Breakfast with Mickey

Drawing by Nate

Par Figgy: Pilot Episode 1 - by Nate

[Starts off in a flashback. A young boy is sitting on a stump thinking what bird goes in filet mignon.] 

"Dinnertime Bradley! Mary, his mother, yells. He jumps off the stump bolting to the front door. As he's running, he feels the polished stones against his hands. But then, "What's this? could it be? yes it is!" He stops in his tracks and goes back. He feels for the indented stone. Once he finds it, he takes out a sharpie and colors all the indents. The stone reads, "Par Figgy". He rushes inside over dinner. He tells his parents all about the stone. Of course, because he's a kid they don't believe him. He doesn't tell them but he has a bond with that stone. He feels like he was meant to see the stone and he feels like he should stay by it at all times.

[It shows him waving his arms in the air and his parents having doubtful expressions.]

When Brad goes to bed he says, "I know I was meant to have that stone and I won't let people stand in between." The next morning Bradley snuck a chisel and a hammer from his dad and ran outside. He started hammering right away. After about a half hour he has done enough damage to rip out the brick. "Aha!" Brad exclaims, as he rips out the brick. The wall comes down with the brick.

[Shows Brad covered in dust and Mom and Dad are surprised. Mom is knitting and dad is reading a newspaper.]

"Go to your room immediately!" He stomps to his room in anger holding the stone in his hand. "Welcome Par Figgy," Brad says.

[Shows outside of the house then turns to day. The young boy you saw before is all grown up now. He yawns, gets up and takes a look at the stone, gets dressed and walks to the drugstore.] 

"Hello Brad," McGee said, in his New York accent. "Hello McGee," Brad replies, "where's Jackson?" Where do you think he is? He's late like everyday. Brad takes a look at the board. "Damn, I got register duty." Brad leans on his elbows and daydreams about Par Figgy. 

[Goes to credits by playing Another Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd.]

Ben's mohawk man sculpture

Awesome punk rock mohawk sculpture by Ben!!

Ben's first travel basketball game

Ben, we were so proud to watch you play with the Cranford Knights Club basketball team down at the Monroe Sports Complex. Your team played vs. the Cranbury Vikings and you scored 6 points!

Willow Beds - a poem by Nate

The willow beds will be my friend.

Friends for eternity, when I'm feeling my worst, 

They come and comfort me through

Night and day.

I like to stay on the willow beds.

I like to see the little fishing buoys bob

Up and down like heads.

Cranford Football State Championship game

We had a great time tailgating and watching the team play. It was a close game, but Parsippany Hills won 20-13.

Letters to Santa

Snow - a poem by Nate

Snow

When snow comes falling from the unknown place

High in the sky

You look up, cheeks are red as if you're shy.

A flake of snow tickles your cheek.

The neighborhood hears your joyous shriek. 

You decide to play in the snow today.

Even though it's far away, you still fret

The month of May.

School - a poem by Nate

School

When you go to school

It's best to stay cool.

If your teacher gives you a test

It's easiest just to say, "west." 

When you get an A

Just say, "Yay!"

And that's how you do good in school!

Death - a poem by Nate

Death

When you don't have shame

And you call his name

Out of hate, not out of love.

He'll appear at the windowsill as a beautiful dove.

Whatever you do, don't let him into your abode

For surely he will turn into a more vicious mode.

With a touch of his scythe, he'll whisk you away.

For a soul like you, you will not stay.

Your soul will burn as if trapped in an urn

And that's how you'll stay forever.

Dew - a poem by Nate

Dew

In the morning, dew shines back at you

like a mirror

and when 

the breeze tickles the tree's leaves

it falls in 

its own significant pattern

Ben's first basket

A rebound post-up for the Manhattan Jaspers, recreational basketball league.

Revolutionary War Poem - by Nate

Cold, they trudge on.

Their souls have died down.

On their faces is a frown

But yet, they trudge on.

They ask themselves why they've seen such horrible things

But they tell themselves, "We don't want a King."

So, they trudge on through snow and ice

Hoping they can keep their life.

5th Grade PAL football

What a great season you had Nate! Your team made it to the playoffs and you played middle linebacker for the first time. The best part was also going out to eat after the games. We are proud of you.

Ben's first PAL football game!

#92 executing drive block

#92 drive block

#92 blocks for the QB sneak

Ben's 1rst QB sack!

A tackle for Ben

Summer Sports

Kevin Boyle Basketball Camp

Swim Lessons

Driving Range

Tommy Rodriguez invitational

Greenwich Village

Pick-up chess

Ben getting schooled

W 4th Street Courts

Washington Square

Dear 12 Year Old Me (from 10 year old Nate)

Dear 12 year old me,

How's life? It's probably good. If you're reading this letter that means you got bored and you found this or Mom and Dad were actually serious. Well, I wrote this on August 3rd, 2014. In case you don't know, here are the two questions I'll be answering. The worst and best things of 2014 so far (my Dad came up with the prompt).

I think the best thing in 2014 is making the travel basketball and baseball teams. I think that is something big for me to remember in 10 years. Another good thing is doing good in school. 16/16 A's is what you got on your report card. Those are the best things in 2014.

Here are some low-lites in 2014. You lost the first game in every travel sport. That really killed you. Also, in FIFA, Italy didn't make it to the playoffs. That hurt you also.

Does Mom still work at Pfizer? Do I ever make a travel team again? Am I good in lacrosse? Is the 5th grade football coach good? I hope all those are true!

Sincerely,
Nate

Cousins

Alex loves hanging out with his older cousins...especially Ben.
Ben can mesmerize him by riding a bike around him
or drawing him a picutre.