Friday, January 30, 2004
Sorry I haven't written to you here lately. Sometimes it's hard to write to you when I don't ever know if you are able to read what I write. It's about 5:30 pm in IL right now, so you may be home, or at a practice, or reading this, or getting ready for a date. I just don't have any way of knowing.
I'll write more here a little later.
I love you and miss you
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
It takes about a minute (with cable modem) to download the clip.
It is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC.
CLICK THE HYPERTEXT TO VIEW IT. I'm going to leave it up for a short time only, and then take it down. I don't celebrate killing anyone, but think that it's important to see. If those being shot had the Apache helicopter, I'm certain that we would be seeing Americans being turned into chunks. I AM disturbed that they shot the wounded man, but it it is conceivable that he was crawling toward an anti-aircraft missile or RPG.
Monday, January 26, 2004
I heard from one of your mother's attorneys that she has abandoned her quest to change your name. For that, I am grateful to whomever influenced her decision. I sincerely hope that it was you, standing up for your own rights.
I also hope that the same voice of reason which spoke to her about the name change will also speak to her about allowing us to have a normal relationship and normal communications and visitation after all of these years. I still hold onto that hope after all of these years. Soon, you'll be old enough to make that choice yourself, but she will have stolen all of those years from us.
Standing on the cliffs above the Pacific last night, someone said to Laura and me as we watched the sun drop below the horizon "You can't really heal until you've forgiven the person who wronged you". We had been talking about something unrelated, but the message still had a measure of appropriate content to it.
I looked down at the blue ocean, watching as each wave rolled toward the rocks and the beach. The waves were born of a huge deep blue sea, and rose powerfully in broad-shouldered lines as they swept toward the land to crash into everything in their path. As the waves formed, they were dark blue, then rose to light blue, and then continued to rise to a mix of light blue and light green, capped by an agitated white froth, and when they crashed against the rocks, all of the color was driven out of them and they became millions of white droplets, which scattered wildly and then raced back to their identities as parts of the great blue ocean.
I repeated her words in my mind, and wondered if I could ever heal. I can't even imagine being able to forgive your mother for what she did. I have lost the image of her face. I have lost the sound of her voice. I have lost the sting of her angry obsessive-compulsive behavior. I have lost almost everything about her. I HAVE not lost my dismay, my despair, my disbelief, or my anger at her decision and actions to take you away.
I think that I will never be able to forget or forgive her for that unspeakable act of cruelty. Having said that, I feel like I am LESS of a good person because I cannot forgive her for what she did. I am focused on improving myself, and do not dwell on her or her actions, but like the survivors of the Nazi atrocities of WW II, I want to make sure that her atrocities are not forgotten, or whitewashed.
I think that she is seriously emotionally impaired and unbalanced. Her behaviour and her actions are screaming EVERY DAY to the rest of the world that she is a person whose head is filled with "demons". It is inconceivable that a person such as she could be a first grade teacher..............responsible for the care and nurturing of so many little children.
I sat down to write you a little note to congratulate you on being able to keep your name, and got a little sidetracked. I keep overlooking the fact that you are not allowed to use the internet.
I had written you a letter and mailed it to you the same day that the letter from your mother's lawyer arrived..........maybe ESP is a reality after all!
After the lawyer's letter arrived, I phoned him to ask if it really meant what it seemed to say; that your mother was not going to try to change your name.
He verified that.
Everyone wants to know what monsters are loose inside of her head..........what she's thinking, why she is so obsessed with keeping us apart, and why she wanted to change your name. I just tell them that I don't know. Most people think at first that I'm making it up, but after a while, it becomes apparent that this is a "Mommy Dearest" scenario, and they stop asking me about her.
So that you know, I am going to begin to send letters to the court, documenting her efforts to keep us apart, and asking for court assistance and intervention to remedy this situation.
I have started another letter to you in Word, which I will try to finish this afternoon, when I get back from Physical Therapy. Since she still prevents us from phone calls and emails, I'll send it via U.S. Postal service.......I think that I'll just copy this letter and add it to what I've already written(That will be almost the same as if I had sent you an email, except it it won't be the same...........just the same content, minus the photo of my "birthday budgie".
I love you, and still hope to see you someday soon.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
Another day.............not a good one today. I'm very depressed. I'm overwhelmed by sadness. I still haven't been able to accept or adjust to having lost you.
The high point of yesterday was that I spent all of the day with a physical therapist, still trying to regain use of my left shoulder. I think I told you how it was damaged.
I have a couple questions for you Amy.
And for your mother.
And for her husband.
And for the Judge:
"What if your mother is successful in her quest to change your name, and then she later decides to dump her present husband?"
" What if he dumps her?"
You will be stuck with that name until you go back to court and change it again.................
Your mother and her husband each have histories of dumping spouses. Changing your name is a little like tattooing your current boyfriend's name on your arm. That name will be there long after the current boyfriend is gone. You will have to live with it, and look at it every day. Go to Max's Dawg House and ask the woman who works there to show you her forearm. She doesn't like "Jose" anymore, and hasn't for years. Go there and look closely at that tattoo.
As your natural father, I strongly oppose the attempt to change your name of Amy Elizabeth Ward while you are legally under age, and also while you are under your motherÂs control. The copies of the petitions my ex-wifeÂs lawyer has provided fail to show ANY reason for a name change, much less any compelling reason for it.
I'm not in a good mood today. I'm feeling deeply saddened by your absence in my life. You won't ever know how this feels unless you someday have a child who is kidnapped, or killed, or one who hates you. The feeling of loss is huge and all-engulfing. There is no escaping it by myself. The love and companionship of Laura, are all that I have to sustain me.
I don't even know if you have ever read anything I write here. I feel like I must be naieve, or stupid, or pitiful because I keep writing here, trying to keep a relationship with my daughter alive. I don't know anything about you. She CANNOT STOP ME FROM LOVING YOU, AND I DO LOVE YOU!
I am trying to understand how your mother can afford lawyer's fees, filing fees, and court costs to change your name at a time when she says that she is unable to pay for your auto insurance?
I love you, and miss you, and will always be the one person on whose total unconditional love you can depend.
Monday, January 19, 2004
GOOD MORNING AMY................more to come..........gotta go to the doctor(s)
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Saturday, January 17, 2004
La Jolla sunset. January 17, 2004
Good Morning Amy,
I wanted you to see what I saw..............this was not one of the more spectacular sunsets, but the pelicans make it a more appealing picture. Laura and I cleaned the bird cage, and then drove out to a town called Poway where the budgie breeder has his home and birds. I fell in love with 2 birds, known at this time only as #5 and #26. I have to wait at least 5 more days before I can go back and choose one of them and bring it home.
Both are animated, curious, highly vocal little characters. #5 is bright green and yellow, and #26 is referred to as "gray-green". #26 is not as beautiful as #5, but I think I like its little bird personality better........... I'll keep you posted, and will post a photo of whichever bird I choose.
Below is a picture of Bub's Dive, which is another of those unique places which abound in Pacific Beach. I like it for the name.....................
"Must be some positive "BUB" vibes happening here!!"
I found these surfin' nanners on the gate to the Banana Bungalow in Pacific Beach.
I don't know if you're reading this, but I have never known if you've been reading it, so I will keep writing to you, hoping that you are somehow able to read my words to you.
Pacific Beach (PB) is surpassed is only by Ocean Beach (known as "OB") in youthful exuberance and Southern California weirdness. I enjoy going to those places to observe and take photographs. OB is a bit rougher than PB, but very entertaining if you're just passing through. It's reminiscent of the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco in the late 1960's. Lots of odd little shops and people in "unconventional" attire....doing their "thing".
Today, Laura and I are going to scrub a bird cage a neighbor gave me. Since the cage was free, I'm going to get an English Budgie for my birthday. I haven't had a budgie since your mother and I lived in Evanston. The poor little creature was our pet for a year or two but met a tragic death when he was crushed by a swinging door. I loved that little bird so much that I cried, and couldn't even look at his cage for days, and finally got rid of it. Now, I'm happily looking forward to having another one of those sweet, affectionate, intelligent birds again. I haven't thought of a name yet.....got any ideas?
If you could send me an email, you would be able to get your suggestions here before I get the bird. Maybe she'll relent and allow you to do so.
We have breakfast to make, cars to wash, a cage to scrub, and I have a zillion digital photos to organize. Did you ever get a camera??
I love you Amy, and want you to know that no matter what you are going through, you can always count on my love for you
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Should I go back to try a BIG ASS BURGER??
Leave your comment, or email me.
(If you don't know the story of the BIG ASS BURGER yet, scroll down) New BIG ASS BURGER installments will be forthcoming as I go forth to Pacific Beach and meet the makers of BIG ASS BURGERS and the masters of modern communication. Marshall McLuhan, eat your medium out! The message is in the BIG ASS BURGER!
Sorry I haven't posted anything here for a while. I've been busy talking to lawyers and legal people about how to stop your mother from changing your name while you are still a minor. When you turn 18, I will say nothing if you want to change your name. I think that the idea to change your name, and desire to do so, should originate with you. I know your mother, and I know that she has the delicacy and considerate nature of Slobodan Milosevic. This name change has her fingerprints all over it, and I don't want her messing with your mind, your sense of self, your self-esteem, and your identity.
If you want to change your name to "Ultra Violet Ward", or "Blue Gizmo Ward", or anything you choose - it should be an idea of YOURS, and should not be done until AFTER you are no longer a minor, and are presumably a bit wiser. ANY name change will have a profound effect on the rest of YOUR life. If she succeeds in changing your name, it will not make me love you any less.
Gotta run..............there are lawyers to talk to.............
Sunday, January 11, 2004
When I first saw this video clip of a little boy running and jumping into the pool BEFORE he got to the edge of the pool, I laughed......and I watched it again and again until I realized that I have been doing this (figuratively) for most of my life. Observe the exuberance with which he races towards the pool! He is a happy little guy, anticipating his imminent, refreshing splash in the water. We've ALL emabarked on vacations, projects, "missions" filled with excitement and enthusiasm, only to have it turn to dirt in our mouths. This kid is no different. He is operating with defective intelligence(I don't mean that his intelligence level is below par), produced by a brain which has interpreted its environment incorrectly. We all have done that, and we all continue to do it. How many times have you sat down to a dinner where there was more than one fork, spoon, and knife and you noticed that you were the only one using the wrong one? How many times have you forgotten the name of the important person to whom you were just introduced? How many times have you tried to open a door by PUSHING it, even though the sign on the door says "PULL". How many times have you been listening to a CD on your Walkman and turned the volume wheel the wrong way and nearly blown your eyeballs out of your head? How many times have you "tapped" another car while parking your own?? How many times have you gotten out of elevator on the wrong floor, and pretended to go to your office because you were too embarassed to get back in and admit to your fellow elevator passengers that you didn't have any awareness of where you were or where you were going?
Don't be too hard on the little kid who missed the pool. It's funny, to be sure, but it's something we've all done in different ways. Laugh at the little guy.....someone has laughed at you in the same way. As long as there is no blood spilled, no bones broken, and no emotional scars, mistakes are funny.
Just so you readers know what to look forward to, I'm going to PB (Pacific Beach) to eat a BIG ASS BURGER for lunch soon, and I'll take my little Canon PowerShot A80, which must be the best digital camera in the world for $350.00
Saturday, January 10, 2004
"There goes the sun"(To the tune of "Here comes the sun", by the Beatles)
Good Morning Amy!!
Since we're on the Western side of the mountains, we don't get many cool sunrises unless we go to the top of Mt. Soledad, which I may do soon so I can post a picture of it here for you, but in the meantime, here's the sunset from January 9. La Jolla is really a pretty place to live, and I hope that I'll be able to show you around town some day soon.
It's still pretty early here, but I'm very tired, so I'm going to stop here, and go to bed. I promise that I'll write more tomorrow.
I love you, and I think about the fun we had together, and I miss you so much that my heart hurts and I have to struggle to keep from crying. Your mother shrieked at me for telling you that I loved you, and for displaying large pictures of you in my home. I never understood why she didn't feel any need to show her love for you.
With my love,
I hope that your first week back at school was "ok". Thank you for the very nice letter. I noticed that it was addressed (again) by your mother, and was mailed from Colorado, so I'm assuming that you and your mother and the hubby du jour went there for Christmas. Just so that you know, your letter had been opened, probably by your mother or hubby nouveau. It was resealed, but not very well. What's up with all of the secretive stuff she's into?
That was the best letter I've ever gotten from you. (Holy aerobics!!!) I DO remember how you used to look up at the rooftop from your bathroom window, looking for Santa's footprints, or the hoof prints of the reindeer......and I remember you asking me why there were none. That was one of the hardest moments of my life to that point. I'm sure that I concocted a reason (having to do with magic that we humans can never understand) and hoped that your belief in Santa was still intact. I felt that Santa was a part of the magic of childhood, and I wanted you to cherish the memory of that magic, even though you had (and still have) a high intellect, and a great curiosity. I loved Christmas as much as you did, because I loved to watch you experiencing the "magic".
I'll post more for you a little later today.......got some things to do right now.
I LOVE YOU AMY. NO MATTER WHAT SHE DOES, OR TRIES TO DO, SHE CANNOT STOP ME FROM LOVING YOU, AND SHE CAN'T DESTROY OR STEAL ALL OF THE FUN, OR ANY OF THE ADVENTURES WE HAD TOGETHER WHILE SHE WAS "BUSY BEING TOO BUSY" FOR US.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Next time I'm in PB (Pacific Beach), I'll try AGAIN to have a Big Ass Burger!
When I see a sign like the one above, I feel that it provides warmth to my soul, to my psyche. The person who conceived this sign is a linear thinker. No marketing degrees here. No Harvard affectations here. No Oxonian here. Just the simple proclamation that the observer is a mere 65 feet from a "BIG ASS BURGER". What more could a hamburger eater want than one of those??
No golden arches, or youth dressed in baggy pants, spinning on their heads in the street. No slutty looking girls with almost no clothes on. No vacuum headed 20-something youth with their tongues hanging out chanting empty-headed rubbish. Just a "BIG ASS BURGER", only a few feet away. I knew that I liked the guy who painted this sign, and I knew that I was going to invest 65 steps to find the masters of this bit of information, and meet the purveyors of "BIG ASS BURGERS". I stood in the street to get this photo, and then walked around the corner, in the direction of the fluorescent green arrow.
Several things happened almost simultaneously after I rounded the corner. A bright red fire truck parked in front of Fred's Mexican Grill and several firemen got out and entered it. Two San Diego police cars pulled up behind the fire truck, and the cops stood in front of the restaurant. Two cops went inside, and two waited outside. No lights were flashing and no sirens were howling. I assumed it was a lunch break, and continued walking, having only about 20 steps left to go. A young man, in baggy shorts, shirtless, well tanned, with ratty blond hair came rocketing down the sidewalk on his skate board, which had red wheels and flames and skulls painted on it. He screamed something as he shot past the door to the home of the "BIG ASS BURGER", and kept accelerating as he zoomed away.
There were moments of silence, nanoseconds probably, and then all kinds of hell unique to Southern California erupted. Two Mexican kids on tiny bicycles rounded the same corner by the fluorescent green arrow at breakneck speed and one them slammed into a policeman, who was knocked into the street. The kid fell off of his bike and took off running. I never saw him again. The other bicycle kid, looking at the collision his friend just had with the cop, ran into a parking meter, and was thrown into the street. The driver of a huge black Ford pickup truck tried to avoid running over either person in the street and ran into a parked car instead. The two cops who had been inside of the restaurant ran out of its dark interior and into the intensely bright mid day Californian sun, and were temporarily blind, which gave the Mexican kid in the street time to get up and run across the street, into an alley, and into oblivion. The other cop, the one who had not been hit by the bicycle, was on his police radio, ordering backup units, and possibly, helicopter gunships from the Marine Base at Camp Pendleton.
I'm sure that the cop on the radio had NO idea of what was happening. I had seen it all, and was totally overwhelmed by the complete chaos created by the union of several unrelated events. My mind was searching for a pattern to this madness, telling itself to look closer, while telling my body to take cover, even though the only available cover was 20 feet away, the home of "BIG ASS BURGERS". The other two cops could now see, and were out in the street, dodging cars, trying to control them.
An ambulance arrived, followed by another, and then four more police cars, and two more ambulances arrived. All arrived with lights flashing and sirens shrieking. Traffic was diverted, and more police cars arrived. The two firemen who had been the first to enter, came out laughing, and seemed amused with the show going on in the street and on the sidewalk. I raised my camera to photograph them, and a cop put his hand on my shoulder and told me to "get movin". I protested, but was told to leave, or be escorted from the scene.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
THIS man is an idiot!
Steve Irwin, the blond Australian with the thick, elastic accent and khaki shorts is a blessing for America, Australia, and the rest of the world. If you remember, Steve Irwin decided to teach his one month old son how to feed dangerous 13 foot long crocodiles so that he would know how to defend himself from the crocs which purportedly abound in the Irwin home and property in Queensland, Australia. (Why not move to the suburbs, Mr. Irwin?)
Young master Irwin hasn't yet mastered the art of not pooping in his own attire. He is incapable of walking, and is probably not strong enought to hold a piece of flesh as heavy as the one his dad fed to the croc in front of a crowd of horrified, onlookers who had PAID to observe the senior Irwin's crocodile antics. Young master Irwin lacks the ability to recognize the danger he would place himself in if he were to crawl over to a crocodile with a bloody morsel of meat, in emulation of his apparently foolish, irresponsible father.
From the clips I observed on TV, young master Irwin was being held away from the crocodile, and presumably, could not observe his father's croc feeding technique, and therefore, could not learn from it. His father also waddled him towards a pond like a helpless rubber doll, his feet apparently never touching the ground, but Steve Irwin ensured that crowd and the camera were able to see him place the child in mortal peril. They were little feet.....the kind that might have just been a tasty little munch for an opportunistic predator, such as Mr. Irwin says that crocs are.
Why did Mr. Irwin choose to "teach" his son those valuable survival techniques in front of people who had bought tickets with MONEY, and in front of a film crew which was filming the spectacle for his show, which earns him MONEY???
In the beginning, I said that this has been a good experience for the world...............it shows us all that the United States does not have all of the idiots. Australia has at least one WORLD CLASS IDIOT itself. The rest of you countries have your own share of Irwinesque idiots too, and one by one, they will carve a place for themselve in the world press, and you will be embarassed and ashamed too.
Mr. Irwin said in paraphrase, that he was "sickened and disgusted at being compared to Michael Jackson. Most of us would be too, but most of us have cared for and nurtured our children, and didn't use them as props for media stunts, to boost our ratings.
Shame on you Mr. Irwin. I never liked your fatuous, self-serving show before......it's worse than "Skippy the Bush Kangaroo"., which I always thought was the worst TV show ever. (Ever see the episode where Skippy flew a helicopter?) Your mistreatment of your child, and your subsequent mealy-mouthed, transparent lies have ensured that I will NOT EVER watch any of your rubbish again.
As for the comparison to Michael Jackson.......which do YOU think is worse? Sleeping with 12 year old boys, or subjecting an 11 month old baby to dangerous predator which by its own instinct, will be compelled to kill the infant by drowning it and then eating it??
Monday, January 05, 2004
I'm writing this now, so that it will seem "new" to you tomorrow morning.....if you can even read this.
Today is a big day for you.
No matter which way it turns out..........I will always love you.
I love you.
Stay warm....it looks like it's going to be below zero tonight. Next time you see national weather, look to the left, a little above the Mexican border........it usually 74 and sunny in San Diego
NOTICE THE FULL-BODY WETSUIT!!
Laura and I had a lazy weekend.........putting away all of the Christmas decorations and picking pine needles out of the carpet. I put the Christmas tree on top of the Jeep, and we drove up to the Mt. Soledad Christmas tree recycling center. It smelled like a heavenly pine forest instead of a place where used and unloved Christmas trees are dumped and later ground into sawdust.
I confess that as I prepared to heave our tree on the stack, I thanked it for its beauty, and for the pleasure it had brought into our lives. Then I laid it gently on the stack of its hapless brethren, rather than heaving it. I think that The Great Spirit is infusing me!!
The view from Mt. Soledad is spectacular! A 360 degree view of San Diego, the Pacific ocean, the valley in which Miramar Air Base is located(Top Gun was filmed there), the coastline to the North and South, and the mountains to the East. Hot air balloons drifted down the coast in groups of 3, and parasailers and hang gliders were drifting over Torrey Pines.
It was also damned cold!!! A steady 15-20 knot wind had been cooled by its passage over the cold Pacific, and made it uncomfortable to stay outside for very long. After a year, I'm starting to show signs of having learned that California gets COLD in the winter, and that all of the Beach Boys songs, and all of the Annette Funicello beach movies, were talking about a narrow window of beach comfort which only exists during the SUMMER!. The songs and the movies gave the impression that it was warm and sunny and "surfy" all year long.
People from the Midwest, and from Eastern states believe that myth too. On Saturday, Laura and I took a walk along the cliffs above the ocean. I spotted a car from IL, and looked around to see if I could guess which people had driven out here to escape the brutal cold of their chilly state. It didn't take long to pick them out of the many people who were on the cliff. Everyone, including us, was dressed in sweaters, jackets, long pants, and some even had gloves and wool caps. Everyone except them. They were dressed for a Beach Boys song!
Alone, as if in quarantine, the family of five sat huddled, shivering on the lawn at the very edge of a cliff. They were having a wonderful picnic in th esun, by the ocean, in one of the most beautiful spots in the world. That must have been what they thought when they began their trip that day.
In reality, it was a family of five, all wearing shorts, short sleeve button-up-the-front Hawaiian shirts, and sandals. They were huddled together, shivering, trying to have fun. One of the children, a little girl of about 10, had wrapped some very ugly pea-green thing around her legs, and a boy about 8 had wrapped his legs with a few pages of a discarded newspaper. The father, a graying, nearly bald guy was trying to keep the family's spirits high as they shuddered in the cold and ate their foil-wrapped sandwiches. Even the seagulls, the California version of ants at a picnic, left them alone. It was too windy and too cold even for the seagulls, who, on any ordinary bad day, would fight a tiger for a piece of a potato chip. Laura and I watched them from our seat on a nearby bench.
"Why would they come here dressed like that?" she asked. "Because", I replied, "because they're from Illinois, and they thought it would be warm here." "If we were to ask them, they probably have their swimming suits in the car". She chuckled. "Do people back there REALLY think that the water in California is that warm in the Winter??" Ruefully, remembering my own SHOCK the first time I entered the ocean in La Jolla, I said "Yes, a lot of them do". The difference was that I had made my entrance into the water in the dead of Summer, when it was "warm". It was not even nearly warm. Not since Pleistocene days, or before, has the water off the shores of California been warm.
I used to hate swimming in Lake Michigan in the Summer because I thought that it was so cold that only polar bears and ice fishermen could be happy in it. My fingers would turn blue, and I would begin to shake and shiver........preludes to hypothermia. I loved the Gulf of Mexico, and all of the Caribbean, because the water is so pleasant to swim in. Swimming in Lake Michigan, I thought, was another curse of life in the freezing, mosquito-infested Northern Flatlands. When I was driving to California, I had visions of me running recklessly into the warm surf, like those teenagers always did in the beach movies of the sixties.
I only ran recklessly into the surf one time after I got here. The effect of that icy water was to jolt my entire system of homeostasis into profound shock, and I'm sure that my body thought it had just died.
Since then, we've gone swimming, and every time I do, I silently denounce as liars and charlatans, the Beach Boys, Annette Funicello, Jan and Dean, Frankie Avalon, and all of the other people who contributed to the myth that California beaches are warm and sunny all year. Even as I made my first "Hollywood run" into the surf, I had known and had observed that ALL of the surfers wore wetsuits. Since I believed the Beach Boys so completely.........I assumed that wearing a wetsuit was some new California youth fad that I was unaware of, sort of the modern version of Huarache sandals.. The effect of that first instant of contact with the icy Pacific was the same or worse than when you take a shower and someone turns on the hot water in all of the rooms with sinks, and all of the toilets in the house are flushed at the same time. You are left standing naked in a cold stream of water from which you can not get away fast enough! In an instant, you formulate a plan to save yourself..........usually to turn the shower head away from you and smash yourself into a corner of the shower where the water can't hit you directly, but the damage has been done!
It must be like childbirth for an Eskimo baby in the days of old............happy, content, and surrounded by pleasantly warm water one moment, and then violently pushed into a freezing cold environment from which there seems no escape. For the nascent Eskimo, there is no escape. For you, racing to evade the icy stream, the only recourse you have is to loudly berate the bastards who did this to you....the ones who took your hot water away. In my case, as soon as I hit the water, I tried levitation, and tried to fight all of Newton's laws as I sought to instantly reverse my forward motion into the freezing brine and rise above it, back to the warmth of a towel and my clothes. In that same millisecond, I also cursed the above-mentioned celebrities who had lied to me through their songs and their movies.
Getting back to the folks from Illinois, the father's milky white legs were turning blue, and his balding pate no longer had its rosy glow......it had turned gray. They were trying bravely to have a "Beach Party" picnic, without the surfboards, the tan boys and girls, the exciting surfing music, and most importantly, without their goosedown jackets and gloves. These poor people had driven 2,000 to live in a myth. They were shivering, shuddering, and shaking. They finished their food and left so quickly that we didn't see them leave..........we only saw that they were gone.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
La Jolla from the balcony next door........
This little guy had the best manners of any seagull I've ever seen!!! (more pics of him to come)
The letter from your mother's lawyer says that the idea to change your name...........is yours, and that you've wanted to do that since the divorce. I do not believe that. I trust you, I trust your judgement, and I trust the strength of the relationship we had (and I'm optimistic that we still have a relationship despite the problems your mother and I have had).
Taken yesterday while on a walk...........
I wanted you to see what it's like in La Jolla in early January. Don't be fooled by the notion that we Midwesterners have about the "Warm California sun" (and water). The water you see in this picture is about 56 degrees.............it's like Lake MIchigan except that it's salty, has waves, and has sharks. Laura thinks it's funny that I REALLY expected the water to be warm!
have to go now and drop of the Christmas tree for recycling.
I love you
Saturday, January 03, 2004
Because I don't ever hear from you, I never know what you're thinking about. I don't know what your mother has been doing to you mentally, psychologically, emotionally...........(are all of those the same thing?). I know that she hates me, and that she used to resent you, and was scornful of you unless you won "First Place" at something. She has made it impossible for us to communicate, but as you can tell from this blog, I've never stopped trying to tell you that I love you.
I'll write a little more later. I'm going to the ocean to watch the big waves....there's another storm coming in from the Pacific.
I Love you
Friday, January 02, 2004
Don't know who you're talking to. I know that I love you
This was on the little Christmas tree you gave me about 3 years ago.
You caught hell from your mother for caring about me then................you gave me the tree, and a little white Kodak "beanie baby". It was all you could afford, and those things, and the tag, are still items I treasure. I treasure the love that you had for me then. Have you remembered who read stories and books to you each night, and who saved your grade school artwork?? I still have quite a bit of it, but when she "cleaned me out of the house", she threw a lot of your things away.
I'm still trying to survive.....I don't need to impress anyone, and the only dream I have is to be happily reunited with you. I just want to be your father.
That's all for now.....I'm going to take a long walk on the beach. I want this to be about my love for you, and not anything negative.
I love you Amy!
Thursday, January 01, 2004
Happy New Year Sweet daughter!
(There should NEVER be a "U" or a "K" in Amy Elizabeth Ward)