The Presentation
The audio post above shares some thoughts about a presentation that I have to give tomorrow.
Is My Children's Happinesss More Important Than My Own
(A continuation of A Father's Burden)
It is around 9 PM or so on a Saturday night. The boys have convinced me to leave the family behind and join them for an evening out. I agreed provided that we didn't go to a club. I am not interested in spending time at a place filled with loud music and a bunch of drunks. They tell me that I am old and I agree.
I have done my time in those places. Been all over the club scene throughout Los Angeles and have the scars to prove it. Doesn't matter that half the places I remember are gone. That is what happens when it is decades in between visits and I am ok with it.
It Takes Two by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock is blasting away on the stereo system. It is a bit surreal, this song coming on like that. It reminds me of those pre-fatherhood days, late 80s or so. I am back at the fraternity house. The dance floor is packed full of people. So many of us are in there you don't have to worry about having any sort of slick moves, there isn't room for that. All you have to do is bob your head and move your body in with the music.
There are a ton of women dancing. I know quite a few of them from class. There is one in particular that I am really interested in. So I push through the crowd and try to come up with something to say. Will I be witty and clever, cheesy or just give her a simple hello.
"Jack, what do you want to drink?" It takes a moment for me to realize that someone is speaking to me. I turn my head to the right and practically slam my head into a woman's chest. I look up and see the waitress staring back at me. She wants to know what I want to drink. I order a beer and she heads off to the bar.
The immediately start in on me. I am taking all sorts of abuse about my reaction. I smile and stay quiet. Jimmy doesn't let it go. He has already imbibed some liquid courage and feels free to tell me that he thinks that our waitress is hot. Because it is loud in here he is louder. Soon everyone knows how he feels about her and that he thinks that we should all look for women who haven't popped out a bunch of kids.
The women at the table next to us shower us with a mixture of laughter and glares. I look at Jimmy and tell him that he needs to relax. He asks me when I got to be so uptight and in the same breath tells me that I don't understand what it is like to be divorced. I smile and tell him to STFU. "I love you Jimmy and I am telling you to shut up so that you might actually get laid tonight."
I turn to my left and I ask John how long they were at the restaurant before we got there. He tells me that Jimmy did two or three shots before they left the house and that as soon as they arrived he grabbed two more. I nod my head and suggest that we try to get him out of this place sooner than later.
A few hours later we find ourselves at Jimmy's condo. We are sitting in his living room drinking coffee and talking. He tells us that he has not one single regret about leaving his wife. He says that he hasn't been happy for years and that he is not sure if he ever really loved her. He explains that he got married because that is what he thought he should do.
There is more talk and stories are shared, head nod in unison. John says he understands and tells us that he stayed married five years longer than he wanted to because he was concerned about the children. Jimmy says that he left because he loves his kids and was worried that his unhappiness made him a bad father.
They talk some more about the impact of divorce on children. I don't have personal experience so I remain relatively quiet. In the quiet of the evening the question that we talk about is whether a child's happiness supercedes that of the parent.
Later during the drive home I sit at a stoplight and replay the events of the evening in my head. There was much food for thought.
It is around 9 PM or so on a Saturday night. The boys have convinced me to leave the family behind and join them for an evening out. I agreed provided that we didn't go to a club. I am not interested in spending time at a place filled with loud music and a bunch of drunks. They tell me that I am old and I agree.
I have done my time in those places. Been all over the club scene throughout Los Angeles and have the scars to prove it. Doesn't matter that half the places I remember are gone. That is what happens when it is decades in between visits and I am ok with it.
It Takes Two by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock is blasting away on the stereo system. It is a bit surreal, this song coming on like that. It reminds me of those pre-fatherhood days, late 80s or so. I am back at the fraternity house. The dance floor is packed full of people. So many of us are in there you don't have to worry about having any sort of slick moves, there isn't room for that. All you have to do is bob your head and move your body in with the music.
There are a ton of women dancing. I know quite a few of them from class. There is one in particular that I am really interested in. So I push through the crowd and try to come up with something to say. Will I be witty and clever, cheesy or just give her a simple hello.
"Jack, what do you want to drink?" It takes a moment for me to realize that someone is speaking to me. I turn my head to the right and practically slam my head into a woman's chest. I look up and see the waitress staring back at me. She wants to know what I want to drink. I order a beer and she heads off to the bar.
The immediately start in on me. I am taking all sorts of abuse about my reaction. I smile and stay quiet. Jimmy doesn't let it go. He has already imbibed some liquid courage and feels free to tell me that he thinks that our waitress is hot. Because it is loud in here he is louder. Soon everyone knows how he feels about her and that he thinks that we should all look for women who haven't popped out a bunch of kids.
The women at the table next to us shower us with a mixture of laughter and glares. I look at Jimmy and tell him that he needs to relax. He asks me when I got to be so uptight and in the same breath tells me that I don't understand what it is like to be divorced. I smile and tell him to STFU. "I love you Jimmy and I am telling you to shut up so that you might actually get laid tonight."
I turn to my left and I ask John how long they were at the restaurant before we got there. He tells me that Jimmy did two or three shots before they left the house and that as soon as they arrived he grabbed two more. I nod my head and suggest that we try to get him out of this place sooner than later.
A few hours later we find ourselves at Jimmy's condo. We are sitting in his living room drinking coffee and talking. He tells us that he has not one single regret about leaving his wife. He says that he hasn't been happy for years and that he is not sure if he ever really loved her. He explains that he got married because that is what he thought he should do.
There is more talk and stories are shared, head nod in unison. John says he understands and tells us that he stayed married five years longer than he wanted to because he was concerned about the children. Jimmy says that he left because he loves his kids and was worried that his unhappiness made him a bad father.
They talk some more about the impact of divorce on children. I don't have personal experience so I remain relatively quiet. In the quiet of the evening the question that we talk about is whether a child's happiness supercedes that of the parent.
Later during the drive home I sit at a stoplight and replay the events of the evening in my head. There was much food for thought.
How Sister's Helped to Train A Father of "Daddy's Girl"
I have six thousand sisters and a bunch of brother-in-laws but not one single brother. My father says that when they told me about the births of my youngest sisters I began to cry and complained that he and my mother had ruined my life.
The majority of my memories of growing up with just sisters are positive. That is not to say that we didn't fight, because we did. It was almost always them against me. Those wacky dames worked as a team to get me in trouble and they did a good job of it. They were so good that I sometimes wonder how I survived.
When we were relatively young they sometimes took out their anger by physically attacking me. They knew that I wasn't allowed to hit them back and they took advantage of it. So I learned that I could shepherd them into a room and then close the door. To this day they'll claim that I locked them in there. It is not true. I merely gave the illusion that they were locked in there.
The day that my daughter was born was one of the most emotional of my life. It was two days after my father's triple bypass and the culmination of quite a number of other events. I remember watching the nurse clean her up. This tiny creature with a mop of black hair, same color as mine.
Her older brother was just down the hall. He has my hands and my feet, but his hair and complexion are lighter than mine. Not so with the dark haired beauty.
I remember taking her into my arms and staring at her. Staring at this little person and remembering all the crazy times with my sisters. The good and the bad. I stared at her and realized that one day boys would be chasing her. I remember thinking it was crazy to think about that because it was so far off. And then she reached out with her little hand and grabbed my index finger.
As soon as she grabbed it I knew that I was done. That one move had done something to me. I lifted her up and whispered into her ear promises that I would always be there to help her, to protect and take care of her. I told her that I would see to it that when I wasn't around her brother would do it for me.
Somewhere in the distance I could feel my sisters' approval. I knew that as crazy as I made them they would appreciate it. I knew that though they sometimes complained about me being overprotective they appreciated it and that they would tell their niece the same thing.
And now 5.5 years later I stare at this amazing girl in amazement. The girl who told me that she wanted to cook for me. I asked her what she would make and she said that I had a choice of pizza, peanut butter and jelly or matzoh with butter. It wasn't one of those play offers that kids make either. She was serious.
She told me that when I am really old I can come live with her and she'll take care of me. She is serious, this girl of mine. I thanked her for it and told her that we have a long time before that happens. She smile back at me and said that I am really old, almost 41.
It made me laugh. And then she ordered me to sit down on the couch, climbed into my lap and told her brother to bring a drink because "Dad is thirsty." Of course when she specified apple juice he knew that she was trying to use me as leverage to make him work and consequently refused. The big brother part of me silently applauded, "well played my boy" and then I asked him to come sit with us.
As he walked over I smiled silently because he is done too, he just doesn't know it yet. Oy, this girl of mine is something else. So is her brother, but there is something different here. I love them equally, but I really am going to have to kill the boys that come looking for her. If I shoot the first two or three I might have a fighting chance.
Of course she's not going to make it easy for me. She already recognizes half my tricks and senses the others. I am going to have to work extra hard to fool Daddy's girl.
The majority of my memories of growing up with just sisters are positive. That is not to say that we didn't fight, because we did. It was almost always them against me. Those wacky dames worked as a team to get me in trouble and they did a good job of it. They were so good that I sometimes wonder how I survived.
When we were relatively young they sometimes took out their anger by physically attacking me. They knew that I wasn't allowed to hit them back and they took advantage of it. So I learned that I could shepherd them into a room and then close the door. To this day they'll claim that I locked them in there. It is not true. I merely gave the illusion that they were locked in there.
+++++++
The day that my daughter was born was one of the most emotional of my life. It was two days after my father's triple bypass and the culmination of quite a number of other events. I remember watching the nurse clean her up. This tiny creature with a mop of black hair, same color as mine.
Her older brother was just down the hall. He has my hands and my feet, but his hair and complexion are lighter than mine. Not so with the dark haired beauty.
I remember taking her into my arms and staring at her. Staring at this little person and remembering all the crazy times with my sisters. The good and the bad. I stared at her and realized that one day boys would be chasing her. I remember thinking it was crazy to think about that because it was so far off. And then she reached out with her little hand and grabbed my index finger.
As soon as she grabbed it I knew that I was done. That one move had done something to me. I lifted her up and whispered into her ear promises that I would always be there to help her, to protect and take care of her. I told her that I would see to it that when I wasn't around her brother would do it for me.
Somewhere in the distance I could feel my sisters' approval. I knew that as crazy as I made them they would appreciate it. I knew that though they sometimes complained about me being overprotective they appreciated it and that they would tell their niece the same thing.
And now 5.5 years later I stare at this amazing girl in amazement. The girl who told me that she wanted to cook for me. I asked her what she would make and she said that I had a choice of pizza, peanut butter and jelly or matzoh with butter. It wasn't one of those play offers that kids make either. She was serious.
She told me that when I am really old I can come live with her and she'll take care of me. She is serious, this girl of mine. I thanked her for it and told her that we have a long time before that happens. She smile back at me and said that I am really old, almost 41.
It made me laugh. And then she ordered me to sit down on the couch, climbed into my lap and told her brother to bring a drink because "Dad is thirsty." Of course when she specified apple juice he knew that she was trying to use me as leverage to make him work and consequently refused. The big brother part of me silently applauded, "well played my boy" and then I asked him to come sit with us.
As he walked over I smiled silently because he is done too, he just doesn't know it yet. Oy, this girl of mine is something else. So is her brother, but there is something different here. I love them equally, but I really am going to have to kill the boys that come looking for her. If I shoot the first two or three I might have a fighting chance.
Of course she's not going to make it easy for me. She already recognizes half my tricks and senses the others. I am going to have to work extra hard to fool Daddy's girl.
Instant Gratification Is Making Me Instantly Impatient
One of these days my buddy John Cave Osborne is going to make it out to L.A. and we're going to hit a Laker game. The occasion might even merit a t-shirt with his picture on it, perhaps the one of him and the pink pillow. Ok, I probably won't make the t-shirt. You can blame my laziness on having given in to the collective, I am a member of the instant gratification society.
Instant gratification is our unofficial motto. We want everything now and if not now than in mere seconds from now. Instant gratification means that we carry and use our cellphones everywhere so that we can call people at a moment's notice. No more wandering through stores or stopping at gas stations in search of a pay phone. No more worries about carrying a dime or a quarter for that call.
Remember when it was a big deal to make a long distance call. Long distance calls were expensive and we were only too happy to see Ma Bell compete with MCI, Sprint and other providers of cheap long distance services. Cell phones helped to kill that.
The proliferation of email helped to change things too. Email came along and changed written correspondence in a profound way. The speed with which it flew over the net made sending a letter by post seem quaint. Type, point, click and send and off it went.
Cell phones helped change email as well. The evolution of the smart phone made it possible to check your email on the move. You weren't tied down to a desk any more. You didn't have to wait until you got back to the office or until you got home to see what messages awaited you. No waiting was great and something that we all pushed for.
Technological advances that were designed to increase productivity and efficiency levels have impacted our attitudes about time. We don't like waiting for anything and our attention spans reflect this. Fewer and fewer people are blogging or reading long posts. They'd rather spend their time sending texts or using Twitter. Why read 800 words when you can glance at 140 characters.
Spend some time driving and you see more evidence of this impatience. People multitask as they drive and scream at those who don't move as fast as they'd like them to. We're like hamsters in a cage hurrying and scurrying about.
And I include myself. I am guilty of all of these things. If you don't answer my call I am ready to text and email you. And if you don't respond to the text or email in a timely fashion I get irritated. It is narishkeit, foolishness this behavior. I hate it. I hate that when I call someone by the third ring I am already tapping my foot.
I hate this expectation I have that everything should be happening now. It is not how life works. As much as I'd like to see the world cater to my every need that is just not going to happen. So I am making a conscious effort to take a deep breath and not react to all the stimulus.
I am taking a moment to stop and enjoy the moment, whatever that moment is. And I am working on showing my children the value in doing that too. Life moves fast enough without adding any more stress. And now if you'll excuse me I am off to do something else. Maybe I'll look into making that t-shirt now.
Instant gratification is our unofficial motto. We want everything now and if not now than in mere seconds from now. Instant gratification means that we carry and use our cellphones everywhere so that we can call people at a moment's notice. No more wandering through stores or stopping at gas stations in search of a pay phone. No more worries about carrying a dime or a quarter for that call.
Remember when it was a big deal to make a long distance call. Long distance calls were expensive and we were only too happy to see Ma Bell compete with MCI, Sprint and other providers of cheap long distance services. Cell phones helped to kill that.
The proliferation of email helped to change things too. Email came along and changed written correspondence in a profound way. The speed with which it flew over the net made sending a letter by post seem quaint. Type, point, click and send and off it went.
Cell phones helped change email as well. The evolution of the smart phone made it possible to check your email on the move. You weren't tied down to a desk any more. You didn't have to wait until you got back to the office or until you got home to see what messages awaited you. No waiting was great and something that we all pushed for.
Technological advances that were designed to increase productivity and efficiency levels have impacted our attitudes about time. We don't like waiting for anything and our attention spans reflect this. Fewer and fewer people are blogging or reading long posts. They'd rather spend their time sending texts or using Twitter. Why read 800 words when you can glance at 140 characters.
Spend some time driving and you see more evidence of this impatience. People multitask as they drive and scream at those who don't move as fast as they'd like them to. We're like hamsters in a cage hurrying and scurrying about.
And I include myself. I am guilty of all of these things. If you don't answer my call I am ready to text and email you. And if you don't respond to the text or email in a timely fashion I get irritated. It is narishkeit, foolishness this behavior. I hate it. I hate that when I call someone by the third ring I am already tapping my foot.
I hate this expectation I have that everything should be happening now. It is not how life works. As much as I'd like to see the world cater to my every need that is just not going to happen. So I am making a conscious effort to take a deep breath and not react to all the stimulus.
I am taking a moment to stop and enjoy the moment, whatever that moment is. And I am working on showing my children the value in doing that too. Life moves fast enough without adding any more stress. And now if you'll excuse me I am off to do something else. Maybe I'll look into making that t-shirt now.
Dolph Lundgren/Ivan Drago Plays Elvis
via youtube.com
This is too weird not to include on the blog.And just because here he is as Drago and the Universal Soldier.
I Still Hate Valentine's Day
As is my custom here are some thoughts about the coming pagan holiday. Soon the million man march on Hallmark shall take place and we shall end the cruelty. For more thoughts play and or read the posts below.
Monday Morning Music
King Without A Crown- Matisyahu
Jerusalem- Matisyahu
Free Bird- Lynrd Skynrd
Hungry Heart- Bruce Springsteen
Shir Ahava Bedoui(Bedouin love song)- David Broza
Inspiration - Gipsy Kings
Bookends- Simon & Garfunkel
Young Turks- Rod Stewart
Rhythm of my Heart- Rod Stewart
This Time- John Legend
Jerusalem- Matisyahu
Free Bird- Lynrd Skynrd
Hungry Heart- Bruce Springsteen
Shir Ahava Bedoui(Bedouin love song)- David Broza
Inspiration - Gipsy Kings
Bookends- Simon & Garfunkel
Young Turks- Rod Stewart
Rhythm of my Heart- Rod Stewart
This Time- John Legend
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