my Christmas Miracle 2010

in my inbox this morning...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Today At approx 3:30 PM, while returning from a visit with family, my wife and two week old daughter were involved in a head-on collision at an intersection within one mile from our home.

When somebody thinks about a car accident they really only deal with two possible points of perspective, that of a relatively neutral bystander, or one of the people actively involved in the incident. But today I experienced this event in a way in which few others have, a way that is beyond all odds. Today, I watched what I honestly believed to be the death of my wife and child.

In a barely believable twist of fate, I was the first car stopped at the red side of the intersection. I saw my wife coming down the road, I saw her begin her turn. I saw her recognize me. Her eyes met mine and she smiled, and just as I smiled back, a pickup truck hit the front of her SUV with such force that it sent it spinning out of my field of vision. She was gone.

There was no time to be sad, there was no time for fear, there was no question of what needed to be done. I jumped out of my car, and ignoring the smoke and the noise, I started to run after them. As I came upon the driver's side door I frantically started to bang on the window and pull at the handle, but it was locked. It was then that I realized I had never stopped moving, never stopped running; her vehicle was still skidding away under the power of the tremendous impact. As the vehicle finally began to stop, my wife was able to pull herself together enough to hit the lock button from the inside. Fighting my way through the side airbags and the acrid smoke of their deployment charges, I was able to finally see my wife's face again, though it was not the same face I remembered from just seconds before. She was in pain but more than that, she was terrified. Because of the many noises that surrounded the two of us in what was left of her vehicle, the crying of our daughter was not one of them.

If you had asked me yesterday how if felt to be a father, I would have laughed it off and said I hadn't really gotten adjusted to the thought of being a Dad. Worse, I might even have said that it didn't have an effect on me at all, and I felt pretty much the same as I ever did. But now of course I know that's wrong. I have very little memory of what happened between the time my wife started to scream my daughter's name and the time I got back to her car seat, but the memory of looking down at her and seeing her chest slowly rise and fall is as vivid as any painting I have, or will ever, see. It was a miracle, she was sleeping peacefully. Somehow she made it through the accident without even waking up.

After this, things begin to blur again. I remember calling my wife's mother, but I don't remember exactly what I said. I remember a man taking my car keys and moving my car out of the road, I remember a woman taking my daughter from the wreck and holding her in my car where it was warm and quiet. I didn't know these people, I will probably never meet them again, and up until a few hours ago I would have said they no longer existed, but there they were: "good people". I thanked them, too many times for me to remember, but still not nearly enough. I wish I asked their names, I wish I could have made them understand how it felt to know that there are still decent people out there who are willing to help absolute strangers in their time of need, but there was so much going on that I could barely keep up.

I didn't feel scared until my wife and daughter were in the ambulance and being rushed to the hospital. Once they were out of my sight and reach, I suddenly felt sick. My mind was clouded with irrational thoughts; I was sure they would never make it to the hospital, that the cruel joke fate was playing on me today was not yet over, somehow my family would survive the wreck only to disappear as if they never existed.

But they made it to the hospital, and so did I. Now it is some 8 hours after the event, and I feel compelled to put this ordeal down in writing. My wife suffered a broken arm from the force of the airbag deploying, but nothing else. Her arm took the brunt of the impact, which in the end saved her from more serious injuries. My daughter, as incredible as it may seem, slept soundly throughout the entire event. Only waking in the hospital, curious as to why her normally scheduled bottle had not yet arrived. She's lucky that she will never remember this day, but unfortunately I can't say the same.

Of all the emotions I feel, guilt is now the strongest. Even if I know it to be irrational, I can't help but feel partially responsible for the event. Was it me sitting at the intersection that took her concentration off of the road? Had I not been sitting at that exact point at that exact time, would my family have been spared this trauma? Or should I instead look at it as a blessing, that of all the places I could have been at the moment of the accident, I was by their side? It is the kind of question I don't think I will ever be able to answer, at least, not to my satisfaction. Good or bad, the events of today will be with me for the rest of my life.
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This was written by my 26 y.o. nephew who just became a new father 2 weeks ago.
God is truly great yes? Hold your loved ones close and Merry Christmas to us all.

a blog challenge for 2009

i am to blog every day in December. lacking literary motivation, i've decided to accept the challenge....

December 1 Trip. What was your best trip in 2009?

This one's easy. We spent Easter week in Los Cabos Mexico. A good friend of mine has a place there and invited

us to stay. Talk about your no-brainers. It happened to fall on my 51st bday week as well, so this was an added bonus. For those who haven't been to Cabo, I would recommend it whole-heartedly. But understand, Los Cabos is not all there is to the peninsula. Los Cabos is the 'hub' yes, but translated, this also means it's tourist central. It's quite honky tonk, fairly tacky, and full of bars and restaurants and tacky souvenir shops. While it is beautiful and fun, after a few days you may long for something a tad more relaxing. My friend lives in San Jose Del Cabo, the county seat of Los Cabos at the far end of of BCS (Baja California Sur). SJDC is a far more charming, low-key, slower paced paradise. Close enough to all the attractions, but far enough away from the hub-bub that you're able to breathe in all the beauty and culture they have to offer. Combining old Mexican charm w/ fabulous architecture steeped in history, there is simply no better way to unwind. We went diving w/ sea lions, went deep sea fishing for tuna (which we turned into sushi that afternoon/evening) and learned there are many many brands of tequila yet untasted. We learned how to play Mexican train and ate the best carne asada of our entire lives. When you fell asleep @ nite you actually could hear the windows rattling w/ the roar of the surf below. So...have I got your attention yet? If you getta chance to visit Cabo? Run, do not walk. And head for San Jose Del Cabo. You won't be sorry.

13 Questions

1) What is your favorite word?
i have many, but i'm going with cacophony

2) What is your least favorite word?
the C word that rhymes w/ runt

3) What turns you on?
a man w/ a sense of humor that knows his way around a kitchen

4) What turns you off?
disrespect/rudeness

5) What is your favorite curse word?
clusterfuck

6) What profession other than your own would you most like to try?
i want that woman's job on the travel channel that just goes around trying out hotels and restaurants all over the world. i don't know her name and i don't care. i just want her job.


7) What profession other than your own would you least like to try?
Toss up between elephant corral cleaner and running a country.

9) What is your least favorite food?
octopus or anything w/ those sucker cup thingies

10) What do you mostly do in any spare time?
write/take photographs/read

11) What is the oldest thing in your refrigerator?
a jar of tahini

12) Dogs or Cats? and why?
dogs cuz they come when you call them

13) Truck or Sports car and why?
Truck cuz i haul stuff and need to be high

its all about courage...

Watch your thoughts; they become words.

Watch your words; they become actions.

Watch your actions; they become habits.

Watch your habits; they become character.

Watch your character;
it becomes your destiny.


supposedly a quote from some guy named Frank Outlaw. who allegedly is CEO of some supermarket chain? i dunno for sure. i just liked what it said.

i have always been a major film hound. i just love watching movies. dramas, comedy, mystery, action, bio-pics, you name it. (if you haven't checked out netflix yet, you so should)

i know alot about alot of films. from the 1970's on up. notsomuch however, about older films. and next to nothing about many so-called 'classic films'.

to that end, i have decided recently to try and catch some of the 'classics' to see what the hub-bub is all about. after all, i can't become a film snob can i? if i'm going to be a movie buff, shouldn't i know something about alot of films?

lately, i've been watching more and more of Turner Classics (TCM) and American Movie Channel (AMC). over the past few weeks i've been able to catch quite a few of the well known b&w favorites as well as a few classics shown in that cinema oddity called 'technicolor'.

all i can say is oh....my....god.... the humanity. by and large? i've gotta say these films suck!

'the yearling'? with gregory peck and jane wyman (before she married a future u.s. president?) was painful for me to watch. granted, it was made in 1946, but that in no way excuses such awful acting. i'm telling you it was like watching a SNL skit instead of a classic american movie. the little boy that wants to raise this fawn he finds? oh dear god, i wanted to put needles into my eyes rather than have to listen or watch this kid. oddly enuf, he did work once or twice again in his career, but never reached any real success. (gee whatta shock)

then i watched 'gone with the wind'. ok, who besides me, wants to beat the living crap out of scarlett? i cannot believe so many people love this film. yes, clark gable did a great Rhett. but the majority of the other actors in this film must have majored in over-acting. this film won 8 oscars! one of which went to vivien leigh, so evidently someone loved her scarlett. i find this stunning. and they gave an oscar to hattie mcdaniel? ok, groundbreaking african american roles aside, was it really worthy of an oscar? maybe for onscreen airtime, i dunno. i'm sure hattie was a very nice woman, but an oscar winner? i prefer to think it won so many oscars as there was just far less real competition back then.

i've always liked audrey hepburn, but had never seen 'breakfast at tiffany's'. also watched that over the weekend. sorry, but i don't get it. what is the big friggin deal here people? yes, holly golightly was one wacky and zany girl. poor thing had trouble getting out of her own way sometimes, and thank goddess for men like george peppard who are able to see past her quirks and love her anyway. and what was the deal w/ patricia neal? were we to believe Paul was her gigolo? and if so, then why tip toe around it like they did? sigh...

i guess i just expect more from these 'classic films'. i mean, 'the wizard of oz' is an old classic i can watch over and over. i loved 'to kill a mockingbird'. they don't all make me want to shoot my television. so i'll continue to forge ahead and catch them when i can.

as some of you may already know, i am addicted to the obituaries. it's the first (and sometimes only) section of the newspaper i read.

recently, i read a memorial posted for my 3rd grade teacher. emma schwartzsteen was 87 years old, which means when i had her as a teacher, she was only in her mid 40's. gadz. i just assumed she was much older. i remember she had a very furry face and wore this red lipstick that would bleed into the dark peach fuzz on her upper lip. she wore face powder that would glisten in the sun. so not only did she sport a moustache but if the light was right, her top lip sparkled. :) it was a bit scary, but you couldn't really see it unless you were up close. i liked miss schwartzsteen. she was very nice to me as i was one of her best students. i should mention here, i grew up trenton, nj attending very inner-city public schools. excelling was not exactly difficult. i was typically teachers pet thruout my gradeschool years. my first grade teacher was ms. watson. she got divorced then she re-married and became mrs. ozenbaugh. she loved me. she had this fabulous southern drawl that she never lost, even tho she lived in nj like the rest of us. and when the boys would act up? mrs. ozenbaugh would take them by the ear and walk them to the back of the room where she'd make them put their head down on a desk for a time out. truly. she would pull them by their ear and walk them to the back. it was great. she had curly fire red hair, and always wore matching jewelry. necklace, earrings and bracelet, always in the same pattern, always matching her outfits. when i was in the 5th grade, mrs. ozenbaugh was shot by her ex-husband. her murder made the front pages of every newspaper. i wanted to go to the funeral, but my mom wouldn't let me. in the 6th grade, we had a first year teacher. our class was very out of control and she could not handle us (them). boy, was she out of her element. she cried every single day, right in front of us. she suffered a nervous breakdown and left 3 months into the school year. she was replaced by a teacher whose name was bob stretch. (no lie) nobody liked mr. stretch. we almost gave him a nervous breakdown as well, but he hung in there. he was more strict obviously, and eventually, he whipped us (them) into shape. when i was in the 9th grade, i remember walking to jr. high and a car kept honking; a male voice kept calling my name. it was mr. stretch. ugh. he icked me out and i pretended not to hear him. he followed me slowly in his car for over a block! totally creeped me out. i guess he always creeped me out, but by then i had boobs and everything so his intentions were crystal clear. (at least to me)

in high school not alot changed. i was editor of both the school newspaper and yearbook so i had alot of free reign. my sophomore english teacher was a curmudgeonly old man by the name of hyman yudewitz. (swear to god i am not making that name up either) he was a vegan with snow white hair. he did not believe in perfumes/chemicals and never wore deodorant. he wore one shirt for the entire week. he usually smelled pretty bad and everyday wore suspenders and polyester loafers. (where he got those i'll never know but i swear, they were fabric loafers) my friend wanda once put thumbtacks on his chair and he sat on them. his butt literally flew up off his chair. we about peed our pants it was so funny. we're talking 10th grade here. mr. yudewitz was not amused. we never saw him get so angry. his face got very red and he had blue eyes. with the white hair he reminded me of the american flag. having said all this, hymie must have had a special place in his heart for me. he entered a few essays of mine into a local literary magazine publication and I won first place as well as second AND third. it was almost suspicious, but if you could have read the other entries, you'd understand. i still have the savings bonds that the junior contemporary club awarded me for winning. what exactly is a jr. contemporary club anyway?

i often wonder if i had to do my school years over again, would i do anything differently? would you?

my first kiss...

it was the summer of my 14th year (yes, i know. major late bloomer here...) i was fairly tall for my age, and truly 'one of the guys'. ironically, i think this put most boys off. i was like everybody's way kewl sister, not somebody they wanted to necessarily lock lips with. we had a house @ the jersey shore, and that's where i'd spend my summers. kay and al, a couple who lived across the street, had this absoutely adorable 16 year old nephew who lived in jersey city. jimmy would visit about once or twice a month, and i was in major like. he had long brown hair that always hung in his gorgeous blue eyes. he was tall and lanky and needed to shave his chin probably once a week at least! he smoked, and i loved the way he exhaled out of the side of his mouth. due to high tides, houses at the shore are built up on "stilts" -- a good 8-10 feet between ground level and the houses. people would put little storage sheds under there. it was a great place to store lawn chairs and boating/beach paraphanalia. unless of course, the house was not yet sold, in which case it was just unused space for teenage kids to hide out in and suck face.
i remember one minute, we were just sitting on the dock of the bay (really, we were) and the next minute he took my hand and was leading me under the house. (why he could not just plant one there on the dock i never understood...) with butterflies the size of buicks, i followed my prince. his breath smelled of cigarettes and his cool beard i loved so much was now just a pain in the ass. after a minute or two he said..."what, are your arms broken"? except with a jersey city accent. for those of you who do not know, jersey city is to new jersey what brooklyn is to new york. accents so thick you can cut them w/ a knife. his question came out more like...'wutter yer ahms brokun"? it was only then i realized both my arms were hanging flat at my side like two wet noodles. limp and lifeless. i had no idea what i was supposed to do with them either. remember, this was my first time "evuh" making out. i tried to do like they did in the movies. i clumsily wrapped my arms around his neck, but after a while that became uncomfortable. he was tall and i felt the blood draining from my arms. then i entwined them around his waist, but that just seemed too girley and barbie like. i decided to compromise and settled on his mid-back area. he was a hard kisser and i remember having to move my face alot so i could breathe thru my nose.

i should mention here, that i never saw jimmy again after that. he simply stopped visiting his aunt and uncle. suspicious? i think not...

i prefer to think i ruined him for all other women...