I want to write about my trip north, I want to share the scribbled notes I hastely wrote in a notepad I bought for 99cents in Penn Station. I planned to share all my witty ramblings. But I think- what I want to start with is the reason I began my journey. Whenever I'm traveling, I usually take pictures of rest-stops, or Sleepytime Pooh (being his normal adorable self) but I don't often say where I am going, or why. This past weekend I went back to my home state, to celebrate someone who means more to me than I can ever express. So even though I had other plans, I believe I am writing about him.
I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself, being extant, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself, being extant, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
–William Shakespeare
My Aunt Claire and Uncle Don are really no blood relation to me. I think in many ways this fact aides in why I love them so much. As I've gotten older, our relationship much to my delight has turned into a wonderfully warm, loving and slightly unhinged friendship. (Unhinged coming from my Uncle's side). I can think of twice where my Aunt has said "You know, you don't really have to call us Aunt and Uncle anymore) but, I assured her "that's what you are". In some respects thats true. But as I think of it, even those titles don't begin to describe my love for these people. They have always, always been supportive of my dreams and aspirations. Always interested in my point of view. Even when standing up I didn't quite reach the height of the kitchen counters, I was never treated as just a child. I had thoughts, and something to contribute, and that was always welcomed. Since it is Don-cember, I'd like to tell you a bit about my Uncle. Though, it is my honest and humble opinion that he would not be half the man he is, without my Aunt. The Eleanor to his Franklin.
Through the eyes of a child, Don Kissel is one of God's magical creatures. In fact, I'm fairly certain as a kid I might have told this to a friend or two. (I clearly get my story telling from him). Bluegrass festivals were the best thing in the whole wild world mainly because of these people. The motor home would park, the front step would be pulled out, (Not allowed to get out without it) and my brother and I would be running out "Uncle Don! Tell us a story!!!" And he'd grab his papers, come into the rig, and tell us a story. "DID I EVER TELL YOU *whisper* the story... of.. King Turn's castle?" Probably. But tell it again. Its my favorite.
Ukrainian heritage, and small of stature, this boy from the Bronx made a mark on this world with his intelligence, charm, and sheer determination. I wish I had a dollar for every person who has said "You know Don Kissel? I know Don Kissel!" And I bet every single one of them feels like his best friend in the world. Because that is his magical gift.
This man who is larger than life, will celebrate his eightieth turn around the sun this month. I took a 4.5 hour bus ride and two trains to be there to celebrate it with him. That's nothing though. I know a person who was trying to figure out how to fly from the other side of the world... he's that kind of guy.
Nobody is ever perfect of course, and I certainly don't want to make his head any bigger than it already is. So you should know- A man is as good as the staff that supports him. As we are blessed to have him, he is also blessed to have... Chris Parker. Without whom, he would be fabulously sitting in his favorite chair, red shoes on, and walking stick at the ready, in the dark, without a fire, a broken telephone, and a radio that will not stop running. But that is another story.
Ukrainian heritage, and small of stature, this boy from the Bronx made a mark on this world with his intelligence, charm, and sheer determination. I wish I had a dollar for every person who has said "You know Don Kissel? I know Don Kissel!" And I bet every single one of them feels like his best friend in the world. Because that is his magical gift.
This man who is larger than life, will celebrate his eightieth turn around the sun this month. I took a 4.5 hour bus ride and two trains to be there to celebrate it with him. That's nothing though. I know a person who was trying to figure out how to fly from the other side of the world... he's that kind of guy.
Nobody is ever perfect of course, and I certainly don't want to make his head any bigger than it already is. So you should know- A man is as good as the staff that supports him. As we are blessed to have him, he is also blessed to have... Chris Parker. Without whom, he would be fabulously sitting in his favorite chair, red shoes on, and walking stick at the ready, in the dark, without a fire, a broken telephone, and a radio that will not stop running. But that is another story.
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