April 12th, 2004
|12:41 am - towheaded zen kid|
Kid pictures this time. There's a lot of them. If you don't go beyond the cut, at least check this out:
They came to my nursery school one December and asked us if we knew what holidays were coming up. I replied with a few Zen comments. (My birthday is roughly a month after Christmas; whether I melded them together or the newspaper person took liberty with the context, I don't know.)
(Click any picture for a larger version.)
The following photoessay is entitled TOWHEADED SPATCH: A LOOK BACK IN SHORTPANTS
Most of these pictures were taken by my dad, a professional photographer as well as minister (and also EMT/firefighter. He wears a lot of hats.)
While I was never called Beveragebaby, I certainly could tell how my fondness for drinks started early on, even if I was prone to complaint now and then ("What do you mean, there's no half-and-half?!")
I was not a restless soul, but when the mood struck or the sermon ran too long, I'd often just up and find a change of scenery.
Ah, the advantages of being a Preacher's Kid. You walked tall like you owned the place.
The best fun was often the fun that resulted in the most entropy.
I was kind to animals. Our cat Ms. (it was the 70s, c'mon) was an early friend.
As was Boo-Boo, the blind cat.
Feeding ducks was also fun, though it took a while for me to realize ducks didn't like being hit with the bread first.
My loyalties were established at an early age.
I was not internationally known, but I was known to rock the microphone.
I ran around a lot.
And I climbed rocks a lot. Sometimes Dad would climb with me, too.
I was a born adventurer and natural leader...
...and I fed my followers well.
Running and climbing were all well and good, but I think I preferred this better.
Sometimes I suffered indignities for my art...
...but I managed to survive and look contemplative for another day.
All in all, though, I think I did just fine.
I didn't know that you were the son of a preacher man! There have been songs written about you, you sly dog.
I think Kai could stand to learn the lesson of the ducks, too.
And, I have to ask... Was your balance REALLY so bad that they had to provide extra lift with the balloons? It could have been an inner ear problem, you know.
The balloons were actually used to make me easier to carry.
See, you look good with short hair.
I wouldn't be going back to a bowlcut if that happened, dear...
Aww! Little Spatchy! You were ADORABLE! (Well, you still are.) ;)
The ...and I fed my followers well picture reminds me of the ending scene of Goonies where they're all together & waving to One Eyed Willy's pirate ship at sea.
Thanks for sharing!
|Date:||April 11th, 2004 10:58 pm (UTC)|| |
Those are *far* too cute.
Bwa! So cute!
(And, weirdly enough, you and Chuk coulda been brothers... You've got the same haircut at that age and everything.)
|Date:||April 12th, 2004 12:58 am (UTC)|| |
PKs of the world, UNITE! :)
Awwwww! Robbie, you were an adorable child. :)
|Date:||April 12th, 2004 07:42 am (UTC)|| |
Almost all my kid pics are of the posed/fake smile variety. These are greats shots. Lil'Rob in his natural habitat. With captions!
I don't worry about Santa - he just happens.
You're beautiful, Rob. :-)
|Date:||April 12th, 2004 10:52 am (UTC)|| |
Great Smuttynose Walkaround?
I spent parts of my summer growing up out on the Isles of Shoals, 10 miles off the coast of New Hampshire (yes, there's a coast.) Star Island was where we stayed primarily, though across the little harbor created by the isles was Smuttynose, a now-uninhabited island. There's also Appledore, which houses a marine biology facility.
Every year we'd take rowboats across the harbor and walk around Smuttynose, exploring the rocks and ending up on the famous "Nose", a large granite boulder wedged in a granite cleft. Legend has it the sole survivor of the Smuttynose Murders
of 1873 hid in the cleft overnight while the murderer stalked around the island, looking for her. We usually just had crackers and juice and looked across the harbor at Star Island.
Yes, the Smuttynose brewing company is named after the island, as well as its "Shoals Pale Ale".
Awwwwwwwwwwwww, you were so cute. Wait, I'm getting deja vu here...
Plaid pants! Yikes!
Cute bowl cut, though. :)
|Date:||April 13th, 2004 06:17 am (UTC)|| |
Another preacher's kid!
My parents used to get compliments about how well-behaved I was in church, because whenever my dad started his sermon I'd just settle down and fall asleep.
Somehow, after I became a teen this behavior seemed charming.
I used to sleep, too, but then I found the hidden stash of Yankee magazines underneath one of the pew cushions. Turns out one of the elderly caretakers, who may not have even been around at that point, had snuck them in ages ago.