Buckeye Mike

I cannot remember the last time I wanted to read a book, cover to cover. But I am doing so right now. Sure there have been the occasional motivational reading assignments we have been directed to read as a team. The Fred Factor, the Fish Series, and my favorite, Monday Morning Leadership. But the last time I went out of my way to purchase a book and could not wait to dive in? I think it was Judy Blume's Superfudge at my 6th grade book fair. However, the abridged story of unthinkable bravery I heard Wednesday morning left me wanting more. And 25 bucks seemed like a small amount to drop ot be able to meet the Hero whose memories spilled onto the pages of this book. Chief Richard Picciotto is the highest ranking member of they New York City Fire Department to have survived the collapse of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. He was one of the heroes who was running towards the burning towers as everyone else was running away. He was also the man who gave the order to evac...

I went to Jolly Pirate Donuts yesterday morning. That should come as no surprise to any of you, as maintaining my figure doesn't come easy. But yesterday's run to the little shop in Reynoldsburg wasn't about me. See, I had told Little Red that I would make breakfast for on Mother's Day. And she replied with "All I really want is some Jolly Pirate Donuts" And while I am almost positive that was her polite way of saying "no way am I eating something you cook", I was happy to go get her Long John's. And maybe a couple peanut butter creams for me. But that's not really important. Facebook was busy with Mother's Day posts yesterday. Thanks Mom and So Blessed were common thoughts as usual. However, many of the posts this year talked about the definition of Mom and how really it has nothing to do with biology. And I smiled. Because that's the story of two of the greatest Mom's I have ever met. My sister, Angelia, and my Little Red. B...

"Milford High School, Milford High School, We are proud of thee. Always faithful, always loyal, always we shall be. Colors red and white will fly for old Milford high. To our dear old Alma Mater which will never die" After my Mom married my Dad but before we moved to Gahanna, our new family moved into a rental home in Day Heights, Ohio. We settled into a little house on a quiet street in this suburb of a suburb of Cincinnati, Milford. This move meant for the sixth time (out of seven) in my childhood, I would be the new kid in school. I adapted pretty well this time around. Miss Fawley cast me as the lead in our musical, and we all had to memorize the alma mater for the fall concert. My new best friend was Richie Richmond, a mullet wearing Metallica freak that would have been considered a "hood". My arch nemesis was Joey Dobbs, a preppy loud mouthed know it all that convinced Ellen Ayre to go steady with him instead of me. But I quickly stopped caring about that,...

I am a car guy. Kind of. Can I take a motor apart and put it back together? No.  Can I restore an old clunker back to hot rod form? Not if you put a gun to my head.  Can I look at almost any car on the road and identify it by year, make, and model? You bet your rear end I can. I have rarely been stumped, even when I was a kid. From Chevettes to Corvettes to Coronets, Mustangs to Murcielagos to Maserati's, Pinto's to Porsches to Puegots,  I could be on the Jeopardy of car makes. Being that into cars, of course, I have had my share of "Dream Cars". I am a Corvette lover, have always been a fan of any Italian automaker, and of course would love to find a great deal on a slightly used Bentley convertible. The definition of elegance for nearly 100 years, there aren't many of them rolling around Columbus, Ohio. Definitely a bucket list item just to get behind the wheel of one of one someday before I die.  But I digress. This post isn't a...

I was all prepared for it. I thought for sure Christmas morning my son John-Michael would lose his mind when he saw it. Sure, it's not brand new. And its not something that would turn heads on the street. But still, doesn't every 16 year old kid want a car? I mean I would have flipped out, even if it was a hand me down station wagon. The reaction, though, hurt my feelings a little. Instead of "WOO-HOO cannot wait to drive my car" we got "I do not want to get my license, and don't understand why I need to find a job. After all, I am only 16." A blow to the ego and bank account, since we had gone in debt for a new minivan for Little red to make this happen for my son. It stung.  And that's the way it has been for him for the last 6 months. Don't get me wrong, he is a great kid. Intelligent, polite, and growing up way too fast, there are a ton of typical teenage parent worries that he has spared us. But the last few months have been head scr...

I am embarrassed. Embarrassed that, at 41 years old,  you will not see a Holy Bible anywhere in my home. Well, you might in my son's room, but that is for later in this post. But in my things, from my dresser to my office to my suitcase of memories that contain photos and what nots from my past, there is no copy of the word. Ironic, since I claim that one of the biggest reasons I am here despite that past is my faith.  I am ashamed. Ashamed that I have not taught my three sons the same core values and beliefs that I was taught as I was raised in a strong Pentecostal home. I teach my sons to be respectful, integral men of honor with strong values and morals, yet I have never made a conscious effort to take them to church or tell them about Jesus Christ. I am angry. Angry at myself for blasting my son the first time he attached himself to a religion. Whether out of his own thirst to know more about God, or just to impress a girl, he has done more to to develop...

Once again, December has been a memorable time in my life in many different ways. While our little Slusher family here in Gahanna is doing better than we ever dreamed possible, others in our lives have required the same prayers we have needed so often in Decembers past. From our dear friends, the Burnhams, to my sister and Dad in Illinois, Tiffany and I have whispered more than a few names to the man upstairs recently. Four years ago, I was remembering my mother and reliving the last memories I have of her. It was a very emotional and cathartic time for me, and using this blog to recount that terrible time was very therapeutic. I would recommend going back and looking at those posts. I do so often, especially when I find myself in times when I need to find peace. They are my refuge, and help me find my center when nothing else makes sense. During that time, I wrote a blog entitled "The Pocketwatch". It is my favorite Christmas story, and has become an annual tradition on ...