Candy and Fresh Snow

My name is Clint and I'm Abby's husband and Clay's, Lydia's, and Henry's dad. Abby has a beautiful insightful blog titled Oh So Well that tracks our family's journey. Along the way, Abby loads up her readers for a ride where we discover her witty language and timely topics. You may want to start with "Confessions of a Candyholic," "Dear Clay," "Determination," and "Open Letter to the Past Year." You will not be disappointed! I can only hope that this blog simply approaches the worthwhileness of hers. Here's her blog: candyandfreshsnow.blogspot.com

Language and Memory

Is language adequate to accurately articulate to another the pulsing knowledge learned from your heart? Why does memory abandon you or trick you into altering the past? Don't you sometimes, to necessitate communication, replace language with music, laughter, or crying out?

These questions were inspired by my reading of Leif Enger's fictional novel Peace Like a River, particularly the chapters titled, "Be Jubilant, My Feet" and "The Curious Music that I Hear." The narrator, Reuben Land, vividly paints his fascinating short visit to heaven with his dad. Despite the amazing description and recollection, Reuben falls short and laments, "What mortal creations are language and memory!"

Saturday, May 30, 2009

The Heavens Wept Over Him

Spirituality is elusive. It's like this connection or communication with God, a higher power, or something deep within one's self, that provides some clarity to life, morality, and value. No particular creed, religion, culture, belief, or people have exclusive licensing rights, nor does any one person. Spirituality comes and goes depending on how much effort is expended.  At least this is how I understand it. I made a connection with spirituality when putting together a speech about the War in Heaven. If you would like to read it, just copy and paste the URL to your browser:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/15962377/Winning-the-War

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Crazy Courage

On the neuro highway, regulating mood and brooding;
Transmitters runnin' low, the cursed three witness,
Sweet me--ragin' for pleasure, signal despond.

At the dark exit, gettin' off, hazards off, out of sight;
Patrolman, highwayman . . . whatever they call you--
find and bust me if you must, good luck and God bless.

Swallow me some pills. Smoke me some cigs;
Prozac it is and no tickets for smokin.'
Roadin' for courage, courage to master.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Priceless

I wish I could remember where I read it. It was just a short blurb in the middle of a larger article. Here is the part that crosses my mind often: a POW in Vietnam was allowed by his captors to send a letter to his family with a limited number of words.  Some of those words were spent on the importance of getting a family picture at least every year. This took me aback and made an impression.  Here's me with my 3 kids.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Having Fun . . .

. . . is not the most important thing about playing baseball. We don't want to lose. We want to win. But the most important thing is to learn the basic rules, strategy, and fundamentals of the game of baseball. This is how I approach coaching kids. The fundamentals provide my players with the tools to make defensive plays, pitch, hit, and run the bases, feel a little sense of accomplishment. Knowing the rules and the strategy help my players truly understand defeat and to grasp what it takes to win. Tasting the bitterness of defeat is the pits, but coming back to the exhilaration of winning . . . now we're talking fun.