"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." Mark Twain
"I was seldom able to see an opportunity until it had ceased to be one." Mark Twain
"You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus." Mark Twain
This morning I woke up to a different sort of Black Friday than the one that many others did. For me it was Black Friday because I had stayed up far later than common sense dictated I should even though I had deadlines to hit. Not deadline, but deadlines. I suppose that ultiple projects all coming due at the same time could be seen as poor planning or a quirk of fate.
And I suppose that one could argue that it was a lack of discretion that led to my enjoying good Scotch and good company far longer than I should have. But the benefit of experience and awareness is such that I knew that I could find a way to get it all done. Knew that sometimes I work better under pressure.
So when I woke up in desperate need of coffee and some uninterrupted time at the computer I didn't panic or stress out. I simply sat down and prepared to give these projects a shot of shock and awe. There was only one kink in my plan, one detail that I hadn't considered.
Or maybe I should rephrase that and say that the kink is 75 pounds of boy, not just any boy, but my first born. He came to me early on and asked if we could have some time to hang out. From business/planning perspective I should have quietly told him no. Should have explained that I couldn't give up that time because it would require me to be up far too late making up the hours I lost.
It would be a lie to say that I didn't consider telling him that we couldn't do it. I did. I thought about it. I didn't want to be stuck burning the midnight oil to get it all done. But sometimes you need to make like Tom Cruise in Risky Business and say "What The Fuck." Sometimes you need to adjust your priorities and today was one of those days.
So we made a deal that I would work through the morning and hit the movies to see Megamind and I couldn't be happier. The two of us of had a great time together. It didn't hurt that I enjoyed the movie either. Afterwards in spite of my promise not to hit any retailer today we made quick trips to Target and Costco.
He wasn't thrilled about it and wanted to know why I chose to do it. So I explained that I want to buy a new camera and that being a smart shopper involved a little legwork. I pointed out that we wanted to compare prices and packages. He nodded his head and I could see the wheels spinning.
Now several hours later I am working hard to tie up some loose ends and meet the deadlines that are fast approaching. I am tired and ready for bed, but I wouldn't change today. The look in his eyes and the smile on his face were well worth it.
He'll remember this day and know that dad made time for him. It is important because there will be a time where I can't get away so today will be a good reminder but that is not why I did it. It wasn't to gain favor for a future moment. It was because we don't know what the future holds. Things can change overnight so it made sense to take advantage of the moment and we did.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Some Wounds Take Longer To Heal
It is the early 80s and an olive skinned boy with hazel eyes and curly black hair is wandering through the halls of his school. A few moments ago he made a quick stop at his locker to pick up his math book and is now fighting time. If he doesn't hurry up he is going to be tardy.
He is a good student and most subjects are easy for him but math isn't one of them. It could be one of his favorites. It could be something that tickles and stimulates his mind but it is not. Some of that can be attributed to bad math teachers and the bad attitude he has developed towards it. He is 14 years-old and has already decided that he knows as much math as he is going to need. But there is a bigger problem than his bad attitude and bad teachers.
Her name is Denise and she teases him constantly. From the moment he walks into class until the bell rings she will be the epitome of the mean girl. For 50 minutes she will pick apart his clothes, the way he looks, how he walks and anything else that she thinks will hurt him. For 50 minutes he will grit his teeth and try to ignore her barbs, pretend that he doesn't feel their bite.
If she were a boy he would be ok because he knows how to deal with that. Were she blessed with a dangling appendage he would threaten her with bodily harm. Were she male he would be in her face and the traditional methods that boys use to work out their differences would be in play.
But she isn't and he is at a loss. He won't share his misery with anyone. It is junior high and he hasn't developed the thick skin that will protect him later in life. Appearances are critical and he can't afford to let anyone think that this girl has a thing on him. But it gets harder each day not to scream at her.
Each day that goes by takes a little piece of his patience. Each minute that goes by feels like it is an hour and he begins to dream of attacking her with water balloons and shaving cream. He is afraid of going that route because he fears getting suspended. Yet, the idea is exceptionally attractive to him. Because the one thing that he knows for certain is that she works very hard to look a certain way.
Time passes and she doesn't relent. Eventually he snaps and in the middle of class he throws her purse, backpack and books across the classroom and screams in anger. Her eyes get wide and then she bursts into laughter. For a moment he considers attacking her with the erasers from the chalkboard. There are two of them just a few feet away- in seconds she'll be covered in chalk dust.
But before he can do anything the teacher is standing next to him. She hands him the hall pass and says to go take a walk. When he returns to class the girl will sneer at him and threaten him with physical harm courtesy of her boyfriend. She doesn't realize that this is much better, he knows how to handle that. Now he smiles at her and says that he will happy to give her an ice pack for her boyfriend to use.
A few hours later the boy will replay the events of the day through his mind and wonder what he is going to do about the boyfriend. He has calmed down and without the surge of adrenalin running through his veins he is a bit more realistic about things. The boy friend is older than he is and drives to school. That car changes the equation a bit.
Time passes and the sun sets and rises again. The curly haired boy takes a deep breath and walks back into his math class. It is the day after the incident and he doesn't know what to expect. He takes his seat at the table and waits for the usual outburst. But she doesn't say anything. There are no comments or threats- no words about what has happened.
Almost 30 years later the boy has grown into a man. During a short trip to the mall he walks into a Ralph Lauren/Polo Store and looks around. He doesn't need anything there and doesn't care about designer labels but it is marked as an outlet store so he figures what the hell.
A shirt catches his eye and he walks over to it. Suddenly he remembers that moment and feels a moment of sadness. He is both shocked and surprised by it. He is remembering that moment from junior high and for whatever reason the sadness the boy felt has come to visit the man. He can't figure out why, but he doesn't really care enough to try hard.
It is only a moment and then the feeling is gone. Later on when he writes about that moment then and the moment today he'll remember that life is nothing but moments in time. Little memories intermixed with bigger ones and maybe that moment in the eighties was more significant to him than he realized.
Hard to say and not really clear whether it is appropriate to classify it as being among the wounds that take longer to heal- but that is ok. Because when all is said and done part of the purpose of blogging is the opportunity to reminisce and consider that which was and that which may yet be.
He is a good student and most subjects are easy for him but math isn't one of them. It could be one of his favorites. It could be something that tickles and stimulates his mind but it is not. Some of that can be attributed to bad math teachers and the bad attitude he has developed towards it. He is 14 years-old and has already decided that he knows as much math as he is going to need. But there is a bigger problem than his bad attitude and bad teachers.
Her name is Denise and she teases him constantly. From the moment he walks into class until the bell rings she will be the epitome of the mean girl. For 50 minutes she will pick apart his clothes, the way he looks, how he walks and anything else that she thinks will hurt him. For 50 minutes he will grit his teeth and try to ignore her barbs, pretend that he doesn't feel their bite.
If she were a boy he would be ok because he knows how to deal with that. Were she blessed with a dangling appendage he would threaten her with bodily harm. Were she male he would be in her face and the traditional methods that boys use to work out their differences would be in play.
But she isn't and he is at a loss. He won't share his misery with anyone. It is junior high and he hasn't developed the thick skin that will protect him later in life. Appearances are critical and he can't afford to let anyone think that this girl has a thing on him. But it gets harder each day not to scream at her.
Each day that goes by takes a little piece of his patience. Each minute that goes by feels like it is an hour and he begins to dream of attacking her with water balloons and shaving cream. He is afraid of going that route because he fears getting suspended. Yet, the idea is exceptionally attractive to him. Because the one thing that he knows for certain is that she works very hard to look a certain way.
Time passes and she doesn't relent. Eventually he snaps and in the middle of class he throws her purse, backpack and books across the classroom and screams in anger. Her eyes get wide and then she bursts into laughter. For a moment he considers attacking her with the erasers from the chalkboard. There are two of them just a few feet away- in seconds she'll be covered in chalk dust.
But before he can do anything the teacher is standing next to him. She hands him the hall pass and says to go take a walk. When he returns to class the girl will sneer at him and threaten him with physical harm courtesy of her boyfriend. She doesn't realize that this is much better, he knows how to handle that. Now he smiles at her and says that he will happy to give her an ice pack for her boyfriend to use.
A few hours later the boy will replay the events of the day through his mind and wonder what he is going to do about the boyfriend. He has calmed down and without the surge of adrenalin running through his veins he is a bit more realistic about things. The boy friend is older than he is and drives to school. That car changes the equation a bit.
Time passes and the sun sets and rises again. The curly haired boy takes a deep breath and walks back into his math class. It is the day after the incident and he doesn't know what to expect. He takes his seat at the table and waits for the usual outburst. But she doesn't say anything. There are no comments or threats- no words about what has happened.
Almost 30 years later the boy has grown into a man. During a short trip to the mall he walks into a Ralph Lauren/Polo Store and looks around. He doesn't need anything there and doesn't care about designer labels but it is marked as an outlet store so he figures what the hell.
A shirt catches his eye and he walks over to it. Suddenly he remembers that moment and feels a moment of sadness. He is both shocked and surprised by it. He is remembering that moment from junior high and for whatever reason the sadness the boy felt has come to visit the man. He can't figure out why, but he doesn't really care enough to try hard.
It is only a moment and then the feeling is gone. Later on when he writes about that moment then and the moment today he'll remember that life is nothing but moments in time. Little memories intermixed with bigger ones and maybe that moment in the eighties was more significant to him than he realized.
Hard to say and not really clear whether it is appropriate to classify it as being among the wounds that take longer to heal- but that is ok. Because when all is said and done part of the purpose of blogging is the opportunity to reminisce and consider that which was and that which may yet be.
They Violated My Home
The call came around a little after 11 A.M. It was my next door neighbor calling to say that he thought that his home had been burglarized. For a moment I felt like I had been sucker punched because I realized that I had heard the person/people breaking into his home.
A short while before I heard three loud noises. It sounded like a Pile Driver. It was loud and unexpected. I remember noticing that the dog and I both looked up. I said something to him about wondering where the construction was. The initial bang was followed by two more and then it was silent.
For a moment I considered walking outside to see what all the banging was about. It never occurred to me that someone was violating the sanctity of my neighbor's home. So since it was cold and wet outside I chose to stay inside and now I feel a pang of guilt about it.
One can argue that it is good that I didn't confront those responsible for this as it could have been dangerous. After all they took some televisions, stereo equipment and jewelry, just stuff that can be replaced. But they are my neighbors and what happens to them affects me. People who feel free to break into my neighbor's home could just as easily choose mine.
Needless to say when I received the call my neighbor was upset. He told me that he already called the police and was waiting in front of his house in his car. I told him that there was no reason for him to wait alone so I grabbed a pair of shoes and a Louisville Slugger and marched over.
But I made a point of going out the side door. I stood next to the block wall that divides our yard and listened, but didn't hear anything. The dog joined me on my excursion outside and made a point of barking loudly at the nearby squirrels.
For a moment I considered bringing him along but decided against it. I wanted him to stay inside the house. So I sent him back in with instructions to eat anyone he didn't recognize. I have conversations with him all the time. Some of those involve my providing instructions to guard my family. If I am not there it is his job to protect those children of mine.
As I marched out the gate I remembered a day years before when I felt like I had let them down. Daddy, They Have Mommy's Purse, it wasn't my fault then that they got the purse or that I didn't take the guy down. I am not second guessing my actions. I did the right thing, but when moments like this come up it bothers me a little.
I want the children to have complete faith in their father, to know that I will always protect them. Yet I also know that it is not possible to do so in the manner I would like to. I think what bothers me the most about the purse stealing incident was the loss of innocence that came with it.
My neighbor greeted me at the corner and told me not to go in the house or stand in front of the door. I didn't have any intention of doing either. I wasn't afraid of the burglar(s) as too much time had passed. I was confident that they were gone, but entering had other complications. He had already called the police and the last thing I wanted was for them to find me alone inside the house.
The police arrived moments later and checked everything out. Whomever had been inside was gone and we can all be thankful that no one got hurt...physically. And even though I live in a safe neighborhood it is another reminder to pay attention when things go bump in the night or during the day.
A short while before I heard three loud noises. It sounded like a Pile Driver. It was loud and unexpected. I remember noticing that the dog and I both looked up. I said something to him about wondering where the construction was. The initial bang was followed by two more and then it was silent.
For a moment I considered walking outside to see what all the banging was about. It never occurred to me that someone was violating the sanctity of my neighbor's home. So since it was cold and wet outside I chose to stay inside and now I feel a pang of guilt about it.
One can argue that it is good that I didn't confront those responsible for this as it could have been dangerous. After all they took some televisions, stereo equipment and jewelry, just stuff that can be replaced. But they are my neighbors and what happens to them affects me. People who feel free to break into my neighbor's home could just as easily choose mine.
Needless to say when I received the call my neighbor was upset. He told me that he already called the police and was waiting in front of his house in his car. I told him that there was no reason for him to wait alone so I grabbed a pair of shoes and a Louisville Slugger and marched over.
But I made a point of going out the side door. I stood next to the block wall that divides our yard and listened, but didn't hear anything. The dog joined me on my excursion outside and made a point of barking loudly at the nearby squirrels.
For a moment I considered bringing him along but decided against it. I wanted him to stay inside the house. So I sent him back in with instructions to eat anyone he didn't recognize. I have conversations with him all the time. Some of those involve my providing instructions to guard my family. If I am not there it is his job to protect those children of mine.
As I marched out the gate I remembered a day years before when I felt like I had let them down. Daddy, They Have Mommy's Purse, it wasn't my fault then that they got the purse or that I didn't take the guy down. I am not second guessing my actions. I did the right thing, but when moments like this come up it bothers me a little.
I want the children to have complete faith in their father, to know that I will always protect them. Yet I also know that it is not possible to do so in the manner I would like to. I think what bothers me the most about the purse stealing incident was the loss of innocence that came with it.
My neighbor greeted me at the corner and told me not to go in the house or stand in front of the door. I didn't have any intention of doing either. I wasn't afraid of the burglar(s) as too much time had passed. I was confident that they were gone, but entering had other complications. He had already called the police and the last thing I wanted was for them to find me alone inside the house.
The police arrived moments later and checked everything out. Whomever had been inside was gone and we can all be thankful that no one got hurt...physically. And even though I live in a safe neighborhood it is another reminder to pay attention when things go bump in the night or during the day.
The Running Father
I stumbled across a four year old post today and read my words again. I stumbled across a four year old post today and read words that reminded me that some challenges never go away.
For a moment I stared at the page and wondered how it is that I am still stuck in this place. Three weeks ago I wrote about Dreams I Have Never Had and described what it felt like to dream
Little bodies have minds that aren't constrained by reality. They don't say that things are impossible because they don't know what it means. And as I stare at the words and remember I think again about what Thomas Edison said "Hell, there are no rules here - we're trying to accomplish something." A broad smile graces my face and I realize that I am not really stuck where I was, progress has been made.
Today my dreams have a shape and a definition that didn't exist back then. Four years later I am a different man. I have spent more than a few moments dancing in a ring of fire. Moments where I closed my eyes, grunted and screamed in frustration because there have been hard times. There have been situations which have tested my resolve.
I have wondered if I was being punished and questioned myself. I have closed myself off and looked inwards for answers and every time I have been at the edge I have found a way back. Every time I felt like I was going to be consumed by darkness I found a ray of light- sunshine that lit my way back.
I suppose that sounds a bit melodramatic and maybe it is but I don't care. The point and purpose of going through these moments in time is to grow or at least that is how I see it. The experiences I have had and the people I have met have helped me reach this place.
Now I am not going to say that I am thankful for all of it. Nor will I say that I am grateful for having undergone it all because I am not. Because I have spent more than a few minutes wandering through hell. I have lost hair and sleep over some of this. I have been through a mental and emotional ass kicking and I am not convinced that it was necessary.
But that was then and this is now. And now I find myself in a different place with thoughts, ideas and a goal. Now I find myself running on a soccer field with a host of children next to me. I challenge them all to a race. The six-year-old girls complain that it isn't fair so I give them a sizable head start and I still beat them.
Later on I'll take on the ten year-old boys, I still win but this time is different. For years I have been aware that one day I won't be faster than my son and his friends. Part of me can't wait to see how excited he'll be when he can finally beat me. That will be true joy and part of me is sad. Sad because I wish that I could run forever with him. Sad because there is such a limited window of time for us to compete and play together like that.
Sad because I am competitive and it is hard to imagine that I can't run like this forever but happy because I have rediscovered the joy of running like a child. Don't think that I ever really lost it, I just forgot about it for a while.
'On the subject of dreams there is always the question of how to fulfill those. What do you do to turn fantasy into reality. How do you bring the image in your head to life. Are you someone who is more content to dream or are you resourceful enough to turn fiction to fact."
For a moment I stared at the page and wondered how it is that I am still stuck in this place. Three weeks ago I wrote about Dreams I Have Never Had and described what it felt like to dream
"Sometimes I dream about things that never were and places that I have never been. These dreams I have are bold and bright filled with beauty, mystery and sometimes fear. Sometimes I see the echoes of a future I hope to have and fragments of a past that was. There are dreams that I can't quite describe but I can't tell you why that is.I look at the words and I remember. Remember what it was like to be able to run with reckless abandon. Remember what it was like to run not for the sake of exercise and an endorphin rush but because children run. They run because they can and because little bodies have an enormous appetite for learning and a hunger to grow.
Maybe it is because trying to remember a dream is bit like trying to hold water in the palm of your hand. If you squeeze too hard it quickly pours out all the nooks and crannies and all you are left holding are a few lonely drops. But even if you hold absolutely still you still find that in a short time most of it will still have found a way to escape. Drips and drabs slide down the sides and between your fingers."
Little bodies have minds that aren't constrained by reality. They don't say that things are impossible because they don't know what it means. And as I stare at the words and remember I think again about what Thomas Edison said "Hell, there are no rules here - we're trying to accomplish something." A broad smile graces my face and I realize that I am not really stuck where I was, progress has been made.
"There is something to be said for having a road map that you can follow to see that your dreams are fulfilled but there is also something to be said for enjoying the journey. Be of good cheer. Be strong. Be patient. Be tenacious and never forget that luck may be an occasional substitute for talent but there is no substitute for hard work."
Today my dreams have a shape and a definition that didn't exist back then. Four years later I am a different man. I have spent more than a few moments dancing in a ring of fire. Moments where I closed my eyes, grunted and screamed in frustration because there have been hard times. There have been situations which have tested my resolve.
I have wondered if I was being punished and questioned myself. I have closed myself off and looked inwards for answers and every time I have been at the edge I have found a way back. Every time I felt like I was going to be consumed by darkness I found a ray of light- sunshine that lit my way back.
I suppose that sounds a bit melodramatic and maybe it is but I don't care. The point and purpose of going through these moments in time is to grow or at least that is how I see it. The experiences I have had and the people I have met have helped me reach this place.
Now I am not going to say that I am thankful for all of it. Nor will I say that I am grateful for having undergone it all because I am not. Because I have spent more than a few minutes wandering through hell. I have lost hair and sleep over some of this. I have been through a mental and emotional ass kicking and I am not convinced that it was necessary.
But that was then and this is now. And now I find myself in a different place with thoughts, ideas and a goal. Now I find myself running on a soccer field with a host of children next to me. I challenge them all to a race. The six-year-old girls complain that it isn't fair so I give them a sizable head start and I still beat them.
Later on I'll take on the ten year-old boys, I still win but this time is different. For years I have been aware that one day I won't be faster than my son and his friends. Part of me can't wait to see how excited he'll be when he can finally beat me. That will be true joy and part of me is sad. Sad because I wish that I could run forever with him. Sad because there is such a limited window of time for us to compete and play together like that.
Sad because I am competitive and it is hard to imagine that I can't run like this forever but happy because I have rediscovered the joy of running like a child. Don't think that I ever really lost it, I just forgot about it for a while.
Life Lessons Learned on the Soccer Field
It is well past midnight and I have failed again to adhere to my promise of going to bed before the witching hour. The good news is that the promise is one that I made to myself so I haven't any one to answer to other than the voice inside that asks why I am still sitting here.
Seventeen hours spent on the soccer fields under a blue sky punctuated with few clouds and a temperature that was a bit less than 100 but slightly above 90 degrees. The day began with my running up and down a field filled with six year-old girls. As the coach of the dark haired beauty's team I am responsible for helping to teach them how to play soccer.
Because they are young and relatively inexperienced the rules allow for the coaches to be on the field alongside of the girls. So it is common for us to run amongst them, where we shout words of encouragement and sometimes beg them to focus on the game.
As a father it is filled with great teaching moments and all sorts of opportunities to create memories for the future. Most of the girls on our team are new to the game so we have spent a lot of time trying to teach them the rules and basic plays. They have the typical focus of six year-olds so it is not uncommon for them to become distracted with discussions of who has a pet and what their names are.
Sometimes they stop mid game and compare hair ribbons or chase butterflies and then moments later they return as fierce competitors hooting and hollering about every goal scored.
I rotate the players through every position. I want them to learn what each is like and to try to understand how/why each is important. The dark haired beauty doesn't like to play forward very much. She has decided that she likes to play defense and argues against going elsewhere. I appreciate her intensity and interest and try to accommodate her.
During the second quarter she decides that she wants to be goalie.I am concerned about it. These girls don't understand team defense and most prefer to play offense. My fear is that if the other team pushes the ball their will be few to no defenders between the goal and my daughter. Sure enough they manage to take many shots on goal and end up scoring three goals.
The dark haired beauty is in tears. She doesn't count the number of times that she blocked the shot, only those in which she failed. Later on she and I will talk about how this is a great example of why we need to play as a team. I'll tell her that I am proud of her and remind her that we can't win the game by ourselves.
We lose the game badly and are now 0-3. The girls are upset by this. I have them all take a knee and talk about what they did right and how we need to sustain our effort. Teamwork, teamwork, teamwork is what I stress. They are too young to be taught Lombardi's view of winning.
A few hours later we head to her older brother's game. These games are far more competitive. They are older and their skill level is far superior to the six year-olds. The superior skills brings out an edge in some of the parents. You find more hooting and hollering from the sidelines and a bigger push to win.
We are short a referee so one of the fathers from the other side is asked to work the sidelines. Those of us who know him aren't pleased with the selection because over the years he has proven himself to be an ass. As a coach he always placed his son above the team and interaction with him is unpleasant because he is generally obnoxious.
But no one says anything because it is a kid's game and we figure that he will play it straight. We find out that we are wrong. Midway through the game one of our players takes a shot on goal and scores, or so we think. The substitute linesman waves off the celebration and claims that it is not a goal because the goalie caught the ball.
The problem is that the goalie was standing inside the net when he caught the ball. He was behind the line- it is a goal. However the referee refuses to overrule the substitute linesman and the kids become irate about the stolen goal. It will happen again in the quarter that follows. Irate children complain about it being unfair and maintain that they shouldn't have to deal with it.
We explain that life isn't fair and that this is an example of how sometimes things happen. We talk about the need to shake it off and play your game, but they are ten years-old and most of them just aren't able to give it up.
It affects our performance and we lose the game 4-1. Some parents say that the game really is 4-3 but I am unwilling to settle for that. I tell my son that 4-3 means that we lost just as we lost 4-1. I want him to understand that sometimes we have to fight through things that aren't fair. Sometimes you fight the system, even though you shouldn't have to.
When he asks me what they should have done I tell him that they should have focused their anger and frustration on things that they had control over, such as how hard they played. Frankly I think that their frustration is the reason that they lost because when they let it take over they lost their composure.
I make a point of telling my son how proud I am of him and that he is entitled to be angry. I am not saying that he shouldn't, but this is just one more example of things that we deal with in life. He asks me how the father can be so rude and a cheater.
For a moment I pause and consider how I want to answer the question. Some people would tell you that life is filled with people looking for suckers, but I am not sure that I really want to push that. I think that there is truth to that and many people will take advantage of you- but I don't want to go there right now.
So I tell him that I feel badly for the other father. His behavior is shameful and wrong- but it is very telling that he is willing to cheat at a kid's game. In some ways the saddest part of this is the fact that this man has such a poor reputation among the parents. None of us who know him want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Later on we'll head to IHOP for lunch and over pancakes and omlettes I'll tell them again that I am proud of them. We'll spend some more time talking about the power of teamwork. I'll push it and tell them that it is really important because it is.
Eventually they'll learn that there are benefits and negatives that are tied into being part of a team. They'll find out that sometimes being part of a team means that you carry the load so that others can take credit even though they didn't contribute.
But if things go as I wish they will also see the positive and learn that a team can help us achieve things that would otherwise be impossible.
And now I am off to sleep and dream of things that are indescribable but fill my heart with such happiness that it feels as it would explode. Goodbye for now, I will see you again.
Seventeen hours spent on the soccer fields under a blue sky punctuated with few clouds and a temperature that was a bit less than 100 but slightly above 90 degrees. The day began with my running up and down a field filled with six year-old girls. As the coach of the dark haired beauty's team I am responsible for helping to teach them how to play soccer.
Because they are young and relatively inexperienced the rules allow for the coaches to be on the field alongside of the girls. So it is common for us to run amongst them, where we shout words of encouragement and sometimes beg them to focus on the game.
As a father it is filled with great teaching moments and all sorts of opportunities to create memories for the future. Most of the girls on our team are new to the game so we have spent a lot of time trying to teach them the rules and basic plays. They have the typical focus of six year-olds so it is not uncommon for them to become distracted with discussions of who has a pet and what their names are.
Sometimes they stop mid game and compare hair ribbons or chase butterflies and then moments later they return as fierce competitors hooting and hollering about every goal scored.
I rotate the players through every position. I want them to learn what each is like and to try to understand how/why each is important. The dark haired beauty doesn't like to play forward very much. She has decided that she likes to play defense and argues against going elsewhere. I appreciate her intensity and interest and try to accommodate her.
During the second quarter she decides that she wants to be goalie.I am concerned about it. These girls don't understand team defense and most prefer to play offense. My fear is that if the other team pushes the ball their will be few to no defenders between the goal and my daughter. Sure enough they manage to take many shots on goal and end up scoring three goals.
The dark haired beauty is in tears. She doesn't count the number of times that she blocked the shot, only those in which she failed. Later on she and I will talk about how this is a great example of why we need to play as a team. I'll tell her that I am proud of her and remind her that we can't win the game by ourselves.
We lose the game badly and are now 0-3. The girls are upset by this. I have them all take a knee and talk about what they did right and how we need to sustain our effort. Teamwork, teamwork, teamwork is what I stress. They are too young to be taught Lombardi's view of winning.
A few hours later we head to her older brother's game. These games are far more competitive. They are older and their skill level is far superior to the six year-olds. The superior skills brings out an edge in some of the parents. You find more hooting and hollering from the sidelines and a bigger push to win.
We are short a referee so one of the fathers from the other side is asked to work the sidelines. Those of us who know him aren't pleased with the selection because over the years he has proven himself to be an ass. As a coach he always placed his son above the team and interaction with him is unpleasant because he is generally obnoxious.
But no one says anything because it is a kid's game and we figure that he will play it straight. We find out that we are wrong. Midway through the game one of our players takes a shot on goal and scores, or so we think. The substitute linesman waves off the celebration and claims that it is not a goal because the goalie caught the ball.
The problem is that the goalie was standing inside the net when he caught the ball. He was behind the line- it is a goal. However the referee refuses to overrule the substitute linesman and the kids become irate about the stolen goal. It will happen again in the quarter that follows. Irate children complain about it being unfair and maintain that they shouldn't have to deal with it.
We explain that life isn't fair and that this is an example of how sometimes things happen. We talk about the need to shake it off and play your game, but they are ten years-old and most of them just aren't able to give it up.
It affects our performance and we lose the game 4-1. Some parents say that the game really is 4-3 but I am unwilling to settle for that. I tell my son that 4-3 means that we lost just as we lost 4-1. I want him to understand that sometimes we have to fight through things that aren't fair. Sometimes you fight the system, even though you shouldn't have to.
When he asks me what they should have done I tell him that they should have focused their anger and frustration on things that they had control over, such as how hard they played. Frankly I think that their frustration is the reason that they lost because when they let it take over they lost their composure.
I make a point of telling my son how proud I am of him and that he is entitled to be angry. I am not saying that he shouldn't, but this is just one more example of things that we deal with in life. He asks me how the father can be so rude and a cheater.
For a moment I pause and consider how I want to answer the question. Some people would tell you that life is filled with people looking for suckers, but I am not sure that I really want to push that. I think that there is truth to that and many people will take advantage of you- but I don't want to go there right now.
So I tell him that I feel badly for the other father. His behavior is shameful and wrong- but it is very telling that he is willing to cheat at a kid's game. In some ways the saddest part of this is the fact that this man has such a poor reputation among the parents. None of us who know him want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Later on we'll head to IHOP for lunch and over pancakes and omlettes I'll tell them again that I am proud of them. We'll spend some more time talking about the power of teamwork. I'll push it and tell them that it is really important because it is.
Eventually they'll learn that there are benefits and negatives that are tied into being part of a team. They'll find out that sometimes being part of a team means that you carry the load so that others can take credit even though they didn't contribute.
But if things go as I wish they will also see the positive and learn that a team can help us achieve things that would otherwise be impossible.
And now I am off to sleep and dream of things that are indescribable but fill my heart with such happiness that it feels as it would explode. Goodbye for now, I will see you again.
I'm Still Not Chris Brogan
I'm still not Chris Brogan and I am ok with that and not because he said not to be him. In fact a month ago I said that I Am Not Chris Brogan. While some things have changed there haven't been any meetings with witch doctors, warlocks, wizards, witches or aliens that could have turned me into Chris and I am cool with that.
I like being me and not just because I don't know how to be anyone else. It doesn't mean that I don't wish that I could play ball like Michael Jordan or hit a baseball like Hank Aaron. Look at my shelves and might want to know if I would like to be Bruce Springsteen or Ray Charles. Or maybe I wish that I could write like Hemingway, Donaldson or Tolkien.
It is not hard to find lots of examples of people that intrigue and or attract me. I could add a bunch of scientists, mathematicians, doctors and teachers to the list. It is not hard because I am very aware of what it is that I want and what I want to accomplish.
Ask my children and they will tell you that their father talks about making a difference in the world because I believe that it is important to do so. Ask them and they will tell you that I talk about swimming against the stream not because it is popular to be part of the counter culture or because I think it is cool. But because I believe that part of becoming the best person you can be is by being who you are.
And the older I get the more apparent it becomes to me that who I was is not who I am now or who I am going to be. It fascinates me, this exercise in introspection because the future I see ahead of me isn't one that I ever anticipated being a part of. It is a bit frightening and yet very exciting.
Sometimes the boys and I sit down and laugh at the absurdity of our lives. The conversations, challenges and questions aren't any different than those of our fathers and grandfathers. We talk about our purpose and desire. We ask where the time has gone and wonder if we are the parents that we are supposed to be. We demand more of ourselves and of our lives.
In the silence of the night as I prepare to close my eyes I sometimes try to turn off my mind and just...be. It is a challenge that I don't always overcome. Sometimes there is too much to think about and so I just go with it. But the one thing that I know for certain is that the advice that was given to me ten thousand years ago is still sound.
Do your best and try your hardest. And when the lights go out you'll be able to drift off with the comfort of knowing that you gave your best effort because it is all that you can do. It sounds like a cliche and there have been moments where I have hated thinking, hearing and or reading it. Moments where I looked out my window and wondered how it was that life fell short. Minutes where I felt like a fraud and a failure and asked if I would always feel like I was on the outside looking in.
But the joy and beauty of life experience is that if you let yourself be open to the lessons you learn you realize that you have always gotten through the dark moments. It is not always easy to see or to accept- but it works for me and that is what is important.
Find what works for you and do that, be that, live that. I often talk about being authentic. The authenticity that I search for is simple. I just want to be the most authentic me that I can. It is what and who I know best.
I like being me and not just because I don't know how to be anyone else. It doesn't mean that I don't wish that I could play ball like Michael Jordan or hit a baseball like Hank Aaron. Look at my shelves and might want to know if I would like to be Bruce Springsteen or Ray Charles. Or maybe I wish that I could write like Hemingway, Donaldson or Tolkien.
It is not hard to find lots of examples of people that intrigue and or attract me. I could add a bunch of scientists, mathematicians, doctors and teachers to the list. It is not hard because I am very aware of what it is that I want and what I want to accomplish.
Ask my children and they will tell you that their father talks about making a difference in the world because I believe that it is important to do so. Ask them and they will tell you that I talk about swimming against the stream not because it is popular to be part of the counter culture or because I think it is cool. But because I believe that part of becoming the best person you can be is by being who you are.
And the older I get the more apparent it becomes to me that who I was is not who I am now or who I am going to be. It fascinates me, this exercise in introspection because the future I see ahead of me isn't one that I ever anticipated being a part of. It is a bit frightening and yet very exciting.
Sometimes the boys and I sit down and laugh at the absurdity of our lives. The conversations, challenges and questions aren't any different than those of our fathers and grandfathers. We talk about our purpose and desire. We ask where the time has gone and wonder if we are the parents that we are supposed to be. We demand more of ourselves and of our lives.
In the silence of the night as I prepare to close my eyes I sometimes try to turn off my mind and just...be. It is a challenge that I don't always overcome. Sometimes there is too much to think about and so I just go with it. But the one thing that I know for certain is that the advice that was given to me ten thousand years ago is still sound.
Do your best and try your hardest. And when the lights go out you'll be able to drift off with the comfort of knowing that you gave your best effort because it is all that you can do. It sounds like a cliche and there have been moments where I have hated thinking, hearing and or reading it. Moments where I looked out my window and wondered how it was that life fell short. Minutes where I felt like a fraud and a failure and asked if I would always feel like I was on the outside looking in.
But the joy and beauty of life experience is that if you let yourself be open to the lessons you learn you realize that you have always gotten through the dark moments. It is not always easy to see or to accept- but it works for me and that is what is important.
Find what works for you and do that, be that, live that. I often talk about being authentic. The authenticity that I search for is simple. I just want to be the most authentic me that I can. It is what and who I know best.
Happiness Requires Action
The secret to happiness is contained within this post. That is not hyperbole or a marketing trick. With this one post I am going to put Tony Robbins and his cohorts out of business. With one post I am going to destroy the mental health industry because I am going to provide you with the secret to being happy.
Happiness requires action
That is it. Boil it down and that is the root of being happy- action. Ok, that is not going to be enough to kill Sir Tony and company. His business isn't going to be impacted by this nor do I have to worry about a group of angry social workers/therapists putting out a contract on me.
So what does that statement mean. Is it a silly slogan that will one day sell millions of t-shirts. Is it an off the cuff remark that I am trying to make sound powerful and significant? Well, it could be all or none of those things, but I like to believe that it is meaningful and something that works. I can even tie it into blogging.
I blog because I like to record thoughts, memories, ideas and experiences about my life. This place is a repository of stories about my kids. It is a warehouse and living chronicle of their lives and mine. It is where I air out my head and ask hard questions of myself, like what makes me happy.
Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever asked yourself what makes you happy, ever thought about what brings you joy? I don't think a lot of people do it, but I could be wrong. But it is something that I think about with regularity. It started about 7 or 8 years or so ago.
I woke up and realized that I wasn't living the life that I wanted to live. Woke up and started asking why I wasn't and what it was that I wanted to do. And I have spent a good part of the time since then trying to make the changes that will provide me with the life that I want.
You might wonder why it has taken so long. You might ask yourself if I have just been spinning my wheels or wondering if I haven't taken action. It is fair to say that I don't like change and am slow to adopt it. Fair to say that it has been an evolutionary process and that I haven't figured it all out overnight. And also fair to say that I have taken major steps in making some of these changes.
So, I may not be where I want but I have a plan and I am working steadily upon it. Happiness requires action and I am taking it.
"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat." Theodore Roosevelt
Happiness requires action
That is it. Boil it down and that is the root of being happy- action. Ok, that is not going to be enough to kill Sir Tony and company. His business isn't going to be impacted by this nor do I have to worry about a group of angry social workers/therapists putting out a contract on me.
So what does that statement mean. Is it a silly slogan that will one day sell millions of t-shirts. Is it an off the cuff remark that I am trying to make sound powerful and significant? Well, it could be all or none of those things, but I like to believe that it is meaningful and something that works. I can even tie it into blogging.
I blog because I like to record thoughts, memories, ideas and experiences about my life. This place is a repository of stories about my kids. It is a warehouse and living chronicle of their lives and mine. It is where I air out my head and ask hard questions of myself, like what makes me happy.
Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever asked yourself what makes you happy, ever thought about what brings you joy? I don't think a lot of people do it, but I could be wrong. But it is something that I think about with regularity. It started about 7 or 8 years or so ago.
I woke up and realized that I wasn't living the life that I wanted to live. Woke up and started asking why I wasn't and what it was that I wanted to do. And I have spent a good part of the time since then trying to make the changes that will provide me with the life that I want.
You might wonder why it has taken so long. You might ask yourself if I have just been spinning my wheels or wondering if I haven't taken action. It is fair to say that I don't like change and am slow to adopt it. Fair to say that it has been an evolutionary process and that I haven't figured it all out overnight. And also fair to say that I have taken major steps in making some of these changes.
So, I may not be where I want but I have a plan and I am working steadily upon it. Happiness requires action and I am taking it.
"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat." Theodore Roosevelt
I Am My Own Worst Enemy
"Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
This has become one of my favorite quotes. I have turned it into a bit of a mantra. It is a reminder that the man in the mirror is responsible my success or lack thereof. It is a reminder that I must always hold myself accountable for my actions.
Accountable and responsible for what I have or don't have. Accountable and responsible to placing stumbling blocks before myself and determining how to remove them. It is not always easy to do. Not always easy to look in the mirror and accept my role in how things play- but necessary.
Necessary because my acceptance of playing a part in things gone wrong also necessitates my accepting credit for good things. It is not always easy. I am very hard on myself and have always been so. If you read through the ramblings here you will see what I have said about being good enough.
I don't like it. I am good enough to get by in a million different areas. Smart enough, strong enough, athletic enough etc. That is fine and good- but it doesn't provide the sort of satisfaction that I want. I don't want to become complacent and simply accept whatever it is I have because I can do more and have more.
When I refer to having more it is not material possessions that I am discussing. I want more than I have but I don't necessarily need more. What I need is more peace of mind. What I need is more satisfaction and happiness in specific areas.
I am on a quest for those things. I have a mental checklist that I run through. I know where I am on that list and where it is I am heading. It is important to me so I stay on top of it.
As a father I work on all of these areas so that I can be a better parent. I work on teaching the kids to be accountable because the only people we can control are me, myself and I. If we take care of ourselves many of the little details fall into place.
It is not always easy to take on the burden of accepting responsibility for our actions. Sometimes there are things that are out of control. People aren't logical. They do stupid things and sometimes we react to them. Sometimes we are screwed by others. Sometimes we are mistreated and we take a hit. Life isn't fair. It never was and it never will be.
But if you worry about yourself you can do things to help prevent falling into the holes, traps and pitfalls that are otherwise presented.
Somewhere out there in the universe is a person that I'd like to talk to about this. Somewhere out there they walk and wonder as do I. Maybe they claim otherwise. Maybe they say that they don't wonder but I don't buy it and I don't really think that they do either.
If life were fair I wouldn't be writing about it. If life were fair this wouldn't be a topic- but it is not fair and I am writing. And I am making it clear to the universe that I am open and asking for help for this cause because it is worth doing.
At the end of the day all you can do is try hard. All you can do is go out and be responsible for yourself. And though I have sometimes found myself to be the victim of my own sabotage I think that ultimately I will get what I am looking because I am willing to do the work to make it happen.
In the interim I am working on doing what I can not to stand in my own sunshine.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
This has become one of my favorite quotes. I have turned it into a bit of a mantra. It is a reminder that the man in the mirror is responsible my success or lack thereof. It is a reminder that I must always hold myself accountable for my actions.
Accountable and responsible for what I have or don't have. Accountable and responsible to placing stumbling blocks before myself and determining how to remove them. It is not always easy to do. Not always easy to look in the mirror and accept my role in how things play- but necessary.
Necessary because my acceptance of playing a part in things gone wrong also necessitates my accepting credit for good things. It is not always easy. I am very hard on myself and have always been so. If you read through the ramblings here you will see what I have said about being good enough.
I don't like it. I am good enough to get by in a million different areas. Smart enough, strong enough, athletic enough etc. That is fine and good- but it doesn't provide the sort of satisfaction that I want. I don't want to become complacent and simply accept whatever it is I have because I can do more and have more.
When I refer to having more it is not material possessions that I am discussing. I want more than I have but I don't necessarily need more. What I need is more peace of mind. What I need is more satisfaction and happiness in specific areas.
I am on a quest for those things. I have a mental checklist that I run through. I know where I am on that list and where it is I am heading. It is important to me so I stay on top of it.
As a father I work on all of these areas so that I can be a better parent. I work on teaching the kids to be accountable because the only people we can control are me, myself and I. If we take care of ourselves many of the little details fall into place.
It is not always easy to take on the burden of accepting responsibility for our actions. Sometimes there are things that are out of control. People aren't logical. They do stupid things and sometimes we react to them. Sometimes we are screwed by others. Sometimes we are mistreated and we take a hit. Life isn't fair. It never was and it never will be.
But if you worry about yourself you can do things to help prevent falling into the holes, traps and pitfalls that are otherwise presented.
Somewhere out there in the universe is a person that I'd like to talk to about this. Somewhere out there they walk and wonder as do I. Maybe they claim otherwise. Maybe they say that they don't wonder but I don't buy it and I don't really think that they do either.
If life were fair I wouldn't be writing about it. If life were fair this wouldn't be a topic- but it is not fair and I am writing. And I am making it clear to the universe that I am open and asking for help for this cause because it is worth doing.
At the end of the day all you can do is try hard. All you can do is go out and be responsible for yourself. And though I have sometimes found myself to be the victim of my own sabotage I think that ultimately I will get what I am looking because I am willing to do the work to make it happen.
In the interim I am working on doing what I can not to stand in my own sunshine.
Dad The Hero
"Dad, I need to write about my hero, so I am going to write about you." Those are the words that my son shared with me yesterday morning. Words that thrilled and terrified me. He looked up at me with a sparkle in his eyes and a huge smile on his face.
I smiled and put my hand on his shoulder. There were so many things that I wanted to say and yet no words came out of my mouth. I looked at him and understood the feeling and where it comes from. I feel that same way about my father, but he has earned it. Me, I am not sure if I really have. Can't help but wonder what he would think if he really knew all that there was to know about me.
It is sort of a silly thought because at almost ten years-old there is no reason to have that kind of knowledge. He doesn't really need it. No reason for him to worry or be concerned about some of the things that occupy my mind. No reason for him to know about the insomnia, headaches and stomachaches that have helped remove some of the hair on my head.
Some of the challenges are a direct result of my own actions and some of them have nothing to do with me. The deaths and the illnesses are out of my control. I may kid around about being the Angel of Death but I am not him/her/it. It is probably a good thing- at least for the people who cut me off on the freeway.
I want to own the title. I want to wear the crown that he has placed upon my head with comfort, but at the moment I can't. Too much is happening. Too many changes coming at me too quickly. I know exactly what is going on. I am completely aware of every challenge and what is required to overcome them.
And that is part of the problem. Some of them are beyond my control. Some of the challenges are things that for lack of a better example can be compared to forces of nature. Call me a sailor who has to deal with storms and waves. The ship is being battered and tossed around a bit. I can scream at the sky and threaten the universe.
It wouldn't be the first time and it probably won't be the last. But the thing is that it really doesn't matter whether I shout, scream, cry or remain silent. What is coming cannot be avoided. So the best thing to do is hit it head on and figure out the easiest way to navigate our way through.
I am cautiously optimistic. No matter what happens I always land on my feet. The real question is how many blows will I have to take in the process. Can't say that it is all that different from what other parents deal with. Some of you have more difficult challenges and others have less. Either way those are yours and not mine to deal with. I am cool with that.
For now all I want to do is try to earn that title the kid bestowed upon me. If you compare life to a poker game, well- I haven't played my last card yet so there is still a long way to go.
I smiled and put my hand on his shoulder. There were so many things that I wanted to say and yet no words came out of my mouth. I looked at him and understood the feeling and where it comes from. I feel that same way about my father, but he has earned it. Me, I am not sure if I really have. Can't help but wonder what he would think if he really knew all that there was to know about me.
It is sort of a silly thought because at almost ten years-old there is no reason to have that kind of knowledge. He doesn't really need it. No reason for him to worry or be concerned about some of the things that occupy my mind. No reason for him to know about the insomnia, headaches and stomachaches that have helped remove some of the hair on my head.
Some of the challenges are a direct result of my own actions and some of them have nothing to do with me. The deaths and the illnesses are out of my control. I may kid around about being the Angel of Death but I am not him/her/it. It is probably a good thing- at least for the people who cut me off on the freeway.
I want to own the title. I want to wear the crown that he has placed upon my head with comfort, but at the moment I can't. Too much is happening. Too many changes coming at me too quickly. I know exactly what is going on. I am completely aware of every challenge and what is required to overcome them.
And that is part of the problem. Some of them are beyond my control. Some of the challenges are things that for lack of a better example can be compared to forces of nature. Call me a sailor who has to deal with storms and waves. The ship is being battered and tossed around a bit. I can scream at the sky and threaten the universe.
It wouldn't be the first time and it probably won't be the last. But the thing is that it really doesn't matter whether I shout, scream, cry or remain silent. What is coming cannot be avoided. So the best thing to do is hit it head on and figure out the easiest way to navigate our way through.
I am cautiously optimistic. No matter what happens I always land on my feet. The real question is how many blows will I have to take in the process. Can't say that it is all that different from what other parents deal with. Some of you have more difficult challenges and others have less. Either way those are yours and not mine to deal with. I am cool with that.
For now all I want to do is try to earn that title the kid bestowed upon me. If you compare life to a poker game, well- I haven't played my last card yet so there is still a long way to go.
It Is Meant To Be
It is almost midnight and I am alone in the car. Been a lot going on and I am feeling far too restless to sleep. The gym is closed, there aren't any late night basketball games to play and I don't feel like writing. So I decide to get some air and take a ride...destination unknown.
The car is a refuge from the chaos and craziness of daily life. It is a place that I can use as a private oasis, a traveling cocoon. I sit down, plug the BlackBerry into the charger, put on my seat belt and pull out of my driveway.
There is relatively little traffic- it is a pleasant surprise. For the moment the radio is off and I am enjoying the quiet. Alone with my thoughts I can't help but think about how I'd describe the moment. There are stories to be told and screenplays to be written. Not for fame or for fortune but for me. They are items on a checklist of things to be done, goals to be accomplished.
Time passes and I find myself wondering about destiny. It is an ongoing question in my head. Something that I have been thinking about for at least 30 years, maybe more. Can't help but wonder if things really do happen for a reason or if life is nothing more than a series of random events with occasional moments of coincidence thrown in.
The latter is generally where I choose to fall. It doesn't really make sense to me to say that everything we do is predestined or that some supernatural being is playing puppet master in any sort of capacity. Don't tell me that there is a plan that I just can't understand because I don't buy it. Without a doubt I am a believer in making my own luck. If you don't look out for yourself than who is going to.
But there have been moments where I can't help but wonder. Things have happened to make me question it all. Moments where I wonder if someone is trying to tell me something. Signs if you will seem to have jumped out at me. Some people I know refer to this as the universe tapping you on the shoulder.
I like that idea. I like the thought of the universe giving me a little tap to remind me that I should turn left instead of right or go up instead of down. But then again some of these signs are easily explained as being something other than they are. Random acts of coincidence that are easily explained as having no significance.
The car is good for this sort of thought. Uninterrupted by peals of laughter or shrieks of anger from children I am able to chew on these things at my pace. Though it is late I decide to head down to the beach. The thought of being serenaded by the surf is compelling. The roar of the waves is something that has restorative powers and though I may not reach a conclusion the thought is attractive to me.
A short time later I am staring out at the Pacific ocean dreaming of sailing around the world. For a while I'll sit there and smile. The surf is as calming as I have always found it to be. I am not convinced that the universe is sending me signs, but maybe I am wrong. Wouldn't be the first time and it won't be the last.
The car is a refuge from the chaos and craziness of daily life. It is a place that I can use as a private oasis, a traveling cocoon. I sit down, plug the BlackBerry into the charger, put on my seat belt and pull out of my driveway.
There is relatively little traffic- it is a pleasant surprise. For the moment the radio is off and I am enjoying the quiet. Alone with my thoughts I can't help but think about how I'd describe the moment. There are stories to be told and screenplays to be written. Not for fame or for fortune but for me. They are items on a checklist of things to be done, goals to be accomplished.
Time passes and I find myself wondering about destiny. It is an ongoing question in my head. Something that I have been thinking about for at least 30 years, maybe more. Can't help but wonder if things really do happen for a reason or if life is nothing more than a series of random events with occasional moments of coincidence thrown in.
The latter is generally where I choose to fall. It doesn't really make sense to me to say that everything we do is predestined or that some supernatural being is playing puppet master in any sort of capacity. Don't tell me that there is a plan that I just can't understand because I don't buy it. Without a doubt I am a believer in making my own luck. If you don't look out for yourself than who is going to.
But there have been moments where I can't help but wonder. Things have happened to make me question it all. Moments where I wonder if someone is trying to tell me something. Signs if you will seem to have jumped out at me. Some people I know refer to this as the universe tapping you on the shoulder.
I like that idea. I like the thought of the universe giving me a little tap to remind me that I should turn left instead of right or go up instead of down. But then again some of these signs are easily explained as being something other than they are. Random acts of coincidence that are easily explained as having no significance.
The car is good for this sort of thought. Uninterrupted by peals of laughter or shrieks of anger from children I am able to chew on these things at my pace. Though it is late I decide to head down to the beach. The thought of being serenaded by the surf is compelling. The roar of the waves is something that has restorative powers and though I may not reach a conclusion the thought is attractive to me.
A short time later I am staring out at the Pacific ocean dreaming of sailing around the world. For a while I'll sit there and smile. The surf is as calming as I have always found it to be. I am not convinced that the universe is sending me signs, but maybe I am wrong. Wouldn't be the first time and it won't be the last.
Desire
I always knew what I wanted to be
I knew for sure, I knew for sure
Always knew it was them or me
I wanted more, more and more
It's all right, it's O.K.
None of them people gonna take it away
They don't know like I know
And I can't stop 'cause it drives them crazy
It drives them crazy, 'cause I won't be cool
It's too late baby
It's the same old desire
Nothing has changed, nothing's the same
Burning like fire
Don't you ever take my name in vain
Always moving, somewhere else to be
Moving on, moving on
Scream at you and you scream at me
Right or wrong, right or wrong
It's all right, it's O.K.
No one's ever gonna take us away
'Cause they don't know like I know
I gotta keep rockin', 'cause it makes me crazy
It makes me crazy, who needs to be cool
Life's amazing
It's the same old desire
Crazy train, crazy train
Burning like fire
Don't you ever take my name in vain
It's the same old desire
Nothing has changed, nothing's the same
Burning like fire
Don't you ever take my name in vain
Same old desire
Crazy train, crazy train
Burning like fire
Don't you ever take my name in vain
Desire- Ozzy Osbourne
I hear voices inside my head. Little whispers that suggest that maybe I am not enough. Not enough for whatever it is that I am trying to do. They fight for my attention during the day and at night. Whispers that hint that I just don't have it, whatever it may be. They try to prey upon insecurity and doubt- they question my willingness to go the distance.
It is a funny thing these voices that I hear. You are not supposed to say such things. You are not supposed to say that you hear people that aren't really there. That sort of admission is the kind of thing that might lead others to suggest that you go spend time in a room with white walls and fluorescent lighting. A short visit so that someone in a lab coat can talk to you about life. A man or woman with a clipboard and a list of questions that they use to verify whether your grasp on reality is slipping.
But I don't worry about those people, could care less about telling you about the whispers I hear and how they question me. Those voices don't ever tell me to do anything dangerous. They never suggest that I go play on the freeway or take a long walk off the edge of the Santa Monica Pier. All they ever do is ask me to answer their questions about whether I am enough or whether I have it.
I have a standard response to them. I simply tell them to STFU. I put on my headphones and focus on what it is that I want and how I intend to meet that objective. The driving force behind it all is no different from what Ozzy sings about here, Desire. That is it. Desire, force of will and the willingness to take that step into the fog.
That first step into the unknown is exhilarating and frightening. I love testing myself, pushing to see if I can go a little bit further. It is part of why I love playing basketball, or should I say rebounding. It is not size or talent that makes the difference. It is will. It is desire.
And I have it. I have that fire in the belly. I know what it means to want something...badly. Intensity and fire. They drive me. They push me into the breach. They make me take on the bigger guy under the basket. They are part of why in football I loved playing defensive line. The guy across from me might be bigger, but he doesn't have enough fire to stop me. Can't possibly keep it up for an hour, not with the same intensity.
That is how I respond to the voices. It is the best method that I have found for myself. The quickest and most effective response. It might sound like male bravado. Might sound like a man in a silly pissing contest but it works for me and that is what is most important.
It is what I teach my children. I tell them that they will always have the support of their parents and their family, but we can't live their lives for them. All we can do is try to give them the tools to make it happen, whatever it may be. With a little luck and a little effort desire just might be part of that.
The Sun Sets On Another Week
Friday night and the lights are low throughout the house. I can still see the flickering of the Shabbos candles in the other room and were I not wearing headphones I would probably hear the soft snoring of the dog. Somewhere across the house two boys have finally stopped giggling.
Best friends who spent bits and pieces of their summer break pretend not to be excited that school is back in session- but secretly smile. Back in the classroom they get to see each other every day- a special privilege that adults remember with fondness. Days when going to work meant having to spend eight hours hanging out with friends.
The dark haired beauty entered first grade with a fierce determination to learn quickly. She has a lot to do and doesn't want to waste time. In spite of my best efforts that girl is anxious to grow up to be big. She tells me that I don't understand, little hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side she does her best to set me straight.
Not too many people have a chance to make that happen. I am relentless, tenacious and unyielding on some things. I had my children in mind when I wrote Tasteless And Shameful. Couldn't ignore his actions, couldn't ignore that sort of bad behavior and so I did what I felt was necessary. There was a war of words between us.
No other way to describe it. He drew first blood but I ended it. Sent salvo after salvo at him, the whole shock and awe thing. It sounds ridiculous to describe it that way, but sometimes you take a stand. Sometimes you make a spectacle out of yourself because it has to be done. It must be done.
I never expected him to change his mind. I never expected him to act other than he did- but the beauty of holding a argument online is that there are lurkers who read your words. They come, sight unseen and read and consider the crumbs you leave for them. That is who I was trying to reach. The fence sitters who can still be influenced.
Candles flicker and I find myself thinking about past sunsets. Somewhere in the memory banks are moments I spent watching the mountains against this incredible backdrop of orange, yellow, blue and purple. Stood and watched as the light faded and was replaced by twinkling lights in the night sky.
Some of those memories come forward and I can see a 20 year-old man walk off into the dark, his fingers intertwined in the hands of another. Other memories jockey for position and I can see him years later, fingers intertwined again, only the hand is much smaller. And this time the girl with dark hair has her head resting on his shoulder, her body slumped across his. More soft snoring...
The first girl is out there in the dark...somewhere living her life. The second is also out there, but far closer. Most nights she would also be asleep in the house, but on this night she is with her grandparents. On this night she left with meaning and purpose. Wearing a special dress and carrying very important items in her purse she barely kissed me goodbye- too busy to let dad slow her down.
And now I sit here, alone with my thoughts, staring at shadows, wondering what the future holds and if I will get to meet to the echoes of my past here in the present.
Best friends who spent bits and pieces of their summer break pretend not to be excited that school is back in session- but secretly smile. Back in the classroom they get to see each other every day- a special privilege that adults remember with fondness. Days when going to work meant having to spend eight hours hanging out with friends.
The dark haired beauty entered first grade with a fierce determination to learn quickly. She has a lot to do and doesn't want to waste time. In spite of my best efforts that girl is anxious to grow up to be big. She tells me that I don't understand, little hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side she does her best to set me straight.
Not too many people have a chance to make that happen. I am relentless, tenacious and unyielding on some things. I had my children in mind when I wrote Tasteless And Shameful. Couldn't ignore his actions, couldn't ignore that sort of bad behavior and so I did what I felt was necessary. There was a war of words between us.
No other way to describe it. He drew first blood but I ended it. Sent salvo after salvo at him, the whole shock and awe thing. It sounds ridiculous to describe it that way, but sometimes you take a stand. Sometimes you make a spectacle out of yourself because it has to be done. It must be done.
I never expected him to change his mind. I never expected him to act other than he did- but the beauty of holding a argument online is that there are lurkers who read your words. They come, sight unseen and read and consider the crumbs you leave for them. That is who I was trying to reach. The fence sitters who can still be influenced.
Candles flicker and I find myself thinking about past sunsets. Somewhere in the memory banks are moments I spent watching the mountains against this incredible backdrop of orange, yellow, blue and purple. Stood and watched as the light faded and was replaced by twinkling lights in the night sky.
Some of those memories come forward and I can see a 20 year-old man walk off into the dark, his fingers intertwined in the hands of another. Other memories jockey for position and I can see him years later, fingers intertwined again, only the hand is much smaller. And this time the girl with dark hair has her head resting on his shoulder, her body slumped across his. More soft snoring...
The first girl is out there in the dark...somewhere living her life. The second is also out there, but far closer. Most nights she would also be asleep in the house, but on this night she is with her grandparents. On this night she left with meaning and purpose. Wearing a special dress and carrying very important items in her purse she barely kissed me goodbye- too busy to let dad slow her down.
And now I sit here, alone with my thoughts, staring at shadows, wondering what the future holds and if I will get to meet to the echoes of my past here in the present.
Invisible People
Friday morning, sunshine fills my room- got a cup of coffee in one hand and my hat is cocked across my head at a jaunty angle. Stevie Wonder's I Was Made To Love Her is on iTunes and I am wide awake. Here in my home office I am about to tell you a tale of wonder and magic called Invisible People.
Invisibility is something that a lot of people dream about. On a list of prospective superpowers it is probably just a few notches below the ability to fly or super strength. It would be cool to be invisible or so a lot of people think. It certainly catches my eye, I could do a lot with it.
But the funny thing about invisibility is that it already exists or should I say that there are lots of people who have mastered invisibility. You probably have passed a bunch and not even realized it. The thing is that you probably don't recognize them as being invisible in the superpower sense because they aren't.
We have lots of different names for them some nice and some not so nice. In this post we'll just call them homeless. They are all over the place. Some of them live in the bushes off on the side of the road or under a freeway overpass. Others live in their cars or roam from one cheap motel to another.
The ones that don't have real shelter and spend their days exposed to the weather do the best job of staying invisible. Most of us don't want to look at them. Some times it is because we blame them for their situation. We think that they most of squandered opportunities to earn a living and live in an apartment or house. We think that they drank or smoked their life away and because they can't control themselves they ended up on the street. We might even feel badly about it. We might even want to help but fear to because we don't want to contribute to their habit.
Whatever the reason is it doesn't matter because they are invisible to us. As a father I look at my children and think about their futures. It is horrifying to think that one day my kids could be that man or woman at the side of the road. I would feel like I had failed them.
But I can't worry about that now. It is too far down the road. Now I have to be concerned with teaching them many things, not the least of which is to remember that the invisible people are humans and that we have an obligation to try to help. We have a social responsibility to try to find a way to help those who have fallen down.
I can teach the kids all of the reasons why Judaism obligates us to help. I can cite chapter and verse but that is too easy and too simple. I don't want them to view this under the "G-d wants us to do this" mantle. I don't want that because it is too easy to externalize the reasons why. I want them to internalize it.
I want them to do it because it is the right thing to do. I want them to do it because when we help others we make the world a better place. I want them to do it because of the lessons it teaches and because of the rewards it offers.
I want them to do it because it helps to reinforce the humanity of people. I am not a pacifist. I believe that sometimes force is necessary and that when it is you unleash hell upon those you go to war with. But that doesn't mean that I don't remember that somewhere a mother cries over the bodies of her children.
It is a terrible contradiction but we live in a world full of contradictions. And one of those is that in a country that offers incredible opportunities there are millions of invisible people fighting to be seen. So here is my reminder to myself and whomever else is interested that it is time to help the invisible rejoin the rest of us in the sunlight.
Invisibility is something that a lot of people dream about. On a list of prospective superpowers it is probably just a few notches below the ability to fly or super strength. It would be cool to be invisible or so a lot of people think. It certainly catches my eye, I could do a lot with it.
But the funny thing about invisibility is that it already exists or should I say that there are lots of people who have mastered invisibility. You probably have passed a bunch and not even realized it. The thing is that you probably don't recognize them as being invisible in the superpower sense because they aren't.
We have lots of different names for them some nice and some not so nice. In this post we'll just call them homeless. They are all over the place. Some of them live in the bushes off on the side of the road or under a freeway overpass. Others live in their cars or roam from one cheap motel to another.
The ones that don't have real shelter and spend their days exposed to the weather do the best job of staying invisible. Most of us don't want to look at them. Some times it is because we blame them for their situation. We think that they most of squandered opportunities to earn a living and live in an apartment or house. We think that they drank or smoked their life away and because they can't control themselves they ended up on the street. We might even feel badly about it. We might even want to help but fear to because we don't want to contribute to their habit.
Whatever the reason is it doesn't matter because they are invisible to us. As a father I look at my children and think about their futures. It is horrifying to think that one day my kids could be that man or woman at the side of the road. I would feel like I had failed them.
But I can't worry about that now. It is too far down the road. Now I have to be concerned with teaching them many things, not the least of which is to remember that the invisible people are humans and that we have an obligation to try to help. We have a social responsibility to try to find a way to help those who have fallen down.
I can teach the kids all of the reasons why Judaism obligates us to help. I can cite chapter and verse but that is too easy and too simple. I don't want them to view this under the "G-d wants us to do this" mantle. I don't want that because it is too easy to externalize the reasons why. I want them to internalize it.
I want them to do it because it is the right thing to do. I want them to do it because when we help others we make the world a better place. I want them to do it because of the lessons it teaches and because of the rewards it offers.
I want them to do it because it helps to reinforce the humanity of people. I am not a pacifist. I believe that sometimes force is necessary and that when it is you unleash hell upon those you go to war with. But that doesn't mean that I don't remember that somewhere a mother cries over the bodies of her children.
It is a terrible contradiction but we live in a world full of contradictions. And one of those is that in a country that offers incredible opportunities there are millions of invisible people fighting to be seen. So here is my reminder to myself and whomever else is interested that it is time to help the invisible rejoin the rest of us in the sunlight.
Teaching Moments
Many years ago I listened to my rabbi talk about Gilligan's Island and how it could be viewed as a tragedy. It wasn't tragic because they kept screwing up their attempts to get off of the island. It was tragic because none of the castaways grew. There was no personal growth,each and every one of them exited the island the same person that they were before.
I don't think that I appreciated or understood what he was saying. In part it was because I took great pride in saying that I was constant and consistent. The Jack you knew then would be the Jack that you would know later. All around me I would hear people talking about how much they were growing and I would roll my eyes. It seemed trendy to declare that you were an unfinished piece of art and some new age professor would teach you how to complete yourself.
After a decade of playing dad I see things very differently. I watch my children carefully and take note of their strengths and weaknesses. During parent/teacher conferences I listen and ask questions. The goal is to give them more support wherever they may need it.
And why do I do this? Because they are growing children who need love, affection and guidance. We want them to grow to be menschen, to be productive members of society. And the only way to do that is to teach them.
So I find myself looking for teaching moments. Earlier today I noticed that a doorknob was loose and needed some adjustment so I made a point of asking my son to help me fix it. I could have done it myself. It would have been faster but I would have missed the opportunity to teach him how to do it. I would have missed the opportunity to give him another experience of working with me and the pleasure of learning to work with his hands.
It was a teaching moment.
Earlier this week he complained that some of his friends have decided not to be friends with another boy that he likes very much. I know all of the boys that are involved in this and saw another teaching moment. I explained to my son that the boy he likes so much has trouble listening and is often in trouble. He has had moments in which he bullied other children and has been sent home from school at least once.
My son nodded his head and then I explained that kids like this child are hard to be friends with. They have a knack for getting into trouble and sometimes you get into trouble by association. I told him that some parents may tell their children that they cannot be friends with a boy like that and that if he still bullies other kids he is not going to have any friends.
My son looked at me with tears in his eyes and told me that part of why he was still friends with him was because he thought that he could help him. I told him that loyalty is an admirable trait and that I was proud of him. And then I told him that I am not sure that his boy is worth it. He doesn't reciprocate and his past behavior makes me question whether being friends with him is sort of like asking for trouble.
It was another teaching moment.
Sometimes I have a love/hate relationship with these moments. There have been some very difficult discussions that were heart breaking and others that were simply joyous. But I knew the job was dangerous when I took it so...
It is not always easy being a parent, but there is nothing better.
I don't think that I appreciated or understood what he was saying. In part it was because I took great pride in saying that I was constant and consistent. The Jack you knew then would be the Jack that you would know later. All around me I would hear people talking about how much they were growing and I would roll my eyes. It seemed trendy to declare that you were an unfinished piece of art and some new age professor would teach you how to complete yourself.
After a decade of playing dad I see things very differently. I watch my children carefully and take note of their strengths and weaknesses. During parent/teacher conferences I listen and ask questions. The goal is to give them more support wherever they may need it.
And why do I do this? Because they are growing children who need love, affection and guidance. We want them to grow to be menschen, to be productive members of society. And the only way to do that is to teach them.
So I find myself looking for teaching moments. Earlier today I noticed that a doorknob was loose and needed some adjustment so I made a point of asking my son to help me fix it. I could have done it myself. It would have been faster but I would have missed the opportunity to teach him how to do it. I would have missed the opportunity to give him another experience of working with me and the pleasure of learning to work with his hands.
It was a teaching moment.
Earlier this week he complained that some of his friends have decided not to be friends with another boy that he likes very much. I know all of the boys that are involved in this and saw another teaching moment. I explained to my son that the boy he likes so much has trouble listening and is often in trouble. He has had moments in which he bullied other children and has been sent home from school at least once.
My son nodded his head and then I explained that kids like this child are hard to be friends with. They have a knack for getting into trouble and sometimes you get into trouble by association. I told him that some parents may tell their children that they cannot be friends with a boy like that and that if he still bullies other kids he is not going to have any friends.
My son looked at me with tears in his eyes and told me that part of why he was still friends with him was because he thought that he could help him. I told him that loyalty is an admirable trait and that I was proud of him. And then I told him that I am not sure that his boy is worth it. He doesn't reciprocate and his past behavior makes me question whether being friends with him is sort of like asking for trouble.
It was another teaching moment.
Sometimes I have a love/hate relationship with these moments. There have been some very difficult discussions that were heart breaking and others that were simply joyous. But I knew the job was dangerous when I took it so...
It is not always easy being a parent, but there is nothing better.
Your Way, My Way and The Hard Way
I can't remember where I first heard someone say that there are three ways to do things: Your Way, My Way and The Hard Way. Not sure that it matters much other than I can't provide proper attribution. So, Mr or Mrs. Shmatashack my apologies for the inadvertent diss.
Now that we have gotten the pleasantries out of the way let's talk for a moment about why that phrase has stuck with me and why the father in me is concerned. People like to say that we are all good at something and apparently I am good at doing things my way. It wouldn't be much of a concern other than my way often seems to involve doing it the hard way.
So you might ask, "Jack, if you know that you have a habit of doing things the hard way why not change it?" Well I am ever so glad that you asked because it has never occurred to me that instead of going left I could go right. Or maybe that is exactly why I never lived in cleveland. I may be a glutton for punishment, but I am not stupid. Ok, maybe a little bit but I'll save that for a different post.
My neighbor tells me that I can attribute this lovely trait to being a Taurus and that even though I may choose to do things the hard way I always get them done. I look at her, the 83 year-old lady who drives a Corvette and says who am I to argue with that. It is not completely without merit or untrue, but that doesn't mean that I want to continue like this.
As a parent I am exceptionally aware of what traits/characteristics my children have picked up from me. And this seems to be one of them, although it appears to be more prevalent in my son than my daughter. Not so long ago I tried to give him a practical demonstration of how and why it is worth looking for a better way.
We used a bunch of weights for this. The idea was simple, it is easier to carry light weights than heavy. If you have to make an extra trip or two it is not such a big deal. Unless you are of my blood that is. That kid did exactly what I would do and used brute strength to move the weights. But I anticipated that he might and set things up so that it wouldn't be possible to do that every time.
And I'll be damned, he followed in my footsteps again and told me that he needed a moment before he "took the test." A moment later he was "testing" himself to see how much he could lift. That is so very like his old man. About once a week I take a few minutes at the gym to see how much I can lift- guess there is still a lot of little boy left in me.
Still, that kid made his dad proud by coming up with a couple of whiz bang solutions. Makes me happy to say that they are both smarter than I am. Can't help but smile at it. But damn, I hope that they have more common sense than I do. If they insist on doing things their own way make it easy.
And that is all I have for you today, lailah tov from Los Angeles- I am out of here.
Now that we have gotten the pleasantries out of the way let's talk for a moment about why that phrase has stuck with me and why the father in me is concerned. People like to say that we are all good at something and apparently I am good at doing things my way. It wouldn't be much of a concern other than my way often seems to involve doing it the hard way.
So you might ask, "Jack, if you know that you have a habit of doing things the hard way why not change it?" Well I am ever so glad that you asked because it has never occurred to me that instead of going left I could go right. Or maybe that is exactly why I never lived in cleveland. I may be a glutton for punishment, but I am not stupid. Ok, maybe a little bit but I'll save that for a different post.
My neighbor tells me that I can attribute this lovely trait to being a Taurus and that even though I may choose to do things the hard way I always get them done. I look at her, the 83 year-old lady who drives a Corvette and says who am I to argue with that. It is not completely without merit or untrue, but that doesn't mean that I want to continue like this.
As a parent I am exceptionally aware of what traits/characteristics my children have picked up from me. And this seems to be one of them, although it appears to be more prevalent in my son than my daughter. Not so long ago I tried to give him a practical demonstration of how and why it is worth looking for a better way.
We used a bunch of weights for this. The idea was simple, it is easier to carry light weights than heavy. If you have to make an extra trip or two it is not such a big deal. Unless you are of my blood that is. That kid did exactly what I would do and used brute strength to move the weights. But I anticipated that he might and set things up so that it wouldn't be possible to do that every time.
And I'll be damned, he followed in my footsteps again and told me that he needed a moment before he "took the test." A moment later he was "testing" himself to see how much he could lift. That is so very like his old man. About once a week I take a few minutes at the gym to see how much I can lift- guess there is still a lot of little boy left in me.
Still, that kid made his dad proud by coming up with a couple of whiz bang solutions. Makes me happy to say that they are both smarter than I am. Can't help but smile at it. But damn, I hope that they have more common sense than I do. If they insist on doing things their own way make it easy.
And that is all I have for you today, lailah tov from Los Angeles- I am out of here.
You Need To Think For Yourself
A thousand years ago when I was a wee lad who thought himself a man I interviewed an adult. It was my senior year of high school and I was convinced that there wasn't anyone out there who was smarter than myself.
The gentleman in question had spent a semester at my high school and then written a scathing piece about what he saw. Old Jack, the wise 17 year-old decided that it was a hatchet job and that I would use his own words to hoist him on his own petard.
Just thinking of how very arrogant and ignorant I was makes a wry grin come across my face. You see, the adult I interviewed was erudite, eloquent and had such command of the language that it took less than two minutes for me to realize that I was in over my head.
But he taught me a very important lesson in which I learned the value of not getting caught up in a mob mentality and relying upon group think to make decisions. He taught me the value of critical reasoning and taking time to analyze and evaluate the situations that I encounter in life. I like to think that I learned those lessons well and that I am doing a good job of passing this knowledge along to my children.
The impetus for this post comes from an ongoing debate/discussion I am having with a group of my fellow members of the tribe. We have been going back and forth and up and down about numerous different issues but I have been sorely disappointed in the quality of the discussion. It is not that I lay claim to being a member of Mensa or that I consider myself to be superior to others. I am just an ordinary Joe who likes to stimulate himself by engaging in discussions with people who have different perspectives.
But the thing that I am finding here is that they are a group of sheeple who see unwilling or unable to think for themselves. As the back and forth between us goes along they throw out links and quotes but never bother to string them together or demonstrate how they are relevant. It is a bit frustrating because there is some real meat to discuss, but they seem to miss it.
If you spend any time thinking about your perspective and position you should be able to spell out why you believe as you do or to at least admit that it is based solely upon faith and not fact. I know, that such a thing is blasphemy to literalists, but it is really what you should do.
So because at times I enjoy being an obnoxious prat I am going to grab a handful of excerpts from posts that I have written and tie them together. Here they are, selected at random from Fragments of Fiction.
If I argued as you folks do I'd simply point at the lines above and say, "see, that is proof." But I don't do it that way. I take a look at the material that I have to work with and provide a rationale for how it applies.
If I used the sections listed above I'd turn it into a story about a couple who faced a serious challenge. I'd talk about how they resolved to work together to find a way to overcome it and how they never gave up. I'd talk about how they were best friends and that though they danced in fire they were never consumed and that the reason for that was their love. It protected them from the flames.
Now there are a lot of holes in that and a lot of questions that can be asked, but there is a beginning a middle and an end to follow. There is a story line that connects the dots so that those who are less familiar can follow it.
And that leads into another issue I have with these sheeple. Not only are they semi-articulate they are dumbfounded that anyone questions their beliefs and see it as a personal attack. Color me confused and call me a jerk, but WTF. You sheeple routinely accuse me of not understanding and are amazed when I disagree with your positions.
Why is it offensive when I ask you to support your position and not offensive when you ask it of me. I am comfortable and confident in my beliefs. It doesn't matter to me whether you accept or agree. Some of it is based upon faith and that is ok with me, that is what religion is. But part of the reason that I engage with you is to be challenged and to hear different ideas and perspectives.
If you are not willing to participate than just say so. Be forthright. Don't try to hide your disgust or mask your disdain. You are far more transparent than you realize.
The gentleman in question had spent a semester at my high school and then written a scathing piece about what he saw. Old Jack, the wise 17 year-old decided that it was a hatchet job and that I would use his own words to hoist him on his own petard.
Just thinking of how very arrogant and ignorant I was makes a wry grin come across my face. You see, the adult I interviewed was erudite, eloquent and had such command of the language that it took less than two minutes for me to realize that I was in over my head.
But he taught me a very important lesson in which I learned the value of not getting caught up in a mob mentality and relying upon group think to make decisions. He taught me the value of critical reasoning and taking time to analyze and evaluate the situations that I encounter in life. I like to think that I learned those lessons well and that I am doing a good job of passing this knowledge along to my children.
The impetus for this post comes from an ongoing debate/discussion I am having with a group of my fellow members of the tribe. We have been going back and forth and up and down about numerous different issues but I have been sorely disappointed in the quality of the discussion. It is not that I lay claim to being a member of Mensa or that I consider myself to be superior to others. I am just an ordinary Joe who likes to stimulate himself by engaging in discussions with people who have different perspectives.
But the thing that I am finding here is that they are a group of sheeple who see unwilling or unable to think for themselves. As the back and forth between us goes along they throw out links and quotes but never bother to string them together or demonstrate how they are relevant. It is a bit frustrating because there is some real meat to discuss, but they seem to miss it.
If you spend any time thinking about your perspective and position you should be able to spell out why you believe as you do or to at least admit that it is based solely upon faith and not fact. I know, that such a thing is blasphemy to literalists, but it is really what you should do.
So because at times I enjoy being an obnoxious prat I am going to grab a handful of excerpts from posts that I have written and tie them together. Here they are, selected at random from Fragments of Fiction.
It was inconceivable because I had never had the experience and so when it was described to me by others I nodded and smiled, tried to pretend that I understood. But I didn't.
So if you want to know more, if you want to really learn what is happening you'll have to take advantage of Ma Bell. Pull out that old rotary phone and let your fingers do the walking. In the interim I have to go as I have a meeting with destiny and I am not willing to be late for that one.
but I was not concerned because my arms were made for holding you tight and feeling your heart beat against mine gives me all the strength that I require.
But that doesn't sit so well with me either. I am not the guy who hides from life. That fire in my belly burns brightly because I go the distance, I take the chance that dancing in the fire might burn me.
And then you took off your watch and stuffed it in a drawer because the last thing you wanted to be reminded of was timing.
So I kissed you one last time. One final kiss so that we'd never forget. One kiss so that if we ever lost our way we could use it to find our way back.
If I argued as you folks do I'd simply point at the lines above and say, "see, that is proof." But I don't do it that way. I take a look at the material that I have to work with and provide a rationale for how it applies.
If I used the sections listed above I'd turn it into a story about a couple who faced a serious challenge. I'd talk about how they resolved to work together to find a way to overcome it and how they never gave up. I'd talk about how they were best friends and that though they danced in fire they were never consumed and that the reason for that was their love. It protected them from the flames.
Now there are a lot of holes in that and a lot of questions that can be asked, but there is a beginning a middle and an end to follow. There is a story line that connects the dots so that those who are less familiar can follow it.
And that leads into another issue I have with these sheeple. Not only are they semi-articulate they are dumbfounded that anyone questions their beliefs and see it as a personal attack. Color me confused and call me a jerk, but WTF. You sheeple routinely accuse me of not understanding and are amazed when I disagree with your positions.
Why is it offensive when I ask you to support your position and not offensive when you ask it of me. I am comfortable and confident in my beliefs. It doesn't matter to me whether you accept or agree. Some of it is based upon faith and that is ok with me, that is what religion is. But part of the reason that I engage with you is to be challenged and to hear different ideas and perspectives.
If you are not willing to participate than just say so. Be forthright. Don't try to hide your disgust or mask your disdain. You are far more transparent than you realize.
For the Love of the Game and Learning How To Get Along
Summer isn't quite over yet but the signs of the coming school year are too obvious to be ignored. Soccer practice has begun and for the first time in a while I am neither a head coach or an assistant. The big guy that I call Little Jack is a bit disappointed that I am not, but this year I needed a break.
And frankly I think that it will be good for him to be exposed to the ranting and raving of a different crazy man. Ok, I am not crazy- at least not when it comes to coaching. It doesn't fit my style or more importantly my philosophy about kids and team sports.
At the tender age of 9-10 my intention is to teach the children how to play, how to be part of a team and to love the game. Most of them will never be good enough to become professional athletes and those that are need a coach who knows more than I do.
But what I do know is that every one of them will benefit from learning how to be a part of a team. Every one of them will find as they grow up that they don't like everyone they encounter and that sometimes the people you dislike are the same people you have to work with. So the best thing you can do is figure out how to get along with them even when you wish that they would go along, or should I say a long way from you.
Beyond the socialization skills I have to include the importance of exercise. Back in the ice age in which I experienced childhood you couldn't keep us in the house. We wanted to run around, ride our bikes and do all sorts of things that you couldn't do inside.
That was then and this is now. Life changed and the Playstation generation has learned to love to sit with their DS or Wii and blow pixels up. I get it, I understand it and I appreciate it. I like to play video games too. I like to spend far too much time here on the 'puter too, But I am exceptionally conscious of the benefits of exercise and the problems that are created when you don't.
So I look at this time on the soccer field as a must. It is not a question of whether my kids want to play- it is how many sports can I get them into without over programming them. I want them to learn how to play a few and hopefully that means that they'll love at least one of them. And if they love it then they will want to get outside to practice and to play.
So you see, I see many benefits to having a love of the game. I only wish that I could somehow turn back the clock so that I could play with them too-but that it is a different story altogether.
And frankly I think that it will be good for him to be exposed to the ranting and raving of a different crazy man. Ok, I am not crazy- at least not when it comes to coaching. It doesn't fit my style or more importantly my philosophy about kids and team sports.
At the tender age of 9-10 my intention is to teach the children how to play, how to be part of a team and to love the game. Most of them will never be good enough to become professional athletes and those that are need a coach who knows more than I do.
But what I do know is that every one of them will benefit from learning how to be a part of a team. Every one of them will find as they grow up that they don't like everyone they encounter and that sometimes the people you dislike are the same people you have to work with. So the best thing you can do is figure out how to get along with them even when you wish that they would go along, or should I say a long way from you.
Beyond the socialization skills I have to include the importance of exercise. Back in the ice age in which I experienced childhood you couldn't keep us in the house. We wanted to run around, ride our bikes and do all sorts of things that you couldn't do inside.
That was then and this is now. Life changed and the Playstation generation has learned to love to sit with their DS or Wii and blow pixels up. I get it, I understand it and I appreciate it. I like to play video games too. I like to spend far too much time here on the 'puter too, But I am exceptionally conscious of the benefits of exercise and the problems that are created when you don't.
So I look at this time on the soccer field as a must. It is not a question of whether my kids want to play- it is how many sports can I get them into without over programming them. I want them to learn how to play a few and hopefully that means that they'll love at least one of them. And if they love it then they will want to get outside to practice and to play.
So you see, I see many benefits to having a love of the game. I only wish that I could somehow turn back the clock so that I could play with them too-but that it is a different story altogether.
The Angry And The Disillusioned
The anger comes in waves and like the ocean it arrives in sets that come crashing down upon the shore. But in this case the waves aren't pounding rocks into sand but are instead slamming into my spirit. I am tired, exhausted from a lack of sleep and frustrated by work that takes longer than it should. Things that are easy are difficult and that which normally would not bother me at all is of far greater concern than it should be.
If my children or friends approached me and expressed concern over something similar in their lives I would sit them down and discuss it. I'd listen to their concerns and ask questions so that I understood what it was that was really bothering them. If you can't identify the problem than you can't fix it. In concept it is a great approach and it has been relatively successful in generating appropriate solutions.
But sometimes there are things outside of your control and all you can do is try to ride out the storm. It ties into why I prefer earthquakes to tornadoes. I hate the idea of watching some force of nature work its way towards me- knowing that I cannot do much to defeat it.
Yep, old Jack is a fighter and a scrapper. It is my nature to not simply accept certain things. It is dual edged sword, this trait of mine. It is the reason why I never stay down and the reason why sometimes it takes me more time to get through the muck we sometimes have to crawl through. Sometimes I hold onto things with a grip that is unyielding, thinking that if I just hold on long enough I can find a way to make it work.
It is not always the smartest thing because there are things that you can't fix no matter what you do. I am reminded of a fight I got into years ago. The guy put me in a headlock and was beating me silly- but in the heat of battle I refused to give in. I was determined to punish him no matter what it took and I did.
Twenty-five years later I look back and wonder if it was worth it. For a week I walked around bearing evidence of my engagement and so did he. From one stance it was worth it. He never messed with me again and neither did those who saw it. It was understood that I wouldn't submit and I suppose that to the teenage boy I was then it was important.
Now I haven't the need to prove those things. It is a case of been there, done that. But that doesn't change the piece of me from which that comes from. That fire still burns within and it always will. However maturity and recognition that just because you can do something doesn't mean you should allows me to walk away.
Walking away is a conversation that the boys and I engage in more frequently than we would like. As marriages disintegrate we gather and discuss how to handle it. Do you spend time in counseling talking about things that you and your partner cannot change about yourselves. Do you try to wait out the storm for the sake of the children.
And in the midst of all this we see an economy that isn't performing as well as we would like. Careers are being interrupted and for some of us our ability to provide for our families are being severely impacted. Though we may be renaissance men in many ways we are still men. It is our job, our obligation to provide. The hunter gatherer lives on in us and if we cannot find game to kill and bring back home to feed our families we become angry and disillusioned
In the back of our minds we fear these changes and wonder what it all means. Is this the midlife crisis that we children of the 70s used to see portrayed on sitcom television. Are we in a place where we want the sports car, a tan and a hot 25 year-old to make us feel young.
Whatever it is we know that there is an ongoing battle between the intellectual and the emotional. Intellect tells us what to do and how to do it in a smart manner whereas emotion takes a different course altogether. Ultimately we seek as all do, to find balance between the two. The goal is to obtain or re-obtain that quiet tranquility and comfort we used to live in back when times were easier, whenever we might visualize that time as having been.
If my children or friends approached me and expressed concern over something similar in their lives I would sit them down and discuss it. I'd listen to their concerns and ask questions so that I understood what it was that was really bothering them. If you can't identify the problem than you can't fix it. In concept it is a great approach and it has been relatively successful in generating appropriate solutions.
But sometimes there are things outside of your control and all you can do is try to ride out the storm. It ties into why I prefer earthquakes to tornadoes. I hate the idea of watching some force of nature work its way towards me- knowing that I cannot do much to defeat it.
Yep, old Jack is a fighter and a scrapper. It is my nature to not simply accept certain things. It is dual edged sword, this trait of mine. It is the reason why I never stay down and the reason why sometimes it takes me more time to get through the muck we sometimes have to crawl through. Sometimes I hold onto things with a grip that is unyielding, thinking that if I just hold on long enough I can find a way to make it work.
It is not always the smartest thing because there are things that you can't fix no matter what you do. I am reminded of a fight I got into years ago. The guy put me in a headlock and was beating me silly- but in the heat of battle I refused to give in. I was determined to punish him no matter what it took and I did.
Twenty-five years later I look back and wonder if it was worth it. For a week I walked around bearing evidence of my engagement and so did he. From one stance it was worth it. He never messed with me again and neither did those who saw it. It was understood that I wouldn't submit and I suppose that to the teenage boy I was then it was important.
Now I haven't the need to prove those things. It is a case of been there, done that. But that doesn't change the piece of me from which that comes from. That fire still burns within and it always will. However maturity and recognition that just because you can do something doesn't mean you should allows me to walk away.
Walking away is a conversation that the boys and I engage in more frequently than we would like. As marriages disintegrate we gather and discuss how to handle it. Do you spend time in counseling talking about things that you and your partner cannot change about yourselves. Do you try to wait out the storm for the sake of the children.
And in the midst of all this we see an economy that isn't performing as well as we would like. Careers are being interrupted and for some of us our ability to provide for our families are being severely impacted. Though we may be renaissance men in many ways we are still men. It is our job, our obligation to provide. The hunter gatherer lives on in us and if we cannot find game to kill and bring back home to feed our families we become angry and disillusioned
In the back of our minds we fear these changes and wonder what it all means. Is this the midlife crisis that we children of the 70s used to see portrayed on sitcom television. Are we in a place where we want the sports car, a tan and a hot 25 year-old to make us feel young.
Whatever it is we know that there is an ongoing battle between the intellectual and the emotional. Intellect tells us what to do and how to do it in a smart manner whereas emotion takes a different course altogether. Ultimately we seek as all do, to find balance between the two. The goal is to obtain or re-obtain that quiet tranquility and comfort we used to live in back when times were easier, whenever we might visualize that time as having been.
An iPod is Not Ancient Technology
They say that age is a state of mind, whomever they is anyway. Those same nameless, faceless people also say that you are only as old as you feel. I suppose that it is a good thing as I feel very young and know that I am far younger than The Shmata Queen.
Anyhoo, I recently took part in a group in which we discussed technology and how we use it within our daily lives. As part of the discussion the moderator took time to quiz us all on what sorts of gadgets we used on a regular basis. The collection of devices was fairly uniform. We all had computers and smartphones. All of us used them on a regular basis and agreed that they had become a big part of our lives.
It was a normal conversation that didn't contain anything particularly noteworthy until the college student said that she also had really old technology- a first generation iPod. That got my attention, in large part because of the manner in which she said it.
In her eyes it really was old- so old that it made her part of the old timer's club. I sat there for a moment absorbing the impact of her comment. I have a first generation iPod as well as the most current iPod Touch. But I hadn't ever realized that I looked at the iPod as new technology.
It hadn't ever occurred to me that the generation gap would be pronounced in this manner. We weren't talking about rotary phones, typewriters or beepers. We were talking about something that isn't very old as if it was a phonograph. We were talking as if it was an old turntable the played 33s, 45s and 78s.
I am not old enough to be spoken to like that. Call me sir and I still look for my father because you can't be talking to me. But perception is a funny thing. Wasn't that long ago that someone told me that I couldn't possibly be in my forties- they figured me for 35. I smiled and then laughed because I remember when 35 was old.
And then I remember again how quickly life experiences change your perspective and point of view. It is almost a decade since 9/11. The girl who talked about the ancient iPod said that she was 20 or 21. Subtract a decade and you have a girl who was in grade school when the towers fell. She doesn't remember how easy business travel used to be because she wasn't old enough to have ever done it.
She doesn't remember the fall of The Berlin Wall or the first Gulf War. Those things are history to her and I suppose to us too. But my generation and those older lived through them- we see them differently than just something we read about in our history classses.
And that my friend is why I left that place feeling a tad older than when I went in.
Anyhoo, I recently took part in a group in which we discussed technology and how we use it within our daily lives. As part of the discussion the moderator took time to quiz us all on what sorts of gadgets we used on a regular basis. The collection of devices was fairly uniform. We all had computers and smartphones. All of us used them on a regular basis and agreed that they had become a big part of our lives.
It was a normal conversation that didn't contain anything particularly noteworthy until the college student said that she also had really old technology- a first generation iPod. That got my attention, in large part because of the manner in which she said it.
In her eyes it really was old- so old that it made her part of the old timer's club. I sat there for a moment absorbing the impact of her comment. I have a first generation iPod as well as the most current iPod Touch. But I hadn't ever realized that I looked at the iPod as new technology.
It hadn't ever occurred to me that the generation gap would be pronounced in this manner. We weren't talking about rotary phones, typewriters or beepers. We were talking about something that isn't very old as if it was a phonograph. We were talking as if it was an old turntable the played 33s, 45s and 78s.
I am not old enough to be spoken to like that. Call me sir and I still look for my father because you can't be talking to me. But perception is a funny thing. Wasn't that long ago that someone told me that I couldn't possibly be in my forties- they figured me for 35. I smiled and then laughed because I remember when 35 was old.
And then I remember again how quickly life experiences change your perspective and point of view. It is almost a decade since 9/11. The girl who talked about the ancient iPod said that she was 20 or 21. Subtract a decade and you have a girl who was in grade school when the towers fell. She doesn't remember how easy business travel used to be because she wasn't old enough to have ever done it.
She doesn't remember the fall of The Berlin Wall or the first Gulf War. Those things are history to her and I suppose to us too. But my generation and those older lived through them- we see them differently than just something we read about in our history classses.
And that my friend is why I left that place feeling a tad older than when I went in.
Gratitude
"...gratitude is a debt which usually goes on accumulating like blackmail; the more you pay, the more is exacted. In time, you are made to realize that the kindness done you is become a curse and you wish it had not happened.
- Mark Twain's Autobiography"
Today I was reminded that one of the most important things that I can teach my children is gratitude. Someone helped me today not because they had to, but because they wanted to. It was something unexpected but much appreciated.
It made me think of the bumper sticker that encourages people to practice random acts of kindness. It is something that I do believe in, but also something that I have been known to make fun of or complain about. I suppose the best example of this is that every year I write a post about the hypocrisy of asking people to make charitable contributions during the holiday season.
If the charity is deserving of that sort of support then, well it is deserving all year round. Thus it seems to me to be somewhat disingenuous to give because of the time of year, but that is a separate issue from this. Let's spend a moment talking about gratitude. Let's think about how it really is important to have a sense of thanks for the good things we have and the bad things that we do not.
My children are very fortunate to attend a fine private school. Their mother and I send them their at great personal cost because we believe that they will get more out of it than the local public school can provide. Especially now, in a time in which the Los Angeles Unified School District is in crisis and so many schools are in shambles.
I'll never understand why we don't do more to improve public education. I'll never understand why people don't see the benefits in having a better educated populace, but again that is a different story. Gratitude demands that I spell out that I am grateful to be able to send the children there.
And gratitude demands that I acknowledge that they are often surrounded by children who come from very affluent homes and as such often have everything they ask for. That is a potential problem. When you want for nothing it is easy to forget to be grateful.
I have been guilty of this. There have been moments where I haven't been as appreciative as I could or should be. But moments like today serve as reminders, little beacons of light that inspire me. They remind me that the kind of children I want to raise think like this. They pay attention to those around them and offer help because it is the right thing to do, not because they are currying favor.
The quote above also reminds me that there have been moments in my life where I have been frustrated by offers of help. Moments where my gratitude was colored by anger and that perhaps I could have been more gracious in my response.
So today was a good reminder and another piece in the mosaic of my life. Another reminder of who I want to be and who I hope to help my children grow to be. Such a simple gesture and so much benefit. Sometimes life can be ever so painful and other times exceptionally sweet.
The yin and the yang make it interesting and the people make it exceptional.
- Mark Twain's Autobiography"
Today I was reminded that one of the most important things that I can teach my children is gratitude. Someone helped me today not because they had to, but because they wanted to. It was something unexpected but much appreciated.
It made me think of the bumper sticker that encourages people to practice random acts of kindness. It is something that I do believe in, but also something that I have been known to make fun of or complain about. I suppose the best example of this is that every year I write a post about the hypocrisy of asking people to make charitable contributions during the holiday season.
If the charity is deserving of that sort of support then, well it is deserving all year round. Thus it seems to me to be somewhat disingenuous to give because of the time of year, but that is a separate issue from this. Let's spend a moment talking about gratitude. Let's think about how it really is important to have a sense of thanks for the good things we have and the bad things that we do not.
My children are very fortunate to attend a fine private school. Their mother and I send them their at great personal cost because we believe that they will get more out of it than the local public school can provide. Especially now, in a time in which the Los Angeles Unified School District is in crisis and so many schools are in shambles.
I'll never understand why we don't do more to improve public education. I'll never understand why people don't see the benefits in having a better educated populace, but again that is a different story. Gratitude demands that I spell out that I am grateful to be able to send the children there.
And gratitude demands that I acknowledge that they are often surrounded by children who come from very affluent homes and as such often have everything they ask for. That is a potential problem. When you want for nothing it is easy to forget to be grateful.
I have been guilty of this. There have been moments where I haven't been as appreciative as I could or should be. But moments like today serve as reminders, little beacons of light that inspire me. They remind me that the kind of children I want to raise think like this. They pay attention to those around them and offer help because it is the right thing to do, not because they are currying favor.
The quote above also reminds me that there have been moments in my life where I have been frustrated by offers of help. Moments where my gratitude was colored by anger and that perhaps I could have been more gracious in my response.
So today was a good reminder and another piece in the mosaic of my life. Another reminder of who I want to be and who I hope to help my children grow to be. Such a simple gesture and so much benefit. Sometimes life can be ever so painful and other times exceptionally sweet.
The yin and the yang make it interesting and the people make it exceptional.
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