Happy 2015!!!

It's a new year!  Happy new year to you and yours.

A lot happened in 2014.  Seva was born.  I spent three months at home on paternity leave.  I opened my own law practice.  Jeannie and I bought our first home.  Seva traveled internationally for the first time in her short life when we went to Colombia.

I'm thankful for all these changes, since they represent positive progress in my life: healthy challenges and proud milestones.  To begin a new year with the previous one being a good one is a great feeling.

So, what are my hopes and goals for 2015?

• first and foremost, life, for which I thank God always
• good health for my loved ones
• to love others, most especially my wife Jeannie and my beautiful daughter Seva
• to serve my clients to the best of my ability
• to grow my law practice steadily and successfully
• to enjoy our new home, from dinners with friends to hanging out in the back patio
• to read lots of interesting, diverse, entertaining, and thought-provoking books
• to travel internationally at least once
• to see and spend time with friends who I haven't seen in a while
• to forgive others of their trespasses against me and to forgive myself of past sins
• to serve well and develop leadership skills in my two board of director positions
• to develop my relationship with God, through prayer and attending church regularly
• finally, to become a better man, in every role and relationship in my life

If you can, please say a prayer for me to accomplish these hopes and goals in 2015.  For my part, I wish you the very best for good health, love, and success in 2015.  May God bless you and your loved ones!

My First Job, as a Paperboy

My first job was as a paperboy for the Patriot-News in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I lived in Harrisburg from 6th grade through 10th grade, so it was probably somewhere in the middle of that time.

I remember that there were parts of that job that I really liked.  I loved earning my own money for the first time in my life.  I enjoyed riding my bicycle around the neighborhood, seeing other people's houses, and getting to know some neighbors a little bit better.  I also really liked the pride that I felt in being our neighborhood's paperboy; there was just something special in claiming that title.

There were also parts of the job that I didn't like.  I've never been a morning person, and that time of my life was no exception.  I especially dreaded Sunday mornings, when I had to wake up super early to "stuff" the papers with the inserts I'd received the day before and then deliver these extra heavy Sunday newspapers to even more people than during the week.  I sometimes roped my sister Jessica into helping me out; I have no idea how I got her to do it or why she did it at all.  My dad, of course, was always there, especially since he's always been a morning person, pretty much the polar opposite in that regard to me.

I think I kept the position for about a year.  It's nice looking back now and saying that was my first job.  My daughter Seva will probably be amazed, since more and more now news is delivered to the masses through the internet and cable television.  The idea of her father being a paperboy will probably seem "so 20th century" to her.  I'm proud to say that my first job was as a paperboy.

2nd day of Daycare

About an hour ago, I dropped-off Seva for her second day of daycare.  When it was time for me to leave and say goodbye, she was so busy reaching for her new friend Carter's face that she didn't pay any attention to me leaving.  It was just as well that way.  I told the staff there that I'll stop in for a visit later today, maybe around lunchtime, to see how she's doing.

Seva seemed to do just fine on her first day yesterday.  I stopped in for a visit in the mid-afternoon.  She and almost all the other babies were napping, so I didn't get to see her interact with the other children.  The staff told me that Seva was a bit fussy for a good chunk of the morning, probably from being in a new environment with no one familiar.  She didn't eat quite as much as usual, but it wasn't anything that would cause any worry.  Overall she seemed to have a pretty good day.

Although my father-in-law, John, had been doing a pretty good job watching Seva for the past two months, Jeannie and I decided that the pros of sending her to daycare finally outweighed those of having her watched by John.  We really want her to socialize with other children her own age.  And we want her to be stimulated and to learn from people whose job is dedicated to exactly that purpose.  John is 72 years old (if I'm not mistaken) and he's losing his hearing.  Although there's no question that he loves Seva and cares for her very much, we felt that his level of attention and ability to stimulate Seva was good, but not to the same level that she would get at daycare.

Obviously we hope that we've made the right decision.  I guess this is one of the early decisions out of many, many more that we'll have to make in Seva's best interest.  May God guide us throughout all our decisions.  I hope we're good parents.

Changing topics now, I still feel regret and guilt from time to time about the changes in my relationships with others and also my past relationships.  I know that life always changes and so nothing is ever guaranteed to stay the same.  But I also miss some of my friendships, I feel bad about how I treated some people, especially ex-girlfriends and girls I've dated, and I miss "the old days."  Maybe I'm just getting old (haha) and wistful.  Looking at it logically, though, I guess this is what growing up is all about.  Just like anyone else, I was bound to make mistakes and, unfortunately, many of those mistakes came at the expense of other people's feelings.  Also, as I've gotten older, I realize that there is nothing that should compel me to remain friends with people whose values I disagree with.  My last job at PLA was a great example.  When I first started working there when I was much younger, it matched my values and ideals to a great degree.  I still admire the boundless optimism that I had when I wrote my application letter to law schools, referencing my job at PLA.  Over the course of my term there as a lawyer, though, the culture there changed.  Or maybe I changed.  Or maybe it was just the mixture of personalities that happened to be there over the course of that time.  It was likely a combination of all those things, and perhaps more.  Bottom line is that I didn't like it there, I didn't feel comfortable, and the culture frankly sucked.  Fine, no problem.  I'm not going to change anyone, and I didn't have the energy or interest in that environment to do so, thus I left.  Even with all that being true, however, there's still a bit of a vacuum for the kind of office culture and work relationships that I hope to have.  With God's grace, I'll hopefully be able to begin and develop new relationships.  I've already become active with a couple of excellent pro bono projects, to which I'm volunteering my time.  This is my true self.  And to any haters at PLA or beyond, I'll let my actions speak for me, without promoting myself on facebook like someone desperate for greatness (you know people like that, I'm sure).  I'm gonna work hard, I am working hard, and I'm gonna help people.  Let that be enough.  And may God forgive me of my sins.  And may I forgive myself for the changing of the seasons and the passing of time, and therefore accept that the past belongs where it is, as I look forward to the future that awaits, according to God's will.

Seva's first subway ride

Yesterday (Sunday, August 24th) was Seva's first ride on a subway.  Seva loved it.  Jeannie and I picked up the Broad Street Line at Walnut-Locust station, then transferred at City Hall to the Market-Frankford Line, which we took to the Spring Garden station.  Especially during the longer ride on the MFL, with Seva sitting on my lap in a window seat, she looked intently out of the window at the lights periodically spaced out between the stations and then she looked curiously at the station whenever we were stopped.  For only being four and a half months old, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Once we got off at the Spring Garden station we walked down to Delaware Avenue and then over to Morgan's Pier, for an "event" or better yet evening of Polido Social Club.  The Morgan's Pier website calls it:

The Polido Social Club is a weekly hang out of sunset riverside explorations curated by a revolving cast of tropical taste makers. Polido is a term Portuguese folks use for polite, polished, sleek, and smooth ~ which is exactly the type of evening vibe the social club wants you to feel.

It was a very nice evening.  We sat on high chairs facing the marina on the Delaware River.  The sun was out for most of the time.  And there was a cool breeze coming off the river.  There was a speaker on the floor just below our chairs, so we could hear the music playing.  There was a pretty good crowed, but it wasn't crowded.  I drank a lemonade, Jeannie drank a cranberry juice mixed with lemonade, and we shared french fries with garlic aioli sauce.  Seva did a great job hanging out.  And we had a really good time as a family, along the Delaware River, just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Tonight we had a big dinner.  We hosted my mom, Jeannie's dad, and our friends Katy and Andrew (and their 6 month-old daughter Grace).  I cooked chicken seasoned with Adobo, black beans with Goya Recaito sauce, and white rice in boiled chicken bouillon cubes.  I received good reviews all around.  Jeannie made some homemade lime fizz by squeezing lime juice into sparkling water and a teaspoon of turbinado sugar.  For an unplanned, impromptu get-together, I think we did a great job.

Rainy Day Blues

I don't have much to write about tonight.  I'm eating some Breyer's natural strawberry ice cream straight from the box.  It rained for most of the afternoon.  I guess it's just one of those days.  At least Rocky is curled up on the desk, next to the computer, keeping me company.  He's a reminder that despite the appearance or feeling of a proverbial bad day, the important things are still there with God's blessing, and those blessings should not be taken for granted if we can help it.  Still, with that being said, here's to hoping tomorrow is a better day.  Buenas noches, estimado lector.

Questions

So, what's your story?  What are your fears?  What are your biggest mistakes, or regrets?  If you had to offer me one piece of advice, what would it be?  If you could negotiate the conflict in Gaza, how would you do so?  Have you ever been outside of the country?  If so, when was the last time, and where did you go?  If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would it be?  If you could talk to one person who has passed away, who would it be?  Do you pray to God?  Do you go to church?  Can you offer any book recommendations to me?  From what you know of me, either directly or by reading these posts, what do you believe has been my biggest mistake?  And what would be your advice for me to learn from it and overcome it?  Do you know anyone who hates another class of human beings?  Or in this day and age, it may be more proper to ask: do you know anyone who has spoken disdainfully on another class of human beings? poor people? white people? undocumented migrants? black people?  How do you deal with that person(s)?  Do you accept it, or have you asked the person(s) why she or he feels that way?  Do you care about me?  Do you love me?  If so, can you please say a prayer for me?  Would you like me to say a prayer for you?  Would you like me to succeed?  What do you believe is my best field for success?  I ask again, if you could advise me in any way, personally or professionally, what would you say?  If you worked in an environment with others who opposed you, either as an individual or for a category you belong to, would you continue to work there?  If you were somewhere -- a workplace, a party, a conference -- where you felt keenly that you didn't belong, would you leave? or would you stay?  Have you ever wondered why so many people, just in this country alone, disagree on so many things, even just the major public issues?  If everyone is right, then does that truly mean that everyone is wrong?  How would you rate the level of respect that exists in American society today?  How do you feel, deep down inside, about someone who has differing beliefs than you do?  If someone has committed an act that you disagree with, do you believe it gives you the right to talk down on them or look at them as less than a human being?  Do you name-call other people?  If so, would you be okay with others name-calling you? to your face, or behind your back?  Where are the real professionals, who speak and act with professionalism at all times, today?  Do you have children?  If not, would you like to have children some day?  Will you or do you raise your children to name-call others?  Will you or do you raise your children to judge others?  If you could offer one piece of advice -- of all the pieces of advice conceivably available -- to your children, what would it be?  Do you love others as you love yourself?  Do you love strangers as you love your family?  Do you love people of the opposite sex as you love those of your gender?  Did you read this far down?  If so, what's your story?

Seva's first time to the ocean

I wonder who's reading these posts?  I often wonder that, but today I'm putting it in writing.  Whoever you are, I hope that you're enjoying what you're reading.  I can't imagine that my life or my thoughts are that interesting to anyone besides me.  But then again, I think I would be interested to hear or read how others live their lives and the thoughts they have on a daily basis.  Each person's life is a journey and everyone has a story to tell.  So in that regard, I guess I shouldn't downplay what I share here.

With that brief preface, my dear reader, now that I've broken the fourth wall, let me tell you a little bit about my weekend.

Yesterday was Seva's first trip to the ocean.  Jeannie, Seva, and I drove to Brant Beach on Long Beach Island to visit my aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  Jess had gotten there a couple hours before we did.  Seva got some sand between her toes and Jeannie even held Seva up when a wave came up to shore to get Seva's feet wet.  Seva, in her usual demeanor, was very calm and observant of the whole scene.  Of my extended family members there, she seemed most intrigued by her great-aunt Judith, with whom she seemed to have a connection.  I guess the fact that aunt Judith was so interested in Seva probably helped too.

We hung out on the beach for a couple hours, from about 3:30pm to 5:30pm.  I got the ocean for a while, a good 20 to 30 minutes I'd say.  The weather was pristine: highs in the 80s, clear blue sky, occasional light breeze, and the icing on the cake was warm ocean water.  Once I dove under that first wave to get myself wet, the water was absolutely relaxing.  In my entire life, I've rarely experienced the Jersey Atlantic at that temperature.  It was a real blessing.

We all went inside for a dinner of burgers, hot dogs, and potato salad, along with a glass of Jersey Devil white wine, diluted a bit with some ice cubes and club soda (the wine was pretty sweet).  After dinner, I had a few pieces of diced cantaloupe as dessert.  And we told stories, some of them about my grandfather and some about my father.

My aunt Judith described my father's relationship with his father as "contentious."  She said that her father didn't really interact with her and aunt Susan, because they were girls, so her father actually had the closest relationship with Pito, although that wasn't necessarily saying much.  She said that her father was "critical" of others.  Cousin Marc gave the example that even I would have been criticized for having hair too long (right now, my hair is completely buzzed on the sides and I have less than an inch of hair on top, not even long enough to style).  I guessed that my grandfather's military background in the U.S. Navy played a part in that mentality.  Aunt Judith said that her father would just disagree to disagree: "if you said white, he'd say black."  One thing I learned was that my grandfather willingly chose to join the U.S. Navy during World War II.  Uncle Ray explained that having a family was an exemption to being enlisted, so my grandfather could have used that as a reason to stay home.  Aunt Judith said that, among her classmates in school, her father was the only one away in the military.  When I asked if my grandfather used the war as a way to "escape" life at home, aunt Judith said that was always her impression.  She said that she was raised by and large by her mother's parents (my great-grandparents), so that when her father returned from the war, he and even her mother were still merely "substitute parents."  I found that really interesting.  She concurred what I had heard that my grandfather acted like a drill sergeant by personally coaching my dad at the track directly across the street from their house in Englewood, pushing my dad to run faster, holding a stopwatch and timing the intervals.

We also heard the funny story, which my sister brought up, about my dad wanting to date a black girl in high school and my grandfather finding out and chasing my dad in circles in the yard outside the house.  I remember my dad telling me about this episode that he tried to reason with his father that he coached black kids on the track team, so it should be okay for his son to date a black girl.  It didn't matter to my grandfather.  Although they lived in a suburb of New York City, the fact remained that this was 1960s America.

Jess also brought up a story that was completely new to everyone at the table.  According to her, Pito baked pot brownies and gave them to his parents.  Uncle Ray laughed at the thought of my grandfather stoned, saying "I would've loved to have seen that."  I'll have to ask Pito if that story is true.

Cousin Marc told a story about how Pito had let him drive his car at the age of 12.  He said that they were all in Forked River (at my grandparents' house at 842 Wave Drive) and my dad asked Marc, then age 12 or so, if he wanted to drive.  Obviously Marc said yes, so without telling any of the other adults there, my dad took him out in his car.  Marc said that he first drove while my dad controlled the pedals, then they switched.  My dad told Marc not to tell anyone, but as soon as Marc walked in the door and someone asked him what he was doing, Marc said "Uncle Francis let me drive!" to which my grandmother dropped something in the sink and aunts Judith and Susan, who were sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him in shock.

Marc also told the story about the time that my dad picked him up at school in some kind of red convertible, with his mother (my aunt) in the passenger seat.  He said that all his classmates were in total disbelief, saying something to the effect of "whoa! that's your dad?!" since they knew Marc's mother and they just assumed that it must have been Marc's father in the driver seat.  Marc said that, growing up, he always wanted to grow up to be like Pito.  That's kind of funny for me to hear, being his son.  I can also see that my dad was clearly rebellious against his father.

Aunt Judith said that her father disagreed in some way with Pito's decision to go into the Peace Corps.  And it wasn't until my grandfather (and grandmother) visited Pito in Costa Rica and saw what he was doing there that he had any kind of respect for the decision.  I type this here almost verbatim from what aunt Judith said last night.

To step back from all these stories, I must state that it had been at least 15 years since I'd seen aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  As best as I could recall to Jeannie during our car ride there, I'm pretty certain that I last saw my paternal extended family at my cousin Stephen's wedding, when I was a sophomore (as best I can remember) in college.  Now that I had a chance to reconnect with them and especially after hearing stories of my dad, I realize that it's important to continue building my relationship with my dad.  I also think about the handful of people in my life that don't seem to like me (namely a few of my coworkers at PLA) and I realize that I need to stick with all the people who do seem to like me and care about me.  And between so many of my friends, plus the unconditional love of family, I see that I'm a very fortunate guy.  And that I don't need to let the prejudice of a handful of others get me down.

We drove home late last night.  We got home around 11pm.

This morning I did the welcome remarks and the first reading at mass at St. Charles Borromeo, which I had been scheduled to do for a few months back.  I felt embarrassed by the fact that I've missed Sunday mass for about the past month.  But I'm very thankful that I had this commitment this morning to urge me to finally go again.  As I have before, I got compliments from a few people afterwards that I did a good job, from Ms. Richardson, from Sandy, and from our friends Pete and Vanessa, who also attended (and who I didn't see until I returned to my seat next to Jeannie after the first reading).  It felt good to be back.  It really did.

Afterwards, Pete, Vanessa, Jeannie, Seva, and I went to brunch at Cafe Ynez.  I ate an omelette with orange juice.  It was good.  Although I started feeling a bit tired during brunch (especially my voice, which always seems to be one of the first indicators that I'm tired), it was nice to spend some time with friends, talking about marriages, buying a house, and traveling the world.

As if I didn't realize how tired I was, I later took a long nap on the couch in the afternoon.  Nothing like a summer Sunday afternoon nap!

Finally, to rejoin the theme of reconnecting, we drove to Cherry Hill this evening to meet my old friend Shay and his family for dinner at their house.  Shay cooked a whole bunch of stuff on the grill and we ate inside at the dining room table, while talking about all sorts of things.  I haven't seen Shay since probably around 2002 or so.  He looks a bit heavier and just a little bit older, but he really mostly looks the same.  When we first got there, his wife Eki took us on a tour of their backyard, where they have a couple chicken coops, a couple rabbit pens, three ducks walking freely, and fish pond, and various vegetable garden enclosures.  It was amazing to see their ingenuity in using their suburban backyard to provide for their family.  Shay even installed a couple solar panels on the main chicken coop.  It was impressive to see.  I really enjoyed seeing him and catching up with him.  As I told him before we left, I hope we can see each other again soon, certainly much sooner than 10 years from now.

All in all, it was a good weekend.  My only minor frustration is that I feel that I've spent such little quality one-on-one time with Jeannie; for the past week, she's been so tired or in such a business state-of-mind that it's either been not possible or not fun to hang out with her.  I'm only eight months into this journey called matrimony, but I knew these kinds of challenges, mostly brought on from external conditions, would inevitably come.  I will say this though: no matter what I'm very happy to be married.  Especially to Jeannie.  I very much prefer it to the alternatives, which I've lived through before.  So for everything -- from the weekend to life itself -- I thank God.  Now time for bed.....