The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for October 2009

Private School Blues & What is a High IQ Worth Anyway

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A dear friend and I had a long discussion about the advantages and disadvantages of private school. The premise of this discussion was whether private schools offer a real and significant advantage over public schools.

It is a timely question. Both of us have children attending private schools. Both of us are public school graduates. Both of us have done ok for ourselves professionally. We may not be wildly successful and or bathed in wealth, but we are ok.

As responsible parents we are interested in doing everything that we can to help our children. Education is of paramount importance to us. We want our kids to have the best that they can possibly get. Material things can be taken from you, but a good education stays with you forever.

There is no disagreement between us about this. The real question that we struggle with is the financial aspect of paying for school. It is a significant sum and one that you cannot ignore, at least we can’t. So we sit there and ask ourselves how to truly evaluate our investment in the kids’ education.

Private school tuition requires making sacrifices. In concept I haven’t any issue with doing so to help my children.Why would I. In reality though it has been a rough road at times and a weight upon my shoulders. It means that I have to put off retiring for a while.

It is kind of funny. At 25 I put money into my 401k without really thinking about. I did it because I knew that it was smart, but retirement was so far off I couldn’t picture. At 40 I think about it differently. I am much more conscious of the passage of time.

Don’t get me wrong I don’t mind making sacrifices for the children, provided that they make sense. Private school doesn’t just impact my retirement. I can’t take the family on some of the vacations we would like to go on. I have a more modest home than I would otherwise own.

At the moment I am comfortable with my decision because the local public school is absolutely abysmal and moving hasn’t been a viable option. But this is a marathon. The dark haired beauty is in kindergarten. Her brother is in third grade.

It won’t be that long before it will be time to worry about a Bar Mitzvah, let alone the Bat Mitzvah that will follow.

Circling back a moment I look at private school and I ask myself what is necessary to help my children be successful in life. On a side note it is probably worth taking time to establish what the definition of success is. I posit that this is subjective and that there isn’t necessarily going to be a uniform agreement about that.

For the purpose of this post I’ll say that success is doing something that you find to be fulfilling.Ideally that thing is something that pays the bills. If you love your work life is much easier, but that is a different topic.

I am reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. The book delves into success and why some people attain it and others do not. It is an interesting book and one that I am enjoying. He spends time discussing how it is that certain people become superstars in their field and why others do not.

Thus far three things have really caught my attention:

1) Natural ability isn’t enough. Sometimes you just have to be good enough.
2) Luck and opportunity have a real impact.
3) It takes about ten thousand hours to become an expert in a particular field/task.

Got to get back to work. More on this later.

Maybe I Should Go Back To Sleep

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My Old Kitchen
My Old Kitchen

I threatened my microwave oven this morning. Yes, that is correct, I threatened an appliance. I told an inanimate object that if it didn’t stop beeping at me I was going to tear it out of the fucking wall and throw it through the window.

Not very grown up of me, was it. But the family had long since headed out the door on their way to school so I didn’t have to worry about being a role model. And yes I was well aware and still am that this inanimate object was simply doing what it was programmed to do.

I had a bad dream.

I don’t remember what it was or why it upset me, just that it did. And unlike my kids I can’t go running to mommy and daddy to ask for a hug so that I feel better. Well, I could. I could call them and tell them that I am upset. They’d listen to me.

It doesn’t take any effort to visualize it. My abba would take the phone and tell me to stop screwing around. Those bright blue eyes of his would give off one of those piercing glares that used to stop me in my tracks. Unless I gave him a good reason beyond I had a bad dream he’d be irked and I’d understand why.

No reason for me to call early in the morning, not for this. What am I going to tell him that a monster tried to eat me, that a bad guy tried to get me. I don’t even know if that is what I dreamt about. In fact, just the thought that I would call my parents about this makes me want to go back to bed for the sole purpose of having that dream again.

Because if I had that dream again I’d kill the monster and beat that bad guy within an inch of his life. And then for good measure I’d use my superpowers to fly off to some island where I would be greeted as the savior and treated accordingly. Hey, it is a dream, I can do anything I want.

So back in the real world I ambled over to the microwave to get the cup of coffee that I left in there. It is left over from last night. Had a meeting before the basketball game and decided that I needed a big cup of Joe. Didn’t finish said cup and took it home with me.

As I have been typing it has worked its magic upon me and I am starting to feel like a sub human again. It is good. I am no longer grunting and pointing. Although I will say that looking in the mirror I look like a caveman. The beard grows at a ridiculous pace so yesterdays meeting with the razor looks like it never took place.

A torn t-shirt and torn shorts make me look like a regular Beau Brummel. Not to mention a partial black eye.  If I didn’t have a conference call scheduled a short time from now I might head over to a favorite diner, Nats, if you care to know and order something greasy for breakfast. It is just that kind of day.

On the other hand the lack of grease is good. Three days of basketball and attention to my diet has yielded some distinct benefits.

My body is sore today, but in a good way. And thanks to my magic liquid I am almost awake and starting to feel like I am ready to attack the day.

Nifty.

Behind Blue Eyes

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No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it’s like
To be hated
To be faded
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free

No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

 Behind Blue Eyes – The Who

How To Build More Traffic to Your Blog

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Reprinted from here.

  1. Run around cyberspace and insult everyone you come in contact with on their blogs.
  2. Come back to your blog and insult them some more in the hope that they will come and visit.
  3. Post banner ads promoting your site as a resource for free sex, viagra and penis enlargement.
  4. Hire an African Elephant to march through Manhattan with a sign promoting your blog.
  5. Tell people that if they sign a petition on your Blog Obama will be recalled.
  6. Tell people that if they sign a petition on your Blog gay marriage will be abolished.
  7. Send press releases to major media groups announcing your new reality TV show about a person and their blog.
  8. Create a virus that forces computers to make your blog their homepage. Not legal, but it could be very effective.
  9. Hire DovBear to create a P.R. campaign for your blog.
  10. Ignore dumb and idiotic lists like this one.

My Daughter

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I caught my daughter dancing to Wind It Up. It was a little bit different from watching her dance to She is a Butterfly. She was shaking her little hips at me and laughing. I gather that she found the expression on my face funny. That little girl loves to stir it up with me. I suppose that it is just more proof that she is my girl.

I have to admit that for a moment I was transfixed by it all. Sat there trying to figure out where she learned how to move like that. The little stinker told me about her boyfriend and waited for my reaction. I remained silent and she tried to up the ante by telling me that he knows Karate.

It was foreshadowing of a time to come. Some day in the future, some time many years from now there will be a boy who isn’t just a friend. Some day this boy is going to have ideas about my daughter. I am not going to fool myself and pretend he won’t. I was that boy and in some ways still am. G-d willing I won’t be like the father in this video.

Don’t ask my why I am even thinking about things that are so far off. It is just part of who I am. There is an intensity that comes part and parcel with me.

I see it in my kids. In truth it is easier to understand in my son. I understand that thought process. Men and boys make sense. You folks on the other side, not so much.

Anyway, since she was sick for most of last week I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with her. It was just the two of us during the day. When she wasn’t sleeping I did my best to balance working with taking care of her. It was a challenge. I couldn’t seem to find the right balance. When I was working I felt guilty and when I wasn’t I felt guilty.

She has this Dora tent that she likes to play inside. So we set it up so that it was right behind me. Gave her some books, crayons and paper and we both started to work. I don’t think that more than ten minutes had passed when I started to hear her snore. So I got up out of my chair and poked my head in.

Sure enough she was lying on the floor fast asleep. I debated moving her, but she was lying on a blanket so I figured that it wouldn’t hurt her. Besides she was sick and needed the extra rest. About an hour or so later I poked my head back in to see how she was doing. I could tell she was on the verge of waking up so I lay there with my head propped up on my hands and watched her.

It took all of two minutes for her eyes to open. When she spotted me she gave me a huge smile that just melted me. It reminded me of when she was a baby. Sometimes I’d go stand next to her crib and just watch her sleep. It was the same smile that she gave me then.

Except now she is a big girl. Five years old with black hair. It is long and filled with curls. She gets complimented on it quite a bit. I always tell her that she should thank me because her hair is the same color as mine. Of course if I let it grow it would become your standard Jewfro or turn into dreadlocks. At least that is what would have happened a few years back. Damn thing doesn’t grow like it used to.

Although even if it did I’d still wear a flat top. It was so very easy to take care of, loved it.

Anyway, that dark haired beauty insisted that I stop what I was doing to read a story with her. After that smile I couldn’t resist. So I sat down and the couch and waited for her to pick a book. Moments later she climbed onto my lap and fell back asleep seconds after that.

I sat there with her soft snores and told her to never forget how much daddy loves her and that I’d always protect her. It is part of a little game she and I play. Can’t tell you how long we sat like that because at some point I fell asleep too. But I can say that she woke me up my kissing my cheek and telling me she was hungry.

Not really sure where I am going with this. It is hard to write when you keep getting interrupted so I’ll just end it with this. I am in so much trouble when she gets a little older. Oy.