I chased President Barack Obama around Martha’s Vineyard and had a gun drawn on me by Secret Service agents while running through the woods trying to get a picture of Obama teeing off on the golf course. I was first on the scene at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy when Somali pirates seized a graduate of their school and the country anxiously waited as he was held captive until Navy SEALs could free him in dramatic fashion. And I polled grieving Cape residents the day that Sen. Ted Kennedy—the Liberal Lion—died of a brain tumor and officially ended the days of the Kennedy mystique.

But nothing brings all the reporters to the table faster than a natural disaster.

Yesterday, with Tropical Storm Irene bearing down on the region, I found myself in a strange place. My house. After all, storms and other such events always had me roving around looking for good photo opportunities and people to interview. When everyone else is ducking for cover, reporters are out looking for a scoop and keeping the public informed. And since I live right on the water, there’s never a shortage of stories during a hurricane scare.

Despite quitting the paper three months ago, I found myself unable to sit still yesterday. So I called up Karen who I knew would be manning the copy desk, and told her I’d phone in updates. She wasn’t surprised. It’s not like I got paid or anything, but once a reporter always a reporter I guess. Accompanied by a friend, we drove all around the Upper Cape and got some videos and pictures.

This is the Sandwich Boardwalk, an exceptionally beautiful spot.

I know this doesn’t look like much, but anyone from the area will know the water is NEVER this high. Usually there’s a good 10-15 feet between the bottom of the dock and the surface of the water. But yesterday, Irene churned up quite a bit of high seas and had the water just a few feet from turning the Boardwalk into a glorified dock.

And this was three hours AFTER high tide.

The picture to the right is a tree down across Woods Hole Road.

Woods Hole is a tiny fishing village in Falmouth, Mass. It is kind of a world unto itself, and this road is the main artery that goes from the village to downtown. This tree fell less than a minute before we drove up on the scene, and we watched as a bunch of good Samaritans immediately whipped out axes and hacksaws to clear the road.

It was really impressive how neighbors instantly realized the importance of clearing this road, because the only other way to get to Woods Hole is a road by the beach that was flooded. That means in case of an emergency, rescue vehicles might have been cut off from an entire section of town. But New Englanders are a hearty bunch and they were out there in a flash.

Speaking of beach roads, this is Surf Drive in Falmouth.

Normally it is an absolutely beautiful stretch of road with a multitude of beaches and a gorgeous view that includes Martha’s Vineyard in the distance. But on Sunday it was a much different story.

Water was coming over the road and flooding it, tearing up pavement and leaving huge rocks, sand and other debris on the street.

This picture to the right is not a lake. That is the road, or at least it’s supposed to be.

A few pick-up trucks and bigger SUVs were able to make it through, but a couple of cars tried and quickly realized that wasn’t such a good idea.

This downed tree was in Bourne, near John’s CapeSide Diner on Route 6. It fell on some wires but locals said the power didn’t go out. When I left this scene one guy was attempting to cut the tree himself, saying “It’s OK, they’re just cable wires.”

New Englanders are a breed apart.

And speaking of a breed apart, that leads me to perhaps my favorite picture of this entire hurricane.

To the right is the John’s Capeside Diner sign. Now it’s commonplace for people to protect their property. But while most people board up windows, someone decided to take unorthodox steps to protect this restaurant sign.

Yup. That’s duct tape folks.

Wind gusts got up to 65 MPH and wind and rain lashed the region for hours yesterday. Many large trees and even some small structures were damaged yesterday. Which all leads me to wonder how the hell someone thought some duct tape on a sign was going to make a damn bit of difference.

But then again, it’s still there so what do I know? Further proof that duct tape fixes EVERYTHING!

And finally, you always hear about the total wackjobs who either surf or swim in the ocean during hurricanes. Well, it’s your lucky day because here they are. This was taken at Nobska Beach in Woods Hole. And the incredibly attractive young lady in her underwear and thin T-shirt had absolutely no bearing on my decision to capture this footage. None at all.

But do pay attention to the 40-second mark when she gets CREAMED by a wave, and don’t forget to read underneath the video for a new Daddy Files feature!

And finally, I’m starting a new thing on this site. At the conclusion of every post, I’ll offer some featured Amazon.com products relevant to my content. Today, it’s this REALLY cool contraption I found that would be great for power outages. It’s a hand-crank AM/FM radio that also charges your cell phone, tablet, eReader and more. You can charge the internal battery beforehand and then charge your phone, crank it to charge or use the solar panels to charge it during a power outage. For less than $30 this is an awesome thing to have in a pinch!

If you guys could click on the link to buy your Amazon items, I’d really appreciate it. I only get pennies on the dollar but all of it will go towards defraying the cost of running this website. Thanks guys!

The pageantry that night was second to none. Soldiers from all branches of our armed forces were present and accounted for, hundreds of them lining the field. Distinguished veterans were honored and threw out pitches. A soldier with a prosthetic leg running the bases was a particularly poignant moment.

And then came the piece de resistance:

Fenway’s fabled Green Monster—which stands 37-1/2 feet tall in left field—was draped in an enormous American flag while the Star Spangled Banner was performed. And as you can see, our seats provided prime viewing.

It was a powerful moment. But it’s what happened afterwards that moved me most.

My friend—my tough as nails, macho, 6’5″ mountain of a friend—had tears in his eyes. And I realized in that moment how much I take for granted. I donated some money once to a non-profit organization that helps veterans and I take my hat off when the national anthem is played. Aside from that, I haven’t served my country in any tangible way.

But my friend (and countless others just like him) have done so. And then some. They’ve left their families for months and even years at a time, often missing huge milestones such as birthdays, anniversaries and even the births of their kids. They’ve dodged bullets in the desert, and sometimes those bullets didn’t miss. They’ve watched their friends die and they’ve had to defend themselves. Often by lethal means.

Some don’t come back, but even the ones who do don’t always come back whole. The missing parts aren’t as obvious as an absence of limbs either. It’s insidious PTSD, nightmares and memories that never seem to fade. It’s not being able to enter a city block without worrying about snipers, or being uncomfortable every time you’re around a large group of people. It’s being petrified about assimilating back into a society after witnessing the unspeakable.

Is it any wonder the song that encompasses all those things brings tears to the eyes of the people who have taken it upon themselves to experience the unimaginable horror of war so we don’t have to be burdened with it?

I’ve been around veterans when people from the general public come up to them and ask/say stupid things. “How many people did you kill?” “Were you shot at?” “Did anyone in your unit die?” I’m not sure what it is about that uniform that seems to give people the right to think it’s OK to ask ridiculously insensitive questions, but it does happen. And I want to punch them in the face.

I don’t know the best way to honor veterans. But personally, if I see a veteran I offer a handshake and a simple “thank you for your service.” And for my friends who served, I’m just there. There if they want to talk about what happened, and there when they want to talk about everything else instead.

When it comes to Will, all I can do is instill in him an appreciation for the monumental sacrifice our veterans make for us. And lucky for us both, I happen to have a handful of friends I can show him who illustrate that point perfectly.

Happy Memorial Day. And thank you—all of you who put your lives on the line for this country—for your service.

My wife (bless her heart) can be a nightmare when ordering at restaurants. Just like Meg Ryan in “When Harry Met Sally,” she orders things very specifically and on the side and substitute this for that…let’s just say I cringe whenever she makes one of her “special requests.” And if something is wrong or she isn’t happy with her food, she sends it back.

Not me.

I sent food back once, and that was because there was a band-aid in my mashed potatoes. I’ve gotten food that isn’t cooked exactly right, but I eat it. Or they give me the wrong dressing, so instead of sending it back I just suck it up. Hell, I’ve found a hair in my food and I forge ahead. Maybe it’s because I started working in a restaurant when I was 15 and still vividly remember how horrible some customers can be, but the point is, I have a very strong stomach and—short of a band-aid—there isn’t much that will bother me.

But congratulations McDonald’s, you raised the bar.

On Sunday we stopped at the McDonald’s near our house, located at 370 MacArthur Blvd. in Bourne, Mass. Will loves chicken nuggets and MJ decided to treat herself to a Big Mac and fries. We walked in, ordered, got our food and sat down. Will began munching away (because we told him he can’t open his happy meal toy until he’s done eating) and MJ tore into her Big Mac. She and I were picking at her fries. I was eating so many of them she decided to dump out half the box on a napkin on top of the table for me.

And that’s when we both nearly lost our lunch, because we saw this:

Yup. That’s right. An inchworm. Wriggling away, still very much alive. It came out with the fries when MJ dumped them on the napkin.

Now first of all, this is not a fake picture. I took it shortly after we discovered it, right there on the table. It wasn’t there before, we didn’t go outside after we ordered and we’re not carrying around inchworms trying to scam free meals. There actually was an inchworm in our food.

Look, as I laid out before I’m not a prude. I can deal with a lot. But even though we weren’t dining at a 5-star gourmet bistro, I still think we’re entitled to food without living worms in it. And while I understand McDonald’s is all about their “healthy options menu,” I think we can all agree this is not what they had in mind when they talked about eating more greens.

Now, being a reporter, I wanted to see how the staff would react.

I sent MJ up with the inchworm and the employees let out a simultaneous “EWWWW!” And yes, they apologized. But amazingly, that was it. We got a “Gee I’m really sorry about that” and then it was back to our table. A few minutes later the girl working the register did come back over and ask if she could get us anything else, but at that point I was fuming. A manager did eventually come over, but I was less than enthralled with his attitude as he said “I know you’re never going to eat here again after this, but here’s a coupon for a free meal in case you do.”

Yeah. That’s what I want after finding a worm in my food. More contaminated food.

My question is, WHERE WAS THE OFFER TO REFUND OUR MONEY?!?!? I specifically didn’t ask for it because I was waiting for them to offer. It should’ve been automatic and without an ounce of hesitation. You find a living animal in your food, you get your money back. I think it would be wise for all restaurants to adopt such a policy, don’t you? But instead I got a belated offer of more worm food.

To be fair, I did get a response on Twitter from a McDonald’s team member who had me call an 800 number to report the complaint. The following day. After the picture of the worm had already been viewed hundreds of times on Twitter. But by that time they had already blown it in my eyes.

I guess I should thank them. This McDonald’s is open 24 hours and less than a mile from my house. After a late meeting it’s the only thing open, and I’ve succumbed to the charm of the Golden Arches more than once. But not anymore. Now I’ll eat healthier, if only by subtracting McDonald’s from my diet altogether. Finding a wiggling little worm in your fries will do that.

But I guess the upside is fishermen can look forward to a Big Mac with free bait!

Sure it’s usually something of the “mama” or “dada” variety. And if we’re being honest, let’s cop to the fact that sometimes that first word isn’t really a word. It’s something the kid utters that MIGHT be a word. Maybe is a word. Or at the very least, could be a word. So we count it. Because despite how each of tries to play it cool, we’re all rushing toward that particular milestone so we can call our parents, tweet about it and put it on Facebook.

When Will started talking it was a very proud day for me. But it’s nothing compared to the last month.

Will isn’t talking anymore. He’s communicating. He’s stringing together longer (and grammatically correct no less) sentences. He’s reading facial expressions and deciphering tone of voice. And frighteningly enough, he’s even harnessing a little bit of dad’s sarcasm and purposefully joking around.

And I cannot get enough of it.

When I pick him up from daycare I always ask him how his day was. And he proceeds to tell me about every little bit of it. How Jacob pushed him after he growled at him. How Miss Marcie scolded him, but he knew he deserved it because he didn’t want to pick up his toys. And he even asked me to give another one of the boys in his class a hug one day, because Will was sure the boy was sad for some reason.

And that’s all good. Really, really good. Unfortunately, with the good comes the…other stuff.

We do not let Will shoot guns, even with his fingers. He knows that is strictly forbidden and ends with a toy being taken away. But one day about two weeks ago he was watching Spiderman and had an epiphany. When I came around the corner it appeared—to the untrained eye—he was shooting guns again.

“Will!” I said with exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you NO GUNS!”

“Dada, calm down. It’s not guns. I’m shooting spiderwebs. And spiderwebs are OK because they no hurt people.”

First of all the little shit told me to calm down. Second, he had me. I told him it was OK to watch Spiderman because Spiderman was a superhero who helps people. And if Spiderman uses his webs in non-violent ways, how can I in good conscience tell Will  he can’t emulate Spiderman? So now he walks around shooting spiderwebs everywhere he goes, all the while proudly citing his newfound loophole. He better not turn into a lawyer.

Then we were watching one of my favorite family-friendly movies, The Sandlot. When it got to the part where Squints starts “perving a dish,” Wendy Peffercorn pops up on screen in all her lifeguard glory. This movie first came out when I was a freshman in high school, and I spent many a lonely night thinking of Wendy. So I guess I probably shouldn’t have been TOO surprised at what came out of my son’s mouth next.

“Wow dada. She is SMOKIN’ hot!”

He said it just like that. With the emphasis and all. He also said it again when MJ tried on her dress she wore to Nate’s wedding, but I’d have to agree with him there. It’s nice to know we share the same taste in women. I should’ve named him Oedipus.

But by far the coolest—and most shocking—thing Will has said lately came just before we left for Delaware.

We weren’t doing anything noteworthy at the time, just hanging out. But all of a sudden Will turned to me and looked me dead in the eye, with a very purposeful and determined expression on his face. And then he told me something I’m always going to treasure.

“Dad, I love you. You’re my best friend.”

Then, a few seconds later, he asked me if I had something in my eye because they were red and I couldn’t stop rubbing them. Yeah buddy, dad definitely has something in his eye.

]]> http://www.daddyfiles.com/2011/03/16/talking-with-my-son/feed/ 5 http://www.daddyfiles.com/2011/03/09/my-little-brother-is-getting-married/ http://www.daddyfiles.com/2011/03/09/my-little-brother-is-getting-married/#comments Thu, 10 Mar 2011 01:55:33 +0000 DaddyFiles1 http://www.daddyfiles.com/?p=2769 For my new readers (and the ones not paying enough attention), my little brother is named Nate. And he’s getting married this weekend in Delaware to a wonderful woman named Melissa.

I love my brother. He is awesome for several reasons, but if you’re a fan of this blog he’s awesome because he’s the one who suggested I branch out on my own. He secured the Daddy Files domain name and pays for it each year as a birthday present to me. He set the website up because I’m technologically inept. And even now, three years later, he continues to make sure we’re free of spam and he deals with all of the technical issues for me.

That’s why I’m asking all of you guys for your help.

MJ and I are not rich and we can’t get them a kickass present or surprise them by paying for their Hawaiian honeymoon. But what I can do is ask you guys to do me a favor and leave Nate & Melissa a slew of comments to send them off into wedded bliss.

I don’t want to tell you all the reasons why my brother rules right now, mainly because a shitload of my relatives read this and I need to save something for my best man speech Saturday night. But I can tell you a few things:

Nate is one of the most thoughtful people on the planet. He’s a people-pleaser and he’ll do whatever he can to make the people he loves happy. That goes double if that person is my mom, since he is a complete and total mama’s boy.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but Nate was my best friend growing up. We played sports, created games that only made sense to us and commiserated about our insane family together. Actually, things haven’t changed that much from the picture to the right.

Even though Nate moved to Baltimore about a year and a half ago, he’s somehow still managed to be the best uncle a kid ever had. Will absolutely loves him and vice versa. To Will, he’s Uncle TT. I’m not quite sure how that nickname stuck, but it did. They talk on the phone and occasionally Skype, and Nate is unbelievably good about coming back to Massachusetts as often as possible. Some of that has to do with sporting events and fantasy football/baseball drafts, but my point remains the same. Will is even going to be the ring bearer on Saturday and I can’t wait to see him all dressed up in a tux. It’s going to be frickin adorable.

It’s hard to believe my little brother is getting married. But he is and he rules and I’d love to be able to print this out for him and show him all the support he has on the website he helped create and maintain.

I’ll likely be tweeting from the wedding and posting pictures and video on Twitter. I’ll also post my best man speech after this weekend because I’ve worked for months on it. But for now, I want to say congratulations to Nate and Melissa and I can’t wait for the open bar festivities!