my careless contagion

What can I say about a woman of whom I've said too much already? A little bit more. Comparing our lives — the quality of which derived from our internal world — it's easy to see she is far and above this humble author. Cindy is decidedly too good for me. She is, seemingly without trying, what a Christian woman should be. To my eyes, it is effortless; she simply embodies many virtues. When I think of what a mother, wife, or what a woman should be, she always comes to mind. Thanks to her, I now know how a woman should be. Thanks to her, I now know how a woman should love. Thanks to her, I now know how to love, period. She has always been — and will always be — my measure of what is good and right and beautiful in a woman.  Photographs of us taken three years ago show the mismatch. I wore my Sturgis t-shirt, and she wore a TeamMates shirt. I wore more than that, though. (ha, yes, I was fully clothed) I wore the scars of a difficult life. She weathered her difficulties a...

With this post, I wrap up my photo memories (and, soon, this blog). I was originally going to share this photo with my Christmas memories. However, something caught my eye. And I'm not talking about whatever is on the surface of the photo. It's a great shot, probably taken by either my grandmother or a family friend. I was very young, and this was taken at our first house. I've ruined my fair share of family photos. I was always the one making faces or putting bunny ears on someone. It was typical lastborn stuff, though not always appreciated. No one cares anymore. But this photo is darn near perfect. Except I'm looking at my mom while everyone else is looking at the camera. I was enjoying the fact that everyone was happy for a moment. And that's what we forget: photographs are just moments. They don't always tell us the whole truth. But I can tell those smiles are genuine.  What I like about this photo, and this is why I chose to close with it, is it sho...

Graduation: a beginning and an end. But mostly a beginning because even the word commencement means more than just a ceremony; it means a beginning. The above photo was taken shortly after my high school graduation in 1996 (which looked a lot different from graduation this year, I must say). I'm on the right. The other two are Jeff and Michelle. The photo was taken for a short news story of importance because we had all come from Hot Springs and ended up in Broken Bow. We knew each other from one town and somehow all made our way to a different town in a different state, eventually graduating together. While Michelle is still my friend today (she's moving back to Nebraska soon), Jeff has gone under the radar and I'm not sure how to contact him. His father died a few years ago (right after his dad retired, I heard). His dad coached both my brothers. I recall him on school grounds before they moved with Jeff's younger brother. I instantly recognized him and wondered wh...

I wrote this post a long time ago and never finished it because it didn't seem right to post something lighthearted when the world had seemingly gone mad. I figured I would get it off my plate now. It is incomplete but may trigger a few smiles. Apparently, I have a lot of pet peeves. So many, in fact, I could not fit all of them in one post. Herein I reprise my role as the Lovable Curmudgeon, which is a much better role than the Obvious Jerk, the role for which I am known worldwide. Without further ado, I present what you've all been waiting for — part two of Joshua's pet peeves!  My old-man forgetfulness. I'm sure you've seen some of these pet peeves before. This is why you're seeing them again.  People who say they have no pet peeves but are clearly pissed off all the time. Just fess up. You hate everyone and everything. See? Feels good. Keep doing it. No, don't. Stop. You're scaring everyone.  Sick kid. Nothing worse than a sick kid. I w...

Herein lies some random memories in no particular order. These are some of my earliest memories, so they took place at our first house in Hot Springs.  The above photo (why am I always half-naked?) shows me and Jon picking some beans at our neighbor's house. I recall they went on vacation or something and we picked some of their produce. This really made an impression on me, as I still recall the strange feeling of being somewhere we normally weren't allowed to go. That was probably my first experience with a garden. I was the only one in my family who had a garden growing up. I was very responsible and took care of it, watering it every day and weeding when necessary. This is something I've come to realize about myself: I've always taken care of things. Had my life been a little different, I probably would have been an even more nurturing person, but I still do take care of things.   A lot of old pictures, I am marching to the beat of my own drummer. The abo...

I have two older brothers. We are each separated by about 3.5 years. My oldest brother is seven years and seven days older than me. My blog has commented a lot on my childhood and what I now know were abusive aspects of it. However, it wasn't always abusive. There was a lot of love in my family. The photo dump in this post shows much affection. My father cradles a sleeping baby Joshua. My brothers are feeding me, playing with me, bathing with me, and, in general, doting over me. It may be a case of "they're cute when they're young," but it's hard to ignore this part of my reality. I was genuinely accepted and loved on when I was little. At the top, there appears to be some play-acting. I'm about three years old and wearing a diaper (without a cover) which I don't need. Am I baby Jesus? Is Jon Joseph with his coat of many colors? Something odd is going on, but we're having fun. And I'm thankful my diaper stayed up. Jon and I often took b...

The above photo shows a bit of family togetherness, with my dad's Honda road bike (a short-lived financial excursion) as the glue. Considering the financial difficulties at the time this photo was taken, it makes sense the bike was not a permanent fixture in our lives. I remember the one and only ride I took on this bike with my dad driving me home after school, me clinging for dear life, bobblehead helmet on, looking like some sort of alien. Hotel room stays always meant I got the rollaway bed or cot. Youngest children frequently get the short end of the stick, and not just genetically. Older siblings (especially the oldest) get the best of everything. Youngest children get leftovers if there are any. But I didn't know that at the time. I just thought I was special to have a different bed. I think the above photo was taken on our family trip to Disney World in the mid-80s. An awful lot of old photos show the three boys not wearing much. We must have been tremendously h...

I may not look like much of an athlete now, but once upon a time, I was. I was always involved in sports, up until I got pneumonia my junior year during basketball season. I never played another sport after that, as I hadn't recovered from pneumonia. I recall my mother blaming my sickness on me smoking marijuana (which I had never done) instead of actually mothering me in my sickness. If I had gone to a doctor earlier, perhaps the pneumonia wouldn't have progressed to the stage it did. But, as they say, it is what it is.   The photo above was taken during probably my last season of swim team, which ran during the summer. It looks like I'm doing the butterfly stroke, which is the most difficult. I recall being disqualified at least once for not doing it right. I was involved in swim team from the age of 10 until maybe 13, and those are not good years for a boy to be wearing a speedo. Pretty awkward. I stopped going to meets because I had a hard time getting rides. I rec...

Christmas. The word conjures so many memories and so much meaning for so many people. Christmas to me always meant family. Even though my family stopped celebrating Christmas when I was pretty young, we still did things like family trips to Florida (one year it was Omaha, but that was fun, too).  This post contains images from Christmas past. You see the living rooms of the two houses in Hot Springs we lived in. The first house had some pretty amazing red carpet. And red drapes and a couch that had a red floral pattern. Boy, somebody went overboard. Even the walls seem to be glowing red. The other house didn't have any carpeting that I recall. Maybe in one or two areas. Some of my scans are missing, and I'm not sure what happened to them. But they showed one of my most memorable Christmases, which is when I got the LEGO police station. I was thrilled about that, stayed up all night playing with it, and didn't even want to get up in the morning to check my stocking...