Today I read an online news article about the recent, massive peanut butter recall and found an excerpt to be of particular interest:

"Peanut butter lover Adam Leidhecker checked online to make sure his food is safe. He combed through his cupboard and found a few peanut butter cookies and crackers and threw them away if those companies hadn't released a statement stating their products were safe.

"The companies not affected need to take an extra step to say that they're on top of it," said Leidhecker, a Williamsport, Pennsylvania, resident.

He said he'll continue to eat his daily creamy peanut butter sandwich and slather peanut butter on a treat for his 2-year-old dog, Lola, after checking the products online.

"I'm not going to go without peanut butter," he said."

OK, kudos to Adam for ensuring every tablespoon of his PB intake was safe and salmonella-free. Good job. But, the nugget of fascination within this article was Adam's final statement, "I'm not going to go without peanut butter."

You see, this subtle statement reflects just one of the many attitude problems us Americans have and often overlook as just that--a problem: an unwillingness (or perhaps an all-out refusal) to go without. America is a land of have, not have not. We get what we want. We do what we want. And we don't take no for an answer. We're also completely dependent upon things to make us safe, happy, or healthy, rather than ourselves. We've seen this throughout our lifetimes, both on a social level and personal level.

Take for instance, Katrina. All were warned that the magnitude of the storm would be devastating and fatal for residents in its path. Some left their earthly possessions and escaped with their hides still attached. Others did not; some didn't want to leave their homes and belongings, some didn't care enough as they've braved other storms in the past, while some simply refused to leave on the basis that "they didn't want to." After all, they wanted to ride out the storm's fury in their own home, in the comfort of their familiarity.

Some residents did not have the means to leave, yes, I know.

For some victims of Katrina, they simply could not go without their stuff; therefore they stayed, and they paid. It's extremely unfortunate.

I've heard others say that "they could not go a day without their cell phone!" They'd simply die. Really? No you wouldn't. You'd be just fine. You'd still have a pulse, wouldn't you? Yes, your BFF wouldn't be able to hear about what you did last night, but you'd still be breathing. You'd be A-OK.

OMG, the internet is down. Now what!? It's practically equated to not having electricity. But I can't go without internet access!? How am I supposed to update my Facebook status message to alert my friends that I have no internet access, no cell phone, and no peanut butter?!

Pretty sure Native Americans were always without the internet, cell phones, and PB (and Facebook). And they did alright for themselves. Some even have bamboo flooring in their casino bar lounges. Fancy.

But Adam doesn't want to go without peanut butter, and neither does Lola. Well, Adam, I hope you continue to do your recall research since, life is simply not worth living if that PB sandwich doesn't hit your lips every day, as well as Lola's snout. You idiot. Yes, PB makers and distributors are putting the word on the street that their PB is indeed safe for consumption therefore we all can safely buy up their products with no fret whatsoever. As they should. But, you know what else is important? Your health. Don't be so ignorant and stubborn to say that you won't go without peanut butter, despite the iffy circumstances (I wanted to say Jiffy circumstances, but refrained). It's peanut butter. It's not a life-sustaining need, by any means. If there was a pacemaker recall, yeah, I'd say keep that pacemaker in your body until you officially hear otherwise. Don't stop using it.

But, again, this is about peanut butter. If you really, really tried, I bet you could go a couple of weeks without peanut butter. I swear! It probably wouldn't be that hard or harmful. You so could do it, Adam, I know it. And Lola would be just fine with the temporary withdrawal, too. Sure she might piss on your bedsheets or chew on your Old Navy flip flops in retaliation, but she'll eventually get over it. Slip her a Beggin' Strip to cool her jets in the meantime.

My point: don't take your life for granted. Life is precious. It's a gift. It should last for a long, long time. And as long as you have your health (and your dignity) you have everything you need. You can go without the rest.

My best to you during this difficult time.

I feel like I have to say this, just to get it out of my head:

OK, America. Barack is now President. Get over it and get down to business.

:)

Seriously. I know we're all happy, patriotic, life-loving citizens right now as we anticipate our hopes for prosperity, peace in the Middle East, economic stability, and unending tax breaks and refunds (booya!) to come true, but let's step back to reality. The party is over.

Yes, we have a new Prez. A good one, too. But, let him do his job. Get out of his way. Get over it. The world hasn't stopped for him, so neither should we.

Accordingly, no more commentary on how absolutely wonderful Barack is. He's not just a celebritized, political figure anymore. He's our President. He has a job to do. A real job. He's in charge of the free world...and what a mess it is. Let him get started. There's no more time for autographs.

While we're at it, don't expect him to endlessly say cheese! with Asian tourists or clap along to Mary J. Blige performances. No more US Weekly covers and interviews. No more scrutinizing everything Michelle Obama wears. No more chanting yes we can! (if you persist on the YWC! chants, just watch Bob the Builder, I believe he coined it first.)

I mean, you can just tell from the look on Obama's face that he's completely over the media love affair, over all of his celebrity BFFs, over seeing endless stockpiles of Obama memorabilia for sale (and probably slightly embarrassed that people spend their dwindling dollars on it), and more than likely over the massive Barack-themed orgies amongst our citizens. You can just tell he is ready to get to work. If you look closely, you can see in his eyes an immense passion to fix this country's woes...if only you could get past how gentle and friendly they are.

He wants you to hold him accountable for his promises, his lure, his beliefs, his ethics. He's ready to put all of that talk into reality. Make it happen. Make it more than just a hope.

Make him make it happen. He wants you to. He wants to do his job.

Turn off your ga-ga face and put on your game face. Get over your immense love affair for our now President and start monitoring the situation; what needs to be done, what he's doing, what he's not doing, and what he could do better. It's time to get to work. And he works for us.

Let's be real for five seconds: The US has a shit-ton of problems. Real ones. Most of which affect YOU. Or were started by YOU, in some respect. After all, it's YOU that bought a house you couldn't afford, it's YOU that didn't have a savings account in case you lost your job, it's YOU that can't pay your bills because your credit cards are maxed out and you're fronting your whole paycheck just to pay off the interest. It's YOU that pollutes the world by driving your car everywhere and then some, yet you blame Bush for global warming and the situation of those poor, poor polar bears. No, no...don't pass the buck--that's all on YOU, too.

So instead, let's focus on what needs to happen, what you need to do, what Barack needs to do, and let's end the celebrity fantasy obsession we have with our new administration.

They are elected citizens with crucial jobs to do. Hold them to their purpose. Closely.

And don't forget to do your job, too.

Sleepless gliding
Over the city lights
Watch us flying
Over the streets tonight.

And I say
There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.
I know that someday we will surely find it.

Sunday morning
Watching the city sleep
Dreams are shining
Finely they’re within reach.

And I say
There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.
Someday, there’s a way
Someday, there’s a way
I know it.

There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.

4 AM
Kaskade

Let's go...

What are you looking at?

I've gotten quite a few emails concerning the fact that I no longer have the comment feature available on my blog, nor do I have commenting allowed on any V-Logs via YouTube.

And my collective answer to these emails is: Yes, you are correct, no commenting.

You want to know why? It's quite simple:

1) Comments really aren't necessary for me to do what I do, whatever that is.
2) People have access to my personal email as well as my YouTube messaging service if they feel compelled enough to comment on a blog or V-Log post, respectively. Use it, if you dare. If not, thanks for stopping by.

As soon as I stepped off the bus, I braced for the worst.
The snow, the wind, the cold;
It chapped my skin.
It stole my breath.
It hurt my heart.

I hurried down the sidewalk, my shoes slipping in the salty slush.
Any place on Earth, I'd rather be.
But here.
The gray snow sickened my core.
Ruined my mood.
Stopped my life.

But then I heard a shout.
I heard a laugh.
I saw two kids. One pulling the other in a sled.
He smiled as he pulled her. She laughed as she flew.
She leaned back and looked at the sky.
The snow, the snow fell softly on her face. Her smile widened.
His laugh grew.
The two noticed no cold, felt no misery.

My own childhood flashed before my eyes,
My sister and I flying so fast down that hill,
The snow crunching beneath.
Hour upon hour,
Up hill and down.
Our fingers numb, our feet wet, our bodies tired.
But our souls lighter than ever, our happiness full.

The two children went on.
Their smiles unyielding.

I went on, too.

As I turned back around, the cold took my breath again,
but this time, I let it.

And smiled.

Six month experiment: sobriety.

Yep, no more drinking. I'm ready for it, I think. It can only bring about a change that can do nothing but make me feel better, inside and out.

I'm tired of looking at lemons and limes, I'm tired of having to be in a different state of mind in order to have fun, I'm tired of seeing photos of blurry, watered eyes.

I'm tired of bars. I'm tired of booze. I'm tired.

Over it.

Sober Ryan.

There's some expression that says something to the effect of: even bad pizza is kind of good.

Well, here's the thing. So, I'm considering not drinking anymore because it's just not beneficial to my mental or physical health. But that's beside the point, sort of. I went out last night and had some drinks with John and apparently had too much because I've been hungover all day on top of having a slight cold. I laid in bed until 3:36 today. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes staring at the ceiling, sometimes staring at the glass of water on my nightstand, wishing it would refill itself somehow magically.

That is sort of beside the point, too.

Eventually I mustered up the energy to go to the convenient store in my building in order to buy something to eat. I wanted to get a pizza since it's just the easiest option. Well, all of the pizzas they offered were WEIRDO pizza. Not a single one was a recognizable brand name. EXCEPT Mystic Pizza. Yes, like the movie. Frozen Mystic Pizza. Weird. I've never seen the movie so the pizza didn't impress me on a first name basis. Also, the pizza pictured on the box looked mildly disgusting and pathetic, so I passed it up real quick.

The other frozen pizza was called Romano's. Yes, there were only 2 options. Mystic or Romano's. Whatever. No box for Romano's, just clear saran wrap, realllll ghetto-like. But at least it allowed me to see the pizza in order for me to make snap judgements more easily. There was no ego with this pizza, unlike the Mystic. Just from looks alone of the Romano's pizza itself, I knew it was going to suck. The cheese was very sparsely placed, the pepperonis looked all raggedy, and the crust looked extra stupid. Just one, big, stupid-looking pizza.

So I purchased it. And it sucked. It sucked bad.

But what was weird though, out of the eight slices, I managed to eat 6.

Without blinking.

Yesssss.

I have a crush.
Operation: make it happen.

Life goes ON. I knew it would...

Oh god...the winter.

It's happening.

I've been down this road. Several times.

I can feel it. It's here. It's real. It's ugly.

And I'm not talking about slush.


That horrible, desperate, alone feeling.
How old am I, soon to be 27?

Really?
Bleep.

Just relax. Be cool. It's fine.

Completely fine.

OK, here we go...



Don't go looking for it, it'll happen when you least expect it.

Oh really?

Even taking into consideration the fact that I haven't seen anything that resembles decency ...since I can't remember when?

They've come, they've gone, they've taken over.

Mindless. Jobless. Thoughtless.

Absorbed in fantasy. Themselves.

If you're standing next to them, be careful.

Their motto: the grass is always greener. Work out 6x a week, shop at Nordstrom, buy jeans with that thick, white stitching on the butt. Because the grass is always greener, and believe me, they wanna roll around in it.

Such bull, right? That grass is about as green as the manure that blankets it, grows it, feeds it.

Pretty soon you'll standing by yourself. Oh, cya. Found a grassy knoll that worked out 7x a week.

OK, bye.

That's the mindframe of most.
That's why the good are overlooked, and the rotten sip in the limelight. As fickle as ever.

The rotten will age, though. Their tans will turn to wrinkles. Their cheeks fatten. Their disease full-blown. Their lives lived in the dark and behind a straw.

You can spot them from a mile away. While they may seem cool now. They're not.

A mile away. You know who they are.

They won't be pretty forever.

But you'll be stuck with their personalities. Their never-dying insecurities.

Have fun with that.




Not me though. I can persevere: I don't settle. I don't give in. I stay true.

I persist.

You could only be so lucky. that's what i say.


Spring isn't far.
But for now, It's over.

Rules I Live By: the bible of ryansumner

1. Always be seen smiling. Even if it hurts.
2. Never own average-sized cereal bowls, wineglasses, coffee mugs, or conditioner.
3. White socks never go above the lowest part of your ankle.
4. Always have bread available; possibilities for quick meals are endless with a loaf of bread.
5. Never be shirtless in a bar or club. Ever. The beach...that's it.
6. Keep your wallet tidy and organized at all times. Nothing is worse than unfolding one of those huge, card/coupon-cluttered, quarter-pounder wallets. Gross.
7. Male jewelry should be kept to a minimum at all times; i.e. shell necklaces are never acceptable, nor are cuff bracelets, thumb rings, or eccentric belt buckles.
8. Keep your chin up, back straight, and shoulders back when walking.
9. Straws are optional.
10. Keep toothbrush up-to-date.
11. Look people in the eye (or at least the face area) when they ask you how you are doing, then return the question while keeping the focus.
12. Drink a half gallon of water per day, minimum.
13. Jeans/pants should always have some sort of fit...whether its your ass, crotch, or thigh/knee. It's not always just a waist/length scenario. Avoid potato sacks at all times.
14. Choose a liquor you can mix with water. Keeps you hydrated throughout the night and validates your "I never get hangovers!" statement you always gloat about.
15. Vodka raises your body temperature, making you appear red and/or sweaty. Avoid it.
16. Facebook status messages shouldn't purposely evoke self-pity, emotional disturbance, or inner/outer turmoil. Keep it light.
17. Also, and similar to rule #5, never be shirtless in your social-networking site's profile picture.
18. Always lock the bathroom door, even if you're alone.
19. Move toward the back of the bus. Up front is nothing but geriatrics and weirdos.
20. On a first date, choose something on the menu you can eat with a fork. Second date, anything goes.
21. Give restaurant leftovers to the homeless; you're not going to eat it anyway, especially if it has lettuce on it.
22. Bye, not buh-bye.
23. Red and yellow are not your colors.
24. Never blow your nose in earshot of another person, unless it's unpreventable.
25. Generally, 3 minutes in the microwave or 425 degrees in the oven for cooking anything that's frozen.
26. If you're getting ice cream, Starbucks dessert, or Chipotle-anything, you must first walk to (and later from) its farthest location, within reason.
27. Get out of bed immediately after you turn off the alarm. If you pause and close your eyes, you're a goner.
28. You'll never find what you're looking for in a bar. You know it to be true.
29. LOL is not in your vocabulary. Neither is lol.
30. Never answer a cell phone call when someone is talking to you. It's always rude.
31. Do not be rude to people, unless they have it coming.
32. Spend money on good bedding.
33. Do not overspend on shoes, no one looks at them anyway unless you're a girl. But avoid bad shoes--people will judge you based on the bad ones. For sure. Not that you care, but you know you've done it to others.
34. You need Centrum. Don't forget to take it every day.
35. I swear, the air that comes out of the overhead airplane vent thing irritates my skin. Turn it off, or flow it in a direction that does not hit your face.
36. Trees cry when you pick off their leaves for no reason.
37. If you think that it might be just a little too small, it's too small.
38. Exclamations points should be used sparingly!
39. One pump of butter at the movie theatre, one dollop of sour cream, and 3 donut holes, max. Anything more than that and you're asking for it.
40. 180's will never touch your head again. Never again. What were you thinking in the first place?
41. Redbox is a one day rental. ONE DAY. Not two. Not three. One. That's why it costs $1. Take it back the next day. The next time you see $3 on your receipt email, don't be so surprised and feel so cheated.
42. Lotion should always be accessible. Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize.
43. Make a list. You'll never remember everything. Plus, how good does that check mark feel? The best.
44. Do not return phone calls with a follow-up email or text message.
45. Year-round warm weather is for lazy, uninspired people. Embrace the cold. Embrace the elements. Feel the wrath. Revel in surviving. Spring is that much prettier and summer is that much more sacred.
46. If you're ever thinking in depth, pondering life, choosing a route--play Feist or Air in the background. It helps.
47. Spelling and punctuation are almost always necessary. Also, think before and while you speak. Be aware of your surroundings. Determine a level of appropriateness. Know when to change the subject. Know when to leave.
48. Class before ass.
49. You hate bragging. If it's on your end though, recognize the bragging opportunity and avoid it. Subtle it down.
50. Be happy with what you have, what you can do, and who you are, even when you stray from the rules.

It's such a conundrum:

I love, love hot chocolate. It's one of my most favorite things in the entire world.

The big, oversized coffee mug.
The Swiss Miss packaging.
Boiling water.
The feel of a thousand puffy mini-marshmallows.
The way they melt.

It's nostalgic. It's comfort.
It's the warmest part of winter.

BUT. and it's a big but.

after I drink hot chocolate


i get real hot and feel like puking.

The other day I was clicking through MSNBC and came across an article about the lamest blogs on the internet. Mine wasn't on there.

Phew, close call...

Actually, reverse that. Boo, I wish I made it on there. Bad publicity is suh-weet. After all, you better believe I checked out each lame-o blog thoroughly and even checked back again today. So, as far as my own lame blog goes, here's to another year of lameness!

*clink*

On the other lame hand, I've been thinking about doing some short story/poetry writing on here, but quickly changed my mind. I'm way too vulnerable for that. I mean, there are vultures everywhere.

So, instead, I'll continue to clue you into the lame thoughts/fears/etc. that plague my mind and conscience on a daily basis.

For example, I can't help but notice that whenever anything upsets me or if I'm put off, disadvantaged, turned down, told no, or given any other type of negative response, I automatically begin to write a strongly-worded letter of disappointment in my head. Instead of verbalizing anything, I write it down in my head. Instantly. It happens all the time: at work, restaurants, on the bus, train, at Walgreens, at the movie theater, while reading the newspaper, Details magazine, at my building's doormen, the gym and its personnel, here, there, everywhere.

No matter what bad situation or less-than-positive interaction occurs, if I feel at all jaded upon conclusion...boom, a letter is written.

However, none of these letters make it to actual paper, except on a few extreme cases, but rather they're all mental letters that sit in mental stacks on top my mental desk within my mental brain. Hm...mental brain, I like the sound of that. It's staying.

Anyway, it happened last night: I was at Jewel-Osco buying groceries. I get into the checkout lane and begin to unload my groceries out of my basket and onto the checkout conveyor belt thing. While I'm doing that, my roommate, who was checking-out in the lane across from me, asked if she could use my Jewel Preferred Savings card. I'm like yeah, of course, here you go. Didn't think a thing of it. So, I go to reach over the aisle to hand it to her and my checkout lady intercepts the transaction, takes the card from me, gives me a look, hands it to my roommate's checkout lady, she scans it, hands it back to my checkout lady, she scans it for my groceries, hands it to me, and then gives me another look.

I was confused. Was letting someone use your Preferred Savings Card against store policy? I didn't know it to be? Did I do something wrong? Why did you just give me that nasty look? Bad day?

Sorry 'bout it lady.

I, of course, didn't say one word about it. Rather, I just smiled, handed the bagger my eco-friendly grocery bags, happily swiped my debit card, inserted my pin number with great care, and upon exiting thanked both the check-out lady and the bagger for their service and went about my merry way.

BUT, in my head, the mental ink was hittin the mental paper. Hard.

My dramatic and over-the-top mental letter rambled endlessly about how I faithfully shop at Jewel-Osco on a weekly basis, to which (and yes, you're welcome) I buy mostly Jewel-brand items, I'm always courteous to the staff even though I feel like they never restock the shelves during the evening hours, I never do weird things like re-think my frozen Bob Evans Sausage Breakfast Biscuit selection and then place it in the cereal aisle next to the Cheerios as if that's where I found it, I never report dented cans upon checkout for a price reduction (does that even work?), and most importantly I walk around the store, aisle-upon-aisle, with a nice, big smile on my face to cheer on (and applaud) the efforts of those that work there (even though I wish they would stock the shelves more regularly).

Just doing my part, people.

Anyway, I won't let this solitary situation (although I once had an altercation with the person monitoring the self-checkout lanes, long story) affect future visits to Jewel-Osco despite the fact that the unexplained nasty look my cashier gave me (twice!) made me feel like I tried to rob the place. To boot, she didn't say thank you or have a good night. She didn't even fold my receipt like they always do. She just handed it to me (forcefully) and never gave me a second look.

Rude. Party of one. Your table is definitely ready.

Oh well. Their was an up side to all of this: the bagger somehow managed to fit all of my groceries into 2 bags instead of three, which was a miracle because I bought a larger amount of groceries this go-around than normal. This made carrying my groceries home much easier. I thanked her and even added, you did an awesome job, getting it all in there like that.

I don't know if she heard me or not, but trust that I said it.

In conclusion, if everyone was as nice as I am and treated others the way I do, life would be better and similar to whatever planet the Teletubbies live on...where the smallest nuances of life are surprising and fun, rabbits hop around everywhere, and, on top of all that, you get to see and hear a baby laugh at sunrise and sunset. I'd be President of this land (voting is not allowed, sorry) and name it LameVille.

Let's go, sign me up! And sign up that checkout lady. She could use a vacation. I'll pardon her.

Just so you all know, my favorite Brit tracks are Troubled, Quicksand, and Unusual You. I also enjoy Phonography a little bit.

Just had to put that out there.

5 Things You Probably Didn't Know about Ryan Sumner

1) I always set my alarm clock so that the minute mark ends in 03, 17, 33, or 47. Mon-Friday I wake up at 7:33 am...but if I wanted to get up earlier, I'd set it to 7:03. Or perhaps 6:33, but if I wanted to sleep in a little later than normal I'd set my alarm to 7:47...but never :43 because then I would probably be tempted to sleep in until :45 which would turn into 8:00. To me it just makes sense, because if I woke up at a :00 or a :15 or a :30 or a :45...I'd be like uhhhh, can I please sleep for like 5 more minutes? And then a vicious cycle would occur of sleeping/snooze, sleeping/snooze and before you know it I'd oversleep and be late. But with the extra few minutes on the end of every normal minute mark...I feel like I already got my extra couple of Z's therefore it's time to get up. Like I said, it makes perfect sense to me and has worked flawlessly for many, many years.

2) I think that stale popcorn (like popped yesterday or even a week ago) is delicious. I don't really care for freshly popped corn.

3) My signature alcoholic beverage is Bacardi Limon and water with a lemon twist for pizazz. And if that's not available, beer will do. No shots. (So I say.)

4) I've never, ever been remotely close to feeling like I've loved a significant other of mine. I thought I did once but that turned out to be a big trick. Therefore it doesn't count.

5) I purposely listened to the "Thong Song" today and I'm not making any apologies for having done so.

The End.

Sherri Shepherd is by and large the most hypocritical, uninformed, and grotesque human being on daytime TV that I've seen in a long time.

Just wanted to throw that out there.

Now, I can admit to actually liking The View at one point in my life but, when I get to chance to catch up, I've increasingly become more and more repulsed by her holier than thou approach to life in the 21st century.

It's insane.
She's insane.

And it's disgusting.
She's disgusting.

Sherri's education level was explained WAY back on her first couple of appearances as a newbie host when she oh-so-eloquently stated (on broadcast TV, mind you) that she didn't know if the Earth was round or flat...because the answer, as we know it today and quite some time in the past, didn't mesh with what the Bible stated.

Are you serious?

Yes, she was.

She later retracted her stupidity because Barbara gave her the airtime to do so.

But does anyone know the past of Sherri? Her story? Woah, it's dark, it's twisted and it's very un-Christian, yet, she sits on the couch of The View, perky as ever, while toxically spewing complete and utter ignorance and segregation to the audience across the nation.

But everything she says and stands for (today) is in the name of her Christian values and upbringing.

Sometimes I feel like Christianity gets a really bad name, some of which it deserves since people still preach it's ancient philosophies in a modern and educated civilization. But Sherri Shepherd is like the spokeswoman for all that is ugly and hypocritical in the Christian realm.

All in all, she's enough to make me ill (and very sad) and from here out not watch The View. I don't know if that is a real loss or not, but it is what it is.

My suggestion to you: Don't watch The View if you currently do so. Get a real perspective. Read the news. Don't let ignorance spread. Don't let Sherri Shepherd spread. Her ugliness is already everywhere, she's not alone. It's already affected most of this country, although more and more are breaking free from it.

(Mike Huckabee's appearance on The View didn't help either. While the ladies licked his balls in adoration, he spewed "They should have certain civil rights, like employment...")

Aw, thanks!

Sad day in the Sumner world. My "Grandpa" died peacefully in his sleep this morning at the age of 92. He lived a long, wonderful life. I refer to him as my "Grandpa" only because he wasn't my actual Grandpa...although he sort of was. It's confusing to me, still. Anyway, I always called him by his first name, as did all of my immediate family members:

FD.

Short for Floyd. He was always FD.

Long story, but, my father's actual father died before my sister and I were born. But for my two older brothers, he was their original Grandpa. Kelly and I obviously never knew him, but as time passed my Mamaw (Grandma) started dating FD after Kelly and I were born. They eventually married however, for whatever reason, it never caught on that we should refer to FD as our new Grandpa. Especially since my older brother's already experienced their real Grandpa. So it was weird. FD was FD. He wasn't anyone's stepfather, he wasn't called our Grandpa, and he never asked to be labeled as such either. FD was FD.

That's just the way it was. And it was perfect.

FD was a pretty great catch for my Mamaw. He was soft-hearted, soft-spoken, sweet, caring, gentle, always happy to see you kind of guy, who had a loveable southern accent and a fondness for gardening. He always had fresh, homegrown tomatoes sliced and ready whenever my family would come to visit for vacation or holidays. He also liked to have his first beer starting at noon, god love him. But he poured it into a glass, like the classy man that he was. He was also pretty adamant about serving fresh ham. He was big on getting ham from the deli before we arrived for a visit, and then made sure to tell us that there was thin-sliced, Virginia ham in the fridge at all times. Afterall, he got it especially for us. Anything that my siblings and I did made him laugh, too. He took such interest in us, I can just picture his response to seeing us or listening to us talk. He was such a gentle soul.

I'll never forget the way he said my name either..."Ryne"...and my sister "Kellay."

While he's gone, these memories are forever.

Rest in peace, Grandpa.