Self Googling

After being cautioned against Googling myself, I couldn't resist. These are some of the "faces of David Ritchie" that I found -

entrepreneur of the year
the diving instructor
the Australian Ambassador
the poet
the radio host
the musician
And my personal favorite...the physicist

Training

Not much time for posting this week. I am in training to become a certified trainer for Hilton Hotels. "Train the trainer" classes are always interesting. I am learning all kinds of valuable information on how to provide better service...and I will get a niffty little certificate to hang on my wall.

Pictures

Grandpa Crosby's Poem

On June 6, 1945, my maternal grandfather, James Crosby, was in the South Pacific while my grandmother, Virginia, was celebrating the first birthday of their first daughter, Carol. Sad that he would miss her birthday, he sent the following poem which re-surfaced this week and is now circulating throughout the family. Enjoy!

June 6, 1945

Happy Birthday little girl
With that saucy, golden curl
Perched atop your pretty head
As mama tucks you into bed.

You're just one year old today
And your daddy's far away
Far away on distant shores
Dreaming, as the ocean roars.

Dreaming of a year ago
And a cry so soft and low
Heaven sent a bundle blest
Down to brighten up our nest.

You are mamas pride and joy
Sweet and shy and oh so coy
Daddy loves you so much too
As you chuckle, grin, and coo.

On this very special day
When I must be so far away
If I could send a gift - a toy
It would fill my heart with joy.

But over here they have no toys
For little girls and little boys
They hide in caves and are not gay
Because of war they cannot play.

And so I send the only thing
That fastest aeroplane can bring
All my love and kisses too
And happiness your whole life through.

The poem is signed: All my love and kisses, Daddy

Grande Decaf Skinny Mocha No Whip

Is Starbucks the pinnacle of customer service, allowing us to get exactly what we want in a Cup of Joe, or is it a secret plot designed to cash in on our hidden narcissism? Perhaps the answer is a combination of both. Most of us lumber through the day taking orders from a variety of bosses, customers, and family members. Suddenly, a Grande Decaf Skinny Mocha No Whip symbolizes a way of taking control. Where does the barista fit into all this? Does she have her favorite cup too? How does she, before making our countless special orders seem so personal, start her day?
I bet she drinks Tea.

*for the record: Court drinks the Grande Decaf Skinny Mocha No Whip - my order is much more manly :-)

little family

This is the most recent photo of all four of us. Wow, "four" still sounds weird.

Nervous Daddy

This week Luke has been visiting Pre-Schools in an effort to determine where he will begin his educational journey this Fall. On Monday he had his first of these visits without us present, which was probably harder on Court and I. As we were walking into the school, I looked down at my own shoes and saw this! Thank God he has 8 more months until he will be going on a regular basis - I'm not ready.

Five Questions

I found these five questions on my Uncle Rob's Blog a few weeks ago and it made an impression, so here are my answers. Please take the time to answer them on your own - it's a great way to reconnect with your life.

1. What did you want to be when you grew up?
I dreamed (I think from the time I could dream) of piloting a Fighter Jet in the Air Force. I visited the Dayton Air Force Museum, played with toy jets, wore a bomber jacket, idealized my Uncle Jim Kowalski (who is now a General), and memorized how to identify almost all jets visible from the ground by markings, shape, and tail fin(s).
2. Did you follow through? If not, what happened?
Two things happened. The first was a poem. My junior high school English teacher asked us to write an original poem. After much protest, I finally sat down and wrote about a dog-fight between an American F-15 Eagle and a Russian Mig-28. The process sparked a passion for writing that I still cannot quite understand, even after a BFA in Creative Writing with an emphasis in Poetry. The second was a gradual realization that although the high speed pilot part was appealing the military lifestyle was not. Anyone who knows me as an adult understands why I became a poet (uh - restaurant manager) and not a pilot.
3. Is your life turning out the way you thought it would when you were a kid? If not, is it better or worse?
My adult life has been wonderful so far. I have a beautiful wife who understands me and teaches me to be unique and stand up for what I believe in, a son who runs through the house and leaps from the stairs into my arms when he hears me open the door, and a daughter who makes me forget my name every time she smiles.
4. Paradoxes aside, if you could time-travel back to when you were 10 years old, what would you tell your 10 year-old self?
I would say: Relax...don't be too serious...thank your brother Michael in advance for everything he's about to do for you in the next few years...he will become the greatest friend of your life.
5. Do you think the child you were would like the adult you've become?
Absolutely.

Gathering of the Ritchies

Grandma gave us one last gift - and in typical Ritchie fashion - it lasted late into the night and resulted in bartenders staying open late. I believe we all gave her a gift as well - we traveled from far and wide to be together and celebrate with family the life of a matriarch who valued and taught family above all else. Personally, the trip to Cincinnati revitalized in me a deep sensation of the importance of family and family ties. I think that is what she would have wanted.

January 4, 2006

In her sleep, my grandma Ritchie passed away.

There are no words today.

First Notes

With the first strike of the first key, she is a natural!