Secrets You Might Only Share With Dad Bloggers

What is your story?

You might call that headline linkbait or you might ask if old Jack Steiner is engaged in keyword stuffing.

Might be a combination of both or it might be something else. Don’t put too much thought into it, because I didn’t.

At the moment I am recovering from a food coma. Went out for some barbecue and ate far too much brisket, it was good but not as good as the Texas barbecue I am dying to get back to.

That teenage boy of mine, the one I call Steiner the minor told me tonight he doesn’t care what stories I share about him on the blog because no one will ever believe he said or did those things.

I told him he ought to think very carefully about what he says will or won’t bother him because who we are today isn’t necessarily who we’ll be tomorrow.

Coincidentally I came across a post I wrote five years ago called My Penis Died. I was tempted to show it to my son because he is the star.

The title alone would make his eyes bug out and he’d probably ask me if I was crazy. I’d say yes and explain that the link to the five-year-old version is an example of me working smarter and not harder.

When he asked me how that could be I’d tell him the post is actually ten years old and that five years ago I ran it a second time.

And then I’d explain how it relates more to my desire to chronicle the fun and interesting questions he asked when he was truly little.

Most importantly I’d ask him to read it so that he could see how the title makes it appear to be something other than it is.

And then I’d offer the following video as part of a musical interlude.

Young Master Steiner has told me many times that he is frustrated because he is shorter than many of his friends.

I always nod my head and talk about genetics. It is hard to be the tall kid when your dad is average height and mom is short.

As it happens many of his friends have mothers who are almost my height and fathers who are over six feet.

But most are skinny beanpoles and I am not.

I have big hands, big feet and broad shoulders. You won’t see me dancing with Baryshnikov but if you need someone who can rip out a stump, tear down a wall or run through the defense, well I just might be your guy.

The Importance Of Playing To Your Strengths

That Iron Maiden video is a link to Old Man Steiner’s youth. It is part of a mix of music that I often listened to while working out.

Every time my son talks about his height I tell him that confidence can make us giants.

I tell him to play to his strengths and remind him that even though we may not have the same height as some of the other guys we are usually stronger.

We don’t have to put as much effort into lifting weights as they do to put on muscle.

I figure that if I can get him into slinging the weights around and doing pushups in bunches he’ll develop some great habits and gain confidence.

He loves playing soccer and the extra strength will serve him well there. When he sees how he can out muscle the little guys and hang with the bigger ones he’ll understand part of why I have pushed him on this.

But between you and me it has less to do with trying to help his game and more with just instilling more confidence in general.

And in addition to all of that I hope he’ll help push me to keep up the lifting.

This aging thing has been a grind lately and I am having a much harder time doing things the same way I used to do them.

My knees ache in a way they never have and I have a bunch of other odds and ends of physical irritations that are making me reevaluate how I exercise.

I hate it.

And then I look at my son and I have to look extra hard to find hints of the boy he used to be. He is truly a teen now and if he takes my advice about exercise he’ll be shocked at how quickly his body responds.

You might ask if I am trying to live vicariously through him and I’ll tell you no. But I’ll also say a father’s obligation includes trying to help their kids take advantage of opportunities and this is one of those.

More Narishkeit

My guess is a small number of you speak or understand Yiddish which is too bad because it is an amazing language. My grandfathers used to teach me and though I was never fluent I once knew far more that I know now.

When people use narishkeit in a sentence they are referring to something as nonsense and or trivial so take that as you will in regard to what follows here.

I make a point of engaging in simple blog maintenance in a number of ways. Some of it is the basic stuff, fixing broken links, adding/replacing pictures and checking to see that things work in general as they should.

But it also includes flipping through the pages to see if there are old posts that are worth sharing again.

That is how I come across things like Twitter Is Dead!- Long Live Twitter! and Come Sail With The Dread Pirate Roberts and decide to share them with you.

Sometimes I do so without comment and sometimes I point out that there is a screenshot of a conversation I had with the Original Karate Kid in one of those.

That happened back in the old days when Twitter served as more of a conversation channel and wasn’t a place marketers used to broadcast everything under the sun.

Speaking of the sun  I just noticed the time and if I don’t want to still be typing when it rises I need to go grab some shut eye.

So I am off to dream of how to become a better storyteller and a reminder to make a point to try and comment on more blogs.

See you on the other side.

• Saved: Children, Life