- Tylersroom Forums
- → Most Liked Content
Most Liked Content
Posted by Tyler on 30 March 2018 - 04:29 PM
The last one is just to show the fine detail and beautiful job the framing shop did. He was on display in the shop window when I went to get him and I almost dropped to my knees on the sidewalk. He's also on the front page of their website.
Watching over me like he always did....
Posted by Tyler on 14 March 2018 - 05:02 PM
Sorry I haven't been around guys, I had no idea this would hit me so hard. I have been so lonely and devastated and it's already been 11 weeks this Friday. On every Friday at 10:15 like some lunatic I can't stop re-living that awful day like a morbid anniversary. I am moving along slowly and coming back here to say hello to my forum mates shows that I guess.
Here's the final copy of the painting my childhood friend did for me... she added some detail to the collar hardware and some more blues in the water... she did such a beautiful job capturing his essence - it looks exactly like him in every way. I knew she would as she has a way of making pictures into artwork... I can reproduce stuff but I'm not a natural artist like her. We knew each other through art class actually as we were both considered unteachable by the crazy cat lady who taught art in our high school and we both got year long projects to work on by ourselves at the back of the class. I painted an enormous painting of Barbra Streisand close up from her disco days (was from her Memories album I think) - I just liked her and was not out of the closet and had no idea I was painting who would become a gay icon. I now humorously wonder what the other boys in the class might have thought but Denise and I kept to ourselves so it didn't matter to me anyway.
The painting arrives by Fedex tomorrow and straight to the framing shop it goes. I'll post a picture of it when it's framed.
Dad, before I went
I wanted you to know
I loved when you rubbed my tummy
I loved how you called me cutey pie
I loved when you broke my treats into small pieces
I loved it when you kissed my ears and said they were soft as silk
I loved when you said ‘do you love me dad’ I always wagged and said yes in my heart
I loved when you would hide and I would come find you
I loved your laughter when I did silly things
I loved when you tapped on my can of food to get my attention before you fed me
I loved all the bags of jerky you gave me and how you smiled as I ran off with them so happily
I loved how you held my paw when we went for drives
I loved how happy I made you feel when you came home from the hospital and I was waiting for you at the door
I loved how you came to me for comfort when you were sad
I loved all the great toys you bought me
I loved when you sang to me at night
Dad, YOU were my sunshine all along
I loved the way you took special care of me when I got old and slowed down
And most of all I loved when you lay with me when my time came whispering in my ear how great a friend I was
As you comforted me as I left you I felt so very loved.
Bandit, sometimes I don’t know if the tears I cry are for you or for myself
Because I must now live without you
Two things I do know...
I love you
I miss you
And my heart hurts
A million words would not bring you back, I know because I’ve tried
Neither would a million tears, I know because I’ve cried.
I’ll never forget you baby.
(PS I can't take credit for writing all of that as I borrowed parts and modified them to suit what I wanted to write)
Posted by pastol on 29 August 2017 - 07:20 PM
Before I retired, the company that I worked for had a very large what we called "Regional Office" in Charlottesville, VA. During a migration of our data centers from the Regional Offices to 3 hubs in the south (Atlanta, Dallas & Phoenix) I was assigned to coordinate the Charlottesville move. I got to know the people in the IT department (back then it was called DP) very well. They were a smart group. Well-oiled and the shop ran like a top. It was a fine mix of personalities and all of them very friendly people. They were kind and fun and always treated me like they'd known me forever. Right up to the day I retired I kept in touch with them. Often I'd call to run something by them to get a reaction. Corporate Headquarters was talking about implementing this or that and I'd call people in the "field" to get a feel for how it would directly affect them. Corporate was really good at that, coming up with ideas without thinking about how it would affect those people that were one step closer to our customers than we were. Charlottesville was more often than not the office I'd call.
I remember the town very well. Very small, the University of Virginia and the company that I worked for were probably the 2 largest employers in town. The town always struck me as a little economically depressed, but not overtly so. They did have a few cool restaurants in town that only the locals could tell you about. In spite of the school, there seemed to be no nightlife. But parts of the town were very pretty and the second you crossed that not so invisible line to out-of-town everything transformed into a scene of beauty that was breathtaking. Many times after dinner I'd get in the rental car and just drive, just taking it all in. I lived in Phoenix at the time. This was a wonderful escape from sand sand and more sand. The lush tree lines and rolling hills were calming and soothing. The air smelled good and people often waved at you for no reason at all. Just 2 travelers passing as the sun went down.
I went up to Monticello during one of my trips there. It was interesting but a bit unsettling as well. "These were the slave's cabins." Holy shit, they were like 10 x 10 shanties. I'd seen enough and never went back.
But all in all it was a very nice little town, nice people and some very good memories. I've tried very hard to disassociate all of the news lately from those memories. I want to remember the beauty of the place and the people that I knew there with a smile and that same feeling of warmth that I always felt previous to the brouhaha of recent days, all over statues. Can't that be discussed without the entire calamity? Evidently not. It is very disappointing to have a small group of people try to twist those memories. In time I will push those events to the back of my head. At the same time, I'd like to think that Heather Heyer's memory will live on. It will be a convoluted argument that will play out in my head for some time. In the end, hoping that her mother finds the peace that she deserves would be the best approach.
Posted by Navy on 09 November 2016 - 08:51 PM
P.S. Navy's avatar is at my house too... he was the chef for our labor day BBQ weekend. (rubbing the meat seemed to take him a very long time though if I recall... ).
I had to find this and dig it out of the archives. Holy crap - look how young (and thin) I was. And Tyler - the kitchen must bring you flashbacks!
Posted by bill98533 on 25 December 2014 - 08:16 PM
A beautiful story.... makes you understand that things happen for a reason
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19 a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity, so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors, and a Cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials 'EBG' were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten "The Tablecloth". The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to prison and she never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth, but she made the pastor keep it for the church.
The pastor insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for that one day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return.
One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again in all those 35 years.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.