There Goes Jesus . . .

Like all families, we have a long list of humorous, endearing, and enduring (at least to us) family colloquialisms.  Like the time when the upstairs toilet was overflowing through the vent into the kitchen and 4 year old Kate rounded the corner, took one look at the puddle and the cascading water and exclaimed, “I guess I better get the hell outta here.”  Then there’s the time 5 year old Charlie asked, “Dad, who’s George?”   “What are you talking about,” I asked.  He responded, “You know at the baseball game when the trumpet goes ‘da-da-da-da-da-duh’ every one yells ‘George.’”  I laughed so hard I almost ran off the road as I explained that everyone was yelling, “Charge.” To this day, almost 20 years later, the Marczynski’ s  still yell for “George”  at  baseball games and whenever something breaks, someone will remark about “getting the hell outta here.”  We can also recite almost the entire scripts of “A League of Their Own” and a “Christmas Story,” lines of which pepper our everyday conversations, but that’s another story.

Rainbow over the Tennessee River by Charlie Marczynski

One of our more poignant family sayings came to mind the other day, when a couple of ambulances flew by me on my way to work.  When an ambulance would go by us we told the kids, and reminded ourselves, to say a little prayer for the people who hurt - “Jesus help those people.”  Like shouting “George” at baseball games, this little prayer has now become a habit.  One day, when she was around 5 or 6, our daughter Sarah announced, “There goes Jesus.”  Not paying much attention and forgetting all about our little prayer, I asked her, what she was talking about.  She replied, “Jesus just drove by in an ambulance on the way to help someone.”  It was one of those “out of the mouth of babes” moments.  We ask Jesus to perform all kinds of miracles in our lives, but sometimes we do not see him in the very people who are already trying to help us and others.  As far as Sarah was concerned, that really was Jesus driving that ambulance.  I was the one who didn’t see him.

There is an old story/joke that illustrates our inability to recognize everyday miracles.   The river was rising and the sheriff cars rolled through the town telling everyone to evacuate, but one man told them he was not leaving because God would protect him.  Soon the water reached the man’s house and the sheriff came by with a boat to save the man.  “No, no the man cried, I believe God will save me.”  The water got so high he finally had to crawl out on his roof, and a helicopter circled overhead with a life rope dangling down, but the man insisted, “God will protect me.”  Soon the flood waters rose so high that the man was swept away and drowned.  When he got to heaven, the man addressed God, “You put the rainbow in the sky and told Noah you would never let another flood destroy everything and I believed you, so why didn’t you help me during the flood and save my life?  God smiled and replied, “Who do you think sent the sheriff, the boat and the helicopter?”

So, If we go looking for miracles let’s make sure we don’t let the people who bring them to us drive right by.

Gotta go, I have to pull over, I hear Jesus coming down the street.

It's FATHERS' Day - Period

Kate, Sarah and Charlie - The Reasons I am Proud To Be a Dad

We are driving into Father’s Day this Sunday and I thought I would share a few random thoughts on the meaning of this day in this postcard.  I may excite some folks, but that is not my intent.  My intent is to simply protest  attempts at redefining the day as anything else than a day to honor FATHERS (step-Fathers, single Fathers, divorced Fathers, unwed Fathers etc.) with the only caveat being, the honor should only be given to  men who are devoted to the care and nurturing of their children.

I recall when my children were younger and in pre-school and beyond, FATHERS’ Day was watered down, as are so many things, to designations such as “Special Guy Day” or “Great Guy Day.”  I was, and am, offended by these designations.  I want MY day.  I want a day that honors FATHERS.  My own father passed away when I was 5 years old and while I had the guidance of uncles, brother-in-laws, neighbors, etc.; all honorable men, all special guys, all great guys; they were not my father. My sisters and I missed not being able to honor our father in person. Often, the day meant a trip to the cemetery.   I was fortunate years later to have the honor of celebrating FATHERS’ Day with my step- father, who has served in the capacity of being my father for over forty years.   My point is simply this, a good FATHER is unique and deserves at least one day of the year to call his own – FATHERS’ DAY period.

And by the way, why do all the commercials knock ties as gifts?  Let it be known that I would be happy with a tie.  Of course the ultimate gift for any father, any time, is Old Spice.  I always ask for it and tell my daughters that if they ever date a guy who wears Old Spice, I remind them to subtly tell their suitors, “Oh, my dad wears Old Spice,” just to plant a seed!  Although one of my favorite gifts is from my son Charlie.  While all of the other kids were crafting pottery crosses, or boxes and the like for their fathers, Charlie made me a beer mug!!  It can hold two beers and keeps them ice cold! 
I think of him every time I use it.

So, to all of you uncles, brothers, neighbors, etc. – thanks for what you do, especially if the kids you are helping out have somehow lost their fathers.  I hope Hallmark and the powers that be will someday designate a “Special Guys’ Day.”  But as for this Sunday, let me say, HAPPPY FATHERS’ DAY to all the good, caring, and nurturing men who have been given the honor and privilege of caring for offspring!  To Sarah, Kate and Charlie, thanks for letting me be your Dad! And don’t forget the Old Spice.  To Henry Marczynski - thanks for giving me life and sharing your's albeit much too short.  And to Charlie Smith - thanks for being my dad. 

Gotta go!  One of my “adult” children needs something – so much for “empty nesting!”