What can i say the lights shines about me now

I traveled in darkness too long,
it was cold and lonely.
It was not because of winter,
though that did not help.
It was not because of others,
though they did not help.
Not because of "loves',
nor friends,
nor family...
It was because of me.
For a time too long,
even my posts have been twinged with something dark,
self pity.
Perhaps the most evil thing i can think of,
because, it, above all others,
robs us of joy and love and hope.
It is a funny thing, those in my community have tried to speak it out,
attempted to pull me out,
but only i can make that choice,
they just let me know that it was there.
Oh so many reasons to feel that darkness,
to embrace it and call it my own.
And one good reason to leave it behind,
life.
"Joy comes in the morning" it is written
and so it is
for i woke with a song in my heart,
thankfulness on my lips
and light shining all around.
The darkness has been broken
and the light shines again.
For this i am extreemely grateful.

You probably will not see me here for a bit,
but all is okay,
the night is done.

My Dad - Joseph E. Kuntz Sr

It is relatively late on Tuesday March 18th, 2014 and i am thinking of my Dad, who was born on this day in 1921.

I am thinking of his stories to me of growing up in a relatively rural area in the town of Ippling in Lorraine about 50 miles from Strasbourg, France.

He told me only a few stories before World War II came, but he told me of his family fermenting and then distilling plums and how an inspector would come with a special device to determine if it was the correct type of alcohol so it could be consumed.  He told me (and i have a pilots license, in French of course) that he learned to fly at the age of 13.

He told me that he had begun to go to a technical school for engineering and that in school he learned French, German and English and that he loved math.

He told me that when war came, he became a spy for British Intelligence and that he was captured twice, but escaped each time.

The first time the Germans wanted to make a poster child of him, because of his looks.

He told me that he would not go back to France because neighbors had "ratted" him out and therefore threatened his family.

He told me he was held prisoner once with a Russian soldier and learned Russian from that man.  His final escape was in the bed of a coal car and he just barely escapes.

The  British wanted him to go back again, but he refused because he feared for his family.  He made his way to Spain and there became disillusioned with the Catholic church because they were siding with Franco and the Nazis.  He learned Spanish and stayed for 6 months with a family in the southern part of Spain where he became close with the families daughter.

He made his way to North Africa to join with Charles DeGaul and the Free French air force.  He flew what they had, which was mostly Spads.  He spoke of a favorite dish that they ate of raw liver mixed with red wine and onions.

These were the details, but he talked little of any fighting.  I found a book about a pilot in the Free French Air Force "Wind, sea and sand" and gave it to him.  It turned out that he knew the man, but he had "disappeared" after a mission,  I have never seen the book again, anywhere, and he never spoke more of it.  I know that he came to the United States to an Air Force base in South Carolina where he was taught how to fly more modern aircraft (I have some of the pamphlets from this) and when the war ended before his training was finished, he decided to stay in the United States.

He moved to Washington DC and worked with the French consulate because he knew a number of languages and picked them up easily.

He decided to become a citizen and was sponsored by a US senator.

He had to leave the country to apply and lived in Cuba for 6 months, where his knowledge of language saved several times.  Once in a cantina, the table next to him of several men were talking how they would rob him when he left the cantina - they were unaware that he spoke Spanish and he did not let it be know until he was ready to leave.  He walked over to the table and drew his service revolver and spoke to them in fluent Spanish that if they left there table and tried to hurt him, he would kill them.

He returned to Washington DC after 6 months with no serious problems and began working in a Jewelry store.  I have some of his work still.

He married an Argentinean woman, but before a year was out, she left and went back to her country.  Shortly after that he met my mom, who was working as a nurse in Washington DC.  As she tells the story, she needed to have a watch repaired and saw him and then began going there daily.  They married and then decided to move to Houston.

My dad did not like to talk about the war much, it affected him greatly and there was not a lot of detail, but it was wonderful to hear any part of it.

Cold Feet

quite literally,
cold feet.
Woke up way too early last night
and could not figure what was wrong.
Spent time on the "net",
the computer,
and roaming around the house.
I felt fine,
i was not sick,
but when i would go back to bed,
i could not get comfortable.
I did not feel cold,
yet something nagged at me that i was.
Just a little thing,
my two feet.
I covered them in socks
and feel immediately back to sleep,
a deep , peaceful sleep.
Such a small part of our body,
to cause so much discomfort for my entire being!
It is funny now,
but i will feel it later on.
So i will laugh now.

those who cannot remember the past...

yea, i deal with this often,
you would not think that loosing a few years of memory would be a big deal,
but it is.
I tried to do something just recently,
that i had tried before,
and failed,
during my memory gap.
It of course failed again,
for the same reasons.
I have no control over this that happened,
yet...
I blame myself for not remembering,
at least for a bit.
It is not that i would not learn from it,
it is that i can not remember it.
Oh, well...
life in the Adventure!

Pushing my food blog

At the doctors office for something routine today,
i could not help but notice all the magazines on food, most as the primary component.
I thought about this blog and thought, "just what the heck am i thinking?"

A billion or so cooks, 

a million or so chefs

and all these magazines...

who am I to think i can add anything to such a wealth of knowledge?
But i can, if i stick to what i know and what is, well, me!
ME.
What is that?
Born of a French Father and a Greek mother - those foods should not collide and be mixed,
but each is special.
Growing up in Texas - very unique,
yet there is much German influence in the smoked meats (my dad was Alsatian, very similar)
and then i have a long time exposure
to some really old school Italian families,
some friends who are Hispanic
and some who are Indian.
I do not mix,
but there is something to be learned and shared from each.

Then there is my professional calling, as a chemist, one i did well for over 36 years and that truly makes me unique.
So with no further ado, i bring you my next post:

 back tracking a bit

i don't think i will change much, maybe a little

This blog has been a testament of struggle,
i do not hide that.
Every day life is a struggle on so many levels,
but for each of us to voice the minutia that is that struggle,
that is hard.Lets us keep stoic our faces, so no one may know our troubles...
this is not something i believe.
I have a difficult time doing this sort of thing face to face,
but in writing,
my heart sings
and my voice is not silent.
There is always, always positive,
for nothing is an end,
we maybe just displaced for awhile.
This is therapeutic, for me
and for some reason i think that when others read,
they may think on the troubles that they have
and be comforted.
I complain about "things",
but no life,
for life is precious.
Things distract us from the depth of our existence.
I am pleased that people may visit here and fine me...
in all the ugliness that is truth.
In the pain and the struggles and the love.
i fell sad that many do not read,
nor understand what this time here is.
It is an exploration of me and my fragile existence.

Captain! There be whales! No i mean dirt!

3 days the weather has been warm.

i mean warm enough for me to opened the doors

and air out the stale air of winter in the house.

Yes, i goes away again...tonight,

but with some heavy shoveling,

the solid ice that was my garden

and the path to the garden,

is almost clear.

My heart turns warm,

but i still think of things that have been lost.

It is okay,

they are in hands that are greater than mine

and much better.

I have dug up more pictures...

of people that are no longer

and i remember them with great fondness.
Yes i seem to live in the past,
it sometimes seems strange.
The reasons i do so much that is unfathomable,
is rooted in these past memories.
Tomorrow will be cold,
but a few days of warmth will help me through...
I am terribly effected by the cold,
but warm weather is coming
and a song is begining to chirp in my heart.

today is like no other

i struggle every day...to exist.

Every moment of every day,

some days i am brought down by this fact,

others, i am comforted that it just is.

For i am not merely surviving,

i am existing,

effecting,

not merely affecting those in contact with me.

I have survived

and those who know me,

would be wise to heed my efforts.

Those who think my effects have been negative,

should look deeper,

for while not always pure,

my actions speak of inequality that has not been addresses,

that people do not want to acknowledge,

but i did what i did

and am content with the actions.

For me i sit going still through the mounds of photos and "things",

left from my mother, 3 years past.

I do what i can,

when i can

and until the emotion chokes me.

Then i rest once again till another day.

The sun is shining,

it is warm,

the heavy ice from snow still covers the garden,

so i can not work in it,

but this day is good

and my struggles to exist are strong
and this is good.

weather is good, but...

yeah...the two pictures below show what my heart deals with,
still..This is where the garden is ....

yes, it is still snow and ice!
For how long?
Working in some pots that i kept down stairs,
but even the way to the garden is blocked.
For those who read and are in warmer climates,
i do envy you..enjoy it!

i still need blinders, mostly

but i see patches of brown,
not white and black
of the unrelenting snow and ice of February.
I can not look at the area where my garden was,
the ice and snow is piled  high still,
the result of needing to just get around,
moving snow and ice from our path.
I feel better,
washed clean though.
I am trusting the anger of the winter has passed on.
I am so looking for something else,
a daffodil or crocus,
but i am yet denied.
Soon, i know things will change
and i am waiting with baited breath!

cold, so cold

Yet it is better today,
the snow and ice lay thickly on the ground,
the place where my garden will be..
Thickly, i laugh,
3 or more feet is thickly!
Will it ever melt?
even the black earth would look better than this.
Oh, my mood turns sour during this time,
but my wounds have healed from other things.
I write today on the third anniversary of my mom's passing.
That pain is so much less,
yet, i know,
if i go through her stuff that still remains,
i will feel it again.
So for now i stay away
and am comforted in the memories.
Would that it would be warm again,
but i must be patient.
It is only March in New England.