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 September 2010

I Am a Dad

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(This is the guest post that I wrote for Scary Mommy. If you missed reading it there, you can always read it here.)

Two kids and a dog call me dad, most of the time. Ok, the dog doesn’t call me a damn thing, at least nothing that I can understand. He just barks, wags his tail and pushes his water bowl at me.

Now those two kids, well they call me a bunch of things besides dad. Sometimes they call me abba (Hebrew for father) or daddy. Occasionally the dark haired beauty calls me da-da and then gives me a mischievous smile. After that I usually grab her and pull her into a bear hug and then tell her that she can’t use that smile on me.

She giggles and says that she doesn’t know what I am talking about and then I give that smile right back to her. It is the one that makes my friends and family crazy, that smile. When they see it they can’t help but wonder what I am up to. I love it- it fills that part of me that likes pretend that he is still a kid.

That smile makes you wonder where your wallet is. You can’t help but reach for your pants pocket or purse. And you just know that any moment the telephone is going to start ringing with some angry parent or authority figure on the other line.

I have to admit that it is much more fun to write about it as a description of me, Good Old Jack than to include my daughter in it. More fun because as a parent I can’t help but worry about these kids. And if you want to know what my biggest fear is, I’ll tell you right now- I am worried that they will be just like me.

That is right- I am sometimes terrified that they will be as dumb as I was. I worry that they’ll get bored in school because they aren’t being challenged and that they’ll develop bad study habits. I worry that they’ll figure out the angles for getting things done faster and take advantage of short cuts.

I worry that they’ll think that they are smart enough to talk their way out of anything and that they’ll jump off of the roof into the swimming pool. I worry that my daughter, who is already as tough as nails will insist on maintaining her stance that she can do anything her brother can.

Some of my concerns aren’t worth worrying about now- she is six so why do I even think about her dating. But I do. She loves boys and I know how boys think. I know how many ways they can come up with for making girls feel special and smart. I know that sometimes they don’t really mean the things that they say and I fear that my daughter will get hurt.

So I have instructed her older brother to prepare himself. I am going to send him away, to a Tibetan monastery where he will be instructed in many arts of defense. He is going to come back as a very peaceful boy, who just happens to know 1,983 ways to kill.

I can’t always be around to protect her- so I might as well take advantage of his services. Speaking of services I wonder if those monks are going to be able to help him learn his Torah portion. Granted he has a few years before his Bar Mitzvah is upon us, but one has to plan for all this.

So now I have the simple task of convincing his mother that there is this great boarding school that is going to provide him with an education that he can’t get here. And let me tell you, that will be one of the great sales jobs of all time.

Mom is no dummy, so I am not really sure how I am going to do it. I considered trying to convince her that he is going to Hogwarts but I can’t make my wand work that way. Um, maybe we better skip this part.

Or maybe we should talk about how I am going to convince his little sister that it is ok for him to leave for a while. That is going to be tough, because in her eyes there is no bigger hero than her big brother.

Truth is that if he eventually decides that girls aren’t stupid and icky he might date one or two. And should they break his heart, his little sister might try to break their arms. She once screamed at me for yelling at him to turn the volume down on that damn DS. I don’t know about you, but the beeps and whistles make me crazy.

Anyhoo, that girl walked over to me and started wiggling her little finger in my face. I had to work hard to look chastised- couldn’t tell her how very proud I was of her. Those kids might make me lose all my hair by taking on some of my crazier traits, but damn if they don’t do a fine job of looking out for each other.

Guess we’re doing something right in how we are raising them.

The Chicago Way

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Old Jack was the recipient of bad news. Unexpected and unsought it found me unprepared and unhappy to hear it. But that is how it goes with bad news. It doesn’t come at you when you are ready and waiting for it. It ambushes you, comes at you in a sneak attack.

But someone forgot to tell it that 2010 is the Year of Jack. Someone forgot to tell it that the Jewish New Year has just rolled around and it is 5771. Someone forgot to tell that news that I am in Samuel Jackson mode and I am one bad motherfucker. Someone forgot to tell that news that half the city of Chicago is related to me and though I live in paradise I am well versed with The Chicago Way.

The Chicago Way is one of my favorite sections of The Untouchables.

Malone: You said you wanted to get Capone. Do you really wanna get him? You see what I’m saying is, what are you prepared to do?
Ness: Anything and everything in my power.
Malone: And *then* what are you prepared to do? If you open the can on these worms you must be prepared to go all the way because they’re not gonna give up the fight until one of you is dead.
Ness: How do you do it then?
Malone: You wanna know how you do it? Here’s how, they pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That’s the Chicago way, and that’s how you get Capone! Now do you want to do that? Are you ready to do that?
Ness: I have sworn to capture this man with all legal powers at my disposal and I will do so.
Malone: Well, the Lord hates a coward. Do you know what a blood oath is, Mr. Ness?
Ness: Yes.
Malone: Good, ’cause you just took one.

Someone better let the bad news know that I am not smiling- not now, not at this. Better tell that bad news that the dark haired beauty and her big brother don’t look up to me because I am taller. As Clint says, I finish things. That is what I do.

I am a goddamn Taurus and I haven’t any problem in using my horns. Much prefer to be like Ferdinand and just relax but sometimes that is not an option. So now that I have given that bad news fair warning I am ready, but I am not waiting.

No need for Malone to ask my what I am prepared to do because a father does what he needs to do to look after his family. A father is part man, part hero and part beast. Which reminds me, sometimes a father needs to shower because the beastly smell sometimes overtakes essence de hero.

Which reminds me, I don’t get that. You’d think that the hero smell would outrank the beast smell. Kind of makes me scratch my head and say inconceivable- but I digress.

So someone better tell that bad news to watch out. Someone better tell bad news to get on a bus or a plane. Or better yet tell bad news to meet me out by the woodshed, but only one of us is going to walk back on their own two legs.

Time to roll folks, back with an update later.

A Girl and a Boy

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I am madly in love with a girl who has dark hair and dark eyes. The hardest part is that she knows this. She knows that I am crazy about her and has tried to use it against me on more than one occasion. She thinks nothing of throwing her arms around me so that she can kiss my cheek. She whispers that she loves me and waits for me to do her bidding.

So I tell her that I have a secret for her and motion for her to come closer. Her eyes get wide and I whisper in her ear…no. Suddenly she shrieks, “daddy” and then stomps her foot. I look at her and suggest that she go stomp her feet in her room. The foot stomping ends and she tells me that her friend’s father buys her whatever she wants.

I laugh and tell her that I don’t care. My goal is to be mean. She rolls her eyes at me and I give her a hard look. Her older brother is only too happy to volunteer that she is on the verge of getting into big trouble. “Can’t you see that dad is getting angry.”

I turn and look at him. I don’t have to say anything, he already knows what is going to happen. But I want to be consistent, so I remind him that it is not his business to keep the dark haired beauty in line anymore than it is her to watch over him. He nods his head and I turn back.

A few hours earlier these children of mine were running around the soccer fields chasing balls and players. While they ran I marched up and down the sidelines yelling words of encouragement and begging the six year-old girls to pay attention to the game. For a while they would be focused on the game and then something would happen, a butterfly or cloud would catch their eye and they’d be lost.

Sometimes I’d see a group of them talking to each other, teammates and opponents talking about who knows what. Little girls, cute and cuddly sharing whatever it is little girls share until a mother or mothers joined the cries of run. Can’t tell you what made the moms stand up but at one point I watched as two shouted across the field at their daughters. There was something going on that didn’t feel quite right.

So I ambled on over and stood between the two and shouted again. Couldn’t tell if either of them saw me smirk as my voice drowned out their screams. But then again I didn’t care. These girls are six and I want them to have fun.

A bit later I found myself pacing the sidelines of the ten year old boys. Again I was shouting words of encouragement, but the boys are different than the girls. They’re older and more talented so I expect more out of them.

At ten I have noticed that the talent gap is becoming more pronounced. Some of the boys are exceptional and can already do things that the others can’t. Some of them are really fast. They can’t beat me in a foot race yet but I can see that the day is coming. It won’t be long before I have to worry about a sprint the way that I worry about a distance race.

One of the fathers is shouting at the boys more aggressively than I like so I ask him to tone it down. I do my best to make it calm and non-threatening but he is clearly irritated with me. At half time I notice that he has scribbled some sort of play on the back of some scratch paper. His manner reminds me George C. Scott in the opening scene of Patton. For a moment I consider saluting him and then I decide that he deserves a different sort of salute.

But I don’t really see a need for that so I let it go. Out on the field some boy keeps pushing my son. I wait for a response that I know will be coming. I don’t want to shout and bring attention to it. Given a choice I want the boys to work it out themselves. Thus far I am not worried about anyone getting hurt, it is just two boys doing what they do. But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want my son to drop the shoulder on him.

Moments later there is a two minute water break. I take my son to the side and tell him that he can’t let the other boy push him. I don’t want him to hurt him- no elbows or punches are to be thrown but I want him to push him back. He does as I ask and the other boy stops pushing him. The game is clean again.

A moment later the dark haired beauty will tell me that she wants her brother to hit him. I tell her that it is not necessary and she tells me that she is worried about him. I smile again- these children of mine understand that they need to look out for each other. We’re doing something right with them.

The games will end and they’ll spend the rest of the day playing like best friends or screaming at each other. In between they’ll find ways to make me lose more hair and I’ll wonder what the hell I was thinking becoming a father. Later on that night I’ll kiss and hug them good night and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I complained. I love being dad, there is nothing better.