Triad Mom's On Main - Guest Post 5 Parenting Tips

Sometime today, I have a guest post landing over at Triad Mom's on Main. So go over there and read about my "5 Parenting Tips From A Seasoned Dad."

The post is a part of the Fatherly Fridays series they are running. Oh and remember to leave a comment...I like that!

If you are here via our very own Winston-Salem Parenting BLOG, Triad Moms on Main, welcome and please leave a comment to let me know who you are!!

Daddio

Yes. I'm a dad. I rock. 

Stop. Look. Listen.

Before you cross the street, stop, look and listen. This advice was drilled into my head as a child. Before you cross the busy street - which for me was often traffic crammed Ocean Boulevard in the heat of the Summer tourist season in Myrtle Beach, SC - you should stop, look both ways and listen for traffic coming as well as look. Stop. Look. Listen.

One of our kids, at preschool age, learned this phrase incorrectly and would utter "Stop. Look and Licken," when we would prepare to cross a street. In loving and nurturing parental fashion, we never corrected her and soon we all had a new phrase for practicing safe crossings.

There are all kinds of crossings in life.

The saying stays with me. Stop, look and listen. My life is busy. I plan each day for a busy life. I enjoy it. Living is a lot like showing up at the Sunday buffet and having to chose what you are not going to taste. I'm not particularly good at saying no. I want the entire feast!

Last weekend I spent some time in Asheville, NC. I had two wonderful days with nothing planned. I went for a hike in the mountain woods, visited the Folk Art Center, took a long sit at a Blue Ridge Parkway overlook, and tarried for hours in a local coffee shop writing, reading and relaxing. I stopped, slowed down, looked at the world I was in and savored, listened, to the details and nuances of my living - that one day. It was a beautiful day. I think I'll do it some more.

When is the last time you followed the simple direction: Stop, look and listen?

Miasma Episode I

NOTE: This is a creative writing piece and could be one of a series that creates a fantasy character to allow for observational prose...

My name is Miasma. Actually, Miasma isn't my real name and if I tried to tell you my real name your ears would not hear it nor would your mind grasp it, so for you and the world you see, I am Miasma.

I am a watcher of people and their things for in my watching I find some degree of comfort, some measure of essence that I would otherwise lose and soon I might fade beyond the reach of this world. I cannot touch it or you anymore, so I watch. My presence is veiled to you, no more than the wisp of a cloud or the last mist of a spring morning. I can only watch. I watch the beauty and the ugliness.

Today I watch her, this child with brilliant blue eyes, dancing with light. If you would see her you would most likely be so struck by the particular shade of azure blue brimming from her eyes that you might miss the truly brilliant light that is her eagerness of being as it radiates into the world around her. Yes, I see this radiance. Some might discount her shine as youthful and untainted enthusiasm, but I know better. I have seen this before and today as I watch her trace her fingers along the cracked mortar between the smooth wall stones, I know that this youngling is a rare and delicate version among your kind. She hums a simple tune, one that rises from her inner being and as her wordless song touches the air and all around her I feel the urge to bow, I and every form of life around her would sway upon her song if she only wished it so. She doesn't, for she doesn't know how, yet...

What's Your Epitaph?

And the end of the fight is a tomb stone white with the name of the late deceased
And an epitaph drear “A fool lies here who tried to hustle the east.”

-Rudyard Kipling

Do you ever give thought to the epitaph you want on your tomb stone? Or, do you ever wonder what your surviving relatives (always thought that was a strange connotation. Like they survived your dying?)?

Apparently the possibilities are wide open.

Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake.
Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery

Here lays Butch,
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger,
But slow on the draw.
In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery

I was somebody.
Who, is no business
Of yours.
Someone determined to be anonymous in Stowe, Vermont

And my favorite,

"I told you I was sick!"
In a Georgia cemetery

On a more serious note, lately I think I know what mine may turn out to be, if I live that long. 

My wife and granddaughter (5 years old) talk about me a good bit. In a loving effort to help our granddaughter understand the people in her world, her grandmother will often explain other people’s behavior. I’m no exception. One evening, in anticipation of the coming morning – my granddaughter asked, “Will granddaddy Kim be here in the morning?” My wife explained, “No. He’ll leave early for work, before you are awake. He goes to work every day to make money so we can have food, a house and other nice things.” One morning early, I walked into the bedroom after my shower, to find them both snuggled into our bed. I dressed for work quietly, in the dark and heard them talking.

Granddaughter: There’s granddaddy Kim… in the dark.
Grandmother: Yes. He knew we would be resting and didn't want to bother us. He’s thoughtful like that. He’ll go down and feed the dogs and let them out, too. So they can run up and join us for a snuggle. Isn’t it nice of him to do that for us?

So, as I’m thinking about how my life is impacting others, I’m hearing my wife tell my grandchild that I am a thoughtful, considerate provider. I've worked hard to be a lot of things: an excellent salesperson, a reliable employee, successful in business, an able public speaker, etc. But here I am, looking from the point of view of my family and I find that I am seen in a different light.

Provider. Considerate. Thoughtful. 

Honestly, that is an epitaph, be it written on the stone above my grave or on the folds of the hearts of those who remember me, which I can live and die with.

Ghost Email

My sister died last May. Today, I got an email from her...well, from her account. Apparently some SPAM bot has taken control of her old email account and sent me a link to a 'work from home' business opportunity. As freaky as this was, I'll just add it to the list with Facebook reminding me of her birthday every year - her profile is still up.

Note to self: make sure family has all of my internet profiles, email accounts, and website log-ins and passwords so they can care for those, after I'm gone and are ready for the digital death!

Welcome to Myrtle Manor and My Family

I was born and grew up in Myrtle Beach, SC. It was a good life of intense summers and quiet off-season. Frankly, it was a bit of a wild, youthful life. People would come to Myrtle Beach for a 'blow it out' weekend or week of vacation and, as a resident motel hand and local beach bum, I was happy to help.

Fast forward to 2013 and although I no longer live at the sea side-side show, I have a double dozen and more of relatives still residing and carrying on down there. How fun is it to see some of them featured on TLCs upcoming show "Welcome to Myrtle Manor." Yes, I'm serious.

Tune in tonight at 10 pm EST for the premier.

Saturday Me

We were told to expect snow

Snow, again.

Greeted by crisp hope and freezing air

We waited…

Dogs sniffing the air and each other

Hawks sat and wrapped themselves in feather shawls

Discreet expectations

Anticipation of broken routines that might

Hold us captive to our homes

Caressed by comforting teas and cakes

It didn’t snow.

Still, we stayed home, held the dogs

Surrendering to self-imposed captivity

Saturday morning…me

-Kim E. Williams

Socially Rude and The New Family Christmas Photo

Over at Netchicks Marketing blog, the new standard in family Christmas photos has been revealed!

I laughed and then I had one of those "things that make you go HUM moments." The blog post asks if smart phones are making us socially dumb. Good question. As I read, I realized that for many of us the word 'social' is being dramatically realigned to refer to...well...the stuff we do with our heads down into our smart phones.

Then I had a few more thoughts.

The presence of mobile devices has changed the way we interact. Is it "bad" or making us dumb? I read an interesting book last year The Shallows, by Nicolas Carr that suggests the problem is larger than mobile devices and dangerously close to causing a rewiring of our brains. Carr is a bit over zealous in his claims, but it's a good read and contains some great research.

As a public speaker, I would contend that the speaking environment has been dramatically changed by mobile devices and Social Media. Speakers once depending on word, vocal inflection and gestures to all work together in a precisely developed symphony of presentation that required rapt attention of the audience. We can no longer be assured that people are, at any given moment actually listening or watching us. What to do? We can strive to embrace the change and adapt to it - there are some interesting possibilities available - 

1. using other's Social clout to market your ideas and brand by inviting people to interact via Social Media

2. adopting a social vernacular to engage users. "This is tweet worthy"

3. providing short (less than 140 characters) points and quotes

4. letting people know when you need them to stop, look and listen

5. keep Social handles and hash tags visible throughout the presentation

Like it or not, Social Media and mobile devices are a means of communicating information, and what is a good presentation if not information that is educational, motivational and fun to share?

All of that said, we do need to balance our use of these devices and media and have a low tolerance for what we experience as rude behavior in social situations.

What do you consider rude smart phone behavior?

Coffee Table Tales - Sharing Ourselves

There was a time when coffee tables held the central place in our living rooms. Upon them rested the symbols of our lives. Scattered in plain sight, the magazines, books, and nick knacks of our interest quietly broadcast the message of who we were. You could tell a lot about us by our coffee table tops.

My childhood coffee table was made of 1970’s metal tube legs and glass. The top was a framed glass panel, revealing what appeared to be a star-burst pattern of small, rectangular tiles. The ‘tiles’ were actually a plastic sheet, molded and dyed to the pattern. We kept National Geographic magazine’s 3 or 4 most recent issues fanned out on the table. A center piece of plastic fern in a gold wooden dish was always slightly askew from the bumps and table top activity of us kids. If no guests were around, you would have seen the current homework project tossed into the mix. It wasn't uncommon to find green toy soldiers tucked into the fern or climbing down the metal gold legs.  If company was expected, the soldiers and homework were always replaced by Better Homes and Gardens and a sculptured ceramic ash tray. Ours was a coffee table that told the story of a modest family, intrigued by learning and with aspirations of being normal. My grandmother’s coffee table wasn't the same.

My grandmother’s living room (and it was her living room, even though my grandfather was allowed in to sit in his chair and watch the nightly news) sported a large, round cypress coffee table. Always on the top of it was a bowl of artificial fruit and a combination ash tray-candy dish. The ash tray was never used and the candy was off limits except to guests. You were not allowed to lean on, write on, put anything on top of or run near the table. Once a year, at Christmas, the center piece was replaced by a bowl full of gold and white ornaments. The table told a story of constant order, measured hospitality and fragile balance.

From what I can remember, the coffee tables of old served as statements – sometimes intended, often unconscious – of who we were. I don’t see as many coffee tables in living rooms today and lately have wondered if we might have found something else to take their place. When I look around I see a number of coffee table tops: Facebook, Pinterest, blogs, websites…. On these spaces we can broadcast much easier our likes, wants, feelings and interests. Posting a photo on Facebook, an emotive 140 characters on Twitter or a personal story on a blog all give us a means to set the table for others to see. So, today I’m wondering – what do my digital coffee tables tell about me? What do you see in the things spread before you on your friends and families spaces? How do you present yourself when you know friends are coming by your digital place?

Random thought: Is there a coffee table app? A virtual table with digital objects we could display to tell our momentary mood or story? Should there be?

College Football Game Day

Headed to NC State today...

to the FSU and NC State game.

We are a house divided. My wife graduated from Florida State and her olderst daughter went to NC State.

I think I'll just root for my alma mater, Wofford!

Go Terriers! 

Garden City Surf Shop - An Icon

Garden City Surf Shop

Garden City Surf Shop Entrance

This place has been there as long as I can remember...and that makes it OLD! I uploaded the photos in full resolution, so click on them and enjoy the details of the paintings!

Kim E Williams 1.0

Kim 1.0

Re-post and Finale' - Sunday Coffee Cup

The following was the first Sunday Coffee Cup post. I have been considering ending the series (mainly because I have already told all of my mug stories), and it seems fitting that as my sister was the subject of the first post - her passing this past week should be the occasion for my last Sunday Coffee Cup post.


You can read them all here. So, please settle in and enjoy how this all began and know this will be the last weekly post of the Sunday Coffee Cup. I'm sure a significant mug may find it's way into my life and end up here sporadically...however, here's the ending as it was the beginning...

We all have them stashed and stacked in the cabinet. Why do we collect so many coffee mugs and cups? Some are little more than clutter. A plastic memento of a meaningless event or casual encounter with a random company. Yet, for me, what I see when I reach for a Sunday morning cup for my coffee is a cupboard full of significant life moments, memories of time well sent and people kindly known. My Sunday morning coffee cup selection is never really casual. Each time I choose a mug, I'm choosing to remember and reconnect with a segment of my life.

It seems selfish to keep all of these moments to myself, so each Sunday I'll plan on posting a Sunday Coffee Cup photo and story. Enjoy this inaugural post.

My Sister - Burp!

It was Christmas of 1999. I was just months past my departure from the ordained ministry, my spirit and my life still reeling from the trauma of personal burnout. Finances were bottomed out. I was working my first 'sales' job and beginning what would become a new career chapter. It was one of those life moments when all I had of certainty and peace was each emotion filled moment, each small rational choice and a tenuous faith that somehow God would see me through.

The trip to Myrtle Beach, SC for our extended family Christmas gathering was tentative, lacking in joy and confidence. There were to be few gifts given, few life accomplishments to celebrate. Enter my sister.

My sister is, and mostly has been throughout her life, a mess. Sometimes that 'mess' was of the playful, mischievous childhood variety of 'mess.' A mess you find yourself admiring for tenacity, boldness and undaunted determination. Sometimes my sister's 'mess' was more of the personal life catastrophe variety. Bad choices, bad timing, bad comrades and all in the worst possible order. Mt sister was going through a 'mess' of the second variety in 1999. She was, simply put, in worse shape than I was - at least it looked like it from the outside looking in.

That year, my sister took the time and a few of her very limited dollars and bought me a Christmas present. She gave me a perfectly selected mug. When I unwrapped it, the crass imprint on the outside and the playful lettering inside the rim gave me pause. The I felt a giggle forming deep inside, a giggle that begin to bubble up into a joyous laugh.

Now, years and gallons of coffee later, I still cherish this bold, playful, timely and loving gift. It makes my Sunday cup of coffee perfect. Thanks Sis!

NOTE: My sister died 5/12/12. I'll miss her. RIP Pam.

Pamela Earl Stafford - Grief

In the middle of it...

Miss you Sis.

Pamela Earl Stafford: May 25, 1952 - May 12, 2012

Grieving. 

Murrells Inlet, SC

Pamela Earl Stafford, 59, passed away peacefully in her sleep May 11, 2012.  She was born May 25, 1952 in Newport, Rhode Island to her joyful parents William Earl Williams and Claudia Elizabeth (Lib) Williams.  She was predeceased by her father the late William Earl Williams. The worldly phase of her life concluded during the quiet moments of her sleep on May 11, 2012.  Her strong will, wistful nature, and loving spirit are already missed among her family, friends, and colleagues. 

Pam Stafford became a Registered Nurse in Florida in the 1970s.  Throughout her years of nursing she was loved and respected by the patients and the families that she touched as well as the physicians who depended on her. As a friend or a colleague you were sure to laugh, cry and learn with her. Her path in nursing offered her many experiences and was part of her heart.  She nursed in Florida, South Carolina, Arizona, New Jersey, New Mexico and the US Virgin Islands.

She was an open minded soul who loved the Native American culture, the desert, animals, (especially her dog Sammy), music, bike week and experiencing life in her own way.  As a mother and a grandmother she was not what most would say is “conventional” but her children and grandchildren would have had it no other way. She loved to laugh and play and do things with her children that were fun and memorable yet she taught them lessons by example as well as by affording them “protected” independence so that they could grow and become strong individuals.  She lived her life “Pam’s way” and those of us who know her would not have had her any other way.

  Although her time with us has passed so quickly, our loss can be lessened in the comfort that she is peaceful with God and we know his staff has received a bold and courageous addition.

She is survived by her mother, Elizabeth Benton Cox and her husband, Esters; her grandmother, Mrs. Horry (Lucille) H. Benton of Murrells Inlet; her son, Everett Stafford and his wife, Danielle, of Sugar Land, TX; her daughter, Lisa Norton and her husband, Greg, of Rock Hill, SC; her two brothers, Jan Williams of High Point, NC and Kim Williams and his wife, Gail, of Winston-Salem, NC; and four sisters, Linda Pervis of Florence, SC; Susan Craven and her husband, Kenneth, of Marion, SC; Janet Schultz and her husband, Bill, of Florence, SC; and Deborah Mixon of Florence, SC.  She also leaves with love five grandchildren: Chris, Kyle, and Zack Stafford, Brittany Heid, and Daniel Norton and one great-grand child, Branton Heid.  

A Memorial Service will be held at 10:00 AM, Thursday, May 17, 2012 at McMillan-Small Funeral Home with the Rev. Bruce Crawford officiating.   A visitation will follow the service at the funeral home.  

Memorials may be made to the Myrtle Beach Humane Society, 3241 10th Ave. North, Myrtle Beach, SC 29577 or the charity of one’s choice.  

Sunday Coffee Cup - Tallahassee

A few years back, while searching out possible retirement locations, my wife (bless her heart) and I were considering Tallahassee, Florida. Not anymore.

Florida, the often selected retirement destination for northerners who woke up one day from a Winter slumber and realized, “Hey – snow, ice, heating bills and fast paced talking is optional,” was never high on my list of retirement destinations. I’ve enjoyed visiting the glass bottom boats, reptiles shows, Flipper aquariums and sipping “all the orange juice you can drink for a dime,” but always felt that Florida was – well, not really the South.  Let’s face it, you can throw a case of darts in Miami and the closest thing to a Southern you’ll hit is a South American. Don’t get me wrong, I like diversity, but I prefer the slow drawl and sweet tea of a Southern lifestyle.

Enter my wife. Although she’s not a Southerner, she married me and that makes her – well, smart and acceptable. She also grew up (read 'went through adolescence') in Florida (read 'Fort Lauderdale') and to college at Florida State University – which is in Tallahassee – which isn’t really in Florida even though it is the capital of the state. Tallahassee is located in the Florida panhandle and is very close to Georgia and Alabama. My wife suggested that it was a possible retirement location, in Florida, in the South. Today’s Sunday Coffee Cup is a souvenir of our Tallahassee considerations.

Here is what I learned about Tallahassee:

1. It is a great city with lots to do – including worshiping regularly at the Florida State University shrine of Bobby Bowden.
2. Once you leave the city – there is really nothing else. Pine and palm forests, humidity you can bath in, heat that only makes you sweat more, an abundance of biting and stinging insects and pencil thin ‘beaches’ and ocean that looks like the froth of a day old latté.
3. Hiking consists of walking across level ground for miles, dodging spider webs and large spiders between pine trees.
4. The tea isn’t sweet enough.
5. You can’t get anywhere from Tallahassee. You have to go somewhere else first (read off the beaten track).
6. There are some very nice people who live there.

So, I don’t think we will be moving to Tallahassee for retirement. You know the old saying “It’s a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” Well, the latter is true.

Go Seminoles! Heh.

Sunday Coffee Cup - Brookgreen Gardens

There is stillness in the marsh as winter begins to yield to the caresses of spring and the low country creatures begin to stir, to tilt sedated attention to the tasks of advancing life. The ancient oaks drip with creativity and Spanish moss. Water runs deep and slow connecting statuary fountains to rice fields. Nowhere am I more at home than in the space of land that rests between the low country swamps and the sand of the shore. No place better represents that ancestral space than Brookgreen Gardens. 

Today’s Sunday Coffee Cup is from my favorite place in South Carolina. Brookgreen Gardens and Huntington Beach State park rest now on what was once the South Carolina plantation home of Anna Hyatt and Archer Milton Huntington. The Huntingtons were amazing artists of word and form.

The Brookgreen Gardens website describes them:  “Archer and Anna Hyatt Huntington. The Huntingtons first visited the property in 1929. They were captivated by the Carolina Lowcountry with its undulating rivers and shadowy swamplands, sandy pine forests, sweeping marsh vistas and stately moss-draped oaks. So, the philanthropist and his beloved sculptor wife bought Brookgreen Plantation and the three adjoining properties, amassing 9,127 acres of forest, swamp, rice fields and beachfront.


Originally, their plan was to establish a winter home overlooking the wide, blue Atlantic, but the beauty and history of the land quickly transformed their modest intention into something more grand. In 1931, they organized a non-profit institution with a lofty mission: providing a showcase for American figurative sculpture within a refuge for native plants and animals. A year later, they opened Brookgreen to the public. It is the first sculpture garden in the United States and designated as a National Historic Landmark.”

Brookgreen Gardens - here you will find towering statuary, bold flowers and courageous creatures – all demanding the art from within you. One sip of this place will capture you and I’m sipping the South today and stirring in a spoonful of artistic passion for this Sunday morning.  Care to join me?

Sunday Coffee Cup - My 'Thoughtful' Brother

My family is loving, supportive and deeply interested in my work as a writer and blogger. Case in point.

My brother obviously reads diligently my Sunday Coffee Cup post each week. He is, no doubt, humored, touched and deeply affected by the artistic creativity and intellectual prowess exhibited in each carefully crafted post. I know this, because when we visited this weekend (the first time we have seen each other since before Christmas), he presented me with a gift that is today's Sunday Coffee Cup.

He said he thought I needed it since I was so interested in cups.

Family.

IF, by Rudyard Kipling

One of my favorite, all time poems is "If" by Rudyard Kipling. I was introduced to this verse early in life, and the words have always challenged me to be more, risk boldly and balance my living more evenly between the elation and despair dished out by life's moments. Enjoy (for those of you would are "Pinterested" - I've included an image below).

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


-Rudyard Kipling

Source: media.photobucket.com via Kim on Pinterest

Sunday Coffee Cup – Tennis Anyone?

I don’t play tennis. The last time I tried, I broke a rib (Don’t ask. Although it is an interesting story involving a celebrity or two…anyway). My wife loves tennis. She played tennis for Florida State – back in the day. We had our first ‘date’ at a tennis match (That’s another good story. I pretended to be a doctor. She pretended to be my wife. Wait – that could be a country music song…anyway).

Today’s Sunday Coffee Cup touts the sport of tennis. Someone gave it to my wife. It’s really a pretty ugly mug – #justsaying. Over the years we have, like most folks, culled the coffee mug population in our cupboard. I keep thinking, year after year that this one will be among the chosen, the Tribute (yes, I just made a Hunger Games reference – I’m so ready to see that film) to see the path of a thousand donation deaths. I’ve even thought of taking it to Breakfast of Course (for those Dear Readers that don't know - Breakfast of Course is a local restaurant that was once  "Mary's of Course" and they served breakfast. They still do and they serve you coffee in random, used and often interesting mugs), but I don’t think they would take it.

As coffee mugs go – well, it is one.

Happy Sunday Coffee Mug.