Daniel Dessinger

Category: people

  • Holiday Season 2006

    It’s November 12th, 2006. Thanksgiving Day is right around the corner, and Christmas is right on its heels. It is the happiest time of year and the time of greatest suffering. Holidays are like Jedi Knights: they are intensely powerful, whether for the good or the dark side. Indifference implies callousness. Unless, of course, you come from a third-world country with no familial holidays. I love this time of year. I have never been the guy most geared toward family. I rejected family as a teenager (go figure) and refused to identify myself with “those people.” A successful holiday used to mean a bottle of liquor, a mixed cd, and a trip to the movie theater… alone. I still wonder what the holiday means to my family as we get together. Do they care if the conversation is just idle nonsense, or do they really have things they want to know and say? If so, why do they never bridge the gap between us and share their feelings? I guess I live in a very private family on some levels. We get along, and we are very kind to each other (I was the last one to participate there), yet we know very little about each other on so many levels. Despite the unknowns, holidays are still a chance to appreciate those you love, despit the fact that you may not be able to explain why you love them or what you get out of it. Even with so many unanswered questions about the mysteries of familial bonds, it’s nice to know you can always come home to people who know who you were before you got hurt and started faking it. It’s nice to be accepted. I realize that this does not speak to everyone, and many would rebuke me for generalizing everyone into a quasi-successful family role. I know that there are far too many out there who don’t have anyone to turn to. I know that there are many who would rather die than come home. I know that there are some who can’t remember if home even exists. If you fit into one of those categories, I do not apologize for my generalizations. I do appreciate your patience with me as I express different memories, for I can only communicate what is my own. I hope and pray each one of you finds a new family rising out of the ashes which are your memories. I pray that God will surround you with people who possess the god-given capacity to know you, love you, and appreciate you, so that you will live a life worth living. I pray that you will each know what it means to sit around a table with those you love and share moments of joy and satisfaction. Happy Holidays.

  • The Miracle of Life and Childbirth

    You probably think that I am about to wax on about the miracle of childbirth. I’m not. Not because it’s not miraculous. It is. I posted this photo because the sight of it struck me so.How do I explain? This is a man whom I respect and admire. He is not perfect. I do not pretend he is without flaw. He does, however, live out of a certain sense of duty, virtue, and ethics.

    That also has nothing to do with why I posted his photograph. Truth be told, I miss him. Both he and his wife are dear friends of ours, and we rarely see them. Now Russ is a father and Christi is a mother. They have been translated into another phase of existence. This is beautiful. It is also lonely.

    It’s a loneliness that only those of you who allow yourselves to indulge in a little self absorption would likely recognize. When you can go to a wedding, a funeral, a birth, a celebration, and walk away with a sad loneliness and sense of personal loss, you have arrived at the type of feeling to which I refer.

    Russ will never be a bachelor again. He will never not be a father. He is forever something else. Something much more, perhaps, yet still something “other”. It’s not that I wish he would return to his former state. I do not wish him to undo his lifelong covenant with his bride. But the past is something never to be regained, and significant events state this truth clearly to those of us paying attention. Once you pass a milestone, it becomes yet another marker in time you will never recover.

    The miracle, though, is that this man is a father. Yes, it is a miracle that the baby was conceived, carried to term, and born. But I see a miracle in Russ. I see a man in the process of development, nurtured and challenged by the march of time.

    Though younger than me by a year or two, he has learned some valuable lessons about living and treating one’s neighbor that I still struggle to learn. He has patented the ability to nurture a fragile person without wounding his or her ego. He knows how to listen, to ask the right type of questions, and to speak with a heart that expresses true concern for the other person’s well-being. And now he is a father.

    Our beliefs are not identical. For all I know, he may think of me as a radical charismatic. We do not see eye to eye on everything, but I have high hopes for this child, and any children to follow. They have a blessed future: two loving parents devoted to truth and to the tender expression of it to those in need.

    The miracle of life is that sometimes a child is born into the right family.

  • First Annual Shrub Day

    The first annual Shrub Day was a smashing, though a bit prolonged, success! Two and a half days of labor and deliberation wrought a beauty our little house never thought possible. Grinning from chimney to gables, our little house was delighted at its extreme makeover. For two years, my wife and I have lived in a house that looks much better on the inside.

    The outside wasn’t hideous, mind you. No, it was just plain, bare, and altogether uninteresting. I had not realized how uninteresting until I noticed how many neighbors were suddenly waving as they passed by. Apparently we were doing something to our yard which they highly approved of. I took the glass half full point of view and took it as a compliment to our choice of shrubs and plants. Rainy weather couldn’t stop us!

    We were green machines. We stared down severe thunderstorms without flinching a muscle or twitching an eyelid. We were fearless. We were courageous. We were fierce. We were really stinkin’ tired. I mean TIRED!!! Have you ever taken an axe and tried to hack thick tree roots out of your way? Luckily, I only broke one shovel and cut two fingers throughout the process. Considering the conditions and strength of our opponent, those were acceptable casualties.

    Nah… It wasn’t a battle. Well, it was in a way. But it was more like an adventure. I discovered Calloway’s, a paradise of flowers, shrubs, trees, and vines. I wanted to buy everything – well, everything that suits my taste (i.e., not girly looking flowers or your traditional boring perennial greenery). I would have spent much more had my wife not been present and ready to smite me with a spade. Who knew that I, the guy who rarely even cares to go outside, would find a nursery to be so delightful? I will discuss some of our new plants when I have photos to post.

  • A Parent’s Responsibility

    Some of you rightfully ask yourselves, “How can I take care of myself, my kids, and the environment without looking like a hippie reject?” To this, I gladly answer: Anna Sova. Sure, anyone with money can hire a decorator with panache to fill their home with beautiful colors, shapes, and fabrics. However, take a lesson from the ageless wisdom: To whom much is given, much is required.

    Simply stated, those who are blessed with more have more responsibility. Delicate linens and fancy faux finishes, in and of themselves, aren’t good enough. Anna Sova is forging a new path for fashion minded and environmentally responsible adults. Not just environmentally safe. Not simply luxurious. Anna Sova is the best of both worlds. According to the EPA, “Indoor air is three times more polluted than outdoor air, and according to the EPA, is considered to be one of the top 5 hazards to human health. Paint and finishes are among the leading causes.”

    From 500 color shades of milk-based paint and exotic lightweight bedding made from natural baby alpaca to essential oil aromatherapy sprays and soy votive candles, the eco-connoisseur has found the place to shop. And that goes without even mentioning the pesticide-free organic cotton towels. New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Austin have been Anna Sova’s proving grounds. These Eco-sensitive communities have proven that safe and healthy luxury products are the future of avant-garde decor. Earth-conscious communities in Southlake, Colleyville, Frisco, Plano, Dallas, The Woodlands, Phoenix, Portland, Baltimore, Atlanta, and Boston, are likely to follow suit. Anna Sova raises the bar for sophistication. Symmetry and balance do not rely solely on external appearance. True beauty is more than skin deep.

    Get to know four dimensional symmetry. Get to know Anna. For more information, visit http://www.annasova.com.

  • A New Dessinger Holiday

    It’s been months since I have worked on location anywhere. Traffic has been a wonderful rediscovery this week. There’s nothing like wasting $3.00 per gallon to drive twenty miles in order to work. I’m not complaining. Work is work. And Friday is the mark of reprieve. Regardless of whatever turmoil we have endured, Friday always saves the day. It is this special little day in which all is forgivable and hope is restored. Three evenings and two full days lie ahead, pregnant with possibility. What does the future hold? What will I do this weekend? I don’t even ask myself these questions most of the time because the weekend is just an addendum to the rest of the week. Today is an exception, however; one which calls for unique action. I think today I will do my best to make my wife’s desires a reality by helping her plant some flowers or shrubs in the front yard. She should get a treat for working so hard through adversity these past twelve months. I don’t tell her often enough how much she has blessed me. Yes, today is definitely shrub day. That will be it’s name.

    I know it’s Cinco de Mayo, but I’m creating a holiday for my family. From here on, Shrub Day will be the first official Dessinger holiday, and we will have fun working together to cultivate our garden or improve on our landscaping. Sounds cheesy to some, I’m sure. So what! I’ve been complaining about our national holidays for too long without action. Let this be the first, if not the most unusual, of my family’s new holidays. We’ll celebrate the beauty of God’s creation and enjoy the work of our hands to shape something aesthetically pleasing. The term “Shrub Day” is, of course, subject to copyright and further legal action if copied… No, not really.

  • Memories of Valentine’s Day

    I haven’t written anything here in quite some time. There’s not enough time in the day to get everything done and have the accompanying panic attacks. Today being what it is – Valentine’s Day – I thought I should at least attempt to write something thematic.

    The painting to the right is of Trinity Valentine at age 18. Who is that? I have no idea. Her last name’s Valentine… that’s thematic enough. The painter is Fred Burkhart. The surrounding blues are so startlingly blue in comparison to the black outline of her face and the lighter tones of her hair and face. I don’t know… something about it captivated me. You can see more paintings by this artist at www.burkhartstudios.com.

    As for Valentine’s Day proper, I am reminded of Valentine’s Day 2004. Heather and I had been married a whopping 18 days, and I was on a mission: to find the perfect kitty that Heather has been wanting for more than ten years. I was one of those Valentine’s Day haters. It was and still is my firm belief that a man who loves his wife finds special ways to show his love throughout the year, not just on some day that someone randomly chose as a day of romance. I personally resent it, though less now than I used to.

    The point of it is to make men feel so guilty at the thought of not buying something for their wife or girlfriend that they end up feeling obligated to go spend money so that she won’t be the only woman at work or at church who didn’t get some token of how special she is to her man.

    I so totally lucked out! The first place I stopped, PetSmart, had one little Siamese Snowshoe with piercing blue eyes. I was transfixed. Doubt crept in. What if Heather gets mad that I adopted a cat without even consulting with her? It was risky. It’s the kind of thing careless married couples fight about all the time.

    I was going to drive around and think about it, when this couple walked up and started cooing over the same kitten. Panic. What if someone else chooses him while I’m still thinking? Can I take that chance? No. I cannot. He’s too beautiful. He’s too perfect. It’s him or nothing.

    He was so tiny. So precious. He cried all the way home. I sang to him to calm him down. When we got home, my wife was taking a shower, probably getting ready for a possible Valentine’s Day dinner. I carried the kitty into the bedroom, opened the bathroom door just a crack, and gently nudged him on. I closed the door and listened carefully.

    Five seconds later, I hear Heather gasp. I hear the shower door open and she says, “Where did you come from, kitty?” in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard her use. The rest was history. She fell in love with our new cat, and he has been an irreplaceable member of the family ever since. Now, whenever a gift-giving holiday comes around, she always tells me, “Just give me Mr. Kitty again. Wrap a bow around him and give him to me as a present!”

    I haven’t tried it yet. Somehow, I think the idea of it might be a little cuter than how it might play out for real. Still, Mr. Kitty earns me bonus points on every holiday when my wife remembers how wonderful it was to receive the perfect kitty on a day I had never previously celebrated.

  • 2006: A Pledge to My Wife

    we began this new year in intimate embrace
    a symbol of the coming year
    for to you i pledge my love afresh
    and write to tell you what to expect

    this year i draw near
    nearer than before
    this year i am unfettered
    by the chains that bound me before
    this year i will humble myself
    and allow myself to be known
    this year i will seek your heart
    as a treasure without price
    this year my pursuit will be marked by persistance,
    endurance, and unyielding resolve
    this year the yearning swells inside
    for hearts to touch as delicately as i touch your skin
    this year i will reek of the yearning
    i will smell of it, drip with it, project it, embody it
    this year, the yearning will drip
    like scented oil from my beard
    this year i will anoint your head with kisses
    and shower your ears with praises
    this year i will seek you
    as the young man in Song of Songs
    this year i will leap from mountain top to mountain top
    to reach my beloved
    to draw her into my bedchamber
    to delight in the blossoming fragrance of her femininity
    to prove what is the transforming power
    in the heart of a woman
    to prove to you and those who will admire you
    that this power and brilliance in your smile
    that the sparkle and gleam in your eye
    is born out of the tender love and adoration
    of your humble husband

    i declare it because it is true
    i prophesy it to the four corners of the earth
    my words will be challenged
    and tested for truth
    and through it all you will see
    that which you’ve longed for
    and doubted you’d ever see
    this is the year i will draw you to me.