Browsing all posts in Family.

Oct 13th
Monday

 

It was one year ago today that you made a promise, offered up your prayers to Heaven, cried happy tears and
said, “I do.”
One year ago that something wonderful changed in your hearts, your minds, your souls;
something invisible and priceless in the eyes of God and all that witnessed it.
I have such fond memories of that day: Jenna and Hannah’s toast, Aaron and the handsome groomsmen, the gorgeous bridesmaids,
Jonathan and Ken McKenna rocking out on the floor,
the first and last dance, the cigars in the courtyard afterwards with all that blue smoke billowing into the night and
the overall feeling of love that softly draped itself over the entire day.
And then there was the music, oh, the music.
It was the ultimate and unforgettable soundtrack for a new bride and groom – Mr. & Mrs. Jonathan Medeiros.
The past year has had its up and downs.
Stay positive . . . ‘knowing that, in the grand scheme of things, we live in a world where rainy days eventually give way to
sunnier skies.’ -R.L. Keith
That’s to be expected but know how very proud I am that you are standing where you are today.
Pamela will undoubtedly echo much of my sentiment in a comment.
Happy 1st Anniversary to Mr. & Mrs. M.
May the coming year bring you a wealth of happiness, the very best of health and more love than your hearts can hold.

Love to you both.

Dad/Michael

ps. As far as the video, yes, know that a few lyrics got flubbed.
I say that because I know you guys know the words by heart!
Also, count the number of times I say, ‘um’  ;)
(your mother already has!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sep 25th
Thursday

Pamela, birthday, love, life, time, family, soul

 

She’s so many things to me and our 3 girls . . .
She’s our best friend.
She’s the shoulder we lean/cry on.
She’s our alarm clock on mornings that we don’t want to get up, on Her we rely on (and mostly bitch at)
She’s the shine in all of our days.
She’s the heart that we’ll never give away.
She’s funny, she’s kind,  but she’s technologically super blind . . .
She’s there when we need her, she’s there when we need, and we’ll always need her. She’s our lady.
Happy Birthday to our best friend/confidante/psychologist/ psychiatrist/ and SO much more.
We love you and we want you around forever.
Have an awesome 39th birthday.
See you for Hibachi on Saturday night.
Mucho Sake for the birthday girl!
But open wide for the veggies!
And watch out for the volcano!!!!!!

Always,

~m

 

Aug 18th
Monday

Facebook, interwebs, life, time

 

I did the unthinkable last week.
I de-activated my Facebook page.
Oh, the horrors!
Have I been able to sleep at night? Yes.
Have I been able to function like a normal human being on a daily basis? Yes.
Have I been able to go more than 5 minutes without feeling the need to check my Iphone for a comment on my most recent status update?
Believe it or not, yes, I have.
My head/psyche has been quieter than normal when I get home from work and login to my laptop.
Facebook is a very strange thing.
It’s the social equivalent of heroin in some ways; once it’s in your veins, it’s damn hard to break away.
I quit ‘cold turkey’ and don’t have any intention of going back anytime soon.
(notice how I left that proverbial ‘door’ open. I’m a sneaky bastard sometimes.)

I left for many reasons but the biggest reason of all was time.
I realized that spending hours on Facebook meant nothing.
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
As far as gig promotion, it was good.
Staying in touch with family? Awesome.
Sharing pictures of my family? Amazing.
400+ friends and 6 people comment on updates.
Does that piss me under my kilt?
Not really because I understand that people have lives.
They have stuff to do.
Important stuff.
If people really miss me, they will ultimately find me.
And if they do I’ll consider them more of a friend than Facebook ever would.
Leaving FB gives me more time to do what I should have been doing long ago; writing.
Sometimes I guess you need to disconnect to connect . . .

~m

 

follow me on Twitter!
(click on the little bird at the top of the page!)

Jul 10th
Thursday

love, family, daughters. life

Life is complicated.
As a parent, it’s even more so having children.
Pamela and I were blessed with three gorgeous, thoughtful, creative and extremely intelligent girls.
When one leaves the nest it’s always time for personal reflection.

Have we taught them enough about life?
Have we shown them what true love looks like?
Have we passed on our wisdom as to why Pamela and I are still married after 30+ years?
Have we done our best to teach them right from wrong?
Have we done our level best to show them our unconditional love?

I truly believe that the answer to all the above is an unequivocal ‘yes’.
Knowing that’s true somehow makes it easier to let go.
But know that I am FAR from letting go.

Jenna leaves this weekend.
She has a beautiful place that she’s moving to and she has a great draughthouse that shows great movies within walking distance.
There’s a great market nearby.
She has more DVD’s than Netflix has movies.
She has books.
God, does she have books.
She has clothes. (no comment)
She has love.
And she also has a man that will keep her safe. [he better]
That makes me happiest of all.
She has an amazing future in store and a good head on her shoulders.
Why should I worry, right?
I’ll be looking at her bedroom door on the way down the stairs every morning to see if she’s left for school.
Her room will be empty now but I’ll still look anyway.
And I’m going to miss her terribly.
I guess that’s what Dad’s do. over and over again.

Love you JMM, you’re the one that always makes me cry at Christmas.
You also burp alot louder than me.
Bitches must like loud burps.
Your true home will always be here at Shore Drive and your heart will forever be inside me and Mom.
Gentle seas, and a safe journey,
until you’re home at last.
And Bitches love home . . .

Dad

May 28th
Wednesday

 

Back in October my daughter Sarah got married.
I wrote a song for her and her husband for the wedding.
The lyrics were sent to my friend Yvonne Ashworth to be written in calligraphy,
a piece of art to be displayed in the home they were building at the time.
As of July 2013, I had no clue as to lyrics for the song, subject matter, chords, melody, rhythm.
One day in early September when the house was almost done, Pamela and I went to the house to shut
off the outside lights and bring a few light fixtures that the builders needed to install.

Me and Pamela were upstairs checking out the progress of the bedrooms
when Pam looked out one of the front windows and said,
“What a beautiful view! It’s interesting that they met on College Hill (Holy Cross),
they’re getting married at a church on Pakachoag Hill and are living here on this hill. Kinda cool, huh?”

In my head, I heard a creative ‘click’ and immediately knew a starting point for the lyrics.
My creative light bulb was totally illuminated.
The next day at work I wrote the song in my head, lyrics and all. (took 2 hours)
No need for a piano as all this stuff happens/sounds in my head, no lie.
Kind of weird but it’s true.
The lyrics explain the simple story of two people that fell in love.
Not going to explain the lyrics line by line but know that they are all about S&J.

The video above shows the transformation of my words into another art form.
My friend Yvonne went above and beyond.
She has done many exceptional pieces of art for me over the years and this one is right up there with the best of them.
Actually, what am I saying?
They are all amazing!
Check out this priceless video that gives you some insight into the time spent and work involved in
the creation of a piece of art.
I hope that Sarah and Jon listen to this song on a yearly basis and appreciate Yvonne’s precious work.

Apr 29th
Tuesday

love, memory, alzheimers, marriage

As a crescent butter moon sets and the soul searing sun of the morning rises into an indigo sky
the days and nights endlessly bleed into one another like so many forgotten dreams
creating one sad and lonely heart, the shattered pane of a window in
an already fragile life that time seems to have forgotten.
the clock strikes ten, he’ll lay in bed and stir
and he will cry for her . . .

62 is a number he used to know but now he’s innocently unaware of its significance
it was a day so long ago, a crystal blue frozen moment in time that is elusive
to a cobwebbed place that once inhabited sweet thoughts, wooden cribs to be built and fighting ships on the oceans of his forever’s but
the clock strikes ten, and then again
he will cry for her . . .

She loves the man, the 62, but she knows she’s only human too
her tired eyes, her daily goodbyes, her love for the man she thought she knew
She goes to bed, rest her weary head, dreaming sunny memories of days gone by,
while never wondering why
she will still cry for him . . .

For H&G  . . .

~m

Nov 21st
Thursday

houses, homes, love, life, daughters, marriage

 

It was many years ago that me, Pamela and Sarah (3 years old?) went to my sister’s house for a Christmas Eve visit.
At that time, my sister and her husband lived 10 minutes away with my niece Caitlin, 2 months shy of her 3rd birthday.
Two 3 year olds on Christmas Eve, how great/exciting will that be?
From what I remember, it started off quite well; happiness, laughter, cocktails, Karen Carpenter singing ‘Merry Christmas, Darling’,
and a smorgasbord of waist thinning appetizers fit for a King.
Everything was going so well until Sarah found out that Santa (that sweet SOB) brought Cait an early present.
It was a Little Tikes Kitchen, fully equipped with  plastic pots, pans, a stove top and the most evil addition of all, a fake telephone.
BTW- Little Tikes toys will be roaming the earth long after all of us are dead and gone.
Talk about indestructible.
Sarah and Caitlin began playing nicely until Sarah wanted to use the phone.
(Probably to call Santa and tell him to bring her a kitchen just like Cait’s)
Houston? We have a problem.
The phone was Caitlin’s.
Period.
Amen.
And Santa (me) in all his infinite wisdom did not bring Sarah a plastic kitchen to leave under the tree.
Things spiraled down from there with pots and pans flying and two little girls crying, and me realizing I am so screwed.
I remember hating (not really) my sister that night knowing full well that I would have to search the ends
of the earth for a Little Tikes Kitchen in time for Sarah’s birthday (12/26).
I did find that kitchen on the day of her birthday.
It was delivered and all was well.
I don’t think she let Cait use the phone at her birthday party.
Santa has since recovered.

This past Tuesday, Sarah and Jonathan (the son I never had) closed on their first home.
I call it a home because that’s what they intend on making it.
It’s a beautiful place set high on a hill overlooking many surrounding towns.
The view from the upstairs windows are astounding.
I was there this morning shutting off the outside lights before walking through the house in silence.
In my mind I could see and hear all the wonderful things just waiting to happen.
I could smell bacon cooking in a kitchen that Sas and Cait will never fight about.
I could see a fire slowly burning and crackling in the fireplace in a living room worth living in.
I could even hear a piano that is not there yet, but will someday be because music somehow ‘completes’ a home.
I could feel the spirit of a long awaited Christmas that was waiting to happen, years in the making, just outside the windows.
I could feel love waiting in the wings.
A gentle hand from far and high above the clouds waved it to be.
I just know that.
Sold?
I’m sold on this home that’s just dying to be filled with oh, so many wonderful things.
This will ultimately be a most amazing Christmas.
And my inner Grinch will take a much needed hiatus (as he should every year)
A new house, a newly married couple, a first Holiday meal, the beginning of a new family.
Santa will sleep well on Christmas Eve . . .
but only after he prepares his French Toast Casserole.

~m

Oct 4th
Friday

Oz, family, vacation, love, life

We will go to bed tonight, with family in the air.
Safely and softly to land.
They will be home again.
Soon.
Godspeed and God Bless.
Nacht.
~m

Sep 8th
Sunday

cold, dark,truth, sad, life

Much going on in my life right now.
Inlaws moved, an impending and amazing wedding to be, songs that need to be finished and loose ends that
desperately need to be tied.
i have my dark secrets.
Despicable me.
Sleep is my only nightly savior.
Sweet dreams tonight?
tIME WILL tELL . . .  TiME will Tell . . .

DM

 

Apr 17th
Wednesday

anguish, Boston, Marathon

When I got into Boston on Monday morning I took a different route walking to work.
I usually slip out the ass end of Back bay station and walk through the alleys and quiet streets to Park Square
but today was Marathon Monday and a great day to walk through Copley Square on my way to work.
The sun was shining, the temps were comfortable and runners were everywhere running for buses to take them to
the Marathon starting line in Hopkinton.
Walking through Copley I saw hundreds of palettes of spring water,
King’s Hawaiian Sweet rolls, pretzels, Smart Food, Vitamin Water and on and on.
People working in the many tents along Boylston Street were obviously happy to be there as they went about their preparations.
There was a palpable lilt in the air that could not be denied.
We all hate Mondays but Marathon Monday in Boston is pretty damn cool for many damn reasons.
I also remember thinking how awful it would be were something catastrophic to happen.

 

At 2:55PM, a woman came in for some rolling tobacco and asked if I’d heard the ‘bangs’.
She was wondering if they were firing cannons for Patriots Day.
I told her I hadn’t heard a thing.
I was alone in the store and went to Google after she left.
I typed in: Boston Marathon 2013 /Bombs
I came up with 2 results.
Links to a few runners’ websites that simply said;
“unconfirmed reports of two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.”
The links would not open

Bullshit, I thought.
Not here.
Not today.
Not in Boston.

10 minutes later the city was cracked open like an over ripe pomegranate.
Sirens, police cars, ambulances too many to count,
unmarked cars with blue flashing lights and a feeling of dread as I watched thousands of people dripping their way towards South Station.
Most were crying; some were simply distant with no facial expression at all.
You know the rest of the story; probably more so than CNN, a current font of reporting mediocrity.

I took a walk around 4PM yesterday and went down to the corner of Berkeley and Boylston Street.
National Guard would not let you go any further as everything was blockaded.
It was a big crime scene.
I looked down at a usually frantic Copley Square that now seemed post-apocalyptic, empty and dreadfully silent. My heart broke just a bit as more reality drained into my psyche.
It was not unlike a scene from ‘Walking Dead’ or ‘I am Legend’.
The word ‘nothing’ came to mind.
I watched paper and debris flying through the air looking to get out of the dead space that was Copely.

That’s how my eyes saw it and my brain interpreted it.
It made no logical sense to me.
Still doesn’t.

On my way back to Park Square I noticed the omnipresent media camped out at the corner of Arlington and Boylston. It seemed to me to be a media freak show/ circus with bright lights and cameras going while reporting half myths and hearsay from who the fuck knows.
Homeless people were probably contributing their stories and ideas. (they may have been closer to the truth than CNN, ffs)

I am a Bostonian and I love this city. (Even though I live in the burbs)
I went to school here and currently work here and no one will ever take away the fact that this place was built on guts, strength, love, and a work ethic like no other place in the world.
This IS my backyard.
Sadly, the landscape has changed, for now . . .
Know that We are Boston.
We are Many.
And We are Pissed.
But I have a good feeling that many beautiful flowers will blossom this same time next year.
Because that’s how we roll . . .

~m

ps. Photo courtesy of John TLumacki, Boston Globe

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