Archives for December 2010

It is early evening Tuesday night and the house is empty. With the exception of myself and the dog this place is devoid of the clickety-clack clang, clang, clang clang went the trolley chaos of children. But it won’t be like this for long so I am trying to take advantage of the silence to write down my thoughts.

The theme to The Magnificent Seven is playing in the background and I suppose that it is appropriate in a way. Early tomorrow morning my mother is going to visit the hospital so that they can take care of an unusual issue. There, eema, I was intentionally vague so that no one knows what is happening. Ok, only somewhat vague because whomever reads this will know that you and some doctor(s) are going to spend time together.

None of the grandchildren know about this, not because it is such a big deal because we don’t really know if it is, but still they don’t know because they don’t need to know. I kind of like saying need to know because it allows me to say that only people who need to know can know about this and they don’t need to know.

I am not really nervous about this because as of right now there isn’t a reason to be. But I am aware that things can change and though I am confident that they will not, well….Let’s just say that I started this blog because when dad had his illness and almost died this place helped to keep me sane.

Life feels very different now. You don’t really want to hear this, but I took a picture of you guys on the sidelines last weekend and you looked older. It was a bit surreal because I know precisely how old you both are, but until I saw that picture I didn’t think that you actually look like you could be senior citizens. In the grand scheme of things you really aren’t that old and you are both younger than the parents of most of my friends.

So as I sit here listening to the Magnificent Seven I can’t help but remember being quite little and telling you that I wanted to be a cowboy. For that matter I remember playing a lot of games with you when I was little. Not sure if I had thought about it recently but it occurs to me that I remember quite a bit from when I was roughly kindergarten age. I remember you taking care of me when I was sick and the lunches you used to make.

I remember so many things and I realize that in these memories you are younger than am now. That seems kind of strange, because I am at least ten years older now than you were in these memories of mine.

On a side note, have I ever told you that my children think it is strange to hear me call you anything other than grandma. They once said something to me about it and I said that in spite of appearances, I was not born via immaculate conception. Nor can I say that you or dad ever treated me as if I was godlike, although there is still time to rectify that. I know, I know it is not going to happen but if I didn’t ask I wouldn’t be me.

Don’t blame me when I tell my sisters that you did indeed do this, they won’t believe it but a brother’s job is to keep his sisters in line and I dare not falter from my god given duty.

Anyway, unless things change I intend to see you when you come home from the hospital. If for some reason this turns into something other than an in and out procedure I will certainly come visit.

All that being said, I remain your little boy who is no longer so little. When did you get to be so short. 😉 Love you lots, Me.

This is another post you won’t read. You won’t read it because 1,987 other things are fighting for your attention. Twitter, blogs, kids, work and Facebook. Larry next door and his pal Skelling keep guffawing over something stupid not to mention that the droning beat from some jerk in an Escalade are all part of it. If I were a paranoid man I’d say that it was a conspiracy designed to keep me down and pinned in place.

But I am not paranoid. You can say that I am angry. You can paint me frustrated and ask if there are better ways to express my ire or give voice to my rage. You can narrow your eyes as you read this twice and try to figure out if there are secret messages being sent from within the paragraphs and I will say yes. There are relatively few posts in which I don’t address you in some way or another. However the basic premise of the blog haven’t changed, I write for me first and everyone else second.

This virtual home of mine is my Fortress of Solitude. It is a vault of secrets both open and disguised. If you ask for reasons why I feel as I do I can give them to you. There is frustration with the mistakes that I have made. Yes, I am sometimes guilty of beating myself up over my mistakes but I also am frustrated at times by things that I cannot control. Frustrated because I know what it is that I need to do and the nicks, scrapes and bruises of life slow and prevent this from happening.

But prevention doesn’t imply that they stop me- they only slow me down. That fire in my belly that burns so brightly doesn’t allow for me to be other than who I am. I like thinking about life changing moments. I learn from them. I look at them and consider what is important and what makes me happy. Some of these line items have changed and some have become more clear.

I will not live a life of fear and denial. I will not compromise on the core beliefs and needs of who I am. I cannot because without them I am but a shell of myself. So I will continue to actively work on living my dreams and not dreaming my life away. I will continue to work on accepting that I cannot control or change everything and that sometimes you have to go along to get along.

Each day I am one step closer to meeting my goals. Even though it may not always be evident I see and feel the progress. Sometimes I see this as being similar to my time at the gym. It is hard not being 20 anymore. My mind remembers what the body could do and expects it to respond as it alway had. On the court I am a half step slower and the recovery period is longer.

But I am smarter and wiser. I have become better and grown because I have been forced to use all of the tools at my disposal. And not everything has changed. The weights go up with the same ease as they always have but diminished elasticity means that I have had to make adjustments there too. But the adjustments and changes haven’t prevented me from doing what it is that I wish to do.

The best is yet to come. It is not a silly slogan or something that I say to mask the failure of other ventures. It is not a bandage to stop the bleeding either. It is what I believe. It is what I believe because the past has taught me that this is true. It is what I believe because I refuse to live a life where I don’t see something better coming down the road. The day that I can’t believe that better is coming will be my last.

It is hard sometimes when you cannot see the future. The inclination is to be conservative and not shake things up but that isn’t always the best way of doing things. I learned that almost 8 years ago. It took a while but I figured out many things. Life is filled with twists and turns that may take you through Dallas and Cleveland or other parts unknown.

I am less concerned about where I am then who is there with me. Time will tell.

One of the little things in life that irritates me are the marketing efforts of retailers who provide coupons and or club cards. The reason being is that if I come without those items they charge me one price, but if I come with them they charge me another.

I know that even with the coupons they are still making money, if they were not they wouldn’t make such offers. So what this really says to me is that they will try and gouge me for more as often as possible.

I’d feel better if there was one set price.

He needs a haircut this boy of mine. It is kind to call it tousled because the truth is that he hates brushing it. Ok, maybe hate is too strong a word but he doesn’t like it. He goes to a religious day school so he wears a kipah (yarmulke) to school five days a week. He and his friends prefer a larger model that fits over their entire head. They like it because when they run it doesn’t fly off of their heads.

This battle of the brush is similar to the bed making battle. He doesn’t see the point of making his bed because he is just going to get back in it. I understand and I don’t fault his logic but I still make the bed each day. He figures that brushing his hair is a waste of time because he is just going to cover it.

I tell him that I understand his concerns but that he is going to do these things anyhow. Sometimes he glares at me and I am tempted to call him Paul, or Ringo. He doesn’t really look like them, but the hair reminds me a bit of the early Beatles mop top look. I look him in the eye and remind him that my job is simple- get him ready for life. That is what parents do, teach our children how to get along in the world.

He nods his head and smiles…most of the time. Sometimes he finds holes in my arguments, logical fallacies and asks about them. The inconsistencies irritate him and he tells me that life is unfair. I say that he is right and point out that he should do as I say, not as I do.

I remember the irritation I felt at receiving this sort of instruction and how I promised myself not to do it. Well, I broke that promise to myself for the same reason that many parents have, exhaustion. Children don’t have as many concerns as we do so it is easy for them to grind you about xyz. They have endless energy and sometimes you don’t so you go to the default answer, “because I said so’ or the “do as I say, not as I do” line.

Sometimes I tell him that parents are people and that I am going to make a mistake. He wants to know how many mistakes I have made and what I did. I tell him that I have made many and that I still think about some of them. I don’t get into details because he doesn’t really need or want those. What he wants is reassurance that we can recover from the mistakes we make.

The timing is interesting because his questions comes a few hours after we talk about what it means to get divorced. Several of his friends have parents who are splitting up and he wants to know if you can make a mistake and marry the wrong person. It is a legitimate question and I tell him that it is possible. He asks how you fix that kind of mistake and I tell him that it is hard to answer that, but that maybe for some people it is by splitting up.

He wants to know if people get remarried and I say yes. He asks me if people learn from their first marriage so that they don’t make the same mistake. I say that I hope so. He tells me that he still doesn’t want to get married. I say that it is ok with me and that he doesn’t have to. He asks me if I think that he’ll always feel this way and I say no.

This is not the answer he wants and he makes a face. So I tell him that he doesn’t have to, but I have to be honest and that one day he might find girls to be interesting in ways that doesn’t see now. He looks at from beneath that mop of hair and says that might be true but they’ll still say stupid things and play stupid games. I can’t help but laugh at this and I tell him he has plenty of time before he needs to worry about it.

He nods his head and resumes building his Lego Star Wars ship. I take a hard look at him because I can’t believe that it is just a few more weeks before he turns ten.  Yesterday he was five, tomorrow he might be fifteen. I know that is an exaggeration, but I still can’t believe how fast it all has gone. For a moment longer I stare at him and wonder what the fifteen year old will be like.

If his growth is like mine I will still be taller, but he won’t be far behind. He’ll tower over his mother and sister. If he goes away to school than he is already half way out of the house.I am happy to wait for this to happen, happy to let time slow down for a while. Not ready to be the father of a teenager or a college student. Not old enough for either, doesn’t anyone remember that I am only 25.