Time Experience Thoughts

Grandma Becky bought several costumes for Ryan and Sean to play in, a fireman, a policeman, a knight, etc. Ryan ended up staying dressed as the fireman most all the first day or so that they were here in Virginia. (In this pic, he was actually watching TV . . . in his fireman outfit.) Ryan said several times over the past week or so that when he grows up his "job" will be Superman. Evidently, he wants to go to Superman school. This is kinda neat, seeing as how when I was but a young boy I read my fair share of Superman comic books (though I was not a big fan of reading lots of other comics). And, of course, I watched a fair amount of the TV Superman. I dreamed of Superman many, many times. Scores of times I dreamed -- at night -- of flying. Maybe a hundred times altogether. Also, as a kid, I dreamed -- literal daydreams -- of being a hero; of being in tough situations; of being -- through no fault of my own -- on the edge of annihilation, but miraculously coming out on top at...

On the fly, we came up with this motorcycle game. Ryan and Sean act as my motorcycle -- their arms are the handlebars; their wrist is the throttle, etc. (BTW, both are solid as a rock; they are in shape. If you look close you can see the muscles work in Sean's back, shoulders, and arms, etc. And Ryan is that much more solid. You can tell they are physically active. A real good thing.) First, we "pop a wheelie." The first time Sean (2) was the motorcycle, I yelled out that we were turning to the left. After turning left, without missing a beat, Sean then said, "Turn right!" After we turn left, then right, we slam on the brakes to just barely avoid "crashing." (Boys like to crash and smash -- or come close to it.) They (and I) could do this all night. But, who will run out of gas first? So much love. NOTE: Ryan, Sean, and our friend Giovanni Freret (Maggie's really cute son) can be heard on this clip. Sean is the one calling out, Right, Left, and Sto...

“Forty years since our first kiss it’s been . . .” I. First (Summer and Fall of 1967, then many months later…) My arm around your shoulder . . . fresh and cool and new. Quick and sweet - though, it took an eternity to get to you. II. Best (Spring of 1970, then a few weeks later…) My arm around your shoulder - again . . . whole and serene and calm. Long and pure - this dreamlike kiss lingers on. Time and our hearts stand still. Walking away; down the street, Floating. Just off the ground, I walk along. Can’t hear. Can barely breathe; don’t care. Hearts swelled; hearts warm. Numb with feeling; lips still tingling. Touch my finger to my lips; checking this is real (and remembering). It is; it is no dream. Can never forget; it's never far from my sweetest thoughts. Even today. Even now. III. Sweetest (Senior Year, 1971-1972) The day, the night, the moment I purpose to tell you With all my heart I love you, With my whole trembling soul, My voice breaks My voice ...

We Meet, 1967 Looking across the shrinking room; coming closer towards that face. Surely this is a part of me , forgotten about; but a part that is so natural and pleasant. Easily we talk and continue to look -- without looking away. Happy Together, 1967-1968 Growing so accustomed to that face; Not just the eyes, but the whole face -- the whole person behind that face. Everyday imagination leaps immediately to that image -- to that face. Nightly dreaming of that face eases me into slumber. Holding Hands, 1967 Now I know I have lost something. What? It was here; I just had it. Where did it go? I want it back. Ah. That's it. The touch that further connects. A Chance Meeting, 1970 After so long, I am amazed At how lovely, glowing, and even eternal is that face. Can't stop stealing peeks at that face. Can't stop gazing at that face. I can't stop dreaming of that face. We Meet Again, 1971 Another time. Almost can't look at that face. Try not to be too obvious. I wa...

Closely, his heart next to your heart , He holds you; yes, now when you are young, But even later as you grow older. He knows you; who you are, Who you were before this earth-time, and who you are becoming. Face to face you talk and talk over many things, over everything – As friends, as best friends. Even though trials and troubles are all about, You see through it all, eye to eye , and appreciate The beauties of this wide wondrous world. Side by side you work together in your garage, and in the yard; In your neighborhood, and in the Kingdom. Even more than the beauties of this earth, You comprehend together, pure mind with pure mind , the simplicities and complexities of the Eternities – The great principles that reveal truth, And what is of real worth. Soul to soul -- together with your dear Mother and loved ones – You reach to the heights and glories Of the highest and best that is deep within. Your father and you . . . you are one. Scott L. Vanatter, 4 July 2003 (Poem for Ryan ...

Funny video of a dad singing about putting his kids to bed (to the tune of Pachelbel's Canon in D major).

Together alone, as I watched him there asleep, I gazed deep into that angel face. Every angle, every curve, every shape… Every peek into his soul … did I trace. That first day that held him; I held him close for a while. And back and forth his eyes followed mine it seemed. I wondered. My mind wandered. It drifted upward , And then I dreamed. What will he become? Who will he be? I wonder what he sees. And then I remembered how long he’d been – Eternities, upon eternities . His father that raises and cares for and loves him -- And helps him now to grow, Has already seen and accomplished, spiritually, More than most will ever know. The glory they trail together , having come from such lofty heights -- And having lived with those Great Souls -- Will spread throughout their every shared path, And bless all those with whom they sow. What this choice son will see, and what he will become, Will largely mirror the reflection he beholds In the lens of his father’s life and eyes ; Even in ...