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 May 2010

Old Comments- A Few Notes

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I am beginning to think that the Smoke Monster has eaten/killed/destroyed whatever and whomever is working upon the comment situation here. Or should I say that DISQUS hasn’t figured out yet why my old comments haven’t been imported into their system.

It is more than a little frustrating that weeks later I am still waiting for the old comments to be imported, but since I like their commenting system better than blogger I’ll have to wait a little bit longer and see what happens. AllI ask is that it happens before moshiach comes. 😉

The Traveling Jack Show- I Hate Flying

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Flying reminds me a bit of hanging out with an old girlfriend. There are moments where I stare at you and wonder why we ever broke up. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy and you’re a lot of fun. We start to talk and the conversation just flows.

For a while I start to wonder why we broke up. Maybe it wasn’t you, maybe it was me. But gradually I find evidence of the things that I didn’t like and the shine starts to fade a bit. When you laugh you snort. When we were going out I thought that it was cute, but at the end it made me crazy.

I notice a few other details that irritate me and slowly I remember why it is that we don’t see each other anymore.

That sort of describes my feelings about flying. There was a time when I loved it. It used to be special and exciting. It was an experience that I look forward to, but not anymore. Now it is a task.

Next month Traveling Jack hits the road again. Got places to go and people to see. And it means that I am stuck flying again, an experience that I just don’t like anymore. It is really too bad, because I used to really enjoy it. There was something magical about it. I stepped onto the plane in one city and a short time later I’d find myself walking in some exotic city with different sights, sounds and smells than I was used to.

I loved that. Loved going somewhere new and experiencing new things. I suppose that hasn’t really changed, it is just the process of getting there and it is a process. Cramped seats, fees for luggage, food and strict rules about carry-on luggage are all part of it.

That doesn’t take into account the long lines at security and the prep work that is required to go through it. At the airport I empty my pockets into ziplock bags that I stuff into my backpack. I try to wear shoes that are easy to take on and off. My laptop is carefully pulled out of its case and gently placed into a bin so that the TSA can verify that it is an ordinary computer.

Sometimes the line doesn’t move quickly and I find that upon clearing it I have to make a mad dash for the gate. It doesn’t matter that I got the airport two hours before my flight was supposed to take off. I am late and that damn plane isn’t going to wait.

So I make like OJ in one of those old Hertz commercials and I fly down the terminal and race onto the plane. Fight my way down the aisle to my seat and discover that all of the overhead bins are filled. A flight attendant takes my bag and stows it. I sit down, secure my seat belt and remember that I have to use the bathroom…desperately.

I would have used it before I stepped on board but security tripped me up. Now I am on board and I have to be careful. Thanks to past events and current security standards I can’t race down the aisle to the bathroom or I risk creating a problem. It is too close to take off and I don’t want to argue with the flight attendant because it doesn’t take much for them to flag me as being problematic. That kind of scarlet letter leads to all sorts of time spent talking with people I don’t really want to see.

It is not because I have anything to hide, I don’t. But it is just a major hassle and who knows, there could be some sort of fine involved. Flying is expensive, no need to add more costs to it.

So I’ll sit in my seat and squirm. I’ll sit and hope that the plane isn’t delayed and that I won’t be prevented from hitting the head by beverage service. Good old beverage service one of the few things that they don’t charge for, but they will. Because it is just a matter of time before they tell us that it costs an additional $25 bucks to breathe the recycled air we all share.

And while I squirm in my seat and hope that my dysfunctional digestive system cooperates I’ll hope that I am not placed next to screaming children, men who are 6’5 or larger and the lady who can’t stop talking about things that I don’t care about.

It makes me grouchy all this worrying. So I try to get it out of my system by writing about it, sharing my weakness with you. I’ll admit that I make a point of checking out the other passengers because though I really don’t worry about terrorism I won’t sit idly by. I can assure you that if I encounter someone hinky I am not afraid to do something about it. Or maybe it is because I am afraid that I am willing to.

What does it say about me that I have decided that I won’t think twice about pummeling someone who jeopardizes the safety and well being of those on the flight. Blame some of it on an overactive imagination. Some of the anger can be attributed to airlines who let their planes be used as missiles, received billions of dollars from the taxpayers and still charge us more while providing less.

All I want to do is sit down, take out my laptop or iPod and zone out. If there is WiFi I’ll surf the net and try to regale you with tales of the trip from 30,000 feet above. Or I’ll listen to my music and ask Ray Charles and company to help me relax.

And let’s not forget that I am not on the same flight as the kids and their mother. Memories of a different flight stick with me. A flight that made an emergency landing because of engine trouble. A flight that  wasn’t on, but my ten month old son was.

It all worked out, the ten month old boy is almost ten years old now, but the experience stuck with me. Primarily because my family was at risk and I couldn’t do anything about it. As a man that is galling in ways that I can’t explain other than to say that it is sort of a primal thing. Part of my job is to protect my family and I wasn’t there.

But though I remember that day I don’t really think of it often. It all worked out and I really am good about not focusing on things that I can’t control. I know, the blog makes it appear otherwise, but…

Really, the biggest issue for me is anticipation. I feeling like I have the sword of Damocles over my head. I hate waiting. I am much better at dealing with things head on.

Anyhoo, I am excited about the other pieces of the trip. Looking forward to spending time with family. Got a niece and nephews to play with and more. And if things work out the way I hope, a post about my time at Cooperstown. Yes, I am going to try and hit the Baseball Hall of Fame.

And now if you’ll excuse me I need to pack for something else.

Other Posts about Flying

I don’t Like Flying Anymore
Cruising At 34,000 Feet
Deciphering Frequent Flier Programs
All My Bags Are Packed
Airplane Trouble? Kill a Goat
Flying The Unfriendly Skies
Crying Child Forces Family From Plane
The Land of Lost Luggage
Airlines Continue To Rob The Public
The Joys of Flying Commercial Airlines 
What If The Plane Crashes
Traveling Jack’s Plane Made It 

My Penis Died

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Facepalm, the earlier years. #Paris #louvre #facepalm

I wrote this five years ago, but thanks to a recent discussion with my son I decided to unveil it again. New posts are forthcoming.

My oh my do I love my son. He consistently makes me smile and laugh, with the intermittent bouts of screaming. He is a miniature version of myself, smaller. smarter and with more energy. The Pentium to my 386.

Today he had me close to doubled over with laughter on a couple of occasions. He called me into his room because he was very excited about something. I moseyed on in and he said to me:

“Abba, my penis died.”
“Oh, I see. How did it die,” I asked.

“First it was really big and it was standing up. And then it became soft and fell down,” He replied.
“So let me ask you a question. Were you touching it before it got really small.”

“Yes, first I did a thing to it like this and then after a while it died.”
“Ok, I see. Let me tell you a few things about how your penis works and let’s see if that works for you.”

“Ok abba.”

A little time passes and he comes to find me to ask me a new question.

“Abba, what happens to your penis when you die?”

Ok, this is a variation on the theme of death that I had already covered. This I should be able to handle. And then it occurred to me that at 4.5 he takes much of what he is told literally so I paused for a moment to consider how to answer the question. As I paused he asked me a new question.

“Abba, do you feel ok?”

I smiled and said that I did and asked why he asked that question.

“Because you make a funny face when you are thinking hard.”

Boy, the child is observant and smart. I was about to offer answers to both questions when I was saved by a new thought. He wanted to watch Scooby Doo and I consented. In part because I hadn’t come up with a satisfactory answer to his question of what happens to your penis when you die.

It is not that I am stumped, but as I mentioned I want to be careful in my answer because he is literal in his understanding of some things. This is the boy who looked at the Mary Poppins DVD, saw Dick Van Dyke’s face covered in soot and called him the black man. Actually he asked me about the black man in Mary Poppins and for a moment I was stumped because I couldn’t think of a single character who wasn’t white.

I am waiting for the day in which my daughter asks me these kinds of questions. Of course if at 4.5 she talks to me about a dead penis someone is going to find out that I can float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

What Really Happens in School

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Well I’m an axe grinder Piledriver
Mother says that I never never mind her
Got no brains I’m insane
Teacher says that I’m one big pain
I’m like a laser 6-streamin’ razor
I got a mouth like an alligator
I want it louder
More power
I’m gonna rock ya till it strikes the hour

[CHORUS 1:]
Bang your head! Metal Health’ll drive you mad
Band your head! Metal Health’ll drive you mad
Metal Health– Quiet Riot 

My children go to one of them high falutin’ fancy private schools where we pay a boatload of money so that little Johnny and Sally can receive a better education than they would in a public school. We do it because education is of paramount importance. We do it because no matter what happens to you in life your education cannot be taken from you.

I make a point of being around the school. The teachers and administrators know me by name. Parents of the other students know me and my children know that I am an active participant in their education. Not just because I show up at school but because I am involved with their homework too.

But I am not involved solely because it is a private school. I am involved because I believe that a parent is obligated to help their children with their education. I am involved because I think that a school that doesn’t have an active parent teacher association is on a path to failure.

There is nothing profound about that. Most children would rather play than work, that is not a secret. Active participation by parents helps to minimize the amount of screwing around that goes on versus learning.

So I do what I can to be around and to be involved. And I make a point to always attend events like the open house we went to last night. I like Open House because you see concrete examples of the learning that has been taking place. Art work, science projects and more are on display. In some respects I prefer it to parent/teacher conferences.

I prefer it because at the Open House you gain more insight into the progress of all of the students. You get a chance to see what the teacher has been doing with everyone as well as your child. There is merit in that.

Don’t get me wrong, conferences are important. I like your child, but I love my child more. So I want the individual report. I want to hear first hand from the teacher about their strengths and weaknesses. But I never forget that teachers have to protect themselves too. So I sometimes wonder what they intentionally omit from the conference.

Open house helps to shed some additional light on things. It is not perfect. I don’t expect to learn what really happens in school from it, but I do expect to learn a little bit more about it.

And I really do enjoy visiting the art/science fair to see which students actually did the work versus those that received special help from adults. Because let’s be honest about it, some of the more sophisticated projects weren’t done by an 8/9 year old. They weren’t done by the 12 year-olds either.

That is not to say that you won’t find the exceptional student who can do it, but they are the exception and not the rule.

Take a Walk on The Wild Side

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Your name is Johnny and you have been in love with June for so many years you can’t remember what it was like before her.  The two of you had a whirlwind romance that took you both by surprise. It was unexpected and unlooked for, but deeply appreciated.

Together you built a secret world and learned about love on a level that most people never reach. You shared your thoughts, hopes and dreams. You laughed and learned together, held hands and walked through a land of magic. For a long while you were the kind of couple that people described as being disgustingly happy.


Sweet Home Under White Clouds

For years you ruled your kingdom alongside your queen. It was both magical and mystical. You loved June so damn fiercely that it hurt to be apart from her. You called her your air as she did you. When she told you that no one else could take better care of you than she you smiled and your heart swelled with joy. It was impossible not to smile because you knew that it was true.

So you took her in your arms and promised her the same. You told her that you would love and honor her. You promised to cherish her and protect her. And you did, protect her. There are more than a few occasions upon which you were called upon to ride out the castle gates and meet those who wished her ill.

You didn’t care what the situation was or how badly the odds might be stacked against you. If June was threatened you were going to meet the challenge head on and do what was required to remove the danger. It wasn’t always easy for her to let you go.

It wasn’t just because she worried about Johnny’s safety but because of her own independence. June had never needed to rely upon another to take care of her problems. Her approval of Johnny’s actions were a testament to how deeply she loved him.

But life happens and things changed. One day Johnny and June left the castle and rode out into the forest. They stood beneath a moonlit sky and held hands. Their quiet moment was interrupted by howling. Johnny looked up and found several pairs of eyes staring back at him. Wolves. Not a wolf, but wolves.

You weren’t fazed by the presence of the wolves, not with June standing next to you. You didn’t worry about your own safety all you cared about was protecting your queen.  So you told her to get on the horse and ride for the safety of the castle walls. And when she protested you told her to stop fighting and to get the hell out.

Grudgingly she mounted your horse and began to ride. Less than a moment later you had your arms wrapped around the body of a wolf. And as you struggled to break his neck the rest of the pack attacked. Rolling in the dirt you wondered if she could hear your screams and hoped not.

Later on you would find yourself lying bloodied and bruised upon the forest floor. There was no sign of the wolves and you had no memory of what had happened to them. So you picked yourself up and wandered back towards the castle. Anxious to see June you maintained a quick pace and it wasn’t long before you arrived.

Only this time the castle gates were not open, nor did trumpets blare to herald your return. Instead you were met by silence. The castle was empty. June was gone and there wasn’t any sort of note to indicate where, when or why.

It would take time but eventually you would learn that she had moved on to another place. So you’d set out to go meet her there, it never occurring to you that your queen had intentionally moved. It took a long time to get to the new place, but you did find it. And when you did you discovered that June wasn’t interested in speaking with you.

You’d come to learn that things had happened and changes had come along with those things. June would tell you that she wasn’t going to spend time with you. But because you are Johnny you’d refuse to give up. You’d tell her that you didn’t believe her. You’d tell her that you were certain she was still your girl and that she was still in love with you.

You’d tell her that you knew she was pushing you away and that you thought that she was acting like an idiot. But you’d find that you couldn’t do much about it because sometimes people have to do things on their own. So you decided to wait. You’d make it clear to June that you still loved her. You’d try and take a long term approach and wait because you were convinced that it wasn’t done.

And in the darker moments you’d question your behavior and wonder if you were a fool. But there were also moments where you were certain that you weren’t. Love isn’t rational and it doesn’t work based upon logic.  So you’d wait because you remembered the secret world and knew that she did too. You’d wait and watch for the sign that maybe it wasn’t all in vain.

Who knew that one kiss could change two lives so dramatically.