SilverPen Silence.

Magical Kingdom Musings.

Lately, I have been doing a lot of thinking (a dangerous pastime, I know). You hear a lot, mostly from cynics, about the greed and money-centric focus of Disney World. And, to be fair; I get it. Every time you exit a ride into a store of themed merchandise, you can see evidence to support their claim.

But, see, here is the thing. Disney is more than just a company trying to sell you. Every company on the planet has to make money. That's a given. They are supporting everyone who works there or for them. They are also in a never ending process of improving etc. As such, they kind of have to make money.

Now, that being said leads me to my point. We all grew up with Disney as a part of our lives. The single core element that has always defined them has been their ability to tap into the fabric and intrensic nature of fantasy. From the fairy tales and fables of folklore to the more modern medium of movies, every child and even adults have always reveled in an opportunity to escape into fantastic worlds. All Disney has done is reintroduce us to our old friend in a new way.

Every aspect of Disney world does a great deal to emphasize this. It is a great credit to the scale and scope of imagination they pour into everything. The focus is inexplicably entrenched in immersion. From things imbedded into the ground beneath your feet to the texture and architecture of the buildings around you. It doesn't take a child's eye to see the wonder.

And, when you introduce a child with special needs into such a setting, all that magic comes alive. We, as adults, have a tendency to get tied up and numb to the magic all around us. But, for a child, especially one with special needs, imagination is such a huge part of their life. Those stories and characters are dear friends. Those places are treasure troves of escape from their daily reality. The second you inject them into the heart of that, it's like lifting the curtains of lavish velvet at a majestic theater stage.

I have always taken solace in my own imagination. I have crafted countless tales, landscapes, worlds and the like. But, even to me, I was struck and taken aback by the sights and sounds - the raw ability to reach out and touch something tangible. The second you see Kermit appear from a building to speak about the revolution or witness Mickey, the classic and iconic image of a gentleman waiving at you gives you pause. And then when he helps your daughter up from her chair... Or when Goofy hugs you and your Wife... Or, seeing Belle curtsey with your daughter and dance for a moment in response to her sudden simple request in the middle of a show... It's a lot to take in and appreciate.

The point is, Disney works so hard to capture that innocent magic of imagination in us all. To witness it is something spectacular. You get what you pay for. But it isn't all about the money. I have experienced it first hand. And it still brings me to tears and has me in awe. If you ever get the chance; go. I never expected to. And it is a memory that I wish I could freeze in time and experience forever.

Giggles & Good Times.

Giggles & Good Times.

Yesterday afternoon I did something that I haven’t attempted in so many years that I scarcely can hazard a guess at how long it truly has been. I must confess that I ended up at the short end of the struggling against sleep stick on the ride there, home and eventually found myself somehow still in my chair instead of my bed. It was a wonderful experience. Honestly, I don’t even regret a moment of it.

My Wife and I took all four of our kids, along with my father-in-law and did our usual 1^st of the month dinner at a local restaurant. However, we made one small change to our typical routine. We invited two old friends of mine and their daughter to join us.

And they did!

Now, for most people this in and of itself is probably a regular night out – completely without the merit of being worth mentioning. For us on the other hand it was a big deal. With the exception of my own immediate family we just simply do not do this sort of thing often for a variety of reasons. To put it bluntly; when you factor in my own troubles, our children, the size of our family, a limited financial flexibility and an innate avoidance for some of the more ‘normal’ activities people our age tend to gather for we just don’t get that many opportunities to go out.

That said the experience was altogether pleasant. There was a wealth of giggles all around and enough understanding to exclude any problems. It wasn’t anything special; mostly we just ate and shared some friendly conversation.

I hadn’t seen my friends since high school, aside from an occasional run in here and there. These were people I grew up that knew me well and I can say we instantly feel back into familiar patterns. Hence the abundance of audible amusement we all shared. I see precious few people who knew me from my childhood and even less who actually can tell you my name. For me, it was like winning the lottery.

The whole family had a blast. Even my Wife and children talked the whole way home and into the night about how much fun they had. In fact, my youngest daughter has already claimed that she has a brand new friend and was trying to set up more opportunities to get together with them.

I can only hope that we were not the only ones who had a good time but my gut tells me that I’m not far off by saying that we all probably did. Perhaps in the future more such events might be in store, who knows. Yet, should the chance not present itself for a repeat any time soon I know that I will enjoy the memory of so much laughter for a very long time.

The Quiet Poet.

In honor of Father's Day; A Gift for my Father:

The Quiet Poet

Some men are born to sing,

Some are gifted at the dance.

Others are skilled instead at the art of the heart.

Yet of them all there exists a softer breed,

Those poets of the words unspoken.

For in them lies the life lived for love.

For no greater value or worth compels them.

Not for wealth of riches, fame or glory.

They burn for tender moments cherished deeply and lasting forever.

They carry a compass of compassion.

Their North Star is those held dearest.

I know these words as truth,

For I myself was born of a Quiet Poet.

And found in me the same soul that it is an honor to share.

By: Matthew C. Gill

Dedicated to my beloved Father: I have always held you in the highest esteem. Although you sometimes failed to conceal your flaws, you have never failed to guide my way. I shall forever be proud to bear your name and am eternally in your debt for the life you have given me. Your tireless labors were never in vain, for they were bought with a love plain to see that never needed the words to be there. Poetry is emotion given form and you have always lived it. Thank you for always being our Quiet Poet. 

The Lunar Lady.

The Lunar Lady.

It has been often said throughout the ages that a woman shares much in common with the moon. It is both a poetic metaphor as much as it is a fundamental truth, in my opinion. They both can shine brightly even in the darkest of settings – seemingly reflecting illumination we might not otherwise know was there. Likewise they are also capable of mysterious beauty; a force powerful enough to drive us towards exploration, inspiring passion, poetry and so much more.

The moon has always held a special place in my heart for me. There is a subtle magic that resonates through it as it undoubtedly has been doing so since first any eyes were ever laid on it. However, even as wondrous as it is to behold the moon isn’t always around. It waxes and wanes, disappearing in cycles only to return in time.

That final aspect is one that now my youngest daughter has in common with said celestial body. At any given time in a day she may be as pleasant and beautiful as a bright full moon in the fall. And yet, just as the moon changes it’s phase so will she – removing her radiant personality from us.

My daughter is only five years old.

She was recently diagnosed with affective bipolar disorder.

I’m still struggling to come to terms with it, I think we all are. But as we look back, the pieces were all there, fitting together little by little. The only catch was that there was no way to see the bigger picture of what was happening back then. It took time for everything to become clear.

At first there were little outbursts; temperamental fits, defiance and the like that a parent expects to see in a young child. Those incidents gradually grew to become the kinds of things a concerned teacher or frustrated bus driver calls you about. Everything reached a climax recently that culminated in a series of calls home from the principal, required isolation and even restraint.

Terror now grips my chest at the thought that every time she steps out our door that I have no way of knowing what the world will hold for her that day. Will someone take advantage of her? Will it be a good day? Will she hurt someone or herself? As a father I fear even more for her now knowing not only can I not always protect her but that she may not always be able to protect herself.

In time I know that things will change. That is, after all the nature of things; to be ever changing. We have already started her on some medications to help her and therapy as well. I will always be her father. I’ll always love her and be there to support her no matter what. But, to me, she will forever be my little lunar lady. Every time she fades from view a piece of me will fade with her, eager for her return.

The road ahead will be rocky and not without challenges to be faced, of that I am certain. However, I am also certain that with love and support we’ll make it. Perhaps with such early treatment it’ll help her in the long run. Either way she will never have to face it alone.

The Wealth of Wisdom Not Found in Words.

Originally I hadn't intended to share this in this way. However, after it was read at the funeral for my Grandfather it has occurred to me that I owed it to him to share it with those who weren't able to attend. As such, I offer it here in this format for anyone so interested:

The Wealth of Wisdom Not Found in Words.

If you will kindly bear with me, I’ve never been very skilled at speaking – I’m used to being the one writing the words instead of the one speaking them.

Fred Howard is my Grandfather. Over the course of his life he has worn many different hats; he has been a carpenter, a soldier, a father, a husband and a friend. But at the very core of his being he is best described – in my mind – as a noble man. To those who knew him, I think you can agree with me that he would never ask for such praise or speak as highly of himself. My Grandfather was a man of humility, of honor and honesty.

There is a phrase he once told me as a child that I have never forgotten. In so many ways, you could say it was the closest thing to his personal motto and trademark as anything ever could be. What he said was this; “If a job is worth doing, then it is worth doing right the first time.” It was more than just how he approached every task, be it crafting a cabinet to building a box or even designing a dresser. It is how he lived his life. It is evident in how he lived every day. So I can say with absolute certainty that he can hold his head high, because as I look back I have no doubt that he did the job right as we all should endeavor to.

Growing up I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. I relished any chance to see something he was working on, to ride with him on any errand and to learn anything he could tell me about. For years I longed for the day when I would be big enough to learn everything he knew about working with wood and how to build things.

Sadly, health and circumstances prevented anything of the sort from ever being possible. However, thanks to my Grandfather’s influence there were other more valuable lessons that he imparted to me. He did so without ever having to truly lecture or make speeches. He did so by being an example of discipline, dedication and decency. Thanks to my Grandfather I saw a consistent image of what a man should always strive to be. He was humble, honest and honorable; all the things that make good men great.

I know that in his passing many will lament his absence; they will remember him fondly and talk warmly of him. But what we should all take the time to realize is that he will never truly be gone. He lives on in each of us, whether we realize it or not. Every time my little brother lifts a hammer to nail two boards together; it is with my Grandfather’s example behind him. When my Mother cares for someone who needs a hand she shows the same compassion and preservation of dignity that her Father has shown her. Anytime I encourage my own children to uphold their word and responsibilities I am passing on the same wisdom my Grandfather provided me.

My Grandfather wasn’t the most educated of men; he wasn’t rich or famous in most uses of the word. What he was, was a decent, honest and hard working man. He took care of his church, and led the singing there – not because he wanted to stand in the limelight or feel special – but because it was a job that needed doing and he could. To my knowledge, he never has been awarded any honors or acclaim. Even if he had been I doubt he would have ever made a fuss about the matter or wanted anyone else to. But if any man ever deserved to have their life honored and remembered it is my Grandfather. His legacy is a living one; of being an example others should strive to emulate.

In parting I would like to end with the words I wrote as a dedication from a story that was in part inspired by my memories of my Grandfather;

Dedicated to my beloved Grandfather; a more honest, honorable and simply strong character of a man I have never known. May we all be blessed to have such a handy hammer in our lives to help build us into a better man or woman.