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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

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Archives for May 2011

Dealing With Divorce

May 17, 2011 by Jack Steiner 37 Comments

plug hole

The call came during the middle of the day and not during the crazy hours of early morning or the sometimes ominous of late night. I heard them say two words, “it is over” and then there was silence. The absence of all sounds including breathing added a surreal quality that made the moment feel even harder than one would expect.

One single moment that should have come and gone without notice stretched into eternity and then I heard “what should I do?” The insouciant and sometimes juvenile side wanted to make a crack about how that could be a major improvement for one’s sex life or that alternatively it could be very bad for one’s sex life. I could hear the words in my mind and knew exactly how I wanted to deliver them. “Be glad because even if it is bad it is not a mortal blow,” came to mind followed by a series of other smart ass remarks all of which proved that my sometimes dark and twisted sense of humor was intact.

Just thinking about the word intact reminded me of the crazy and unhinged lunatics who sometimes show up on the blog and tell me that circumcision is wrong. Oftentimes the discussion is with someone who is female and I find myself shaking my head as they try to explain how painful it is and how the memories linger. It is often followed by my making mention that I have fathered children and that the only times I haven’t enjoyed sexual encounter is as a result of encountering teeth, bad breath or bad connections. We’ll leave it at as this has already wandered into the land of TMI.

During that interminably long silence while my mind was wandering and racing around from place to place I tried to focus on the positives. But there are conversations where you don’t engage in any sort of spin or try to provide pleasant platitudes. You don’t do it because sometimes the best answer is silence or a simple, “I am sorry.” Mourning the death of a person or a relationship isn’t wrong or bad. There is a grieving process to go through that is supposed to help those in pain heal, or so they tell me.

I know a few people who haven’t. I know a few people who are broken and seem unable and or unwilling to climb out of the graves that they have dug for themselves. I remember trying to look away at a funeral as a husband wailed and beat the ground because of the loss of his wife. That type of heartbreak isn’t supposed to be shared with those outside of the circle, but sometimes profound sadness can do that to a person.

And then my voice broke the silence and I said, “I am sorry, what can I do.”  And to that I heard, “Nothing, you can’t do anything.” So I sat on the couch in silence, holding the phone to my ear while I tried to come up with something more to say. Except this time there were no snappy comebacks or one liners in my head. All I had was that blanket of silence that covered my mouth and left words unspoken upon my lips.

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Filed Under: Life, Uncategorized

Dad Is A Role Model

May 16, 2011 by Jack Steiner 16 Comments

I hadn’t intended to blog today. I have a guest post running over at C.Mom and more work than I want to think about. If there was ever a time to turn off social media today would be that day. Yet it doesn’t happen because social media has become part of my work responsibilities so I find that I can’t disconnect completely. I can’t turn off my phone or email- can’t get away from the beeps, bells and whistles. In one of the great contradictions of life I find it comforting and infuriating.

Things have happened and are happening. Good and bad things that demarcate big changes and I am at a loss for words. I can’t decide if these represent opportunity, defeat, new beginnings or endings. My skin is tingling and my mind is racing a mile a minute or maybe that is my pulse. It is a mixture of excitement, anxiety and uncertainty regarding the future.

That is because of the mist that clouds my vision. I can’t determine if I hear the echoes of the future or the ghosts of the pasts yanking on chains that are tied to people and places I know or have known. And the problem is that my brain is trying to process it all….now.

What I feel now is a lack of control and that scares me. It scares me because I feel like I am falling and I can’t stop.

So I am blogging now because writing is cathartic and comforting. I am writing because when I put it down on “paper” it enables me to see things more clearly. Clarity is what I need because there are decisions that have to be made and the choices that I make today will most assuredly affect the choices of tomorrow.

Clarity is needed because I teach the children not to panic and I need to know what I’m doing so that I can be the role model that they deserve. Clarity is needed because I can’t gain perspective without it. Clarity is needed so that I can figure out where to step back and what to let go of.

I am reminded of an old saying in Hebrew that translates into English roughly as “don’t lie in a sick bed.” The point is that staying in some situation is simply unhealthy and not very smart. There are some things that you cannot control or change so you need to know when to walk away. Moments like this make think of Max and remind me that I am not him. I can start over and do it all again any time I choose because I never gave up that choice.

If you are among the 17 long time readers of the blog you know that I have a dark side and that I don’t always believe in happy endings. You know that sometimes heroes fail and the bad guys get away. But you also know that sometimes the way that the hero gets his gold star is by getting back up after he has just taken one hell of a beating. And you know that I am just dumb stubborn enough to go to war again. Except this time it is going to be different. This time I am not going to be the Charlie Brown who let’s Lucy pull the ball away at the last moment.

This time I am going to find a way to take the ball even if it means I have to rip Lucy’s arms off to do it. I am hustling. I am running. I am working. I am trying. I am scared but fear can also be a great tool. If you use it properly fear can keep you alive. Master your fear and maybe you figure out how to more than dance in the fire.

And now if you’ll excuse me I have go wipe the blood off of my face. I am about to walk into the cornfields to see what lies beyond….

Filed Under: Uncategorized

He Stole My Lunch

May 15, 2011 by Jack Steiner 30 Comments

He stole my lunch. It might not have been gourmet, but it was mine. A simple paper bag containing some food items that were specially prepared for me. Not unlike many instances of theft the event happened quickly.

I had been walking when I realized that I needed to respond to Mother Nature’s call. I entered the bathroom and placed my bag on the counter next to the sink and sashayed over to the urinal. It was a zip-n-zip moment, which was good because I was quite hungry.

The door slowly creaked open and a man with dirty blond hair walked in. He was wearing torn jeans, a pair of Doc Martens and a stained white t-shirt. Slowly he turned and inch by inch he walked over to the sink to stare at his face.

There was something about the guy that bothered me. He made me feel itchy and a little uneasy. He was my height and had a wiry build. His face was a little worn and I could see that he was not unaccustomed to working with his hands.

It is hard to look intimidating when you are standing in front of a urinal with your pal in your hands, but I did my best. In a different time and place I might have growled at the jackal. Somehow I just knew that he was going to do something to make me mad.

He must have been watching and waiting for the right moment because he timed it perfectly. When he grabbed my lunch I was in the first stages of the initial shake. It wasn’t like I could just start running after him, but at the same time nobody takes my food and gets away with it.

Cursing, I stuffed the little guy back into his home, zipped my pants and set off in pursuit of my lunch. He moved well for a guy wearing boots, but he didn’t count on the power of hunger and the passion a man has to protect what is rightfully his.

We shot down a hallway, weaving in between startled shoppers. I vaulted over a stroller and spun around the cosmetics counter. Barry Sanders never juked and jived like I did. I made OJ’s run through the airport look like he was mired in quicksand. I was getting closer. I just needed another moment and I would be close enough to grab him.

Just as I was about to tackle him the way was blocked by a group of nuns heading through the foodcourt. In exasperation I shouted “Jesus” and then continued on around them. By this point I was losing steam and beginning to huff and puff a little. I was almost ready to give up when he turned around and taunted me with “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

I roared in anger and gave it one last effort and caught up with him in front of the Cinnabon. He was trapped between me and the counter. He smiled at me and tossed the bag over the counter and dared me to do something. That was a mistake, a big mistake.

It took less than a second for me to close the gap between him and myself and not much more than that for me pick him up and body slam on the counter. As he slid over the side he managed to grab ahold of my shirt, ripping the sleeve. I was irritated when he stole my lunch. Now I was pissed off.

I jumped over the counter and grabbed ahold of the jackass. He was stronger than I anticipated with a grip that would have rivaled a pit Bull. But that wasn’t enough. I pinned him against the wall with my left arm and held him there.

“I hope that you are hungry,” I screamed. And with that I grabbed ahold of the Cinnabon dough and started forcing huge gobs of it into his mouth. “How does that taste? Do you like it? Is it good?”

He flailed around with his arms and tried to free himself. “Stop, stop, stop, please,” he stuttered.

“You’re right,” I growled. “I forgot the sweet stuff.”

Grabbing ahold of his collar I pulled him towards me and was the recipient of a lucky punch, a wicked right that stunned me. It was almost enough to make me let go, but not quite. Blinking away the tears I got him into a headlock and walked him over to the vat of frosting.

With a grunt I picked him up and dropped him into it headfirst and then staggered over to pick up my lunch. It took all of my effort to drag my body back over the counter and to a table. I collapsed into a chair and dumped the contents of the bag onto the table so that I could finally eat.

And that is when I realized that I had grabbed the wrong bag.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

I Wish That I Could Start Over

May 14, 2011 by Jack Steiner 48 Comments

His name was Max. He was a 47 year-old single father who would sometimes bring his kids to the office. They would sit in the conference room and watch movies. Max was one of the new guys and I was told to show him the ropes. It didn’t matter that I was 27 and married for less than a month or that I had been with the company about three months longer than he had because I had seniority.

Seniority meant that I technically knew more and that he was obligated to watch, listen and learn from me or so our branch manager told him. I was too green to recognize that he was shoveling a load full of manure over both of us. Maybe Max knew, maybe he recognized that he was being shuffled off to go work with some kid and was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.  I really don’t know or at least I don’t remember him saying anything to me about that.

What I do remember is that he and climbed into my new Honda Accord and rode off into the wilderness to go sell copiers. It wasn’t what anyone with sense would call a great job. We spent hours walking up and down the street and visiting offices where we would try to convince the people there that they needed to spend a lot of money leasing a piece of equipment that would depreciate by 75% in a month. Ok, that might be an exaggeration but the point is that by the end of the lease the best offer they would get would be from us. At least that was the goal- sell them something that worked really well for a short period of time so that 24-36 months later you could provide them with credit for the new and improved version.

The first day that Max and I went out the thermometer outside the building said that it was 103. I was dressed in a black suit and armed with a twenty pound briefcase. Six hours and 3 miles later I had lost twenty pounds in water weight. We had secured a few leads but not as many as I would have liked. More than a few of the receptionists had taken pity on the sweat covered men and insisted on providing us with glasses of cold water.

Max asked me if it was true that I was going to the Olympics and I nodded my head in affirmation. When he asked for details I said very little and told him that I had won a regional sales contest. He congratulated me and told me that he was jealous. I said that there was no reason to be jealous and he shook his head. “If I was your age I could just start over.”

The words hung in the air. I didn’t know how to respond. So I went with the “you can always start over” and told him that all he had to do was try. He sighed deeply and told me that he wished it was so simple. He had too many responsibilities and that kept him from doing anything. I told him that I thought that he was wrong and he asked me what I would do if my wife stopped putting out, stopped talking to me, had a mortgage and kids. I laughed and told him that he painted a very pleasant picture of the future. He looked at me and said that I didn’t have a clue as to how life could push, pull and yank two people apart. Looked at me and said that I didn’t understand how you could love kids so fiercely that you would be willing to do almost anything to protect them from pain and said that I should call him in 15 years.

I didn’t say anything but my poker face gave betrayed me and he knew what I was thinking. “Jack, you only think you know about life but you don’t know dick yet.”

That was enough to elicit a response from me. I told him that I thought that it was sad that he would just give up without a fight and that I didn’t need to have kids to know about life. He looked at me and smiled, told me to call him again in a few years after friends had died and gotten divorced. I thanked him for being a ray of sunshine and said that while I couldn’t say for certain that all of my friends would stay together statistically speaking it was highly unlikely that any of my friends would die any time soon and really, it would probably be a while before anyone got divorced.

Fifteen years later five couples are no more and there are five fewer friends walking above ground. I guess that Max was right about a few things. In all fairness he wasn’t bitter all the time. He had a presence and personality to him and could tell a great joke. I learned a few tricks from him on how to make a proper presentation and I came to like his kids very much. I sometimes wonder what happened to Max but I really don’t have any way to find out.  You see, several months after he came on board he had a major heart attack and that was the last we saw of him.

To the best of my knowledge he didn’t die, but while he was recovering I got a new job and left the company. I can’t say that I have thought about him all that much, but I can say that when I have I always remembered that I promised not to be as bitter as he was. Even during the darkest hours I have always figured that they were just moments in time that would one day be nothing but specks in the past.

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Filed Under: Life

Dads and Daughters

May 13, 2011 by Jack Steiner 32 Comments

jacksteiner

Dads and Daughters

My daughter once asked me if I was jealous of girls and I said no. She told me that she thought that boys should be because girls can have babies and boys can’t. I told her that it was ok with me and she asked why. It is a reasonable question and something that deserved a thoughtful answer so I said that I love being a boy because there are lots of fun things that boys get to do. She sort of made a face and told me again that she thinks that boys should be jealous and then I realized that my sweet little girl was trying out new material on me.

Yes, the little trickster wanted to find a new way to tease her brother and figured me for an easy mark. I told her that I didn’t want her teasing him and watched as she scrunched up her nose and started giggling. I know that look and laugh. It is the one she gives me when she is trying to be cute and manipulate me. So I scooped her up in my arms, swung her around and tickled her. Love that little girl of mine, even if she is determined to be a troublemaker like her old man.

Sometimes I look her and wonder how I ended up with yet another girl in my life. You see, I grew up with 7,098 sisters and not one single brother. As a boy it was something that made me crazy. Most of the time we got along but when we didn’t it was always girls versus boy. They would work as a team to find ways to get me in trouble and because I was stupid I would react to whatever stimulus they provided. Lest someone think that I am claiming that I never did anything wrong allow me to disabuse you of that misconception.

I am was an expert at teasing them. They might have known how to press my buttons but I understood how to do it too. Sometimes my father would sit me down and explain that one day I would benefit from having so many sisters but that had little impact on the 7,8,9,10, 11 year-old boy I was.

Later on as I entered those wild and woolly years during which girls moved from irritating to interesting he would tell me to be sure to treat girls with respect. “Jack,  when you are staring at girls and thinking about certain things or talking to your friends be sure to remember that someone is saying the same about your sisters.”

There was a lot of truth to that and it stuck with me. It is one of a million different lessons that my father taught me. In my mind it stands next to the discussion where he told me that girls could do anything boys could do, except boys couldn’t hit girls.  I kept waiting for him to sit my sisters down and explain that they couldn’t hit me but it didn’t happen. Perhaps that is because I got to be far too good at herding them into a bedroom and then holding the door shut. Side note: last summer I locked my middle sister in a room and waited for her to start screaming.

It was juvenile, but still fun. It would have worked except I forgot that every mother longs for a few minutes of quiet so in effect I did nothing but make her very happy. I told her that she owes me and she just laughed. Damn girl figured out how to get me again.

Last weekend my daughter told me that she wants to have a daddy/daughter day. I said that I think it is a great idea and said that we should think about what we should do. She nodded her head and walked away. I didn’t realize that she intended to do it that day but when she reappeared with her hair in a ponytail and a purse draped over her shoulder I learned otherwise. She walked up, tapped me on the shoulder and said that the newspaper would still be there later.

For a moment I had to stop and stare at her- this girl with dark hair, dark eyes and freckles. I asked her what she thought she was doing and she said that she was getting me ready to leave and then she said, “get moving we have places to go.” Needless to say she was disappointed when I told her that we already had plans for the day so daddy/daughter day would have to wait but I promised to make it up to her as soon as possible.

I kid around sometimes and say that I am going to have to beat up the boys that try to date her. She tells me that I better not and I say that I need to protect her but sometimes I think that it might be the boys who need to be protected from her. She is smart, independent and exceptionally confident. Something tells me that this girl of mine is going to make life a whole lot more interesting. But that is ok, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Filed Under: Children

An Attitude Adjustment

May 13, 2011 by Jack Steiner 8 Comments

Some days you wake up and decide that going back to bed would be the smarter option. I sometimes use Groucho for those mornings where a return to the land of slumber isn’t an option.  A few minutes of listening to him usually lightens my mood and makes it easier to adjust my attitude.

Attitude Adjustment Time

Filed Under: Uncategorized

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