The gift of a Father

The gift of a son is less than the gift  of a father
For the son knows not what he is
The son will become heartbreak when he sees the ways of his father... eventually
Good or bad... he will not follow
The gift of the father lays upon knowing this
Expect nothing and give every respect
Know the son will follow his path to joy... let him break your heart to find it.

May the Mayan Calender Come True!

Happy New Year everyone. In light of 2011, or should I say the setting sun upon 2011, I would like to express my deepest and sincerest condolences to politicians, lawyers, Wall Street crankers, administrators, managers, corporate CEO's, and greedy HUMVEE drivin' "stick my d#@k anywhere" bastards who care nothing for their fellow man. I'm sorry but your time is up. Get the F#CK out of the way! 2012 is going back to the masses, for the Mayan Calender says so...according to experts.

I think it's time for people to be more concerned about the end of their world instead of the end of THE World. Let's come together and...figure it out!

I Love Max

I'm sure the title of this post may be embarrassing to my son, but he'll get over it. The title is really a reminder for me, because in the heat of battle of wills between father and son I forget.
I do enjoy the emotion of the angry son, it reminds me of myself, and in the unleashing  of his "the world  revolves around me" attitude, I feel my fire has been stoked. I'm like, "Bring it on baby!", I got 32 years on you and... oh...wait a minute, I sound like my father. Hey...I am a father! This is how my father felt. This is exactly what my father wished upon me. I'm awake now! I tell myself to calm down. I douse my fire with a little understanding and forgiveness. I tell my son, " I love you" and he responds with, "Whatever!". It's at this point that I stoke my fire with a log of experience, wisdom and "who do you think you are?" I quickly remind him that if he would like anything from me he'll have to change his attitude. After all ... I have the resources: car, money, shelter and I know how to shut off the water heater. Have a nice shower tomorrow morning. I'm going surfing...where the water is already cold!

Leaves

Today's the day, not like any other day
Today's the day when all the seasons fall
The high colors weigh heavy upon the leaves
Gold plated they fall...not weighted, but spirit like
Spinning, rocking and waving
Finding their way home 
They are true love and they know it, giving back everything they took

-Me

Fog

The fog rolls in like second hand smoke from another world and passes through the screen door forest of green into my grassy meadow scene
A room once sunny, now cold and not so funny
The vapor gathers on the the once happy leaves and falls like rain...a pitter patter of pain
The earth becomes  damp and soft , the sky not so aloft
Now I wander through this atmosphere lost and disappeared

-Me

Fish Story

This is Max's first fish caught in Echo Lake British Columbia and there is a story behind it. It was the morning of June 29th, the water was cold and clear, the trout were hungry and so were we. Pulling off the dock armed with rods, reels and tackle we proceeded southwest to the opposite shore. Upon arrival, we deftly opted to use #1 black French spinners. If your a fisherman, you know what I'm talkin' about. If your not...well, it really doesn't matter. I just like to sound like I know what I'm talkin' about. Anyway, after a few casts, we started reelin' them in. They were small but feisty. We let 'em go for we were after the BIG ONE. Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for because it was at that moment, BAM! We got a hit! Now, I know what your thinking. Your saying to yourself, "I see that fish in the picture and it can't be more than thirteen inches and maybe 1&1/2 lbs." Well let me tell you that this fish had heart, baby! It might as well have been fifty lbs, because she fought like a harpooned whale. She dove deep, wrapped herself around a submerged tree 4 or 5 times, anchoring us and our boat. Max and I looked at each other dumbfounded and after a short discussion of fishing ethics and knowing that if we just cut the line the fish could be trapped and die, we...or I should say Max decided that I should go in after it.
I consider myself a waterman. I surf cold water, I swim cold water even without a wetsuit. But that day I was a warm fisherman in a dry boat on a cold Canadian lake thinking that there's plenty more fish in the lake. Max on the other hand considered it our moral and ethical duty to save this fish from a agonizing death and eat it ourselves. On top of that he pumped up my ego by telling me what a "awesome cold waterman" I was and "Dad! Who would be better suited for this task than you." Plus it's totally funny to see your dad cold, wet and in his underwear (Ya...freaking hilarious!). So, it was at this point I disrobed and donned my "sucker" suit and dove into the icy water. After my diaphragm stopped to spasm, I took a breath and dove down to the submerged tree. My last thought was, 'this f@#king fish better taste good'. Upon reaching the tangled trout with the heart of a whale, I grabbed the monofiliment and yanked. Snap! The line and the fish were in my hand. I surfaced to find Max clapping and saying, "Now we'll have a story to tell!"

"Whale Heart" was yummy.

Things that are funny to a 12 yr old...and his father

First of all I apologize for not updating this blog for the last couple of weeks, but Max and I were in the Canadian bush (he he he... I said bush) for awhile. And that brings me to what I intended to blog about.
Max and I spent many hours in the car together driving through the great northwest passing street signs with names like: Wackawilly, Chuckanut, Nooksack River (which Max and I officially christened Nutsack River of course!) and my all time favorite... Sexsmith Drive which had a Super Lube on it. Those Canadians have a awesome sense of humor for that last one. Now all this may sound juvenile and benign to some of you, but when you've been driving for hours and have had nothing to eat but sugar and caffeine it's f@#king hilarious and we laughed till we cried. And as we were driving through Washington dairy land, my son, not remembering the word udder, told me to "checkout the size of that cow's milksack!". It was at this point I had to pull over in order to avoid peeing my pants, because all we could think of was what it would be like to kick a cow in the "milksack"! These were BIG milksacks.