Evan has been reading Captain Underpants and in it, the main characters create a comic book (I guess). So, today Evan decided he wanted to make one too! He kills me.
Click on the pictures to see the cover more clearly.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I just want to cry
I went to the basement this morning to start the mound of laundry that needs to be done before going to PA on Tuesday and guess what? The washer is broken. I usually run some water through it and spin it out (yucky Columbus water) before actually starting the cycle and when I did this, I heard a strange noise and then realized the washer was draining out the water but not spinning. I am ready to just climb back into bed. We can't seem to catch a break. I know we're not alone. I need a bailout, not these big companies whose executives are being paid millions of dollars a year!!
It's now 2:00 p.m. I have to give credit where credit is due. Mike fixed the washer! He had tipped it on its side and tried to see what the issue was, like if a belt broke or something. He found a piece that looked like it broke off-called a parts store that carries parts for Kenmore appliances AND has employees that know what they are talking about and they told him exactly what happened and that they had the $18 part that needed to be replaced. He came home, fixed it and now I'm doing laundry!!
It's now 2:00 p.m. I have to give credit where credit is due. Mike fixed the washer! He had tipped it on its side and tried to see what the issue was, like if a belt broke or something. He found a piece that looked like it broke off-called a parts store that carries parts for Kenmore appliances AND has employees that know what they are talking about and they told him exactly what happened and that they had the $18 part that needed to be replaced. He came home, fixed it and now I'm doing laundry!!
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Article in Newsweek
MY TURN
Batting for the Cure
Diagnosed with a deadly but uncommon illness, I call upon the game of my youth to take action.
By Michael Goldsmith NEWSWEEK
Published Nov 1, 2008
From the magazine issue dated Nov 10, 2008
I received my death sentence in September 2006 when doctors told me I had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a progressively paralyzing neuromuscular disorder. There is no cure. Commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease after the Yankee Hall of Famer who died of it, ALS is so uncommon that medical researchers consider it an "orphan" illness—so few people have it that pharmaceutical companies lack financial incentive to invest in finding a cure. The public also pays scant attention to ALS. (May 2008 was ALS Awareness Month. Who knew?) Public attention and contributions understandably go to more widespread killers like cancer, heart disease and diabetes.
All this means that ALS patients must seize the initiative for funding research. Of course, the vast majority of ALS patients are too sick and incapacitated to take such steps. I am one of the lucky ones. My neuromuscular decline has been steady, but slow enough to let me lead a reasonably normal life. After holding endless pity parties for myself, I decided—not entirely successfully—to transform myself from victim to ALS funding advocate.
Lacking any fundraising experience (I've rarely even asked for a pay raise), I took some time off and returned to my childhood roots: the baseball field. While I still had the strength to hold a bat, I attended a Baltimore Orioles fantasy baseball camp. Some might call it Old Man's Little League, but I reveled in what would likely be my last chance to play the game of my youth. And as a lifetime Orioles fan, this particular camp held special appeal to me. I expected to have a good time. I did not expect to find the potential solution to my ALS fundraising problem. But I did.
If Little League makes men out of boys, Orioles camp makes boys out of men. The games were highly competitive, but they were also marked by youthful enthusiasm, pure joy and moments of compassion. When my teammates saw me struggling to swing a standard bat, they bought me a lighter one that could still generate power (this helped, but often I just missed the pitch faster).We hung out with former Orioles, most of who were blue-collar guys thrilled to have made it to the majors. They didn't just give us cursory face time; they coached us intensively and did their best to improve our game. Everyone played, talked and laughed baseball. Orioles manager Dave Trembley told us how he tried to get thrown out of a game without using cuss words; it wasn't easy, and he succeeded only after calling the umpire a "den mother." There was much more. We also shared life stories, and I learned that I was not the only one battling a terminal disease.
At some point, we talked about what Major League Baseball could do to fight ALS, and I realized that next July 4 will mark the 70th anniversary of Lou Gehrig's famous farewell speech at Yankee Stadium. Since his retirement, more than 600,000 Americans have shared Gehrig's fate, as medical science has made virtually no progress toward finding a cure. Through the years some players and a few teams have occasionally helped raise funds, but Major League Baseball has never taken comprehensive action against ALS. Defeating ALS will require the same type of determination, dedication and drive that Gehrig and Cal Ripken demonstrated when they set superhuman records for consecutive games played. With this in mind, why not make July 4, 2009, ALS-Lou Gehrig Day? Dedicate this grim anniversary to funding research for a cure; every major- and minor-league stadium might project the video of Gehrig's farewell, and teams, players and fans could contribute to this cause. An event of this magnitude has the potential to raise millions, dwarfing the relatively scant sums that ALS walks, rides and similar small-scale efforts have produced.
To this day, Lou Gehrig is still named in some polls as the greatest player in baseball history; by all accounts, he also had a reputation for uncommon decency. His legacy for greatness will live forever, but it's time to end the heartbreaking legacy of the disease that bears his name. Major League Baseball can help make that happen.
Of course, this is just a distant dream of a single ALS patient who played baseball every day of every summer growing up. I now look to the game of my youth to help give me and others like me a chance for life.
Goldsmith lives in Heber City, Utah.
© 2008
Batting for the Cure
Diagnosed with a deadly but uncommon illness, I call upon the game of my youth to take action.
By Michael Goldsmith NEWSWEEK
Published Nov 1, 2008
From the magazine issue dated Nov 10, 2008
I received my death sentence in September 2006 when doctors told me I had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a progressively paralyzing neuromuscular disorder. There is no cure. Commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease after the Yankee Hall of Famer who died of it, ALS is so uncommon that medical researchers consider it an "orphan" illness—so few people have it that pharmaceutical companies lack financial incentive to invest in finding a cure. The public also pays scant attention to ALS. (May 2008 was ALS Awareness Month. Who knew?) Public attention and contributions understandably go to more widespread killers like cancer, heart disease and diabetes.
All this means that ALS patients must seize the initiative for funding research. Of course, the vast majority of ALS patients are too sick and incapacitated to take such steps. I am one of the lucky ones. My neuromuscular decline has been steady, but slow enough to let me lead a reasonably normal life. After holding endless pity parties for myself, I decided—not entirely successfully—to transform myself from victim to ALS funding advocate.
Lacking any fundraising experience (I've rarely even asked for a pay raise), I took some time off and returned to my childhood roots: the baseball field. While I still had the strength to hold a bat, I attended a Baltimore Orioles fantasy baseball camp. Some might call it Old Man's Little League, but I reveled in what would likely be my last chance to play the game of my youth. And as a lifetime Orioles fan, this particular camp held special appeal to me. I expected to have a good time. I did not expect to find the potential solution to my ALS fundraising problem. But I did.
If Little League makes men out of boys, Orioles camp makes boys out of men. The games were highly competitive, but they were also marked by youthful enthusiasm, pure joy and moments of compassion. When my teammates saw me struggling to swing a standard bat, they bought me a lighter one that could still generate power (this helped, but often I just missed the pitch faster).We hung out with former Orioles, most of who were blue-collar guys thrilled to have made it to the majors. They didn't just give us cursory face time; they coached us intensively and did their best to improve our game. Everyone played, talked and laughed baseball. Orioles manager Dave Trembley told us how he tried to get thrown out of a game without using cuss words; it wasn't easy, and he succeeded only after calling the umpire a "den mother." There was much more. We also shared life stories, and I learned that I was not the only one battling a terminal disease.
At some point, we talked about what Major League Baseball could do to fight ALS, and I realized that next July 4 will mark the 70th anniversary of Lou Gehrig's famous farewell speech at Yankee Stadium. Since his retirement, more than 600,000 Americans have shared Gehrig's fate, as medical science has made virtually no progress toward finding a cure. Through the years some players and a few teams have occasionally helped raise funds, but Major League Baseball has never taken comprehensive action against ALS. Defeating ALS will require the same type of determination, dedication and drive that Gehrig and Cal Ripken demonstrated when they set superhuman records for consecutive games played. With this in mind, why not make July 4, 2009, ALS-Lou Gehrig Day? Dedicate this grim anniversary to funding research for a cure; every major- and minor-league stadium might project the video of Gehrig's farewell, and teams, players and fans could contribute to this cause. An event of this magnitude has the potential to raise millions, dwarfing the relatively scant sums that ALS walks, rides and similar small-scale efforts have produced.
To this day, Lou Gehrig is still named in some polls as the greatest player in baseball history; by all accounts, he also had a reputation for uncommon decency. His legacy for greatness will live forever, but it's time to end the heartbreaking legacy of the disease that bears his name. Major League Baseball can help make that happen.
Of course, this is just a distant dream of a single ALS patient who played baseball every day of every summer growing up. I now look to the game of my youth to help give me and others like me a chance for life.
Goldsmith lives in Heber City, Utah.
© 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Piano lessons
Evan's new piano teacher gave him homework for the week-she told him to watch this video on You Tube!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Baptism
Evan drew this in church right after the baptism
He's dressed just like my dad! 
Pastor Steve, Evan and Mike We had Evan baptized at the bedside in the NICU when he was 13 days old, the night before his esophageal and fistula repair. He was a fragile baby with a critical airway and I just had this overwhelming feeling that I HAD to have him baptized prior to this surgery. So, the chaplain on duty that night came to the NICU and performed the sacrament for us. I always felt it was an act of desperation, not celebration.
So, here we are almost 8 years later. Once we made the decision to start going to First United Methodist in London, I knew it was time to have Evan baptized again. Mike made the decision to join the church but he had never been baptized so we asked that the pastor baptize them both. I had asked Steve what the church thought about a re-baptism and he said this: "As I see it, this would not be a re-baptism. I view it as an "extension" of the event that began so long ago. You see, a congregation must be present to witness and participate in the vows both given and received at a baptism. And, though a congregation was present (those who were there at the bedside constituted a congregation for "where two or more are gathered..."), the "entire" community of faith was not. The congregation that held Evan in prayer, that loved him before seeing him, were not there to bear witness or to vow to help raise him in the faith. By our "extending" the actions of that baptismal moment into the here and now, the entire congregation can complete what was begun. All that is to say, we can simply celebrate his baptism like in other, as the body of Christ known as First UMC in London. And, we can celebrate Mike's baptism at the same time. What a rare treat to baptize father and son, together on All Saints Sunday, which seems a very appropriate day to baptize Evan, a little one for whom all the saints prayed, and now,with whom all the saints will have the opportunity to rejoice. " Well, that sealed the deal for me!
It was wonderful. Mike and another new member were baptized first and Steve saved Evan for last. He commented about the power of prayer and how that congregation prayed and prayed for this little boy and look at him now. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. He told me later than he almost got choked up as well. Of course I was a mess! This was one occasion that I really missed my dad and had wished he was there. I know he was with though, I have no doubt. My brother and his family (minus Sam) were there as was my Aunt Georgia and afterwards we gathered at Liz's along with our close friends Jim and Diane for pizza and ice cream! Evan told me later that Jesus was there with him while he was getting the water on his head. Amen to that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)