Archives for March 2010

“Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near, I’ve got to find out why?
Those gentle voices I hear, explain it all with a sigh.

I’m looking at myself reflections of my mind,
It’s just the kind of day to leave myself behind.
So gently swaying through the fairyland of love,
If you’ll just come with me you’ll see the beauty of

Tuesday afternoon, Tuesday afternoon.”

Tuesday Afternoon– The Moody Blues

I have been scared more than a few times in my life, but there are really only a few moments where I can say that I was truly afraid. Two of them involve my children and one my father.

As I sit here staring a the screen I am fighting to come up with the right words to describe the distinction between being scared and afraid. The best I can come up with is to say that when I was afraid it was like an electric shock that went through my entire body and a feeling of dread.

Dread and a certainty that if the monster looming in the dark came for me I would lose the fight. It/he/she would swallow my soul, eat my heart and shred my sanity into tiny pieces that I would forever search for. I know, it sounds like ridiculous hyperbole, but you have to understand that I think in graphic images.

I am the dreamer whose imagination can conceive of the impossible. Why do you think that I enjoy writing so much. It exercises a piece of me that has endless amounts of energy.

And I suppose that you can blame some of this upon my own ego. The crazy man who believes that somehow, some way he can overcome almost anything. As I have said many times, give me my sword and place me front of the castle. None shall pass.

But those things that truly frightened me reach into a darker place inside my being. They tap into the insecurity and the whispers that suggest that maybe I have the support of illusions of grandeur. Maybe all I have is a mirage that I have created while sailing upon the sea of denial.

And more to the point, they attacked the weakest part of my being. I am no different than any other parent. My children are my greatest joy and were something to happen to them I would be someone other than who I am today. I dare not say who or what. I am glad to not know, especially as I know a number of parents who have lost a child..

It is a curious adventure, this journey as a father. A mix of the mundane and the mystical. A cross of the chaotic and the curious. There are moments where I have screamed in frustration and rage. Moments where I have wondered if I was going to spend my time just passing through life. And of course interspersed have been those magical moments where they do things to inspire and fill my heart with joy.

How curious this thing we call life. It has been everything I ever expected and more.

Haveil Havalim, the blog carnival of the Jewish/Israeli blogosphere is now live. Go check it out here.

Damn you, damn you to hell you limey bastards. I had this great plan to participate in Cheese Rolling in Gloucestershire and now my dreams have been shattered.

“For nearly two centuries, runners and spectators have gathered on a steep Cotswolds hill for the Whitsun cheese rolling.

The rough and tumble spectacle sees daredevil competitors chase a 7lb wheel of Double Gloucester down the 200-yard incline in one of Britain’s most eccentric traditions.

But organisers have been forced to cancel this year’s event because of health and safety fears.”

I have written many times about the lack of elevator etiquette. There are the people who try to take a cigarette into the car, those that dump buckets of perfume/cologne over their heads and then enter the car and there are those that think that it is ok to hold the door while they finish their conversation with someone who has chosen not to get on the elevator. How is that for a run-on sentence.

But today I encountered a new jerk. Today I rode the elevator with a man who thought that it was ok to share his flatulence with me. It is one thing to share these in silence. I’ll do my best not to cough and turn blue while holding my breath.

It is quite another thing to just let one rip” as if you haven’t a care in the world and it is even worse when you don’t apologize or excuse yourself. That is what happened today.

The man didn’t yell “fore” or “Geronimo” or give any indication that he was about to soil his pants and I am fairly certain that this was “wet.” I apologize for the detail, but I am still horrified by this and as a father who has changed many a diaper I know the signs.

It was loud. It was wet and was most aromatic in a most unpleasant way. I wanted to run. I wanted to flee but there was no place to go. The doors were closed and we were between floors.

As I gasped for breath I thought about my family and a sob escaped my throat. There was something so unfair and so unjust about this. My children were going to have to be told that their father died trying to rescue children from a burning building not that he died as a result of asphyxiation caused by noxious fumes from a common “fart.”

The thought was so upsetting. In my mind’s eye I could see them being teased on the playground. I could hear the vice-principal suspending my son for fighting and saw his mother explaining that he didn’t need to fight every time some kid tormented him about it.

Suddenly the elevator doors opened and I flung myself into the hallway. Gasping for air I rolled on the floor and inhaled the stale but ever so sweet after effects of the cleaning crew. The scent of their passage lingered in the air and I reveled in the gift of life I had received.

In the interim stinky rolled on out of the office and waddled down the hall. I carefully followed him and watched him enter an office. Later today we will show him how we deal with terrorism in this part of town.

The boys and I are going out for burritos and chili. Together we will enter his office and then drag him to a utility closet where we will unleash our own WMDs, mercilessly. And as all good terrorists do I’ll videotape this so that I can create more terror by uploading the file onto the net.

Flatulent Fred, judgment day is coming for you.
(Originally run here)