Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Governor Paterson visits Hudson
Yesterday, NYS Governor David Paterson attended the official unveiling of Crosswinds, the first workforce housing project in Columbia County. I had the wonderful opportunity to be on the scene taking pictures for the Inde!
Click HERE to check out the Inde's coverage and one of the 200 pictures i took!! There should be another picture of mine published on the front page of the print version, which will be released on Friday.
I'll post a few others when the timing is right too.
Click HERE to check out the Inde's coverage and one of the 200 pictures i took!! There should be another picture of mine published on the front page of the print version, which will be released on Friday.
I'll post a few others when the timing is right too.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A Tribute to Gramps
George Henry Morgan
March 25, 1917- June 13, 2008
"I love you more than you'll ever know."
My grandfather, George Henry Morgan, was the ideal all-around American man: hard-working, proud, tough, brave, and (I think we can all agree on this one)… STUBBORN. Most importantly though, Gramps was the most selfless human being I have ever known. His life- as anecdotal and mysterious as it was- was lived for everyone but himself, and that is why he is my ultimate hero. I’m sure you’ve all heard at least one World War II story- and it doesn’t take too long to come to the conclusion that he put his own life on the line to protect and save the innocent as best as humanly possible. Not to mention, he also killed some Nazis and had a hell of a lot of fun with his buddies. Yup, Gramps sure was a storyteller. Growing up in the Depression era, I know he went through some hard times. He seriously told me that he had to walk uphill both ways to school as a boy… and here I thought that was just a stereotype.
Gramps was notorious for sitting under his favorite Maple tree in his back yard with his big straw hat on. In between bouts of silence, oldies on his solar powered AM radio, and cans of Budweiser, he’d love to just sit there, talk, and enjoy being outdoors. I know there were many stories I never had the opportunity to hear, not just about the war, but about his life in general. This doesn’t really bother me though. I don’t feel like I missed out, or like I know who he was any less. I know that more than anything, Gramps lived for his family, and that is how I’ll remember him.
When I first started talking as a baby I’d refer to him as Beepa. Mom would leave me at Meema and Beepa’s for the weekend a lot of times, and I loved it there more than anywhere else in the entire world. During the day, Gramps would keep me outside while Grandma slept. The only time he ever seriously got mad at me at any point in his whole life would be when I’d try to run inside and watch TV. I basically had to forget there was even a house on the property, besides- there was gardening to be done. Gramps had the best garden. My favorite treat was picking a tomato right off the plant and eating it whole like an apple. And of course there was the standard mayo and salt that was required to go with it- a Gramps classic. His pumpkins would barely fit in the wheelbarrow and his sunflowers grew to be two times taller than he was (and he was pretty tall). I’m sure he sent all of you all home with a bulging bag of green beans and zucchini at some point. He even recently told me that random travelers would see his garden from 9G and stop by to ask him for some vegetables. Gramps would never accept money for the veggies- he even put some out with a “FREE” sign by the road from time to time. Anyway, he told me that later that year he went to the Dutchess County Fair and a couple of the guys he gave veggies to had put them up for exhibit as their own.
After I was exhausted from gardening, swimming in the pool, and playing with the bag of McDonald’s toys Gramps kept in the shed, he’d end the day with a trip to Stewart’s for a “make your own sundae.” We’d get in his big red van with the bench in the back, he’d make sure I “buckled up” and clicked my seat belt in, I’d get him a Werther’s Original out of the glove box, and we’d be on our way. He was the best Grandpa anyone could ever ask for. This year, he helped me with my own garden. Even when he was weak and sick he’d ask me about my flowers and vegetables. The last time I talked to him I told him how big my tomato plant was getting and his face lit up with a great big smile. I’m sure your own, individual experiences with George were a little different, but I think we can all agree that he was a “doosie”- yes, he was one hell of a guy. So I’m asking you all to do what Gramps would have wanted… actually he wanted my mom to stand him up in the corner of the Legion with a Budweiser in his hand… but since we can’t really do that- just, simply… be happy and love each other. Don’t tear up or grieve. Drink a beer, throw your arm around the person sitting next to you, sing an Irish drinking song and get up and dance a jig. And finally, keep George’s stories alive- share them with your kids and your grandkids- everyone you know, and eventually… they’ll become your own.
Under the wide and starry
March 25, 1917- June 13, 2008
"I love you more than you'll ever know."
My grandfather, George Henry Morgan, was the ideal all-around American man: hard-working, proud, tough, brave, and (I think we can all agree on this one)… STUBBORN. Most importantly though, Gramps was the most selfless human being I have ever known. His life- as anecdotal and mysterious as it was- was lived for everyone but himself, and that is why he is my ultimate hero. I’m sure you’ve all heard at least one World War II story- and it doesn’t take too long to come to the conclusion that he put his own life on the line to protect and save the innocent as best as humanly possible. Not to mention, he also killed some Nazis and had a hell of a lot of fun with his buddies. Yup, Gramps sure was a storyteller. Growing up in the Depression era, I know he went through some hard times. He seriously told me that he had to walk uphill both ways to school as a boy… and here I thought that was just a stereotype.Gramps was notorious for sitting under his favorite Maple tree in his back yard with his big straw hat on. In between bouts of silence, oldies on his solar powered AM radio, and cans of Budweiser, he’d love to just sit there, talk, and enjoy being outdoors. I know there were many stories I never had the opportunity to hear, not just about the war, but about his life in general. This doesn’t really bother me though. I don’t feel like I missed out, or like I know who he was any less. I know that more than anything, Gramps lived for his family, and that is how I’ll remember him.
When I first started talking as a baby I’d refer to him as Beepa. Mom would leave me at Meema and Beepa’s for the weekend a lot of times, and I loved it there more than anywhere else in the entire world. During the day, Gramps would keep me outside while Grandma slept. The only time he ever seriously got mad at me at any point in his whole life would be when I’d try to run inside and watch TV. I basically had to forget there was even a house on the property, besides- there was gardening to be done. Gramps had the best garden. My favorite treat was picking a tomato right off the plant and eating it whole like an apple. And of course there was the standard mayo and salt that was required to go with it- a Gramps classic. His pumpkins would barely fit in the wheelbarrow and his sunflowers grew to be two times taller than he was (and he was pretty tall). I’m sure he sent all of you all home with a bulging bag of green beans and zucchini at some point. He even recently told me that random travelers would see his garden from 9G and stop by to ask him for some vegetables. Gramps would never accept money for the veggies- he even put some out with a “FREE” sign by the road from time to time. Anyway, he told me that later that year he went to the Dutchess County Fair and a couple of the guys he gave veggies to had put them up for exhibit as their own.
After I was exhausted from gardening, swimming in the pool, and playing with the bag of McDonald’s toys Gramps kept in the shed, he’d end the day with a trip to Stewart’s for a “make your own sundae.” We’d get in his big red van with the bench in the back, he’d make sure I “buckled up” and clicked my seat belt in, I’d get him a Werther’s Original out of the glove box, and we’d be on our way. He was the best Grandpa anyone could ever ask for. This year, he helped me with my own garden. Even when he was weak and sick he’d ask me about my flowers and vegetables. The last time I talked to him I told him how big my tomato plant was getting and his face lit up with a great big smile. I’m sure your own, individual experiences with George were a little different, but I think we can all agree that he was a “doosie”- yes, he was one hell of a guy. So I’m asking you all to do what Gramps would have wanted… actually he wanted my mom to stand him up in the corner of the Legion with a Budweiser in his hand… but since we can’t really do that- just, simply… be happy and love each other. Don’t tear up or grieve. Drink a beer, throw your arm around the person sitting next to you, sing an Irish drinking song and get up and dance a jig. And finally, keep George’s stories alive- share them with your kids and your grandkids- everyone you know, and eventually… they’ll become your own.
Under the wide and starry Dig the grave and let me lie;
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you 'grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
-Robert Louis Stevenson
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
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