Who and What is the Happy Warrior

The Happy Warrior is the title of a poem... and yes, I love this poem. I do not wish to be mischaracterized, for the most part poetry is not my bag. I am not an afficionado of literature nor am I a metro-sexual (I despise that term) but a dear friend introduced me to this masterpiece of prose several years ago... it has provided no end of inspiration. The Happy Warrior by William Wordsworth outlines the qualities of a magnificent soul. I aspire to possess even one or two characteristics that "every man in arms should wish to be."


This blog is a representation, in conversational form, of my voyage to wrap my arms around the world in which Mr. Worsdworth's warrior finds happiness.

(Standing disclaimer: Luckily tests of spelling accuracy ended in 4th grade otherwise I would still be in Elementary School. Be forewarned, spelling errors ahead. I subscribe to the wisdom of a great man who said, "I have utmost disdain for a man who can only spell a word one way." -Benjamin Franklin)


Monday, June 20, 2011

Some catching up to do...

It has been so long since I've authored a new entry to this blog that I almost forgot my password...  I am in the midst of a chapter of my life that is far too thick in details, twists, unexpected turns and laborious character development.  If my life is Moby Dick then I am somewhere around page 523... just hang in there with me, something has to give and easier reading (or smoother sailing -pick your illustration) is somewhere in the chapters ahead.

I've made mental notes of a myriad of topics I would love to weigh in on (Weiner's weiner exposure, the tornado devastation, Bin Laden's encounter with an American soldier, even Oprah's final episodes) but I am resigned to side with Mr. Frost... "knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back".  And so I shall not try to revisit worthy lessons from the recent past but I shall move forward to abundant topics of the present.

As with all efforts of improvement, it is best to put your home in order first.  So my first blog shall be of a personal nature.  My family has experienced many firsts during my absence from the blogesphere.  Here are some images and brief summaries that capture the essences of just two of our firsts. 
Our Angel #1 (my pet name for our oldest) finished her first year of little league softball.  It was a painful year both for her and for the charming Mrs. Wicke.  I try to deal in the truth and so I cannot say anything other than Angel #1 was the most remedial player on her team.  Aside from being at the younger side of the level, many of the girls had four solid years of playing experience under their belt.  Angel #1 had one season of tee ball several years ago.  This being said, I could not be more proud of my little Rudy Rudiger.  She was the most enthusiastic player on the team.  She was always happy, ever enthusiastic and contagiously in love with the game.  She had no idea of her weaknesses and athletic inadequacies.  Mrs. Wicke, however, was not so blind to the painful truth.  Angel #1 went through the entire year with only one hit -if you could really call a three foot dribble toward the pitcher's mound a "hit".  Her team, however, won the league title and advanced to the Tournament of Champions to face the victors of the neighboring leagues.  Long story short:  in her last two games of this tournament (the semi-finals and the finals), our Angel #1 got three solid hits against some very good pitchers.  It was a fairtale ending to a magical year.  As a father it was envigorating to see her athletic development but by far the thing I was most proud of was her undying effort and boundless thrill for a new endeavor.  She gave it her all every moment of the year.  She proved that the spirit of the happy warrior is still alive in the hearts of mankind!




(watch for video soon to come)

The second event requires much less description.  I can sum it up in four words, a numeral and a symbol:
Angel #3 versus coffee table




3 comments:

  1. For the record, since you did not communicate so very well, the season was hard for me, not because of her ability, but because she soooo wanted a hit. It was painful to see her disappointed. Painful. Motherhood is not for the weak, I can tell you that. Oh, and doesn't our baby look so sad? It nearly broke my heart again just looking at the picture.

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  2. Yes poor poor baby. I can so relate to the season being hard. Morgan played soccer and we started with the BRIBE to get a goal...$5.00!!...and ended the season with, "OK! If you TOUCH the ball, you get a quarter!" And her best friend is VERY APT AND COORDINATED running around like a little spitfire! Sound familiar??? But dang they are CUTE!

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  3. P.S. This is ME Megan...I don't remember why I am Family of Friends...maybe that's the blog I set up for us that no one contributed to.

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