Emil F. Schulte

The other day I went to work, and my coworker was sitting outside, legs crossed, focused deep into these old hardback books, one in her hand, the other to her side. She immediately looked up at me excited to tell me all about what she had just discovered.

Earlier that morning, she went to an estate sale in Winter Park, and came across these old journals from World War II. She bought them for $1.00 a piece. ONE DOLLAR!

His name was Emil F. Schulte. These hand-written hardback journals were letters written to be sent back to his wife (we presume wife, though we are not sure) in whole book form. So she would get a whole book to read before the next arrived.

He begins each entry with "Dear Girl," and goes into much detail about his day, everything he feels and observes,  and how much he misses her and their kids.

Its amazing the treasures you can find buried away in a house, and that someone would sell for ONE DOLLAR! As I stood there with my coworkers, reading these journals aloud, we all felt so inspired to start writing our own journals, so that one day our kids can read them, or maybe even just three random young adults can stumble upon them to get inspired as well.

It reminds you to get back in touch with your thoughts, and not just think in status updates, and see things with Instagram eyes.

Moped Mondays

Spent the day with my dad in the backyard, tinkering with my moped. It gave us time to reconnect and learn more about my dad and his childhood and what is was like to grow up in the British Isles for four years. Its crazy to know that he used to have a European accent when he was young, and went to etiquette school and everything. When he came to the states and grew up on the Florida coast, he was a beach bum to the max. Sun burnt everyday, out on the beach riding the waves. His parents wanted him to be a doctor (like his father was, and like his brother did become) but my dad wasn't buying into that life. Talking to him always makes me know myself a little bit better, because I get so much from my dad. From our wanderlust-rebel spirit, our love of thrifting and discovering old-used-gems, and our soft supple hearts because we care so much for other people.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

After my first spin on my moped,  my dad and I celebrated by sharing a beer.
I couldn't think of a more perfect day off and I couldn't think of more perfect parents.