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My husband always says that he was aware of me at the auditions that Thursday, and that, when I showed up in the choir at the first rehearsal and was picking up my music, he turned to his friend in the tenor section and said, "That's the woman I'm going to marry." I didn't know this until some time after we were married, and I've always wondered if it were true, but he swears he said it. He says he just knew.

But we had a wonderful time in the choir for a couple of years, performing concerts and touring to Savannah, Orlando, Washington DC, and even Europe that summer (Germany/Switzerland/Austria), all at school expense. We sold singing Christmas cards and delivered them to the dorms during December in small groups of 3 or 4. And the second semester I auditioned for and made the Chamber Singers, a madrigal group of 14 or 16, to which my husband already belonged. That was my favorite singing I've ever done, because I don't have a big, operatic voice. I was born for chamber music, that early stuff from the medieval and Renaissance periods (we did a few modern pieces, too). If I'd known about that genre sooner, I could have made a career of it. My husband's voice is gorgeous and much bigger than mine. I think he could have trained for opera, but if he'd sung professionally I'm sure he'd have gone in for jazz. He'd played in a jazz band in high school, so he was always much quicker with syncopation and unusual time signatures than I was. He regarded Al Jarreau as a musical genius and adored Mamhattan Transfer. I liked them, too, but the King's Singers were my favorite group.

Thank you Murf.

Our wedding was on the Sat. the 20th, and Thanksgiving was on the 25th that year, my wife and I were so preoccupied with the wedding plans that we didn't even realize that it was so close to the holiday, but we postponed the honeymoon until the 27th so that we could have our first Thanksgiving together with both families. It goes without saying that it was a chaotic week.

You had previously told us where you met your husband, but hadn't elaborated on the circumstances that led up to how you met him. It's interesting to think about how making a simple choice that at the time can seem so inconsequential to you, but it can actually be one of the most important decisions you ever make. If you didn't go back to the auditions on the second day then the course of your life would have traveled a drastically different path.

It's like when I met my wife, something pushed me toward her, some force, perhaps maybe even the good Lord, but something directed me to her, like it was meant to be. I've had conversations with other married couples that say it was the same way for them, well, mostly the guys, usually the women don't notice the guy first, maybe because they're always being pursued by so many guys that they are just used to it, but the guys that I talked with say that they knew fairly early on that they had met the woman they were going to marry. So I absolutely believe your husband's story that he knew that you were the one. Somehow, the people that are meant to be together, will always find their way to each other.

I guess it also depends on what a person wants out of life, people have various reasons why they seek out relationships, I won't get into those other reasons because we would be here for the rest of the week, but for some people, they are looking for a stable relationship with somebody they can start a family with.

That's the category I was in, I always knew that I wanted a family, and I couldn't tell you how many women I met in my late teens to my late twenties that were indecisive about every aspect of their lives, they just didn't know what they wanted, and that included a family. I wasted a few years in relationships with some of those women, only for them to tell me that they weren't ready for a family. If it was up to me, I would have started my family when I was 20, I know some people think that's too young, but I knew exactly what I wanted. I was 27 when I met my wife, yeah, I was a bit behind on my plans, but she was definitely worth the wait, and we know how that story turned out.

I think that if you can find somebody special that will stand beside you, regardless of the tribulations and vicissitudes that may occur on this journey through life, and you both take on the world together, then you can accomplish anything, and you are truly blessed.

I have a theory that "love at first sight" is more common for men than for women. I can't say it never happens for women, but I think most women are just more cautious than that, because they risk more. I mean, men risk their hearts, which isn't nothing. But women potentially risk their lives and the lives of the next generation if they choose the wrong guy. So most of us take things more slowly. I think we're just wired that way.

It is funny to think, in retrospect, how our whole futures can hinge on a decision that, in the moment, feels minor. The novelist Thomas Hardy used to weave all that randomness into his plots. I don't think he had much religious faith, so for him, it was just a way of showing the cruelty of an indifferent universe, I guess. But for those of us who are more inclined to a belief in God, there is some sense that we are being guided by a supernatural destiny.

We had a nice quiet Thanksgiving, it was almost too quiet, as if somebody told the kids to behave themselves, or maybe, just maybe, they're growing up. They just seemed happy to be together with family for the first time in their young lives, even the youngest members like our 4 year old nephew, and a 10 month old baby, both from my wife's side of the family, didn't make any fuss or noise, it was just a peaceful gathering.

I don't know, maybe it's because I'm in the middle generation of the family, and I've observed the previous generations, grew up with my generation, and now I'm witnessing the younger generation grow into the people that they will become, but it seems like if you live long enough, that you will notice certain behavioral traits from older family members that are not with us anymore continue through the generations.

There are a lot of examples that I could point out, but in particular I've noticed that Sam's behavior patterns stood out to me recently. My grandfather would always rearrange his utensils at the table in a specific way, even after they had been set up for everybody, he would place them where he wanted to, it would always annoy my grandmother, but he didn't care. I noticed that Sam does the same exact thing, and I mean placing her utensils in the same exact specific pattern that my grandfather did, it's absolutely fascinating to observe. I mean, there's no videos of my grandfather to show her, and it's not like my mother would have taught her that because I doubt that my mother ever noticed that he did that, and she doesn't ever rearrange her utensils, so I know that she didn't teach her that, but somehow that genetic memory has been passed on.

I've also noticed the way she frowns, she does it exactly like one of my aunts and my grandmother did. My oldest nephew always stops and leans and holds the top of the doorway when he enters a room, the same way my grandfather did, they are both tall, and it's something that I noticed that only they do. Another nephew also has a certain way that he adjusts his hair, the same way one of my uncles did. I know they are just little patterns that nobody else notices, but I do.

I've noticed how both my kids each remind me of myself in certain ways when I was younger. Sam reminds me of my intellectual and compassionate side, as she's very nurturing toward younger kids and animals, and she's always seeking out knowledge, and always asking the right questions to expand her arsenal, she reads books that are for older readers, and she's expanding her vocabulary everyday, to the point where I can have conversations with her in front of some of my younger employees and they can't understand us, it's just funny to me when a 20 year old high school graduate asks her to explain the BIG words she uses to them. I'm honestly so proud of her, she's watching documentaries and reading about human anatomy and health right now, and I hope that when the time comes, that she will still want to pursue being a doctor. It's funny, my mother wanted me to grow up to be a tall, handsome doctor, well, ... I'm tall, so at least she got 1 out of 3 right.

Phoebe reminds me of my reckless and aggressive side, don't get me wrong, she's the sweetest kid you will ever meet, but when she gets angry, or is competing, then get out of her way. When I was younger I would climb up to high places just to know I could, and I didn't have a fear of heights, I also had extreme anger issues, I wouldn't hit people, unless I got into fights, but I would punch walls or break things to release that anger. My mother couldn't afford a better place and we were living in the crappy part of town, this was when I was starting to balance work and school, but before I made enough to move us into a better place.

There was a junkyard near our house that I would go to with my younger brother, and he would sit there and watch me smash cars with a sledgehammer. I remember one day in particular my brother was there watching me, and he said that I'm more like our father than I think. I was infuriated when he said that to me, so I jumped on top of the hood of a car with the sledgehammer and proceeded to pulverize the roof of that car until it was crushed into the interior with the seats, and then I walked around the car beating it until pieces of the metal body fell from the frame.

Uh, sorry, I got a little distracted again, I do that often don't I?

Anyway, Phoebe seems to behave in a similar way when she's angry, but she has a much more appropriate way of focusing her anger than I did. She's also very quick to jump into situations with no regard for her safety, often wanting to try any dangerous sport or do anything that's considered extreme, like when we go to those family adventure sports centers, the ones with the 50 foot climbing wall. She always wants to climb without the safety equipment, but of course they won't let her do it unless she wears it, so she does.

But honestly, you wouldn't believe how fast she can scale that wall. It takes her just over a minute to get to the top, it's like watching a squirrel run up a tree, and then she doesn't climb down like a regular person would, she jumps! She releases from the wall and repels down with the safety wires that are connected to her, it takes about 4 seconds to get to the floor even with the wires holding you, and once you hit the ground you bounce up and down for a little before you're stable. The people that work there said that she's the only kid they have ever seen climb that fast, and there are only a few adults that can get up there that fast.

We asked her why she jumps from the top, and she told us that it makes her feel like a flying bird, we honestly didn't know what to say. It's the same for her gymnastics, it's hard to describe how focused she is out there, but if you have ever watched adult Olympic gymnasts perform, then that's the same level that she's already performing at. It's like there's a switch in her head, and when she's competing it switches on and she's focused strictly on the task in front of her until she's done.

When it comes to her martial arts, she's like a machine, showing no emotion on her face while she competes, she doesn't even smile. Well, I have seen her smile when she hurts her opponents, and that's the part that scares me, because I was the same way when I was a kid, when I would get into fights at school I would beat them the way my father would beat people, and that was violently, and without mercy, and while I'm reluctant to admit this now, I would enjoy it. I told you the story about how I thought my father was going to punish me because I beat up a kid in school, but he rewarded me for it instead.

The scoring in these martial arts classes and tournaments is on a points based system, so just landing a hit on specific areas earns points, and it's not supposed to be full contact like professional fighting and MMA, and the kids are supposed to follow the regulations of their age bracket and not aim to hurt their opponents, of course, sometimes it's unavoidable, but some of the kids competing there deliberately hurt their opponents, and unfortunately, Phoebe seems to be one of them. The bad thing is that the referees are very lenient when it comes to enforcing the regulations, and there have been times when Phoebe landed a illegal kick to her opponents face and the referee just waved it, while the crowd was yelling for a penalty.

There have been other times where she has deliberately kicked her male opponents directly in the crotch, for which she received a point deduction, and she walked away with a huge grin on her face, she didn't care about the point deduction because she knew she could make it up on her weakened opponent. I suspect that her group of female teachers and instructors told her to do that because they seem like they hate males. Of course, maybe she kicked those guys because they were just a******s.

My wife is a little more concerned about Phoebe's apparent interest with violence than I am, and she refuses to let her train with any weapons until she's older, that's why she didn't want her to try fencing, well, that and the nearest school is 2 hours from us, and with our workload we can't bring her there every week. Of course, we already agreed that when the girls each turn 13 that we would bring them to the shooting range and teach them how to use firearms correctly. That's a few years away, and hopefully Phoebe will be better at handling her impulses by then.

My mother and wife have joked with me that maybe my anger from my youth was passed on to her genetically, I don't know if that's true, but it is certainly possible. I know that Millie said that Phoebe reminds her of her mother, I clearly didn't ever know my great grandmother, but from the stories that I've heard, there are definitely parallels with their personalities. A few months ago I sat with Phoebe and asked her about her anger, and why she's so violent toward her opponents, she said that she can't explain it, but something inside tells her that anybody that messes with her should be put in the ground.

Now, for those of you that have been paying attention to my posts, tell me who that sounds like? Well, if you haven't guessed, it's my grandfather, and by extension, me. My grandfather always told us that if somebody crosses you then you let them go, and if they are ever stupid enough to try again, then you kill them. It's as simple as that. I have lived by those words, and thankfully I haven't ever had to do that yet, but don't think for a minute that I would hesitate if the situation came up. In a way, I'm glad that Phoebe thinks that way, because one day she might have to make that choice, and it's good to know that she won't think twice about it.

That day I was with Phoebe I told her my grandfather's saying for the first time, and she smiled at me like she was happy to hear that her personal beliefs were validated. Of course, I also told her that she should remember that her opponents aren't her enemies, and they haven't done anything wrong to her yet, so she shouldn't aim to hurt them unless they deserve it. She said that she will try to remember that when she's competing, hopefully she does for the sake of her opponents.

I love both my kids equally, and I connect with each of them in a different way, with Sam I know that I can trust her with anything, I've told her things about me that my wife doesn't know, and when she turned 10 I gave her a thousand dollars in cash for her birthday and I told her to hide it in her room and not to tell anybody not even her mother, and she still has it and hasn't told anybody, so she's already proven that I can trust her.

With Phoebe, I feel a stronger connection to her personally, I understand her inner arrogance and aggression because I felt the same way growing up, and in some ways, I still feel that way towards the world, and there are days that I want to smash somebody's face, so I won't ever tell Phoebe that her way of thinking is wrong, because the world needs people that will do what needs to be done, regardless of what that might be, and I know that if the sh*t ever hit the fan that she would remain calm and handle the situation appropriately.

Also, before anybody points out the obvious, the thought has already occurred to me that the anger that I speak of was possibly passed on from my father, to me, and on to Phoebe, but I prefer not to look at it that way.

Anyway, have any of you ever noticed any behavioral patterns continue through the younger generations of your family?

On a unrelated note, we're officially in our busy season as this is when we have the highest customer traffic of the year, but you know me, I'm always awake so I'll still be here posting when I can.

Well, that's a fascinating analysis of your two girls. I think most people carry around some anger inside. The main issue is learning to channel it in ways that don't hurt innocent people. Your smashing up the car in the junkyard was a good release, and Phoebe's sports can be, too, as long as she remains within the bounds of good sportsmanship. I'm sure the discipline of her various athletic pursuits will stand her in good stead.

Of course I've witnessed generational similarities in both my immediate and extended family. Facial expressions can be haunting. Since my father died when I was so young, my memories of him are limited. But I know I remember things about him that I don't consciously remember, because I've seen facial expressions at family reunions, an uncle, a cousin who never even met my father. And when either of them would get a certain genial teasing expression on his face, I'd feel something inside me like that candle in Christmas Carol, that flames up "as if to say, 'I know him! Marley's ghost!' "

My daughter has some specific food preferences that mirror my mother in law. Her favorite berries are blackberries, and she dislikes grape jelly. Her favorite cookies are ginger snaps. Of course, her grandmother died when she was about 12, so I guess it's possible that she learned these things from her grandmother, but I don't think so.

My husband and my daughter have very different preferences in art and entertainment. They rarely want to watch the same movies or read the same books, and my husband can be very impatient when she wants to talk about these things with me while he's in the room. Yet her thought processes are exactly like his. They both reason the same way and have a real knack of zeroing in on the philosophical core of their various entertainments as well as cultural phenomena. Both of them are exquisitely sensitive, almost to such a degree that it becomes a disability. Sometimes I think I'm lucky not to be that sensitive. Neither of our sons is as much like my husband as our daughter is.

I know you say you don't like being compared to your father, and you've told us enough about him that I understand why. But I'm sure that your father, like all human beings, was/is a mixture of good and bad qualities. I bet you've inherited some good things from him. For example, you've said he was very successful professionally, and you appear to be as well. He was a. businessman, right? In addition to reacting against him, I bet you also inherited some of his talents and strengths.

Please DON'T read this whole post, it contains subject matter that is too graphic for some people. I know that sounds like a regular crappy disclaimer, but I'm serious, just skip to the very last sentence and come back in a few days for the follow up.


Regarding Phoebe's current direction, I know that she likes the attention and adrenaline rush that she gets from her martial arts, and she's still young so she leans towards the bad kid persona because it's appealing to her right now. But just like how I learned how to control my aggression as I got older, I know that she will as well. When I was growing up I didn't have anybody, but she has both my wife and I, as well as her family and other good people in her life to teach her the right thing, so I know that she will grow past this phase.

A few months ago Phoebe asked me something that I wasn't prepared for, and I'm honestly surprised that she and Sam hasn't asked before, but she wanted to know why I don't call my mother ... mommy, so I told her the truth.

When I was a kid I was taught to call my parents mother and father, I wanted to say mommy and daddy like everybody else did, but my father told us that we can only call him father, and the very few times in my life that I called him daddy he punched me in the face for it, and I don't mean like a light hit, he punched me like he was hitting another adult.

It reminds me of a interview I saw with Michael Jackson, where he said that he wanted to call his father daddy, but his father said *I'm not daddy to you, I'm Joe, you call me Joe.* and he would hit Michael and his brothers if they didn't do it. I guess some of the people from that generation were just a******s.

If I'm being honest with you, it still feels weird to me when I hear my kids call me daddy, but I understand that's the way it's supposed to be, I was just taught differently, and it's how I will always refer to my parents.

I'm sure that your father, like all human beings, was/is a mixture of good and bad qualities.

I truly wish in my heart that I could agree with you on that, but I can't.

Obviously, at some point he was able to win my mother's affection, and she's told us that he treated her good in the beginning, but I swear to you that I never met that good person that she spoke of. She said that he was fine until the night before they got married, that night he backed her in a corner and, without ever previously discussing it with her, forced her to sign a prenuptial agreement, and he threatened her and told her that if she didn't sign it that he would leave her right there, she was 8 months pregnant with my older sister, so she signed it out of fear. She said that night was the first time she saw the monster in him, if only she knew there would be 16 more years of Hell with him.

I don't think that he ever really wanted a family, we were just a status symbol to him, a way to measure and show off his success compared to other people. Of the 4 kids my mother had he was only there for 2 of the births, I can only assume that he was cheating on her while she was giving birth to the other 2 of us. He certainly didn't even care to name any of us, as he didn't ever discuss it with my mother, he told her he didn't care what she called us, so she named us by herself.

My older sister saw the worst of it because she was around longer than the rest of us, she told me things that happened that even I was too young to remember, like the night my mother cried while shredding her wedding dress. Other things that happened later I remember with absolute clarity, like my third birthday, that is a day I won't ever forget as long as I live. My mother had dinner and a cake prepared for us, we sat around waiting on my father to get home for hours, obviously my mother had three hungry kids sitting there waiting for dinner, so she fed us and I opened my presents. My father eventually showed up around 10pm, and he was furious that we didn't wait on him, so he proceeded to beat my mother, knocking out one of her front teeth, and then he threw her out of the house for the night. She spent the night at the neighbor's house.

My 9 year old sister was comforting me and my 1 year old brother while this was going on, I remember we were on the ground crying, and my brother was screaming. My father just sat there with the most disturbing look on his face while he got drunk and eventually went to bed, my sister brought the both of us to her room that night and made sure that we went to sleep. The next morning after he went to work, my mother came back to check on us, and I remember my older sister crying and she told my mother that she hates him. When my father took my mother to get her tooth fixed, I remember him making a joke with the dentist about how you know how it is with women right? They both had a laugh about it while I sat there, and it wasn't the last time that he would make jokes with other men, and pay to have something fixed on my mother to cover his trail of abuse.

Over the years he continued to treat us like sh*t, I'm thankful that he didn't ever hit my sisters, but he would beat my mother a few times a week, and I couldn't tell you how many times he beat my brother and I until we would bleed, sometimes we didn't even do anything wrong but he would beat us because he had a bad day at work, or because he was drunk. He always told us that we wouldn't ever amount to anything, and that we were just white trash. When he would say that to us I would wonder if there was a mirror on the wall behind us and he was looking at his own reflection when he said it, because he was the only trash in that house.

I won't ever forget the night that pushed my mother over the edge. My father had misplaced his prescription for his new glasses, and he thought that one of us kids took it, so he started to yell and threaten us, and said that he was going to kill us if we didn't give it back to him. He beat my mother within a inch of her life, he held her against the wall strangling her to the point that you couldn't even hear her scream. My younger brother was 7 at the time, and he grabbed a plate from the dish tray and threw it at my father's back. He turned around and asked which one of us did it, we stood there in silence, fearing that he was actually going to kill us this time, he grabbed a beer bottle and was about to hit my mother with it if we didn't tell him who threw the plate.

I didn't want him to hurt my brother so I said that I did it, he grabbed me and slammed my head into the kitchen cabinet and then threw me against the wall and continued to hit me repeatedly in the head. When he stopped I didn't even cry, I just stood there staring right in his face, and I mockingly said ... is that all you got? He stood there with a sadistic smile on his face, almost as if he was proud of me, then he walked out of the house. My mother was barely conscious and covered in blood, we tried to get her up from the floor and onto the couch, but she collapsed in the hallway, so we sat there with her until it was morning.

My father didn't come back until the following evening, and he told us that he found his prescription in his wallet, he knew that we couldn't have possibly took it from his wallet because he always has it with him, but he didn't apologize or admit that he was wrong, he just sat at the table to eat his dinner, and he reached over to give my younger sister a kiss, as if nothing happened. The next day my mother brought us to McDonald's and asked us if we wanted to leave him. Of course, we all agreed to leave with her, without knowing the vicious consequences of that decision.

I've often wondered what life would have been like if we didn't walk out on him, would he have actually killed us? My mother believed that he was going to, I had a conversation with her when I was 13 and I told her that eventually I would have grown old enough to stop him, and at that point with the sh*t we were living everyday, and the anger that I was feeling I probably would have killed him. Her decision to leave cost us the financial security that we had with him, we struggled with covering rent, clothing, and putting a meal on the table, and the truth is that we wouldn't have ever faced any of that if we didn't walk out. My father's brother treated his family the same way, but they stayed there taking the abuse and that bastard died in 1996 and they inherited his businesses and property and they lived a good life after he was gone. If my mother had just waited a few years, my brother and I could have done something to stop him.

After we left him my older sister Katherine blamed my mother for everything that happened during the marriage, and the new struggles that we were going through, so she only stayed with us for a few months before she decided to go live in Florida. For years my mother didn't talk to her because she was upset that she left her by herself with us younger kids. My younger sister Kelsey was only 5 when we left him, and I'm grateful that she doesn't remember him, I can only assume that she was too young, or maybe she blocked it out, but the rest of us have had to live with that sh*t. I know that my siblings have handled it better than I have, maybe it's because I can remember everything. Most people say that my memory is a gift, but they don't understand that it's a living nightmare and it's the bad memories that haunt you the most.

I love my mother dearly, and while I was agry with her for years, I don't blame her for what happened, she did what any mother in her situation would do, and that's protect her kids the only way she knew how, and for her that was to leave. She thought that she found love, but she found a monster instead. When I was 16 she told me that while she regretted the marriage, at least she got 4 beautiful and wonderful babies from it. My mother didn't ever have another relationship after that, we even encouraged her to date again but she didn't want to. I know that the marriage still haunts her, sometimes I get a glimpse of her sitting by herself quietly crying and I know exactly what she's reliving, though she won't ever admit it.

I know that anybody reading this probably thinks that with the way I write about my father that I hate him, and this may surprise you, but I don't. While I will always be angry at him, I don't directly blame him for the way he treated us because I know that his father made his life a living Hell. I didn't ever have a single conversation with my father about his childhood, but his brother told me some horror stories that they lived through, including one I won't ever forget, where their father locked them in the basement wearing only their underwear in the winter, and they slept on the cold floor without a bed or blankets. As much of a heartless bastard that my father was, he didn't ever do that to us.

I don't know if my father is still alive, if he is he would be 80, the last time my brother saw him was 18 years ago, and he slammed the door in my brother's face. I know my father treated us the only way that he knew how to because of the way he was treated. Is that any excuse to treat other people that way? No. Was he born evil? No, but he chose to embrace evil. I grew up being treated like sh*t but I made the choice that I wouldn't ever treat my family, or anybody that way. Thanks to my mother's side of the family, I learned the meaning of compassion, and the importance of family, that your kids are a gift from the Lord, and you must always treat them right.

Well, I definitely feel better after that trip down memory lane, and I think that I finally got that demon out of my system, so I promise that I won't post anymore stories about my father again.

He was a. businessman, right?

Yes, my father owned a gas station and auto garage, and he dealt in used cars, and owned half of a taxi company with his brother. He also owned multiple buildings and land.

For example, you've said he was very successful professionally, and you appear to be as well.

Your timing with this comment is very interesting ... I promise that I will explain this in a few days.

HH, I feel like apologizing to you if I said something that triggered all those terrible memories. But you say that in some way you feel unburdened by talking about it, so I hope it really did help. I cannot imagine living through that level of abuse, either as a child or a wife. My heart goes out to you and your mom (and other siblings). Thank God you've been capable of breaking that horrible cycle. There's a kind of heroism in that.