The Mooncatcher Chronicles: Letters to My Daughters

By Arthur Reece

Mooncatcher Chronicles captures those small events in the lives of
your children that later will last in the memories of parenthood
forever. The series of letters comprising this book is guaranteed to
make you smile, at times make you cry, and definitely make you
think about the responsibility of being a Father. Finally, someone has
caught the true heart of being a Dad in an honest and sincere
format... Letters to my Daughters. Walk through the milestones often
forgotten of giving your children the treasures of life in this poignant
look at one of the greatest blessings of life. Just being a Dad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496901064

Arthur Reece

Arthur Reece has taken the joy of being a Father to a whole new level. With many of us, the author inside awakens from some inspirational or life-changing event. With Mr. Reece, the parenting role itself provided all the inspiration he would ever need. Take a walk through the lifetime of raising children through the eyes of this prolific and soul-searching Father as he reaches through years of

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© 2014 Arthur Reece. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/29/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0105-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0106-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905669

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

LETTERS TO MY DAUGHTERS

1.   CONTINUE TO BE FEARLESS

2.   BECOME A STUDENT OF LIFE

3.   WATCH CLOUDS GO BY

4.   AWESOME AND AWEFUL

5.   FRIGIDAIRE MONUMENTS

6.   NEVER, NEVER, NEVER GIVE UP

7.   POOPIE PUPPIES

8.   BOILING FROGS AND FRIENDS

9.   WORK TO LIVE, DON’T LIVE TO WORK

10.   BIG GIRL

11.   SURPRISE PEOPLE

12.   SPEND TIME WITH THOSE WHO WOULD INSPIRE YOU

13.   EXPERTS AND PRACTICE

14.   THE RICHEST PEOPLE IN THE COUNTY

15.   BE AN OBVIOUS LIAR

16.   CASH IN YOUR PRAYERS

17.   SHARE THE GOOD TIMES

18.   THE GARDENER

19.   CREATE YOUR OWN TRADITIONS

20.   THE THINGS WE DADS HAVE TO DO

21.   RECKON WITH THE ULTIMATE ENEMY… TIME

22.   SMILE A LOT, LAUGH EVEN MORE

23.   CHANGING TIMES

24.   BROWN-EYED GIRL

25.   SNOW BUNNIES AND SPRINKLER DANCING

26.   NEW COUCHES

27.   MOGIGUE

28.   MUD PUDDLES

29.   THE LITTLE GREEN BOX

30.   LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY OR NOT AT ALL

31.   THINK FOR YOURSELF

32.   THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

33.   PIZZA FACES

34.   SHNOKLIT MILK

35.   THE GREATEST

36.   ATM MACHINES

37.   WHEN ANGELS COME

38.   BACKYARD PHILOSOPHY

39.   MASTER YOUR TEMPTATIONS, FEED YOUR VISIONS, AND PROTECT YOUR INNOCENCE

40.   BABY TEETH

41.   BAD PEOPLE

42.   DOWNHILL

43.   THE SUN IS COMING UP

MOONCATCHER CHRONICLES

I have found the most remarkable way to pass the time during my morning commute. I write letters to my daughters. Now, before anyone gets nervous and ask that I discontinue this unsafe driving practice, let me explain…

Sometimes the moon is so overshadowed by the air that its crescent shape can barely be distinguished in the nighttime sky. And other times, it’s like this giant glowing ball that seems to be close enough to touch. And for some reason, it seems like all children are enamored by the moon. My two daughters are no exception.

One night when the moon was unusually full of color and my oldest (known as Puddin) and I went for our evening stroll after dinner, she did something that I thought was truly exceptional. Our evening strolls had become a sort of family tradition each night. I must confess that I had originally convinced her mother that this was necessary bonding time for father and daughter but honestly, I was also looking for a new way to get out of helping with the dinner dishes. But those evening walks became an inspiration for me in more ways than Puddin will ever know. Our stroll usually only took us to the end of the lot and back. That’s mostly due to the fact that you can’t cover a lot of territory with a 2.5-year-old little girl. She was able to discover new things each time we made that walk. I couldn’t tell the times I returned home with pockets full of treasures that she had discovered as if she were mining for diamonds. More flowers, bottlecaps and coins, and on one occasion even a feather. But on one night it wasn’t anything on the ground that provided my lesson, . . . it was what was in the sky. Puddin dropped her evening rock and coin collecting to notice how beautiful moonlight was that night. And as I recall, it was beautiful. It was so full and white, and hung so low in the sky that it seemed as if you could most likely reach out and touch it.

And that is exactly what Puddin proceeded to do as she pointed to the moon as though she was the first to discover it and instinctively jumped out to clasp her hands together. It was as if she could catch it and pretended to stuff and it in her pocket. To me, that meant either her mother or grandparents had taught her that before some other evening stroll when I was naïve enough to get stuck with the dishes. But when we got home and I reported Puddin’s actions to her mother, she had no idea where this came from. So, over the next several weeks and as fathers generally like to do, I retold this story to just about everyone we knew. And to my surprise, no one claimed responsibility for teaching my daughter this new trick. Either our entire group of family and friends had conspired together, or my little girl had the instinct of a moon catcher. And rather than choose to be paranoid, I decided that the latter was true.

Now, the great part about this story is that it doesn’t end here. About two and a half years later, a little sister Squirt came along. And, joy of joys, after she learned to walk I had twice as many excuses for evening strolls. Some nights, I would even have the double blessing of walking with the two of them. But more and more nights were just for our newest little Squirt and myself. Puddin had fancied herself the consummate dishwasher and Cleaner-Upper and had been recruited by her mother. So, figuring that it was only a matter of time that I lost her too, Squirt and I made it out the door immediately after dinner one night. Anyone with more than one child will tell you how totally different children can be. That is one of the great mysteries of parenthood. What motivates and rewards one child will mean nothing to the other. And what disciplines one child can be of little or no effect on their siblings. Even though Puddin had taught me that the shortest distance from our end of the lot to the other was never a straight line, Squirt was not a collector. She was a runner. Most of the time she was in a running motion before you put her on the ground. And with the evening stroll that once was a voyage of discovery, . . . it was a workout session with Squirt. And what usually happened is that with all of her running back and forth her energy was spent and when we got to the end of the block, she moon usually returned