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"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

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Archives for May 2010

If You Died, Who Would Take Care Of Your Children

May 20, 2010 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

This may be a recycled post but it is an incredibly important topic and something that hasn’t been resolved in my home. Last year two friends died leaving behind more than two widowers- they left four children. Four children lost their mothers- a stark reminder that things happen.

So again I find myself confronting this issue, trying to figure out what should happen if the worst came about. Somewhat coincidentally I stumbled onto Bruce Feiler’s book, or should I say a review of it and well, here I am.

Tonight I am going to go lie in bed and try to figure out what to do. Tonight I’ll close my eyes and consider who I can ask and who I want to look out for the children. It is so very hard because no one will love or take care of them in the same manner as their parents, but that cannot prevent us from making hard choices.

Anyway, the text below is from the original post. Not much has changed since then, not necessarily because of lack of effort either, but that is a different tale.

If you ever want to kill a conversation. If you ever want to change the tone into something more somber and muted ask a parent if they have made plans for where the children would live if something happened to them.

It is a frightening topic. It is a hard topic. It is uncomfortable to consider what would happen to your children if they were to lose their parents. It is painful to think about a future in which you do not participate.

It is a discussion that you have to have. As a parent you have to take the time to consider all of the angles. If the worst happens, who gets the kids. Who do you trust to raise them. If the worst happens is there someone who can provide for them. Is there is friend or family member who you can rely upon to take care of your children.

Will they respect your wishes and impart the same values upon them that you would. And assuming that you have someone in mind that you would like to act as a surrogate parent, will they be capable of taking this responsibility on.

One of my sisters and I recently spent time talking about this. We live on opposite coasts. She is on the Frigid East and I am out here in the Sunny West. Neither one of us is likely to pick up and move any time soon so if anything happened there is a good chance that the kids would find that their worlds had been turned upside down in every possible way.

Of course this is only a hypothetical, a worst case scenario that we hope never develops into any sort of twisted reality.

But you know the old saying, people plan and G-d laughs. As we head into another new year I ask again to be given the opportunity to see my job through. At a minimum I need another 100 years or so.

I’d like to meet my great-grandchildren. Is that so much to ask for.

Filed Under: Children

Elephants: The African Gentle Giants – ABC News

May 20, 2010 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

Filed Under: animals

Midweek Musical Meanderings

May 20, 2010 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

It has been one hell of a week for me. There have been multiple moments of madness and madcap mania. More than a few times I have found myself staring off into space lost in thought about things that are best left unsaid.

But here we are, midway through the week and most importantly still standing in an upright position. In a few hours we’ll settle in to watch the Lakers and relax. For now here is a snapshot of some of the music that helped make it manageable.


Mess Around– Ray Charles
Hit The Road Jack– Ray Charles
I Got A Woman– Ray Charles
Night Time Is The Right Time– Ray Charles
Hobo Blues– John Lee Hooker
Layla– Derek And The Dominos
Tired of Waiting– The Kinks
The Mighty Quinn– Manfred Mann
Slip Away– Clarence Carter
The Sloop John B– The Beach Boys

Filed Under: Music

The Race for My Heart

May 18, 2010 by Jack Steiner 1 Comment

A good story has a beginning, a middle and an end. It is filled with interesting characters that face and overcome challenges. A good story will make you grin, but a great story will make you smile. We’re not talking about the kind of smile you give your neighbor when you pass by on the way down the driveway to collect the newspaper.

No, a great story provides you with the kind of smile that tells that world that your spirit has just been lifted and your heart is full of joy. Some people will tell you that these stories are few and far between. If you listen to them they’ll convince you that the reason those stories are so impressive is because of their scarcity. They’ll claim that the lack of frequency, their uncommon nature are part of what make them so special.

Not me, no sir, not I. I won’t give any credence to such nonsense because I know better. Not because I am good at spinning a yarn or adept at telling tales. I know better because I have lived such moments and have an eye for identifying what is special about the seemingly ordinary.

It is a gift that was given to me at birth or so I like to claim. An ability that is not limited to myself, it is really more of a skill that can be gained and improved upon. All it takes is desire and practice. Give of yourself and you’ll find that it exists for you too.

At least that is how I see it. That is the perspective that I have gained after what feels like a thousand years of riding the roller coasters of life. I have loved and lost. I have been loved. I have allowed myself to roam the fields of fire and burned because that was what was required. It wasn’t always easy and there have been more than a few moments in which I have been convinced that I have earned the title of “moronic fool.”

There a million different stories and reasons why. The simple and easiest explanation is to say that I suffered from Don Quixote syndrome and attacked too many windmills. Or so I told myself in moments of doubt and frustration. Some of those were hard times, dark days for myself.

They were days in which dancing in the fire brought more pain than success. Days in which I’d look in the mirror and ask myself if I was suffering from delusions of grandeur. I’d wonder why my reflection didn’t step out from behind the frame and start beating me over the head with whatever object was handy.

It might have made me happier because then I could say that I was crazy, and not in the crazy like a fox way. But I wasn’t crazy then and I am not crazy now. I am now and was then in complete control of my faculties. If anything I suffered from impatience and a fear of what could happen.

But the reason that I think that I am living out one of the great stories that is that I found my heart. Found her and lost her.

“Hello. How are you?
Have you been alright, through all those lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely nights
That’s what I’d say. I’d tell you everything
If you’d pick up that telephone yeah yeah yeah

Hey. How you feelin?
Are you still the same?
Don’t you realize the things we did, we did, were all for real, not a dream?
I just can’t believe
They’ve all faded out of view yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah”
Telephone Line– Electric Light Orchestra

The how and why don’t matter or should I say that they belong to to two people and if you have to ask then you aren’t one of them. That is not to say that I won’t share bits and pieces or that you can’t guess. I don’t say that for the purpose of encouraging you too either, but I know enough about people to know that some of you can’t help it.

And to that other, well I told you a thousand years ago that where I walk thunder and lightning follow. I said that I have been forced to learn how to ride out the storms because that is just how it has been. I promised passion. I promised fire. One kiss and nothing would ever be the same.

I can’t say that you gave me your heart or that I gave you mine because we already shared that. It is hokey, it is a cliche and a million other things but it is true. You know it and I know it. Don’t need anyone else to approve or understand because that is not who we are.

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion –
I have shudder’d at it.
I shudder no more.
I could be martyr’d for my religion
Love is my religion
And I could die for that.
I could die for you.”
~ by John Keats ~

Some would call those mere words on a page. They’d ask for more than a few lines as proof. Or they might point out the inconsistencies and inadequacies of those who directed those words to their attention. And it might be understood why and how they do it.

It is easier to run away from some things. Easier to hide from the spotlight and to avoid its glare. I know because I have done both. I have lived on both sides of the fence.

“You will never know true happiness
until you have truly loved,
and you will never understand
what pain really is
until you have lost it.”
~ by Anonymous ~

“I’d like to run away
From you,
But if you didn’t come
And find me …
I would die.”
~ by Shirley Bassey ~

There is so much truth that. Such raw honesty and such power. The joy and ecstasy of true happiness can inspire you to reach for the heights you might not otherwise seek. But the flip side can be crushing. To have such a love and lose it is heart wrenching. It will strip you bare and leave you naked and hurting far more quickly than one can imagine.

Instead of basking in the warmth of the fire you find yourself burning, screaming for someone to put out the fire. And the person you seek isn’t there to quench those flames. For whatever reason they are gone, moved on to greener or different pastures.

But if you can withstand the flames and sustain yourself there is more to be found. If you maintain the presence of mind to be aware there are lessons to be learned. If you can catch your breath you can find a way to fortify your heart and to build a new foundation.

You can call that hyperbole or label it juvenile prose with an unhealthy tinge of melodrama if you’d like. Perhaps it is. I’d say that is a just a little bit to the left of such a place and that if we included some sort of line of about a phoenix raising from the ashes than your comment would be well earned.

But that is not the case and that is part of what makes this one of the great stories. Because we started a story whose end must now wait. It is case of the tortoise and the hare, this is not a sprint. This is not so different from the runners you watched above. The men who ran alongside the waves did not have a finish line in sight. They ran because that was what was required to get them to where they want to go. They understood that the finish line was somewhere down the road.

And that is how I see it. The race for my heart isn’t going to be finished any time soon. But one day I will see that line and when the time is right I’ll cross over it.

Filed Under: Fragments of Fiction

Vocabulary Words #12

May 18, 2010 by Jack Steiner 2 Comments

Welcome to the 12th edition of Vocabulary words. I love to write and enjoy learning new words. Below you will find a list of words that I have stumbled upon and decided to share with you. It is not in alphabetical order. Instead sets of words appear from their respective editions.
Here are the new words for this edition:
Opsimath– N. a person who becomes a student or learner late in life.
Climacteric– n.1 : a major turning point or critical stage
2 a : menopause b : a period in the life of a male corresponding to female menopause and usually occurring with less well-defined physiological and psychological changes
3 : the marked and sudden rise in the respiratory rate of fruit just prior to full ripening.
Prolix-adj. 1 : unduly prolonged or drawn out : too long
2 : marked by or using an excess of words
Confluence: n. 1 : a coming or flowing together, meeting, or gathering at one point
2 a : the flowing together of two or more streams b : the place of meeting of two streams c : the combined stream formed by conjunction 
Tendentious-adj. marked by a tendency in favor of a particular point of view.
Here is part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part 6, part seven, part eight, part nine, part 10 and part 11.
A list of previously used words can be found just below:
esurient- hungry, greedy
Nugatory–1 : of little or no consequence  2 : having no force.
acatalepsy-Incomprehensibility of things; the doctrine held by the ancient Skeptic philosophers, that human knowledge never amounts to certainty, but only to probability.
acephalist– One who acknowledges no head or superior.
Raconteur-One who tells stories and anecdotes with skill and wit.
Callipygian–adj.Having beautifully proportioned buttocks.
Lachrymose–adj.
  1. Weeping or inclined to weep; tearful.
  2. Causing or tending to cause tears.
Perspicacious–adj. Having or showing penetrating mental discernment; clear-sighted.
Flibbertigibbet–n. A silly, scatterbrained, or garrulous person.
Jejune-adj. Not interesting; dull: “and there pour forth jejune words and useless empty phrases” (Anthony Trollope).
Lacking maturity; childish: surprised by their jejune responses to our problems.
Lacking in nutrition: a jejune diet
Ollendorffian– in the stilted language of foreign phrase-books.
gerascophobia –a morbid, irrational fear of, or aversion to, growing old.
bathysiderodrophobia –the fear of subways, undergrounds or metros.
hormephobia-Fear of shock.
cacoethes loquendi-the irresistible urge to speak.
cacoethes scribendi-the irresistible urge to write
saudade-[Port.] yearning or longing, but more than that…
Scaturient-L. scaturiens, p. pr. of scaturire gush out, from scatere to bubble, gush.]
Gushing forth; full to overflowing; effusive. [R.]
Walpurgisnacht1) the eve of May Day on which witches are held to ride to an appointed rendezvous
2) something (as an event or situation) having a nightmarish quality
barlafumble[fr. parley, call for truce + ?] Scot. obs.
a call for a truce by one who has fallen in fighting or play; a request for a time out
defalcate–intr.v., -cat·ed, -cat·ing, -cates. To misuse funds; embezzle.
Dactylonomy–n.[Gr. da`ktylos finger + no`mos law, distribution.]
The art of numbering or counting by the fingers.
recrudesce–intr.v., -desced, -desc·ing, -desc·es.To break out anew or come into renewed activity, as after a period of quiescence.
videlicet-vÄ­-dÄ•l’Ä­-sÄ•t’, vÄ«-, wÄ­-dā’lÄ­-kÄ•t’) pronunciation
adv. (Abbr. viz.)
That is; namely. Used to introduce examples, lists, or items.
temerarious–adj. Presumptuously or recklessly daring
Tentiginous-[L. tentigo, -inis, a tension, lecherousness, fr. tendere, tentum, to stretch.]
1. Stiff; stretched; strained. [Obs.] Johnson. 2. Lustful, or pertaining to lust. [Obs.] B. Jonson
Urinator–n.[L., from urinari to plunge under water, to dive.]
One who dives under water in search of something, as for pearls; a diver.
usufruct–n.The right to use and enjoy the profits and advantages of something belonging to another as long as the property is not damaged or altered in any way.
Jackpudding–n.A merry-andrew; a buffoon.
Jobbernowl–n.[OE. jobbernoule, fr. jobarde a stupid fellow; cf. E. noll.]
A blockhead.
nikhedonia-fr. Nike, the Greek goddess of victory + hedoné, pleasure] the pleasure derived from anticipating success
quidnunckery-[fr. L. quid nunc, what now] nonce-word curiosity, love of news or gossip (also quid-nunc-ism)
mancinism-the condition of being left-handed
macroverbumsciolist– 1) a person who is ignorant of large words
2) a person who pretends to know a word, then secretly refers to a dictionary.
mastigophorer-obs. a fellow worthy to be whipped.
matutolypea-getting up on the wrong side of the bed.
xenodochiophobia -the fear of foreign hospitality (worry about foreign hotels).
Xenodochium-n.(a) (Class. Antiq.) A house for the reception of strangers. (b) In the Middle Ages, a room in a monastery for the reception and entertainment of strangers and pilgrims, and for the relief of paupers. [Called also Xenodocheion.]
Knobstick-n. 1. One who refuses to join, or withdraws from, a trade union. [Cant, Eng.]
2. A stick, cane, or club terminating in a knob; esp., such a stick or club used as a weapon or missile; a knobkerrie.
effulgence-\i-FUL-juhn(t)s\, noun:
The state of being bright and radiant; splendor; brilliance.
[Webster 1913 Suppl.]
divaricate-To diverge at a wide angle; spread apart.
Otiant– idle; resting.
machicolation– n. apertures in parapet or floor of gallery for firing upon persons below. machicolate, v.t. furnish with these
Secern– To discern as separate; discriminate.
prothalamion -A song in celebration of a wedding; an epithalamium.
a capite ad calcem–From head to heel.
ad internecionem– To extermination.
Abusus non tollit usum-Wrong use does not preclude proper use.
ad captandum vulgus-To attract or to please the rabble.
Abligurition– n.[L. abligurito, fr. abligurire to spend in luxurious indulgence; ab + ligurire to be lickerish, dainty, fr. lingere to lick.]
Prodigal expense for food. [Obs.] Bailey.
Anililagnia– an attraction to older women.
Armsaye: the armhole in clothing.
Euneirophrenia: peace of mind after a pleasant dream.
Suppedaneum: foot support for crucifix victims.
Adfenestration: V. The act of entering through a window, usually surreptitiously.
Vatic–adj.Of or characteristic of a prophet; oracular.

Filed Under: Vocabulary, Words, Writing

Memories of A Day

May 18, 2010 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

Memories of a hard day called Monday by some and something else by me. Long hours spent in heavy negotiations about the future. Hard fought victories of the past paraded past me but viewed through the prism of loss. Optimism tempered by reality and a healthy dose of day dreaming.

Screaming children running through the house pursued by the happy barks of a puppy. They create an impromptu racetrack and run round it for a solid thirty minutes. One parent sleeps while the other watches the Laker game and listens to the happy shrieking.

Dad mulls over whether to let the game continue or to end it now before laughter turns to tears. He opts not to, not because it would interfere with watching the game but because sister and brother are working together. They are a very happy team and though it means that dinner and bedtime may come a bit later it is worth letting them experience the joy that only siblings know.

Let them run wild and run free. For these few moments let them continue to be lost in the fun. Later on they’ll forget about this and the fighting will resume. It is normal sibling rivalry, nothing unusual about it at all. Even so there is merit in allowing this nonsense to continue. In spite of the pounding headache and the craziness let them run because it makes me smile to see them.

Yes, I can see them running. They don’t know that periodically I look out the bedroom window and watch them run in circles. They are completely unaware that just as they never stop listening we don’t either. The lack of response from parents doesn’t always mean a lack of interest.

We have spoken about picking our moments. We have spoken about choosing which battles to fight, but I don’t think that they recognize that this is part of the daily routine. Every day is filled with choices and options. Every day has moments in which we decide whether to throw down the gauntlet. Sometimes the best choice is to ignore them or at least push them off for a little while because they aren’t going away, these challenges.

I am reminded of the weekend. The dark haired beauty goes off to a friend’s house for a sleepover. Her big brother and I decide that we need man time to do manly things. We have hours and hours to ourselves. The big guy and I talk and play. We wrestle and roll on the floor. Seventy pounds of boy with boundless amounts of energy attacks me with all that he has. Alternating between laughter and frustration he wonders why he can’t beat me.

I laugh and tell him that when I am 130 he still won’t be able to take me. Silently I wonder when it will happen. When will the day come when I am no longer stronger than my son. It is a bittersweet thought. My fragile male ego loves it, hates it. I don’t concede such things…ever.

But I want it for him. I want him to feel it. I want him to have the joy of feeling a body that you know can do anything. I want him to have what I have had and then some. But I am a long way off from being ready for that. After all he is almost 10 and I am 41. It is still natural for me to win.

So while I don’t have to try exceptionally hard I don’t just give in either. I teach him some more moves, show him how leverage can help you win. Work with him so that when he wrestles with the bigger boys he has a shot. Later we’ll have lunch and I’ll take out some tools and show him how they work.

Evening comes and his sister finally returns home. She sits on the couch in the living room and he tells her that he is glad that she is home. It is particularly tender moment. She immediately recognizes that he is not always like this and tries to hug him. But that is too much, he jumps off the couch, wagging his finger at her.

She climbs into my lap and complains that he won’t let her hug him. She loves him, doesn’t he love her. I smile and reassure her that he does. I don’t tell her that he is doing this with his mother and I. If his friends are around he is cautious about whether he will allow himself to be hugged or kissed.

I get away with it more easily than his mother, but that is only because I camouflage it with roughhousing. I grab him, shake him and give him a good squeeze. That doesn’t affect his cool factor or whatever it is he is trying to protect.

It is ok with me, this independence. I won’t make him hold hands in the parking lot. But he knows that is contingent upon his demonstrating that he is cognizant of the cars and people around him.

Later on dinner has been served and homework has been completed. I am standing in the bathroom installing  a new medicine cabinet. The box said that it was the same size as the old unit, but it is clearly a hair off. I am going to have to mess around a bit with things to see that it looks right. I call him in to help and to teach.

The dark haired beauty is irritated. She wants to help, but frankly she is too short for this task. She yells at me that girls can do anything boys can do. I am tempted to tell her that she can’t put out a campfire while standing straight up, but that is not really something dad should say. So I tell her the truth, “you’re not tall enough yet.”

She yells at me again, says that she is taller than some of the other girls and boys. I smile and say that she is, tell her that she is average height and that is good. She stomps out and slams her bedroom door. Damn these girls and their drama. Reminds me of my sisters- don’t tell me that boys and girls are the same.

Later on she is the one that will clean up my knuckle. I have a small cut, but she insists on being the one to clean and bandage it.

Finally I am in bed, exhausted from a hard day filled with more than I share. But as I drift off to bed I think about the kids laughter and smile.

Filed Under: Children

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