Many Christians believe these bad things happen due to the work of Satan, while some people believe it’s because of our failings as a society in general.  And if you can believe this, there are actually those who think you alone are responsible for your actions!  And these groups don’t even include the people who are convinced the world is spiraling out of control because not enough mothers breast fed their infants, or the group who thinks we’re doomed because too many mothers did.

Me:  And who do you agree with?

Schmuck:  I agree with no one.  My theory is that no one is to blame for anything.  It’s certainly not our fault as a society.  And because I don’t believe in God, I couldn’t possibly agree that it’s the work of some mythical being like Satan.  The conclusion I have come to should be obvious to everyone.  We are good people who unfortunately through no fault of our own are victims of devo-lution.

Me:  So what you’re saying is that no one is responsible for their behavior?

Schmuck:  That’s correct.  We are all blameless victims.

Me:  I see.  But your theory must be based on more than just reading the newspaper.  Most scientists have grants given to them by universities in order to conduct their studies. Certainly you have something like that in your background.

Schmuck:  Of course, I’m affiliated with a very prominent institution of higher learning.  Unfortunately a restraining order and law suit currently prevent me from mentioning its name.

Me:  I’m curious doctor.  If you believe that we started as an intelligent life form but you don’t believe in God, then where exactly do you think we came from?

Schmuck:  That’s irrelevant.  If you continue to ask me such ridiculous questions I’ll be forced to end the interview.

Me:  Let me make sure I understand.  The bad things that happen are not the fault of the person who commits the act, or society, or Satan.  We are digressing into a lower life form and it can’t be helped.   No one is responsible for the things they do because everything is a result of devo-lution?

Schmuck:  Exactly!  Now you’ve got it!!!

Me:  Doctor, aren’t you just trying to make up an excuse so that you never have to take responsibility for your actions or answer for your mistakes?

Schmuck:  I”ll answer that question with a little saying that my followers and I like to use Dale, “Hey, it’s not my fault.  The devo made me do it.”  

Who Is My Son? Is He Yours?

Strange to start out telling you who my son is by first telling you who he is not, yet it feels like the logical place to begin.

He is not a mini me.  It would be dis-respectful to say that he was.  Sure, he has some of my physical attributes, along with similar values, morals, and character traits both good and bad.  Many of the things or at least pieces of them that you would expect to find in a father’s son, you find in mine.  But he’s his own man.

He’s the one who I wanted to be best friends with when he was little but couldn’t because parenting came first.  I had to be patient and have confidence that our time would come.  It did.

After a 12 hour work day, too physically tired and emotionally drained to move, and sure that I couldn’t be dragged off of the couch if you used a crane, he’s the one who could rejuvenate my body and soul with just five words.  “Dad, can we play catch?”

He’s the one who even though I had attended dozens of professional baseball games in my life, made me feel like I was seeing one for the very first time on the day I took him to see his first.  And he’s the one who has never held a grudge against me for getting mildly upset when at that same game he covered himself in so much blue cotton candy that he resembled a smurf.

He’s my golfing partner.  The only one, who after I have hit the shot of my life, putting the ball two feet from the pin on a par 3 184 yard hole that has always owned me, has me hoping that when he takes his shot, it will land one foot closer to the hole than mine did.

When times are bad and my spirit is down the thought of him lifts me up.

He’s the one who is the recipient of apologies that don’t pridefully stick in my throat.  The one who receives the “I’m sorry.” because I truly mean it, not because I think I’m obligated to act like I do.

When I begin feeling sorry for myself, wondering what I have accomplished over the 58 years I have been on earth, I can be confident that  because of him I will have contributed to making this a better place to live.

He’s the man I go to when I need help, advise, or an honest opinion, because our words never have to be measured, their foundation is one built on trust and love.

He reminds me to pray.

You might be thinking, “Oh baby Jesus huh?”

No, he’s just my son with whom I am well pleased.

Happy birthday son.  I love you.