The public pool has opened, but it's not "officially" summer until schools get out in a few weeks. With no classes or academic commitments I have no idea what this summer will bring. Originally we were going to see U2 in concert and spend a few days in Philadelphia and Baltimore, but the show has been postponed due to Bono suffering a back injury. So now we are debating various opportunities.
Any suggestions?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
It's been a while
Busy, stressed and feeling burnt out.
Perhaps that's why I've not had much to say.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Perhaps that's why I've not had much to say.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Miss The People
This past weekend I had the opportunity to go to my mother's house and visit with my family (my brother was able to come as well, and my sister and her family has recently moved back to the area so they were there too.)
It was nice, Brandy and I had a great time. Saturday night we played a board game called "Things" where the players write their response to a single phrase and others try to guess who said would have said the phrase. For example, one asked "What I would do if I were invisible." With the whole family there, the game was quite fun. I grew up playing board and card games, and miss those days and games greatly.
We then spent Sunday afternoon at Dave & Busters before returning home. As I said earlier, I had a great time this past weekend.
Even with the chance to enjoy time with the family, there were others on my mind...Friday evening and for most of the drive Saturday morning I thought about the cohort, after all this weekend was the first of the semester. I wondered what it was like sitting there without the 8 of us who finished the coursework in December. I wondered if there were a great number of new people, or if the room seemed empty. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm done with the coursework...and I don't miss the postings about multiple chapters of readings needing completed in a week or last minute emailed power point presentations. I certainly don't miss the assignments and stress.
Yet, all I thought about this weekend was the cohort...better yet, all I thought about were my colleagues, my friends.
It was nice, Brandy and I had a great time. Saturday night we played a board game called "Things" where the players write their response to a single phrase and others try to guess who said would have said the phrase. For example, one asked "What I would do if I were invisible." With the whole family there, the game was quite fun. I grew up playing board and card games, and miss those days and games greatly.
We then spent Sunday afternoon at Dave & Busters before returning home. As I said earlier, I had a great time this past weekend.
Even with the chance to enjoy time with the family, there were others on my mind...Friday evening and for most of the drive Saturday morning I thought about the cohort, after all this weekend was the first of the semester. I wondered what it was like sitting there without the 8 of us who finished the coursework in December. I wondered if there were a great number of new people, or if the room seemed empty. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm done with the coursework...and I don't miss the postings about multiple chapters of readings needing completed in a week or last minute emailed power point presentations. I certainly don't miss the assignments and stress.
Yet, all I thought about this weekend was the cohort...better yet, all I thought about were my colleagues, my friends.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Our Santa Claus
His face was dry and pitted from the weather, his red suit worn with its once white trim sooty gray. His fake beard was nappy, its elastic stretched so that it barely hugged his face. He rarely spoke, not to us kids at least. He was a tradition within a tradition. He was our Santa Claus.
The Tradition:
Christmas Eve was always spent at my Grandma Boehke's house in Bloomfield, a neighborhood in the city of Pittsburgh. The holiday dinner always consisted of tiny breaded fish called Smelts, angel-hair pasta with Cod cooked into the sauce, a salty garlic laden fish called baccala, calamari, eel, salad, and occasionally tiny octopuses.
Dinner guests would occasionally fluctuate as other family or friends would come and go; but my Grandmother's immediate family members never missed the meal.
Other family members would come to visit after dinner. One couple, Jean and Stanley seemed to always be the first to visit. Jean and my Grandmother were best friends. I'm not sure if we are even really related, but Jean and Stanley were always there. Upon their arrival, my Grandmother and Jean would open a bottle (or two) of wine and sit and talk.
The Tradition within the Tradition:
One year, when I was very young, my father and aunt Debbie decided to "find" a Santa Claus to surprise us kids. I don't know where they found him, but a man dressed in a Santa suit showed up. Our Santa came over, gave us kids trinkets and then sat with my Grandmother and Jean drinking wine and eating Christmas Eve Dinner leftovers. He never removed his suit, nor his beard; instead he opted to pull the beard down with every bite or drink.
The next year, our Santa returned. This time he had a satchel with wrapped toys for all us kids, usually cars for boys and dolls for girls. I remember the adults in my family being more surprised with his visit than the kids, this time he was truly an unexpected (but welcomed) guest. As was the case the year before, he handed out his gifts in the living room and then returned to the kitchen for wine and food.
Over the next decade, year after year our Santa Claus would return. As the young adult members of the family matured and had children of their own amazingly our Santa Claus would have just the right number of gifts for all the kids; even the infants.
Then, the year I was a Freshman in college, our Santa did not show up. We waited and waited, but still no Santa. My father and aunt took a drive to look for our Santa, but returned without him.
That evening many questions were asked, not one could be answered. (This is what makes the story most amazing). Who was Santa? What was his name? Where did he come from? Where did he live? Nobody could give an answer. He was a man who was outside a department store when I was little, he came to visit the first time for a few dollars and the promise of a good dinner, but returned on his own. Being a police officer in the city, my Aunt said she would look into finding the man who played our Santa. She would check at shelters and around the neighborhood, but was unable to get a single clue as to his identity or whereabouts.
Over the next few years we would prepare a plate and eagerly wait for his arrival, but Santa Claus would never return to my Grandmother's house. It is my opinion that the man who had become our Santa Claus either got ill or passed away. His identity has never been determined.
The Conclusion
Shortly after Santa's disappearance, the family tradition of Christmas Eve at my Grandmother's withered due to illness and the passing of family members. As a child I never understood the importance of family traditions, today I do. My wife and I have tried to establish our own practices or customs, but traditions take time to build. I don't think I'll be as brave as my father and aunt, and invite a stranger into our home in hopes of entertaining my son or niece; but I wish I had the opportunity to thank whoever it was that made all those Christmas Eves so memorable.
Thank you Santa Claus, whoever you were.
The Tradition:
Christmas Eve was always spent at my Grandma Boehke's house in Bloomfield, a neighborhood in the city of Pittsburgh. The holiday dinner always consisted of tiny breaded fish called Smelts, angel-hair pasta with Cod cooked into the sauce, a salty garlic laden fish called baccala, calamari, eel, salad, and occasionally tiny octopuses.
Dinner guests would occasionally fluctuate as other family or friends would come and go; but my Grandmother's immediate family members never missed the meal.
Other family members would come to visit after dinner. One couple, Jean and Stanley seemed to always be the first to visit. Jean and my Grandmother were best friends. I'm not sure if we are even really related, but Jean and Stanley were always there. Upon their arrival, my Grandmother and Jean would open a bottle (or two) of wine and sit and talk.
The Tradition within the Tradition:
One year, when I was very young, my father and aunt Debbie decided to "find" a Santa Claus to surprise us kids. I don't know where they found him, but a man dressed in a Santa suit showed up. Our Santa came over, gave us kids trinkets and then sat with my Grandmother and Jean drinking wine and eating Christmas Eve Dinner leftovers. He never removed his suit, nor his beard; instead he opted to pull the beard down with every bite or drink.
The next year, our Santa returned. This time he had a satchel with wrapped toys for all us kids, usually cars for boys and dolls for girls. I remember the adults in my family being more surprised with his visit than the kids, this time he was truly an unexpected (but welcomed) guest. As was the case the year before, he handed out his gifts in the living room and then returned to the kitchen for wine and food.
Over the next decade, year after year our Santa Claus would return. As the young adult members of the family matured and had children of their own amazingly our Santa Claus would have just the right number of gifts for all the kids; even the infants.
Then, the year I was a Freshman in college, our Santa did not show up. We waited and waited, but still no Santa. My father and aunt took a drive to look for our Santa, but returned without him.
That evening many questions were asked, not one could be answered. (This is what makes the story most amazing). Who was Santa? What was his name? Where did he come from? Where did he live? Nobody could give an answer. He was a man who was outside a department store when I was little, he came to visit the first time for a few dollars and the promise of a good dinner, but returned on his own. Being a police officer in the city, my Aunt said she would look into finding the man who played our Santa. She would check at shelters and around the neighborhood, but was unable to get a single clue as to his identity or whereabouts.
Over the next few years we would prepare a plate and eagerly wait for his arrival, but Santa Claus would never return to my Grandmother's house. It is my opinion that the man who had become our Santa Claus either got ill or passed away. His identity has never been determined.
The Conclusion
Shortly after Santa's disappearance, the family tradition of Christmas Eve at my Grandmother's withered due to illness and the passing of family members. As a child I never understood the importance of family traditions, today I do. My wife and I have tried to establish our own practices or customs, but traditions take time to build. I don't think I'll be as brave as my father and aunt, and invite a stranger into our home in hopes of entertaining my son or niece; but I wish I had the opportunity to thank whoever it was that made all those Christmas Eves so memorable.
Thank you Santa Claus, whoever you were.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Cohorters
Its Sunday December 13, 2009...the first day after my doctorate coursework has ended.
As I sit here looking forward, excited for more time with family and less time with class work, I reflect back on the last 2 1/2 years. While some assignments were daunting, some classes a waste of time, and some administrative changes a violation of rights; I know that all those experiences will soon be forgotten. Thoughts of the challenges associated with coursework will be replaced with the memories evenings talking, laughing, giving and receiving encouragement, and celebrating with other members of the cohort. You'd be hard-pressed to find a member of the class who will not admit to learning more from the "students" than the course itself.
I reflect back on all the great times. I'll miss evenings in Keyser, old women referring to our group in a derogatory manner, cohort members coming out of the bathroom with ice, and conversations at the Mountaineer. I'll miss the nights in Morgantown, at Genes, giant burritos nearly every Friday evening, and crashing at Megan's house.
For all those nights, all the emails, and all the conversations I thank you cohort; friends. I'm actually saddened that the coursework has come to an end because I know that I will sorely miss you. Thank you, all of you, for your words, your actions, your help, your smiles, and your time.
As I sit here looking forward, excited for more time with family and less time with class work, I reflect back on the last 2 1/2 years. While some assignments were daunting, some classes a waste of time, and some administrative changes a violation of rights; I know that all those experiences will soon be forgotten. Thoughts of the challenges associated with coursework will be replaced with the memories evenings talking, laughing, giving and receiving encouragement, and celebrating with other members of the cohort. You'd be hard-pressed to find a member of the class who will not admit to learning more from the "students" than the course itself.
I reflect back on all the great times. I'll miss evenings in Keyser, old women referring to our group in a derogatory manner, cohort members coming out of the bathroom with ice, and conversations at the Mountaineer. I'll miss the nights in Morgantown, at Genes, giant burritos nearly every Friday evening, and crashing at Megan's house.
For all those nights, all the emails, and all the conversations I thank you cohort; friends. I'm actually saddened that the coursework has come to an end because I know that I will sorely miss you. Thank you, all of you, for your words, your actions, your help, your smiles, and your time.
"May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true, may you always do for others and let others do for you."
-Bob Dylan, Forever Young
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Art imitates life or is it the opposite way around?
Sometimes its uncanny how something on TV relates to life. One week prior to Thanksgiving, "South Park" had an episode where the boys went to a water park and it just so happened that my family and I had scheduled a trip to an indoor water park in Erie, PA called Splash Lagoon a few days after the episode aired. If you were wondering if there was any correlation between my experience and the various hi-jinx that ensued on the "South Park" episode don't worry, our similarities ended with attending a water park. However, Splash Lagoon was a lot of fun and I'd highly recommend going and packing your own snacks as food was about the only part of the trip that was really pricey.
So what, you say. You think I would blog about one incident. You don't know me better than this by now? Have you never met me?
This afternoon I was honored with the employee of the month of November award at A-B...seriously, I have the letter to prove it. Then this evening I was watching "The Office" and they gave out an employee of the month award. What does an employee of the month win at my institution? Great question. First, I got a certificate, a letter from the President (of the institution), and balloons. I am also to receive a few gift certificates, a little P.R., and my image will be placed in the glass case displaying employees of the month; enshrined for all eternity or until next November...which ever comes first. Even more than the great prizes, I think the recognition of the award is great and would like to use this blog to publicly thank the individual who nominated me...I will not go into detail of who or why as that is not important to you, nosy.
What are you saying? You do not think this blog was really an observation about how art imitates life? You think I would really post this portion of the blog to tell you I got an award? Damn, your right. I did just post this to tell you about the award. I really am a self gratifying, self serving ass.
So what, you say. You think I would blog about one incident. You don't know me better than this by now? Have you never met me?
This afternoon I was honored with the employee of the month of November award at A-B...seriously, I have the letter to prove it. Then this evening I was watching "The Office" and they gave out an employee of the month award. What does an employee of the month win at my institution? Great question. First, I got a certificate, a letter from the President (of the institution), and balloons. I am also to receive a few gift certificates, a little P.R., and my image will be placed in the glass case displaying employees of the month; enshrined for all eternity or until next November...which ever comes first. Even more than the great prizes, I think the recognition of the award is great and would like to use this blog to publicly thank the individual who nominated me...I will not go into detail of who or why as that is not important to you, nosy.
What are you saying? You do not think this blog was really an observation about how art imitates life? You think I would really post this portion of the blog to tell you I got an award? Damn, your right. I did just post this to tell you about the award. I really am a self gratifying, self serving ass.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Marathon Analogy
Here I am, one month shy of completing the course work for the Ed.D. in Higher Education Administration. Am I excited? Sure. But what am I excited about really?
As I thought about how to describe the experience, I originally wanted to give the analogy of being in the late stages of a marathon. However, the finish line to a marathon signifies a conclusion or a goal attained. Will my education goals be completed in December? No, I still have a long way to go. I still need to pass comps and write a dissertation; both lofty goals themselves. So, what analogy can I use? What can I say to make you aware of the excitement my colleagues and I share in completing this portion of our academic venture? I really do like the thought of completing a marathon...after all the 2 and a half years of continual course work is somewhat comparable to the 26 miles run in a marathon.
Then I realized:
Completing this portion of the doctoral program is like being in the top 10 marathon runners in the Good Will Games. Imagine all the hard work and dedication that goes into becoming an elite runner. A top 10 finish, while not a victory, would earn you the right to run in the Olympic Trials. How exciting, a chance to make the Olympics! How fulfilling; finally a "pay-off" for all the toll on the body?
Much like the runner, the hours of studying and writing papers have earned my colleagues and I the right to sit for the comps. So what does that mean? Well, it simply means that we need to continue studying and preparing for our Trials on May 20th and 21st. Would our runner friend sit back and relax until his opportunity to earn a spot in the Olympics? I wouldn't think so either. Neither can we. Therefore, the celebration of our achievement can not last long. Yes, we should enjoy some festivities, but we must also keep in mind the races to come.
Luckily, I have not seen many "runners" falter in the second leg of the race that is the Ed.D. program. However, I have noticed a great number struggling to finish their dissertation. Why is it that so many do not finish the "race"? To not finish makes all the hard work and sacrifices of conquering the first 52 miles inconsequential. It tarnishes the medals earned along the way. I realize that even the best athletes will suffer a setback that will stop them from finishing; life is cruel that way.
It is my hopes to have enough ambition to complete all three races. I do not need to receive a gold medal, I'd be happy with a hood, a diploma, and possibly a "Laurel and Hardy" handshake.
As I thought about how to describe the experience, I originally wanted to give the analogy of being in the late stages of a marathon. However, the finish line to a marathon signifies a conclusion or a goal attained. Will my education goals be completed in December? No, I still have a long way to go. I still need to pass comps and write a dissertation; both lofty goals themselves. So, what analogy can I use? What can I say to make you aware of the excitement my colleagues and I share in completing this portion of our academic venture? I really do like the thought of completing a marathon...after all the 2 and a half years of continual course work is somewhat comparable to the 26 miles run in a marathon.
Then I realized:
Completing this portion of the doctoral program is like being in the top 10 marathon runners in the Good Will Games. Imagine all the hard work and dedication that goes into becoming an elite runner. A top 10 finish, while not a victory, would earn you the right to run in the Olympic Trials. How exciting, a chance to make the Olympics! How fulfilling; finally a "pay-off" for all the toll on the body?
Much like the runner, the hours of studying and writing papers have earned my colleagues and I the right to sit for the comps. So what does that mean? Well, it simply means that we need to continue studying and preparing for our Trials on May 20th and 21st. Would our runner friend sit back and relax until his opportunity to earn a spot in the Olympics? I wouldn't think so either. Neither can we. Therefore, the celebration of our achievement can not last long. Yes, we should enjoy some festivities, but we must also keep in mind the races to come.
Luckily, I have not seen many "runners" falter in the second leg of the race that is the Ed.D. program. However, I have noticed a great number struggling to finish their dissertation. Why is it that so many do not finish the "race"? To not finish makes all the hard work and sacrifices of conquering the first 52 miles inconsequential. It tarnishes the medals earned along the way. I realize that even the best athletes will suffer a setback that will stop them from finishing; life is cruel that way.
It is my hopes to have enough ambition to complete all three races. I do not need to receive a gold medal, I'd be happy with a hood, a diploma, and possibly a "Laurel and Hardy" handshake.
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