Amy's with us in spirit...
Guess that leaves Kimmy!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
For Gary As Well
Well here it is. A pound of hair and $700 to St. Baldrick's Foundation. For Gary.
Darn you Brian, you beat me to it.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
For Gary
Mitzi walks the walk as world's most supportive wife ever!
Then Brian joins in...
Billy gets in the chair...
Father and son...
Then Jeff shows his support!
Who's next?
Billy gets in the chair...
Mohawk for a minute!
Father and son...Then Jeff shows his support!
No fair! Dave had a head start!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Cieslakness
"To build something," eh?
Upon reading the two terrific blog posts regarding our family lineage and meaning, I thought, "Wow, I would love to post an entry further elaborating on our family and it's orgin. Besides, I did do that report on the Cieslak family in like 5th grade."
"I'll just be able to talk along the lines of what Joe and Bryan said..."
Umm - wrong!
I don't know what to tell you - I've got nothing.
What I do have, however, is an observation:
Brian insists that being a Cieslak means doing something with your life. Being in the midst of my junior year of high school, the college search is afoot. Disjointedly making my way through the tons of literature that universities send has been overwhelming enough. My parents and college counselor attempt coerce possible majors and careers out of me and, at this point, I have no idea where I want to go with my life.
"What do I want to do?" I half-seriously ask my friends - as if they would know what I need. I feel as though everything I do is burning more bridges and closing more doors.
I need to find direction. I need to find the wind.
I have an all too familiar feeling that once I find my direction, it will have been right in front of my nose the whole time. The wind was at my back all the while and I had no idea. I was too oblivious to know it was there.
I suppose all I can do is pray and hope that God would let me in on his itinerary for my life. One peek is all I need, God. Pretty please?
All I can say is I hope my Cieslakness, that is to build something, would set in fast, 'cause life is coming and I'm not quite ready yet..
Saturday, March 1, 2008
To Build
Cieslak, I am told, is the Polish word for “carpenter.”
But if you were to watch some of us in action, you’d swear it was the term for “irony.” Gary and I are flat out dangerous with a hammer, and a nail gun would become a lethal weapon in our hands.
Yes, Jeff is modestly handy around the house I’m sure, and Calvin’s dad, D-Rave, has always been mechanically inclined, even doing good, basic auto repair.
But we just don’t live up to the name.
Here in my office sits a small wooden box with leather handle. It is a tool box, built by hand a long time ago by Grandpa William Cieslak. Inside are some musty old tools, including a carpenter’s plane. I’ve often turned this curious object over in my hands, imagining the many useful items he fashioned using this simple implement. Furniture, farm sheds, and even homes.
And I’ve always felt this deep sense of somehow being cut off—not just from the legacy of craftsmanship, but from a country, a language, and world I never knew.
Strange—I’ve always had this intense interest in family history, but there just isn’t very much. It’s a thin story: Grandpa sailed into Boston harbor when he was seventeen. Details about his father Michael are sketchy and few. William’s son, my dad, understood the Polish overhead in his house when he was a little boy, but never really spoke it. And now it’s almost gone.
But what if…
What if Cieslak was not simply the Polish word for carpenter, but rather synonymous with the phrase “to build something with one’s life”? Build a home, build a family, build something of value to others in this world.
In that light, my brothers and sisters have continued that legacy.
And now it’s up to their sons and daughters.
Go build something.
But if you were to watch some of us in action, you’d swear it was the term for “irony.” Gary and I are flat out dangerous with a hammer, and a nail gun would become a lethal weapon in our hands.
Yes, Jeff is modestly handy around the house I’m sure, and Calvin’s dad, D-Rave, has always been mechanically inclined, even doing good, basic auto repair.
But we just don’t live up to the name.
Here in my office sits a small wooden box with leather handle. It is a tool box, built by hand a long time ago by Grandpa William Cieslak. Inside are some musty old tools, including a carpenter’s plane. I’ve often turned this curious object over in my hands, imagining the many useful items he fashioned using this simple implement. Furniture, farm sheds, and even homes.
And I’ve always felt this deep sense of somehow being cut off—not just from the legacy of craftsmanship, but from a country, a language, and world I never knew.
Strange—I’ve always had this intense interest in family history, but there just isn’t very much. It’s a thin story: Grandpa sailed into Boston harbor when he was seventeen. Details about his father Michael are sketchy and few. William’s son, my dad, understood the Polish overhead in his house when he was a little boy, but never really spoke it. And now it’s almost gone.
But what if…
What if Cieslak was not simply the Polish word for carpenter, but rather synonymous with the phrase “to build something with one’s life”? Build a home, build a family, build something of value to others in this world.
In that light, my brothers and sisters have continued that legacy.
And now it’s up to their sons and daughters.
Go build something.
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