The Lovett Blog

Back on the Blog

2010-11-01T11:35:00.000-07:00

It has been a while, but I am going to be writing again. Stay tuned for new Lovett updates!

What An Amazing Week It Was!

2009-04-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

We had an amazing Easter at the Lovett house! With close relatives in from Detroit, we celebrated this important day with a great dinner at our house. The weather couldn't of been better, and the Easter Bunny had delivered all of his treats to each of the awaiting children.
The week with our relatives went by way too fast. It is always hard to see Carrie, Ron, and the kids leave. The girls seemed a bit more quiet than normal. Vivi seemed a bit more fussy, and Dawn and I just wanted to sit around. But we all know that we will be seeing each other soon for a graduation celebration.
I am so thankful for the time that we got to spend together. In yet another troubling time for our small family, their presence made all of our troubles disappear.
To have a family is to mean you see the goodness of God. His mercy and wisdom in the eyes of your children. The love he has for each of us in the eyes of your spouse. The joy He brings to each of us with the hug or handshake of a relative. He reminds us that with family, even though some have left, and now others are feeling broken, that with each other, we will be able to get through anything.

Need a New Drive-Thru?

2009-03-16T06:34:00.000-07:00

The year that my father passed away, my friend Scott moved in with us. Scott is an unbelievably spirited friend. (Though I didn't realize it then, it was a true blessing to have him there with me.)
Scott was the friend who always seemed to ride the edge of sanity. Always making me laugh, and never a dull moment, Scott made that dismal time in my life, have some of the greatest memories.
Scott was, and still is a nature lover. Being outdoors was Scott's mission in life. In being a true outdoors man, he wanted the vehicle that he owned to say that he would rather be on a trail than a road. Well, the vehicle that he found was a 1978 Jeep CJ-5. A 350 cubic inch, 33" tire, 4 X 4 of destruction.
One day, Scott and I decided to go and grab a bite to eat at a local Hardee's in town. Jumping in the Jeep, and firing up the engine, we took off in-search of greasy burgers, and curly fries. What could happen just going to get some fast food?
The uneventful trip took a turn south when we arrived at the end of our road. About five feet from the stop sign, still going at 35 miles per hour, I realized that something was up. Shooting through the stop sign, and coming to a stop in the adult book store parking lot across the street, I screamed my schoolgirl scream, and asked Scott if he had meant to do that? Maybe he wanted to scare the perverts that were walking into the store, as he normally did. To my surprise, the look on Scott's face told me differently.
It turned out that the breaks had failed on the Jeep, he had geared it down to slow down, and eventually the breaks grabbed, finally coming to a stop.
"Well, lets go back and get my car", I told him. His response was a flat out no, gunning the Jeep, and heading for the interstate. As I said before, he was a free spirit!
"We will be fine!" he said and we merged into traffic. Roaring down the interstate toward Hardee's, I worried about my future, and if I would live to see the next day.
Gearing down off the interstate, the Jeep came to a stop. "See, we will be fine", Scott said.
As we pulled into the restaurant, Scott decided to go in and eat, and not run through the drive-thru. Finding a stall by the front door, he pulled in, and that is when the breaks gave out again.
Slamming into the side of Hardee's at 10 mph, we finally came to a stop. With a terrified look, Scott threw the Jeep in reverse, hopped down off of the sidewalk, and parked normally in the stall.
"Do you think anyone saw?", Scott asked as I tried to regain my composure.
"I am not sure?", I told him.
Sitting in the tall Jeep, we could not see any damage to the building, or the Jeep. Scott decided that I should get out, walk through the main lobby, decide not to get anything, and that he would pick me up on the other side. We would drive off, and no one would know what we did.
As I got out of the Jeep, I noticed the giant hole in the side of the building. Standing in amazement, Scott asked me what was wrong. I couldn't get anything out. The brush guard on the Jeep had punched a hole in the side of the building that was the size of a Volkswagen.
"Just walk in!", Scott yelled.
As I started towards the door, all of the workers, and customers started to run from the building. Running outside to see what happened, they saw Scott sitting in his Jeep, smiling his usual smile. "How is everybody today?", Scott asked. "Boy, am I hungry!"
The manager escorted us inside, and asked us a number of questions, got Scott's insurance information, and to our surprise and gave us a ton of free food. (Scott said that we should run into the building all the time!)
The manager explained to us that where we hit the building, was his office. He said that it sounded like a train was coming through the building. He was actually worried about some of the elderly customers, and their hearts.
We finished our food as we waited for the tow truck, and for a ride from my mom.
Well, the Hardee's is now a Burger King, Scott lives in Alaska, and the Jeep was totaled a couple of years ago during Scott's pilgrimage to the Great White North. (He took out an entire RV with it!) But, if you ever visit Burger King today, please look to the right of the door. You will see a spot in the wall that is a shade darker than all of the other wall. That is the reminder of my friend, and of the friendship that we will always have.

The Conversationalist (Part One - Short Story - Rough Draft)

2009-02-23T11:07:00.001-08:00

“The Conversationalist”

What influence we have on our children will only be seen in their lifetime.

Looking back on my past, I see where I started to go wrong. Well, not really myself, but when “things” started to go wrong. You can say that for the first couple of years of my life, things were pretty normal.

I was born Stanley Joel Strumpetta, in December of 72. George and Nancy were very proud of their one and only child.

“Eight pounds, six ounces of pure Strumpetta line backer!” my dad said at my birth.

“We are not pushing him into anything that he does not want to do George. He can choose what he likes, and we will support him in his decisions.”

“My thoughts exactly Nancy! Right after football practice he can do whatever he wants to do.”

I was exactly four minutes in the world, and my life’s plan was already in motion. Little did they know that the entire plan would take a drastic detour in four years.

It’s funny how life works out. One minute you are sitting in your living room, munching on a Turkey Pot Pie while watching Sesame Street, and the next minute your life changes.

On that changing day, Dad came home early from work. Oscar was just recapping the letter of the day, which happened to be Q, when the door came open to our little house.

From what I can remember, and from that day on, dad no longer had to go to work. He was always there.

It use to be, I would wake up in the morning, put my footed pajama feet down onto the cold hardwood floor, and walk to the kitchen, where my mom was waiting for me to wake up. She would greet me with a smile and a hug, bundle me up in an afghan throw, a put me on the couch to watch some Mr. Rogers. Breakfast would be cereal and the best toast that I ever had in the world. The rest of the day would be G.I. Joes and Hot Wheels.

But, after “The Day”, the walk down the hallway to the kitchen would not be the same. Mom and dad would be in there, discussing things loudly, and waving their arms. My blanket was not ready for me, and my bowl of cereal would be empty. The toast came burnt sometimes now, and the television was never turned on. Being four years old, I really didn’t know what to do. I guess my instincts kicked in, and I started taking care of myself.

A world of my own is basically what I lived in. A world of silence in a loud house is the best way to describe it now. Mom and dad continued arguing until the day that dad finally had enough, walked out the door, and never came back. Mom found a job at a local diner as a waitress. It was not far from home so she felt safe leaving me alone. It was a little better though when I started school, then I would only be alone in the afternoon, and part of the evening. I never really had anyone to talk to at home. I watched television that changed channels on its own, so I never really could finish a show. Things just kind of ended, a new story began, and poof, it was gone. (Looking back now, this is where I went wrong.)

I would also try read some of the books that I had, and color some pictures. Looking back at the pictures now, you could tell then that I was different from other children. My pictures would start off as a lovely house, or a really cool racecar. Start off is the key words there. About half way through the drawings, they would slowly start to form something else. My racecar would evolve into a chicken. My lovely house would have a dog’s head for a roof. I couldn’t complete the simplest of drawing. I knew in my mind what I wanted to draw, but something would pull me away. Looking back now, the funniest picture is the self-portrait. It is my head, neck, and part of my torso, but my legs are hot dogs in buns. Guess I was hungry!

Even in first grade I noticed that I was different from the other children. No one really talked to me. Kids have a kind of sixth sense, in that they can pick out the odd ball in the class on the first day. I guess what I did didn’t help either.

The teacher held an impromptu “Show and Tell” with the class for an icebreaker activity. As kids, we always carry around something to connect us with our world outside of school. A couple of the boys brought out the small cars in their pockets, and the girls all had something inside their backpacks to show. I was just like one of the boys, I always carried around this red fire truck in my pocket. It was my special fire truck that I loved. I so wanted to share it with the other students.

“Who would like to share something with the class?” the Mrs. Shotenbock asked.

My hand shot up uncontrollably. Before I knew it, she was pointing in my direction, and asking me to stand at my desk. If I knew then what I knew now, I would of tackled myself to the ground, and smacked some sense into me.

Standing up the words just seemed to flow like a river from my mouth. Holding the fire truck up, like it was the Holy Grail, I started to describe how the fire truck meant the world to me.

“This truck, well fire truck, sings songs like my dog on Sunday. It has mudpies, and a very nice crayon box. My eyes hurt, and my shoes have ants in them.” The words just flowed from my mouth. In my head, I was explaining in detail how I came to have this beautiful red fire truck. As I rambled on and on, the eyes of the students just grew and grew. The snickering started, and the pointing fingers came out. Right in the middle of my talk, Mrs. Shotenbock came over placed a hand on my shoulder and escorted me to the office. That is when it came out in the open.

A First for Maddie

2009-02-20T09:43:00.001-08:00

It was another first for the Lovett girls. Maddie and I attended her first Penguins game on Feb. 19th. Taking on the Montreal Canadiens, the Penguins played another great game!
Maddie was beyond excited as we drove to the arena. The joy flowed from her as she talked my ear off the entire way. Asking questions about the game, and telling me stories about her school day, time flew as we drove the hour long drive. Arriving just before the gates opened, we stood in line with all of the fans. Bouncing from the cold, or maybe the excitement, Maddie's face beamed!
Entering the arena, and viewing the pre-game skate, Maddie was in awe. Calling out the players, and telling me to look at each little thing, we waited until the drop of the puck.
From the first face-off, Maddie sat on the edge of her seat. Yelling, screaming, and jumping up to give me a high five, we had the time of our lives! Again, I am so glad to have shared this moment with my second oldest daughter. I am very thankful for this time that we had together, and can only hope that these times go on forever!

About A Son

2009-02-17T06:46:00.000-08:00

What an Amazing First Hockey Game!!!

2009-02-05T09:47:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had the pleasure of taking Abbey to her first Pittsburgh Penguins game! (And what a game it was!!) Not being able to hardly sleep the night before, Abbey was beyond excited.
Walking down to our seats, we could not believe how close we were. (The second row in, directly behind the goal!) THANK YOU GAMBLE FAMILY!
As the pregame skate went on, Abbey jumped at each puck that was rocketed off of the glass. She was simply amazed, and I was so glad that I could share this moment with her.
At the end of the second period, the Pens were down to the Lightning by a score of 3-0. It looked hopeless.
But, when the third period started, we started to see the team come alive. Sitting on the edge of our seats, and mostly standing, we screamed and cheered as the Pens caught up and eventually tied it up. (The video below is of the 3-3 goal!) We were in hockey heaven!
Going into overtime, we could not control ourselves! Jumping, yelling, and screaming, we were hoping for that fourth and final goal.
It came from Malkin, and in true Malkin style. It sounded as if the Mellon Arena was going to fall in around us.
On the way home, Abbey relived this memorable event over and over to me, and then eventually drifted off to sleep. It was a moment for me that I will always remember. For my father and I had some great Penguins experiences, and I just hoped I could also share them with my girls! LET'S GO PENS!!!

Dave and Nate - My Hero

2009-02-04T08:08:00.000-08:00

Insight

2009-02-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

Trying to figure out life is not one of my greatest accomplishments. If anyone has tried to figure it out, I am sure that they have come up with the same results as I have. Life is as unpredictable as the nightly lottery. You play your lucky numbers on a gut feeling, that this is the time. "After 7 P.M., I will have no other worries." When the first ball appears, you automatically know that this is not the time. There are even those times when you have four out of the seven numbers, but not the big jack pot.
I have alway had the mentality that life was this way. That there was an end all, be all of answers for each of us to follow. That once we "hit" that lottery that all things would be easy for us. That of course, is not the case.
For each of us, there are times in our lives that try our soul, and our stamina. There are times in our lives that we feel we could conquer all. It is these ups and downs that make us who we are.
So, in an announcement to all, I have stopped trying to figure out life. I am finished, and done with the figuring. Stopped trying to think about what tomorrow will bring. Stopped trying to understand people, and what they do to each other. I am done.
If all one thinks about is what might happen, you are missing what is happening. You are missing that time with your family. You are missing the touch of your loved one. You are missing the smile on the children that surround you. You are missing the sunlight of the day, and the painted canvas of the night. You are missing the sweet sound of music, and the power of laughter.
In short, live in the now. Live in the moment. Be in the now. Tomorrow will come like it or not, and if it happens to not, will others be able to say what you have lived for? Will you be remembered for hope or hopelessness. For love, or a vacant heart. For thoughtfulness, or thoughtlessness.
Life is too short. Choose to make the best of each day, whatever it may bring.

So. Central Rain "Song too New to Be Named"

2009-02-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Steeler's Fever Is Catchy!

2009-01-27T07:42:00.000-08:00

Pan the Raccoon

2009-01-26T10:47:00.000-08:00

On his way to work one day, my father came across a very young raccoon wondering around the busy road. It was scampering back and forth across the road, in a frantic frenzy. It seemed that it's mother was just hit by a car, and it did not know what to do. Being the kind hearted individual that he was, and somewhat absent minded, my father pulled the car over, picked up the raccoon, placed it in a box that he had in his car, and proceeded to drive back home.
You see, I come from a family who would help any animal that needed it. Though my dad did not admit to it, and always complained about the cats that my mother had, this instance proved that he had a soft spot for our furry friends.
Once home, my mother cared and nurtured this raccoon, until it grew and grew. "Pan" was the raccoon's name, I am not sure why, I was very little at the time. Being very little, I still remember coming home from shopping and finding out kitchen as if someone had ransacked it. Cupboards open, cereal boxes shredded, bread half eaten, and everything else that Pan could get into, ripped apart. Soon after this, there was some discussion of releasing Pan back into the wild, in the woods behind our house.
Not ready to release him, Pan stayed in our house for a little while longer, until the infamous day of the makeover on my father.
My father was a very hard worker, who left very early in the morning, put in a long day running the machine shop that he worked at, and came home around 5:30 each night. There was a ritual to his home coming. Well, not really a ritual, it was too short to be called that. He would walk in the door, walk to the living room, lay on the couch, and sleep until dinner.
One day, after an extremely long day at work, my father came home, and fell into a very deep sleep, sitting up on our living room sofa. He lay, legs stretched out, and head resting on the back of the sofa. We tried to wake him a couple of times to ask some questions, but it was as if someone had just switched him off. There was no getting a response out of him.
Now, Pan often laid on the back of the couch, so it was not surprising to see him jump up and start to get comfortable beside my father's resting head. As you know, raccoons and monkeys do very similar grooming activities. They search through each other's fur, looking for tiny bugs, and whatnot. Well, Pan, getting all comfy with my father, decided to search through my father's hair before he went to sleep. My sisters and I were sitting in the family room watching one of the three channels that we got on our television, when we noticed what Pan was doing. Being in such a deep sleep, my father was oblivious to Pan searching through his hair.
It wasn't until my father started jerking his entire body, did we realize that Pan was actually doing something to him. Trying to hold back our giggles, we watched as Pan pulled out little clumps of my father's hair! With each pull, my father would not wake, just jerk his entire body.
It was just too hard to hold back the laughter anymore. After five minutes of jerking, and pulling, our laughter got the best of us. With the laughter roaring out of our mouths, my father woke on Pan's last pull.
Jumping to his feet as if his shoes were on fire, my father picked up Pan, and carried him to our back porch. As my father turned to walk out the door, we finally got to see the back of his head. He looked as if he had just joined a colony of monks. There was a bald spot, the size of a half dollar, on top of his head!
Now our laughter was uncontrollable! Unable to speak, or even breathe, we laughed for what seemed like forever! Now, my father, who loved to play jokes on others, did not like to be at the other end of the laughter. "Don't look at me!" he shouted as he ran through the family room, to find a hat.
All through dinner, we ate looking at our plates. Each snicker that started to creep out was quickly extinguished by a swift kick in the shin by another family member. My father wore a hat for the next couple of months, and not long after that, Pan was released back into the wild.
That was the last time my father ever brought home another animal that he found along the road.

Fancy Pants Dance

2009-01-25T10:48:00.000-08:00

Just Some Recent Pics of Vivi

2009-01-20T10:57:00.001-08:00

Vivi Is Here!

2009-01-15T05:27:00.000-08:00

Announcing the arrival of Vivienne Alleen Lovett! She was born on January 14, at 5:52 P.M. Our chubby, little bundle of joy weighed 7 lbs. 15 oz., and is 19 inches long. Both Dawn, and Vivi, are doing great!

Part 2: The Hill, The Cow Pies, and The Splinter

2009-01-03T05:20:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, my wife calls me her "Fourth Child." (Well, that would soon be her "Fifth Child.") I must say that I proudly inherit that characteristic from my father. Though he was brilliant at his profession, loved working on cars, and was the glue that held our family together, in his heart he was a constant age of seven.

Time after time, you could find my father playing practical jokes on people. He would make sure he played every single game he could at each picnic that we had. And lastly, he was the most skilled artist at acting goofy that I had ever seen. (My Father-In-Law, and Brother-In-Law come in a close second.) A day spent with my father was never a dull day.

As I said in my previous post, we lived near a hill known as "The Monster Hill." An awesome hill for sled riding, this hill invited many a child, and young adult to try to master it's descent. Now, to master this hill, some individuals came up with every type of sled imaginable. They would use your basic runner sled, plastic sleds, inner tubes, and even the trunks of cars. (I honestly do not know how these people pulled car trunks up that hill, but I witnessed it, and was completely amazed.)

On his way home from work one winter's day, driving down Lovett Road, my dad noticed something in the field that someone had left after sledding. He pulled the car over to investigate. What he came home that day with an eight foot wooden toboggan. It had seen better days, and needed some work, but my dad was determined to get it up and running for this coming weekend. (We were in for some snow on Friday, and were already planning our sledding trip.)

Each snow as a child is magical. It is almost like Christmas morning when you wake up, and run to the window to see what came for you. Well, thank God, this time the reports were not wrong. ( If I remember right, the snow was deep enough to cover up my shiny sliver moon boots!) My dad was already in the kitchen making breakfast, and was telling me to get on the phone to call some friends over to go sledding. The toboggan was ready, and he wanted to use it. So, on the phone I was, and right after breakfast we were in the car driving to pick up four of my friends. (My father loved to drive in the snow! He would fishtail the car, and do doughnuts ever chance he could!)

All bundled up, looking like Randy from "A Christmas Story", ("I can't put my arms down!"), we walked up the hill with our variety of sleds. My dad stood at the bottom with the toboggan waiting for the final run of the day. He loved, and enjoyed, rating our wrecks! "That one deserves a 6!" he would yell at us as we tried to gather our senses after each wipe out.

As I said before, you can only go down this hill a couple of times before you are completely physically exhausted. We were ready for our last run, the run that would forever become known as "The Toboggan Runs, of All Toboggan Runs!"

My dad pulled the toboggan up the hill, to the top. My four friends and myself all jumped on, and my dad jumped on the back. As I also stated before, during the spring, summer, and fall, this field was used as a cow pasture by a local farmer. The cow pies that were dropped in those warm days, soon froze to become large brown rocks in the winter. During this day, and this was a lucky one, no one had come across any of these hidden land mines.

We started down the hill, and already we were picking up some great speed. The front end of the toboggan was slicing through the snow, and throwing it up in a wall of white. We were driving blind! We all just ducked our heads, and prayed for our lives. Most of my friends were now screaming in terror, and were wanting to stop this monster of a sled from racing down the hill. My dad, on the other hand, was laughing uncontrollably. His trademark "Goose laugh" echoed through the hills of Bentleyville.

I am not sure how far we made it down before we hit the daddy of all cow pies. This cow pie was so huge, that the cow who dropped it must of been saving it for a month. It felt as if we slammed into a boulder. The first thing that we heard was the sound. It sounded as if a gun had gone off right beside your ear. (My ears actually were ringing when this whole event was over!) Well, that sound was the wooden toboggan, that my dad had worked so hard on, splintering into a million different pieces.

Since there was no longer a sled beneath us, we started rolling, tumbling, flying, and screaming down the hill. Snow, then sky. Snow, then sky. This was the pattern that I kept seeing as I continued down the hill. The sounds of my friends tumbling, and screaming filled my ears next. It seemed as if we were falling down a bottomless hill.

Finally, I came to a stop. After laying in the snow for a couple of minutes to make sure I was still in one piece, I sat up and looked up the hill. What I saw was an amazing site! It looked as if we were in a war zone. Bodies, and pieces of wood, were strewn across the face of the hill. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen! There were no pieces left of the sled that were bigger than six inches.

Slowly, my friends started to get up, and see the carnage for themselves. I counted to make sure I had all four friends with me, and we started to picked up our hats, and gloves that were knocked off. We started to tell each other all about our point of view of the wreck, and to show each other our battle scars. (Arnie actually went air born this time instead of the sled!)

None of us had any major injuries, thank God! I started to pick up my inner-tube when I noticed my father hopping around, and the bottom of the hill like a mad man. I guess because he had more weight, and momentum, that he made it all the way to the bottom. We all though that he was jumping around because he was excited about the wreck! (We thought that he scored himself a 10 on his scale.) So, halfway up the hill we all started jumping and screaming also in celebration! "We got a 10!" we all yelled!

We all ran down the rest of the hill to my dad, and then realized he was not doing some sort of weird celebration dance. He was actually hopping around yelling because he had one of those six inch pieces of toboggan sticking out of his left butt cheek! Our cheering soon turned to concern, and then to laughter. "It's not funny!" he yelled. "My butt has a piece of wood in it!" That was when we all fell down laughing harder.

Well, this was the day when I first got to drive a car. My dad laid in the back seat, face down , and butt in the air. My friends all bunched in the front seat with me, on the bench seat. Yelling out directions on how to make it home, my dad was my first "Back Seat Driver."

When we got home, my dad ran into the house to show my mom his "Sledding Injury." Hating hospitals, my father pulled the splinter out, put about ten Star Wars band-aids on his bum, and complained the entire time at dinner. (I guess it wasn't as bad as it looked!) Sitting crooked, with all of his weight on his right butt cheek, my dad talked about the day. Thinking that he was going to retire from sledding, I was waiting for the phrase of , "I'll never do that again!" But knowing my father, I should of know what he would say next. "You know, next time, I'll have to make some bigger supports for that toboggan. Then we will make it down that hill!" ("It will probably take him 10 years to put the thing back together!" my friend Dave leaned over and whispered in my ear.) There really was nothing left of that sled.

As I think back on this great time now, I sit and laugh to myself. I also realize now I had a great life lesson from this. Without really knowing it, my father had taught me something really special. What he taught me was that whatever poop is laid in your path, get back on that sled, and make it a great ride!

The Monster Hill, and Cow Pies

2008-12-30T05:55:00.000-08:00

Sitting here looking at all of the girls gifts, I spy the sleds that Santa brought them. Starting to think about all of the times I went sledding, I start to chuckle to myself. I had some great times in the past with my friends and family. Flying down hills, wind and snow hitting your face, and the great thrill of the speed. Sledding was always one of my favorite wintertime activities.

There are two great moments in my sledding adventures though. Moments, that when I think back on them, remind me of the opening for ABC's "Wide World of Sports," where that poor long jump skier, comes off of the end of the long jump, and just cartwheels down the hill. I remember watching that, wincing, and just the word "ouch" comes to mind.

Both sledding events took place near my childhood home in Bentleyville. It was a monster hill, that sits right along Interstate 70, about 1/4 of a mile from my home. We would usually walk up our road to the hill, if I could not talk my dad into driving us up. It was a hill where you could only go down 3-4 times. It was just too steep to walk up. But, it was fast, dangerous, and full of land mines.

You see, in the summer, this field was used by the Metz family as a cow pasture. All through the summer, and most of the fall, you could see cows grazing in the field. When it started to get cold, the Metz family would bring the cows back over to their farm, through a tunnel that went under the interstate. What the cows would drop in the field, would eventually be the main culprit in these two stories.

The first story involves a childhood friend of mine. His name was Arnie, and he was one of the smallest kids in our class. (If you see him now, you would never know it!) Arnie and I took our "runner" sleds up to the hill. The runners on our sleds were all waxed up with candle wax, car polish, and Pledge. It was just like the secret silicone spray that Clark Grizwald uses on "Christmas Vacation." I was using the six foot runner sled, while Arnie was using the four foot runner sled. I told you he was small. We both did a couple of great runs, and were ready to call it a day, when we decided to take one more shot at the hill.

I went down first. About 3/4 of the way down, the steering on my sled snapped. I went off the trail, and of course, off my sled. So, as I wiped the snow from my snowsuit, I waited for Arnie to come down.

I noticed that Arnie, from the start, had a great deal of speed this time. He looked as if he was in the time trials for a runner sled competition at the Olympics. I could hear Arnie screaming as he thundered down the hill. Half-way down, Arnie's luck took a turn for the worse. As I said before, during the summer and fall, there were cows on this hill. Those cows of course ate a lot of grass, and made a lot of cow pies. In the winter, these smelly things would freeze as hard as rocks, and act just like them. Halfway down the hill, hidden under the snow, Arnie hit a monster cow pie, which caused a chain of events to happen that forever will be burned into my memory.

Once Arnie hit the cow pie, the front end of his sled started to rise. The jolt of the hit, also must of made Arnie's hands come loose. Now, the crucial part of this event was Arnie's speed. Because he was going so fast, air got under the front end of his sled and pushed it straight up into the air. It looked as if we were in Florida watching the Space Shuttle take off. That runner sled shot straight into the air at least 30 feet. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen!

Watching the sled soar upward, a thought crossed my mind. "Where's Arnie!" My eyes scanned the slope, and noticed Arnie, flat on his stomach, still roaring down the hill at the same speed. It was as if there was an invisible sled under his little body. His screams of elation, were now screams of terror. I, on the other hand, was laughing so hard that the tears that were forming in my eyes started to freeze on this cold winter's day.

Well, Arnie made it about 75 yards without his sled. He laid there, looking like someone trying to make snow angles on their stomach. Still laughing uncontrollably, I ran down to Arnie to check to see if he was fine. I rolled him over, to see his snow coat all ripped up, snow in his hair, and face completely red from the cold. His hat was missing, as well as one of his snow moon boots. Now, I was laughing so hard I had to sit down.

I explained to Arnie that was the greatest sled run I had ever seen! "Well, I wish I saw it!" Arnie said. "I had my eyes closed from the top of the hill!"

We noticed my dad coming down our road from work, and flagged him down. We went up the hill, found the lost boot, and the rocket runner sled. Laughing as we walked to the car, we made plans to come back to the hill the next day if we could. As we opened up the car door, my dad spotted Arnie's coat. The only thing that my dad asked was, "Cow pie?" The only thing that I could do was laugh again.

Part 2 later this week.

What A Merry Christmas It Was!

2008-12-25T06:35:00.000-08:00

Santa came to the Lovett house on Christmas in a big way! The girls had their alarms set for 6:30, they wanted to set them at 4. They pulled our tired grown-up bodies down to the steps to see what awaited them. When they rounded the corner from our stairway, the shouts of "Wow!", and "I can't believe it!" filled our house. The presents from Santa covered half of the family room. It looked as if Toys R Us had opened up a new store in our little town of Cokeburg. With video camera rolling, and Dawn snapping stills, the girls ripped into their gifts. "Look what I got!", was uttered about every other second. The camcorder looked as if I was watching a tennis match. A shot of Syd opening up something, then across the room to Abbey, then back to Maddie, it was a frenzy of wrapping paper. I tried to keep them somewhat organized, with presents in one pile, and paper in another. But, after a few times of saying, "Paper in one pile, and stack your presents!", I could tell that it would be useless. The girls went through their presents like a fire through a dry forest. Sydney, at the peak of unwrapping, opened one present, and yelled "Cool, look what I got!" I then responded to her with a, "Well, what is it?" After sitting a few seconds she shot back, "I don't know, but it looks cool!" (It was a mini-portable mp3 player.)

Sitting there, watching the girls open their gifts from Santa, made me very thankful again. Thankful that I am sitting here, with my wife, daughters, and daughters to be. Thankful for the family, and the support that they have shown us over the past couple of months. Thankful for the many wonderful, and close friends that we have. (Santa would of never made it here without you!) And thankful for Him, born on Christmas! You see, God surrounded us with all of our family and friends for a reason. He knew what was ahead of us in October when we found out about the mass. He knew that we would need prayer and peace. Each one of our friends and family has given the Lovetts the best gifts of all. The gift, and power, of prayer. The gift, and tranquility, of peace. And the gift of the power of love.

There has been some amazing events that has happened because of the tumor. Family bonds have been mended, and strengthened. Friends have come together, and have been reunited after years. Friends who are always there have showed their love, and support, and have only made our love for them stronger. A community now looks different in our eyes when we drive through it. From our daily trips from Cokeburg, through Ellsworth, and into Bentleyville, we no longer see all the business that are no longer in business. We no longer see the sleepy, little streets. We see a community that is thriving. A community thriving on its commitment to the individuals who live in it. A community thriving to help a neighbor, and reach out a hand to one in need. If you have ever seen the movie "Pleasantville," you can imagine the Lovetts driving through our community, and seeing for the first time, the bright colors that these community members have washed our town with. The colors of love, kindness, compassion, and care.

Our Christmas festivities wrapped up around 11 P.M. last night. The girls all dressed in new pj's, went up to bed with no complaints. The family room still looked as if a toy bomb had exploded in it, and Dawn and I went to bed, leaving it until tomorrow, and thinking to ourselves that this will definitely be a Christmas that we will never forget.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-23T04:53:00.001-08:00

To all of you who have made this Christmas one that we will cherish for our entire lives, we wish you the most blessed Christmas, and the happiest of New Years.

We are so thankful for each one of you, and all that you have done. We are so lucky to have each one of you in our lives. This Christmas has been a MIRACLE for us in many ways, and each one of you are a part of that MIRACLE.

Love and Blessings,

The Lovetts

Fix You - Great Words

2008-12-20T10:53:00.000-08:00

12 Fingers!?

2008-12-19T06:37:00.000-08:00

Our youngest daughter was sitting doing some math homework the other night, and was experiencing some difficulty. She was trying to complete that pesky mathematical operation of subtraction. 10 - 5, 7 - 3, she was flying through, until she met up with 12 - 6. "How do I do that?" she asked. My wife and I told her that she should try to start at six, use her fingers, and count up to 12. Sitting there for a minute or two, she finally threw the paper on the floor in frustration, with a groan.

"I give up!" she said. "I can't do it!"

"You can't just give up!" we both told her. "You can do it!"

Our daughter, with a serious look on her face, told us "Oh no I can't! I DON'T HAVE TWELVE FINGERS!"

Baseball, Cars, and Time`

2008-12-17T06:49:00.000-08:00

This time of year always makes a person reflect on their past. From past childhood Christmases, where Santa brought you more than you asked for. From your first Christmas together married. From your first Christmas with your own children. The list could go on. They are all great memories that will always be, and forever more will be, etched into your life’s story.

This time of year also takes our minds on a journey of what quality time you have spent doing something lasting in your life. “Where has this year gone?” is often said between adults. I think of the past year, and all of its happenings, and they all seem like they happened just yesterday.

Because of my hospital visits this year, I have often found myself drifting back to thinking about my father. How much more quality time could I have spent with him before he left us? Did he know how much of a hero he was to me? Did he know how much of an influence he had on my life?

The strongest memories of my dad start off during my little league days. When I started to pitch, which I was never great at, my father constructed my very own pitchers mound in our back yard. Each night after dinner, we would go out with a bowling ball bag full of baseballs, and I would pitch. I remember throwing till my arm could not take it any more. Ball after ball, in the strike zone or not, he was giving pointers on how to change my delivery and stance. Did I realize then what he was doing for me? Did I realize this special moment together? I would have to think no. What was going through my mind at that time was that my arm was ready to fall off, and I would much rather be running through the woods, or terrorizing my sisters.

As soon as that bag of balls was empty, we would jump into the 84’ Trans Am we had, and we would head off to the South Park batting cages. It gave my arm a rest on the 40-minute drive there. (I was also allowed to shoot spitballs out the t-tops in the car. Sorry if you were behind us!) When we got there, he would start me through the cycle of slow, fast, medium, fast, slow…and so on. We would finally leave the batting cages when I couldn’t pick the bat up anymore, or the mosquitoes got too bad. Five days a week we would do this routine of pitching, and batting. Do you think I thought about the time he gave up for me? No I didn’t then. But I do remember all of the great times I had with him driving to and from the cages, with ZZ Top blaring out of the speakers, and him blowing the horn at all the girls. He would always tell me he was blowing the horn for me! (Yeah right!)

The next large chunks of memories are working on the 1965 Pontiac Catalina. I was turning 16, wanted a hot rod, and he was more than willing to help out. My grandmother had originally purchased the Catalina in 1965, in Belle Vernon, Pennsylvania. It had sat in our garage for years. The car was a purplish, Easter egg color, which soon turned to a fire engine red. Since I was not in baseball anymore, yes my arm finally gave out because of a nasty break, this was our after dinner activity. Eat, change our clothes, put on the oldies station in the garage, call some friends over, and work. He would show my friends and myself what needed done, and we would get started on it. Usually he would have to finish what he showed us because we had no idea what we were doing, but he didn’t complain. Through his humming, whistling, singing, and making fun of my friends, this was probably the most exciting time in my young adult life.

The day we finished the car, was probably the last day I worked with him in the garage. After that, it was “I’m going to pick up my friends, and we are going to go riding around!” I think that he only got to drive the Catalina once or twice. I look back now, and I know that he was just itching to lay down some rubber, or go screaming down Interstate 70.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of memories that I have of my father besides these three large chunks. I have countless material from my dad for future blogs. It is just all this time, he was starting to get sick. I really didn’t notice it at first, and just thought, “He’s my dad, he’s immortal!” But, I was sadly wrong.

The last big block of memories is from the 1969 Camaro. It was my dream car! We both wanted another project to work on, and wanted to have another car so that we could park the Catalina, so the miles wouldn’t rack up, and he would have something to drive. Well, the Camaro lasted for about 9 months. I was on my way home from school, showing off for some friends who were driving behind me, slammed down the gas, fish-tailed the back end, and went right through the guard rails. When my dad came home from work, he was not upset surprisingly. He simply said it now gave us the opportunity to make it into the proper hot rod it should be.

The Camaro went into the garage, my dad’s health went downhill, and I was off with my friends. I remember him coming home from work, eating, changing his clothes, putting on the oldies in the garage, and going out to work. I was off who knows where, doing who knows what with my friends. I still remember walking by the garage door, on my way to take out the Catalina one night, seeing him sitting on top of the Camaro, getting read to mig-weld in the new floor pans. “Hey there, wanna help out tonight?” he asked. I don’t remember what I said, but I don’t remember staying either.

Those mig-welds on the floor would be the last time he would work on the Camaro. One chain of events led to another, and the next thing I knew, dad was in the hospital, the same one that I visit now for my tumor. He was actually allowed to come home for one weekend, before an upcoming major surgery. Did I stay at home, and sit and talk? Did I say lets go catch some baseball? Did I ask him if he wanted to go blow the horn in the Catalina and some young girls? No, I simply asked him for some money to go out with my friends. Sometimes, when you are young, you do some really stupid things!

At this time of year, I really miss my dad. I picture him sitting on the couch, telling me to be careful, and not do anything stupid on that last weekend. I hear him singing the bass parts to all the oldies that came on the radio in the garage. I picture the big grin on his face as I pitched three consecutive pitches in the strike zone at our backyard pitcher’s mound. And I picture the last time I saw him, sitting in his hospital bed, not being able to talk to me, but reaching his hand out to take mine.

I received the call at home back in 1991, letting our family know that my father had passed away. Being a senior in high school, and having to tell your mother and relatives that her husband, and friend was dead, was more than I can handle. Even though that was 17 years ago, the pain of that call still stings me to the core.

So, why write this, during this time of year? Just in the hope that one person reading this will realize the precious time that we have with our loved ones, and to not take any of this time for granted. We have a new year starting soon, and to make this next year, a year of memories for your loved ones. To be thankful this Christmas for the gift of life, and to not take any day for granted.

Even though I don’t have either of the cars, and someone new now owns the pitcher’s mound, I still have the memories, which I took for granted then, but will forever cherish in my heart.

Thank you Dad!

It Is A Wonderful Life!

2008-12-14T06:52:00.001-08:00

George Bailey has always been a hero of mine. If you have never heard of George Bailey, I suggest you stop reading this right now, find a copy of Frank Capra’s “It’s A Wonderful Life,” sit with your family, and enjoy one of the greatest Holiday movies of all time.

You see, George comes from a very small town, much like ours, called Bedford Falls. As a young man, George has some big plans for his life. “To shake the dust of this little town and see the world,” is one of his famous quotes. Well, as we all know, life happens to George, and he spends all of it in that small town, running his family’s savings and loan.

One event after another sends George in a downward spiral, until he makes the ultimate wish of never being born. His fumbling guardian angel, Clarence, takes him on a journey to see what the world would be like without him.

After witnessing these events, George realizes the blessings that he took for granted each day. The blessing of family, the blessing of friends, and the blessing of community. They were always there for him, although the desperate times clouded his vision.

The classic scene of George running down Main Street of Bedford Falls, screaming hello to each store, renewing his life, and giving thanks for where he lives, forever lives with me as one of the best-shot scenes in film history.

Over the past few months, and years, it seemed that my life was on the same downward spiral. One event after another seemed to cast a shadow over the Lovett household. I was slowly turning into a modern day George Bailey. Not knowing how much more our small family could take before we could not take anymore.

The miracle news of our newest addition to our family, our fourth little girl, was overshadowed in October by the news of a mass found on my pituitary gland. The tumor was rather large, and had already begun to destroy the optic nerves. The doctors were actually amazed that my vision was still intact. This brain tumor was causing a condition called, Acromegaly. Acromegaly is a hormonal disorder, caused by the tumor, that results from too much growth hormone (GH) in the body. Physical deformities, cardiac enlargement / dysfunction, and the destruction of the liver, had already begun to happen. Needless to say, our heads were sent spinning.

Dawn was on top of things, locating the best care for the removal of the tumor. She did not have to look much further than Presby Hospital in Pittsburgh. Dr. A. Kassam, associated with U.P.M.C., was an innovator in a new procedure, which was minimally invasive in removing the tumor through the nasal cavity. Past procedures for this tumor required removal of the top of the skull, as well as portions of the forehead, and cheekbones to get to it. Thank God for Dr. Kassam. (We knew that this was the doctor when, on our first visit, feeling very overwhelmed, Dr. Kassam turned to me and said, “You know, you have a beautiful nose! I could get your gall bladder out through that thing!” Thank God for humor!)

Well, in this small community, news spreads quickly. I must also say, that in this small community, people jump into action quickly. Having heard of our situation, a group of friends decided to put together a benefit dinner for our family. With gratitude, and awe, we heard plans of this dinner growing and spreading, even before I went in for the procedure. The community was coming together, and the support, and prayers from all involved were making our family stronger. Thank God for our friends and community.

On November 10, I underwent the six and a half hour operation. The tumor was completely removed, and my hormone levels were already starting to fall immediately after the surgery. All great news! With Dawn, and countless members of my family, I started to undergo the healing process.

The pain that was felt on the day of the surgery, and the following day was excruciating. But, as the days went on, the pain subsided, and I started to feel better. Getting to come home three days after the surgery was a miracle. I was now on the road to recovery.

I will have to follow up with Dr. Kassam very frequently for the next several years. If one cell was left, there is a slight chance that it might return. They want to stay on top of this, and I am thankful for that.

Upon arriving at home, I was treated as king of the castle by my wife and daughters. Not being able to lift anything over five pounds, bend at the waist, or drive, I was, and am currently, pretty much relying on them to do what I needed done. With Dawn carrying our little girl, this of course was, and is, very hard on her, but she has gone above and beyond what she needed to do. I am so thankful to her, and owe her so much. My love for her grows deeper with each passing moment.

The cards, and e-mails, started rolling in. From family, friends, co-workers, and strangers, they were lifting our family’s spirits. The joy of friendship was having its own healing power on me, and giving our family strength. So many people were reaching out to us, in so many ways, that we simply became speechless.

Now, with the benefit dinner rapidly approaching, miracles are happening daily. We were so honored, and touched by the communities’ generosity, that we thank God each day for everyone here. So much good has come from this, and please; do not take this from a materialistic standpoint.

You see, I think we were sent this obstacle to see the blessings that we have in our lives at this very moment. I was beginning to become George Bailey, being overcome by the day-to-day stresses, and the mountain of obstacles that our small family was encountering. I do believe that this tumor was my “ Clarence.” It showed me the strength of the love of my wife and daughters. It showed me the strength of my family. It showed me the strength of my Faith. It showed me the strength of my friends. Also, it showed me the strength of our small community. A community that I am so glad to call home.