I've always been fascinated with the thought of telling stories, as a child, they may have been very exaggerated, but as I grew into adulthood, it was the ability to tell my story, that I always found to be difficult. Telling about my military experience and hardships, may seem to come off my tongue easy, but honestly it's quite difficult, no matter how many time I do it.
A few years ago, I started a web page, to tell my story, as I became a Veteran advocate, over time, it became somewhat of a resume, and a platform to share the articles I had been a part of and written. Then a few years ago, it became a place to tell my family story. A story that is full of history, to me anyway. Maybe its a way to share with my parents the parts of my life they are missing while I am in the Military, maybe its a way to show my clients the work I am capable of. Regardless of any of this, it is my story, that I am happy and excited to share with anyone willing to read it.
Today, I am sharing the story of my family farm. A place that is just as magical to me, as disneyland is to most of you. Its the place that I was raised, the place I sought shelter as my darkest hours of PTSD overwhelmed my life. Its the place I go to recharge my soul, and find my purpose. I don't do much there. Most of the time you will find my sitting in my recliner, watching TV. At least once a day no matter how hot or cold it is, raining of snowing, you will find me walking to the mailbox, shooting a gun or two, or doing what I love most in that old house, cooking up a nice home cooked meal.
I think the most memorable room in my house is the kitchen. When I am there, its the room I spend a majority of my time in, because that is the room my Grandma spent about 90% of her time in. She would sit at her kitchen table, drinking her instant coffee, chain smoking cigarettes before the sun came up and late into the night. She would read several books throughout the year, and go to the living room to stoke the fire place in the winter, and to watch the nightly news on tv. We would sit at the table and have many conversations while I was in high school and every time I would come home from the Navy. I think it is the main reason why I enjoy that room so much. I can sit in there and cook on the gas stove and bake things, while looking out at the window she loved so dearly, and remember all the great times we had living in that old house.
Today, I built a page on my site to highlight the history of my home and why it is so special to me. Its no wonder why it is so special and the place that recharges me, it is so full of history, and the central part of my families existence. I have always been proud of the name I wear on my uniform in the Navy, one side I wear the branch of service I have been honored to serve since 9/11, and the other side I wear a name in honor of a family who taught me the meaning of becoming a man.
This post will serve as a backdrop for many post to come, as I try my best to tell the story of my family. The journey starts with me, and as you can see on the first few pages of this site, I have done a pretty good job of telling that story so far, the next part is the plot of land we call ours. You can find that story by clicking on the link below.
Today, I am sharing the story of my family farm. A place that is just as magical to me, as disneyland is to most of you. Its the place that I was raised, the place I sought shelter as my darkest hours of PTSD overwhelmed my life. Its the place I go to recharge my soul, and find my purpose. I don't do much there. Most of the time you will find my sitting in my recliner, watching TV. At least once a day no matter how hot or cold it is, raining of snowing, you will find me walking to the mailbox, shooting a gun or two, or doing what I love most in that old house, cooking up a nice home cooked meal.
I think the most memorable room in my house is the kitchen. When I am there, its the room I spend a majority of my time in, because that is the room my Grandma spent about 90% of her time in. She would sit at her kitchen table, drinking her instant coffee, chain smoking cigarettes before the sun came up and late into the night. She would read several books throughout the year, and go to the living room to stoke the fire place in the winter, and to watch the nightly news on tv. We would sit at the table and have many conversations while I was in high school and every time I would come home from the Navy. I think it is the main reason why I enjoy that room so much. I can sit in there and cook on the gas stove and bake things, while looking out at the window she loved so dearly, and remember all the great times we had living in that old house.
Today, I built a page on my site to highlight the history of my home and why it is so special to me. Its no wonder why it is so special and the place that recharges me, it is so full of history, and the central part of my families existence. I have always been proud of the name I wear on my uniform in the Navy, one side I wear the branch of service I have been honored to serve since 9/11, and the other side I wear a name in honor of a family who taught me the meaning of becoming a man.
This post will serve as a backdrop for many post to come, as I try my best to tell the story of my family. The journey starts with me, and as you can see on the first few pages of this site, I have done a pretty good job of telling that story so far, the next part is the plot of land we call ours. You can find that story by clicking on the link below.
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