More About Me

Today I registered at This is another interesting social media site. Random questions are posed to users who can respond. Folks can also submit specific questions for others to answer. You’ll note that there is a form on the sidebar here at eCache for you to submit questions. I find this an interesting mechanism. All formspring needs is a mechanism for a blogger to extract the data back out so I can mount it here. As it stands, I need to do copy-and-paste to get it here.

If you could make one person fall in love with you who would it be?
No one. Making someone fall in love conjures some sort of force. Who wants to force someone to love him? That flies in the face of what love is.

More important, however, is that all those who I would want to love me already do. I am blessed.

What’s the best gift you’ve ever given?
My children?

I haven’t a clue. I hope that I inspired someone through my actions. Perhaps showed someone the value of a life in Christ. I just do not know.

I have not kept a scorecard of gifts so I can rank them by value. That is not what gift giving is about from my end.

If you had to give up one favorite food, what would the most difficult?
Water? It is a staple of life and is in lots of stuff.

My friends and family know I am addicted to soda. While I would welcome giving it up, it hasn’t happened. The caffeine, which is what I am actually addicted to, is too desired. But I enjoy the delivery mechanism of soda too. Coffee doesn’t do it for me. I’ve tried, but have failed.

Perhaps it is time to become serious about this again.

What was your first paying job?
Technically, dog groomer assistant. When I was a boy, my folks hired me to help with their grooming business. I think I earned a nickel do a lot of work.

Later I was self-employed as a lawn mower.

But the first job I had for a real business where I was an employee was a dishwasher at the Crystal Room at the Atlas hotel in Cape May, NJ. It lasted one incredibly long shift until 1:00 a.m. when my folks sent my sister to return me home. I reeked of bleach.

We re-negotiated soon after and I ended up as a bus boy for the summer. I made very good money as a 14-yo. We had two 8-tracks for the sound system: The soundtrack to the Sound of Music and Barry Manilow’s Even Now. I bet I could sing both through lo all these years later word-for-word. 🙂

If you could look like anybody, who would it be?
Silly. While no GQ coverboy here, I am happy with the way I look. I do not desire to look like other people. What good would that be? If we all looked the same, how would we distinguish between us?

Having said, a little more hair atop my head and a flatter stomach would not be unwelcomed. I just don’t need it to be Brad Pitt’s hair or Adrian Peterson’s abs.

What’s the oldest piece of clothing you still own and wear?
Hmmm . . . a couple years ago I did a thorough disposal of all those old clothes that were full of holes that I was still wearing. Among that lot was a Flyers jacket a girlfriend had given me in college. Gert was happy.

So my wardrobe is much more current than it used to be. I don’t know for a fact, but I have a purple sweater that I have had for at least a decade. Gert washed it bleach once and there is a marvelous bleach stain on it now. I wear it as a layer when I go out geocaching when it’s cold.

I do have some suits from even longer, but I don’t wear them any longer. I wonder why that is. 😉

If you were stranded on a desert island, which one person would you bring with you?
My wife. I sure like it if the children were around too, but I suppose we could always create a few more if need be. 😉

Would you rather be a famous musician or a famous actor?
Rock star! No doubt. The instant feedback from the work I could see being pretty kewl. Of course, I wouldn’t want to be famous at all given the loss of anonymity, privacy, etc., but if I had to select, making music is more interesting to me than play-acting.

Are you going to miss 2009?
No. 2009 was a good year, but I would rather be looking forward than backwards.

Also blogged on this date . . .

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