YOUR Soul Food for June 14th 2013: Inter Faces and What Fathers (and Mothers) REALLY Want for Father’s Day

Happy Soul Food Friday!

This Father’s Day Weekend: Touch and be touched by these inter faces…

Time travel back into the past with the images and faces-iconic photos both soul-filled and heart-breaking that irrevocably defined a generation

Time travel forward into tomorrow with futuristic advances in the present that will change the next generation

Finally, in tribute to father’s everywhere, Give the Gift of Time, as well as Finally Learn What a Father Really Wishes for on Father’s Day!

If this doesn’t float your boat, check for a spirit leak…

This deck of remarkable black and what photos, defined the 20th Century:

Click here

Super-Natural Technology Inter Faces:

By now we’ve gotten used to touch interfaces in our daily lives – from smartphones and tablets to kitchen appliances – and it’s clear that there’s something more natural, and more direct about interacting with technology this way.  But if we’ve learned anything about technology lately, it’s that things move fast and the next innovation is just around the corner.  Here are three examples that will take our interfacing with technology in entirely new directions:

Leap Motion – This small device turns any desktop or laptop into a finger-aware computer that supports fluid, precise drawing and gestural interactions just by placing your hands in front of the screen.

Table Drum –

Table Drum is an app that turns your table-top tapping into real drum kit sounds.  Just teach the app what kind of tap should make what sound and you can start rocking the kick drum and high hat wherever you are.

Grab Magic

This interesting hack shows the potential of combining multiple devices – an Xbox Kinect and a smartphone, in this case – to pull off some some real magic and computer interactions typically reserved for Hollywood Sci-Fi movies.

Father’s Day Tributes:

Love = Time:

In the faint light of the attic, an old man, tall and stooped, bent his great frame and made his way to a stack of boxes that sat near one of the little half-windows.

Brushing aside a wisp of cobwebs, he tilted the top box toward the light and began to carefully lift out one old photograph album after another.

Eyes once bright but now dim searched longingly for the source that had drawn him here.

It began with the fond recollection of the love of his life, long gone, and somewhere in these albums was a photo of her he hoped to rediscover. Silent as a mouse, he patiently opened the long buried treasures and soon was lost in a sea of memories. Although his world had not stopped spinning when his wife left it, the past was more alive in his heart than his present aloneness.

Setting aside one of the dusty albums, he pulled from the box what appeared to be a journal from his grown son’s childhood. He could not recall ever having seen it before, or that his son had ever kept a journal. Why did Elizabeth always save the children’s old junk? he wondered, shaking his white head.

Opening the yellowed pages, he glanced over a short reading, and his lips curved in an unconscious smile. Even his eyes brightened as he read the words that spoke clear and sweet to his soul. It was the voice of the little boy who had grown up far too fast in this very house, and whose voice had grown fainter and fainter over the years. In the utter silence of the attic, the words of a guileless six-year-old worked their magic and carried the old man back to a time almost totally forgotten.

Entry after entry stirred a sentimental hunger in his heart like the longing a gardener feels in the winter for the fragrance of spring flowers. But it was accompanied by the painful memory that his son’s simple recollections of those days were far different from his own. But how different?

Reminded that he had kept a daily journal of his business activities over the years, he closed his son’s journal and turned to leave, having forgotten the cherished photo that originally triggered his search. Hunched over to keep from bumping his head on the rafters, the old man stepped to the wooden stairway and made his descent, then headed down a carpeted stairway that led to the den.

Opening a glass cabinet door, he reached in and pulled out an old business journal. Turning, he sat down at his desk and placed the two journals beside each other. His was leather-bound and engraved neatly with his name in gold, while his son’s was tattered and the name “Jimmy” had been nearly scuffed from its surface. He ran a long skinny finger over the letters, as though he could restore what had been worn away with time and use.

As he opened his journal, the old man’s eyes fell upon an inscription that stood out because it was so brief in comparison to other days. In his own neat handwriting were these words:

Wasted the whole day fishing with Jimmy. Didn’t catch a thing.

With a deep sigh and a shaking hand, he took Jimmy’s journal and found the boy’s entry for the same day, June 4. Large scrawling letters, pressed deeply into the paper, read:

Went fishing with my Dad. Best day of my life.


What a father really wishes for on Father’s Day

Each year, this holiday set aside to commemorate fatherhood brings me a remarkable gift that, for reasons too deep to explain, we fathers never tell you that we crave deep in our hearts. You, our children, give us your full attention in a spirit of appreciation and gratitude.

In the past, I feel like I’ve never managed to take full advantage of the moment. So I want to make up for it here, and to share with you, the children who have given me so much happiness and satisfaction over the years, the things that I truly want, not just today, but for the rest of our time together in this difficult and complicated world.

As I make my requests, please know that I am grateful for the cards and gifts I’ve received over the years. But I think the purest essence of fatherhood is to cherish the many intangible things that perhaps you, my children, don’t even realize that you bring to my life.

So here are my deepest wishes for a happy father’s day—and also for a truly happy fatherhood experience.

I wish, first and foremost, for your happiness and fulfillment as you travel through life. If I could choose one gift, and one gift only, it would be for you to cherish yourself as I cherish you.

I wish for you to set high expectations for yourself as you discover who you are and your role in the universe. I wish you to be bold in seizing opportunities for accomplishment, to consciously define what you want most out of life and go for it without fear or reservation.

I wish you to know that there will be setbacks in all of life’s endeavors, and in those times when you feel discouraged, to recognize, as I do, that you have more than enough personal resources to overcome anything you are likely to face.

I also wish you to allow me to be a resource to help you along your chosen path. As you go forward, I wish you would ignore and forgive the times when I interfere, and embrace the times when I encourage.

Whenever we gather together, whenever we connect (and be it often, regardless of the many distractions in our lives), I wish for my adult children to see yourselves and each other with the same unconditional love that mists across my eyes whenever I look at you.

I wish you to know that your love for each other is the greatest and most treasured expression of your love for me.

I wish that the children of my children will experience love, happiness and fun whenever we gather together as an extended family, so that the young members of our brood will grow up to associate, at a very deep level, their extended family with feelings of comfort and joy.

I wish for a gift almost beyond imagining: that my children will forgive the many regrettable times when I was unfair, impatient and so very far from perfect, the times when you were hurt by my words and actions, even though you did not deserve to be. Please know, even if I have not told you before, that I carry those memories as my greatest burden in life.

I wish you would remember, and preserve, and cherish the many times when we were joyful together, those times when I found a way to contribute to your happiness.

On this day set aside for honoring fathers, I wish that you would also honor your mother in the same spirit that you honor me, and recognize that she gave you more than I will ever be able to give you: she gave you life itself, in addition to her love.

I wish for more than these things, even though I feel like I have asked for so much already.

If you have any more capacity to give, then please know that I love you with a depth and power that I have never been able to express to you. It is possible that there are no words to describe this love; if there are, I haven’t seen them or heard them, and now, at this moment, on this special day, I feel like I haven’t searched diligently enough.

Know that I understand how poorly I have communicated this love over our years together. But what you have not heard nearly often enough, with nearly enough eloquence, is deeply and profoundly felt in my heart and in my soul.

If you can, recognize the truth of this one remarkable thing: I would not give up your presence in my life, the connection I share with you, for anything that anyone could offer me.

Think of all the precious things in the world. Imagine them piled up in front of you as high as the sky itself, and know that you are more precious to me than all of them.

These are gifts almost too great to ask for, even on this day set aside for me and for fathers everywhere. But if, somehow, I could receive these things that I have never before had the courage to speak of, you would give me a blessing as great as any in the eons-long history of fatherhood.

And finally, thank you for this wonderful necktie.

-From Bob Veres, Conversations With My Daughter


Nasruddin earned his living selling eggs. Someone came to his shop one day and said, “Guess what I have in my hand.”

“Give me a clue,” said Nasruddin.

“I shall give you several: It has the shape of an egg, the size of an egg. It looks like an egg, tastes like an egg and smells like an egg. Inside it is yellow and white. It is liquid before it is cooked, becomes thick when heated. It was, moreover laid by a hen…”

“Aha! I know!” said Nasruddin. “It is some kind of cake!”

The expert misses the obvious! Stay open my friends…


Thanks this week to Larry, Robin, Hillel, Marlaine, Moms and Dads Everywhere!

Love is ALL you need…


There are two lasting bequests we can give our children.
One is roots. The other is wings.
~Hodding Carter, Jr.

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