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 November 2013

What To Do When You Publicly Embarrass Your Daughter

by 5 Comments

Head in Hands

She told me she was horrified, upset, angry, embarrassed and worried about the consequences of what I had done. I told her I was sorry and that it is possible I could have done things differently but that the outcome would have been the same.

She asked me if that meant I would do it again and I said yes. Our family looks out for each other and when something isn’t right we take action.

The Complexities of Life

I am not  a perfect man but I don’t try to be one either. I don’t pretend to be a saint nor do I try to excuse all of my shortcomings by saying that I am not always good.

My dad taught me to try to do my best in every situation and it is what I do. Sometimes I fall short and recognize I could have done better.

A short while ago the Shmata Queen told me about a time that a man waved his finger in her face and I was infuriated because it was wrong. It would be wrong if a woman had done it too, but this particular oaf did so because he is used to bullying his way through life.

That kind of behavior sets me off and it is tied into what happened earlier today. It is also tied into why my daughter said she was embarrassed.

What embarrassed her was an exchange that took place between a man and her mother or maybe it is more accurate to say by my response to this.

This man is tall, has money and has often used his height and money to bully his way through life. He didn’t like something that happened and responded by getting very nasty with mom.

His behavior was intolerable so I responded.

Do The Right Thing

My response was simple. I told him that if I ever heard him acting this way again I would fix things so that the question of whether his head was up his ass was literal and not figurative.

The other guy flipped out, ran on the field and insisted I be asked to leave. It is a strange coincidence to write about this a day after this post but it happened.

The other guy said that what he was most upset about was being annoyed. I understand that.  No one likes to be annoyed but life is filled with moments and things that are irritating and if you are going to attend a kids soccer game you put yourself in a position where you cannot control everything that happens.

Had he politely asked her to stop she would have and there wouldn’t be a story but he was an ass about it.

And when I heard how it went down I confronted him and he acted like a bigger ass.

Mixed Emotions

I have mixed emotions about it because the other guy responded to my comments by going ape shit and my daughter was embarrassed because they asked me to leave.

Perhaps I could have waited until after the game or used other words. Perhaps I could have explained to the referee that this man was an ass who was exaggerating things. I never raised my voice or assumed a hostile stance.

I was calm and I know he had to focus on my voice because I made a point to be quiet.

But at the same time I feel good knowing that I stood up for my principles and that I was able to use it as a teaching moment for my children.

Ultimately my daughter said that after she had thought about things she felt better because I had been protecting mommy and that is what daddies do, they watch out for their families.

Epilogue

He was waiting for me. The parking lot was empty and aside from the occasional car and the sounds of birds chirping it was just me and him.

I knew he would be there just as I knew he would have more than just his hands in his pockets. It is why I hit him first and why he took a boot to the knee and a forearm to the throat.

Just kidding, none of those things happened. I didn’t even think about them, but I hope he did.

I have no respect for bullies and this guy needed someone to remind him that height and money don’t mean you can be a jerk. Maybe I could have handled it differently but I did it my way. I just hope the net result is positive.

Tell The Police I Didn’t Cook Your Dog

by 7 Comments

Airport Barbecue, Close Up

When a reader complains about my headlines being too outrageous my first thought is to email his wife and tell her that she needs to get him some help. Maybe it is professional or maybe she can massage a smile onto his face. I don’t really know, I am not a shrink.

But I am a troublemaker, gadfly, rabble rouser and big brother which means that I have been known to stir the pot a time or two.

I Got F*cked

Outside of headlines I am not afraid  to spell out that I got fucked and not in the kind of way that would make me smile or lie down and think about how wonderful the world is.

Been thinking about that post and Remember When I Punched That Wolf In The Face and conducting a sort of year end mental review. Call it an internal house cleaning or just basic introspection and I’ll nod my head and smile.

Smile because one hell of a bad chunk of life seems to be mostly behind me. One long period of being beaten, badgered, buggered and all sorts of other less pleasant moments is how I look at those things in the rear view mirror of life.

Doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments where I hold my breath and wait for the sky to fall or that proverbial other shoe to drop because I do.

Don’t particularly like that response but sometimes we train ourselves to respond in certain ways so now I am working on training myself to respond…differently.

How Much Control Do We Really Have?

How much control do we have over life and what happens to us? If you ask me I’ll tell you we have next to no control over quite a bit of it.

I can’t make people do what I want them to do or force them to act in any manner other than their own choice. Yeah, I know some of you will come up with examples that prove otherwise. I am physically capable of forcing many to adjust their behavior but this isn’t about coercion or bribery.

It is about daily life and the things that happen. I couldn’t stop the economy from crashing and the impact it had upon me and so many others. Couldn’t prevent a brain tumor from killing a friend or a common thief from shooting a father.

All I can do is work upon my own attitude and choose how I wish to act or react.

I used to hate when people said that but I have found it to be quite powerful and useful. That means I try to pay attention and recognize the important moments and look for ways to turn situations into something more enjoyable and beneficial than they may start out.

Find possibility and turn it into opportunity.

Just Write

Been ridiculously busy with some things and consequently haven’t been able to write the way I want to. It is a bit frustrating because the constant interruptions and chaos makes it more challenging to produce the kind of pieces I want to but from a different perspective it is an opportunity.

An opportunity to continue to train myself how to just run and roll with the punches. A chance to see if I can figure out a way to work more effectively under adverse conditions.

But it doesn’t mean that there aren’t moments where I think about sending the neighbor a note asking them not to tell the police I cooked their dog.

Maybe that would help them understand that even those of us who love dogs grow tired of hours long howling and barking.

And now life calls and it is time to resume working.

What Are The Rules For Tipping When You Order Take Out?

by 5 Comments

listen to ‘What Are The Rules For Tipping When You Order Take Out?’ on Audioboo

Are You Focused On People Or Numbers?

by 3 Comments

"i live to let you shine."

Almost 11 AM means it is afternoon in my other home. I am on deadline for work but need to grab five minutes to clear my head because the write words aren’t flowing from my fingers and I hate what I see on the screen.

Don Henley is singing about The Boys of Summer and I have my usual reaction of feeling like I was stabbed in the gut, that song just touches something inside.

Staring at the photo above I think about a conversation I had with a guy back in Texas about how we missed the beach. Haven’t been down to the water since I got back but I think this weekend or maybe sometime this week I’ll head down to Santa Monica. Got to sit on the sand and listen to the surf, always helps to center me.

Writing For People

Keep seeing more clips, tweets and comments from people asking me to like, share and follow them. I rarely do as they ask, got no time to speak of and unless you really capture my attention I am not going to sign up for another newsletter.

Part of me feels like a hypocrite because I am running on that hamster wheel with so many others. Running along, shouting, screaming, laughing and begging you to show your love for me by signing up for my stuff.

Follow me. Love Me. Read Me.

Add to my numbers. Help me get noticed. Be the magic one I have been searching for who offers me a book deal or some magic opportunity that so many bloggers dream about.

And in the midst of reading it all I ask myself if I am writing for people because sometimes I read your stuff and roll my eyes because you are producing crap.

You are entitled to produce it but the problem isn’t with your output but that I am reading it. I am more upset with myself than I am with you because I am not obligated to spend my time reading your stuff and thus I point, click and surf my way elsewhere.

Tunnel Of Love

Time is almost up and the real beckons again. I move from Don Henley to Springsteen. Think about the Boss and debate between rolling with Happy and settle for Tunnel of Love.

Both songs make me do a happy dance but Tunnel of Love is the one that is most appropriate for the moment. Hard to believe it is a quarter century since this album came out. Hard to believe that Young Jack Steiner  used to listen to this and pretend he understood it because the current version of me is certain I get it now.

Part of me cringes about how obnoxious that sounds and part of me isn’t surprised because that young guy was most certainly a kid and now it is safe to say people call me a man.

My old man and I had another discussion about inconsequential things and he rolled his eyes at me and asked me why I would respond as I did to something.

And as I looked in the steely blue eyes I remembered how I used to hate being called to question by him and recognized that I still don’t particularly like it. Made me snort out loud and he asked me what was funny.

“Well dad, once upon a time I hated being questioned by you about why I did things but now it is different.”

His eyes narrowed and he growled something at me that I didn’t quite catch.

“I probably listen more to you now than I did then because I don’t have anything t0 prove anymore. You do your things your way and I do mine. Nothing wrong with that.”

Somehow his eyes narrow some more so I glare back at him, moment passes and he laughs.

“Better go work on that rookie.”

I laugh too and then head out. Deadlines call and I have to answer.

Write for people and not for numbers.

Last night I Smoked A Cigar, Drank Some Scotch & Talked About Women

by 6 Comments

Scotch Night

Got about an hour before I head out to play ball but time to write is hard to come by so I am here…now.

Listening to Bob Seger sing about The Fire Inside and being Like a Rock and I am fighting the urge to grab a beer and sit outside in the twilight. Fighting the urge to grab some Scotch and sit outside in the gloaming thinking about my grandfathers and how very strange life has become.

They’d get it, they’d understand.

500 Push Ups

Was going to write about something different. Was going to write about 500 push ups and or not worrying about what you can’t control.

Still might write some fiction tonight about what it is like to be crazy and madly in love as an older fellow. Might write about what happens when you find the person who makes your heart pound like no other and what you are willing to do. Might write about how when you are young it never occurs to you that moms and dads are just boys and girls who are still thinking, feeling and loving creatures.

But that might have to wait. If you are among the lucky you can see inside my heart and head and you know what lies beneath the surface.

And yet maybe you forget or wonder if I really know all the things I say I do and I say to you–don’t question what is obvious.

Superman and Kryptonite

In between it all I am sitting here thinking about how in spite of the aches and pains, the clothes that don’t fit right any more I still have more moments where I feel like superman than not.

Still just know that I can find a way to turn back the years and play/act like a teen because force of will will make it so.

Yet my inner peace isn’t quite what I want because my own old man is battling again. That guy I call dad has kidneys that aren’t doing what they should and it is hard to see.

Hard to see because even though we all reach a place where our fathers become human there is forever that piece inside that thinks they can do anything and yet I see age taking chunks from mine.

He doesn’t complain about it. Most of the time he just goes about his business and I wonder how I can ever voice a single word of dissent about anything because he is hard.

He doesn’t bitch. He doesn’t moan.

He just goes on.

And yet I know that there is this thing called time that is working against him. I know that his health isn’t what it could be and I can point to a million things he has done that have set this in motion.

I Would Fight It

I would fight it. I would do battle. Wade out into the midst of the mine field, take the bullet, do whatever it took to help but I can’t do more than I have done.

Can’t do more than watch and hope that things go better than I fear. Can’t do more than watch and hope that this hitch in my heart is tied into other things, that it is just transition but…

A thousand years ago I sat with my grandfather and listened as he told me he knew the days were getting shorter and the long night was coming. Listened as he told me he would fight to keep going until he couldn’t fight any more and that would be that.

It was very matter of fact and maybe when you are over ninety it is easier.

I remember listening to my other grandfather talk about my grandmother and how he told me that she had a great ass at 91. He laughed when she made a face at him, but they had 76 years of marriage.

And when she died I saw him suffer in ways only someone who has been in love for 85 years can suffer. They met at 11.

I would have fought for all of them too.

Out On The Court

Out on the court tonight I will be fierce and unforgiving. I will play until my body aches and tomorrow will require ibuprofen but it is the only way I know.

I’ll do it because I can’t fight the things I want to and all I can do is try to enjoy the moments and live as best I can and because maybe if I push myself hard enough I’ll find a way to be around long enough to meet my great-great grandchildren.

And later in the quiet I’ll think about the nights where I smoked a cigar, drank some Scotch and talked about women.

Jesus Hates Tim Tebow & The Patriots

by 6 Comments

Oakland Colosseum

Great googly moogly is the least colorful set of words that come from my lips and it happens only because there is a beautiful little boy in the car with me.

Little man isn’t quite so little any more but sometimes I forget because the boy who is almost 13 was 13 months yesterday. I am trying to reconcile the passage of time in a way that makes sense to me and having trouble doing so.

Blame it upon whatever makes sense to you because that is what I do. I could say it is tied into having been gone for almost a year but that is not entirely true nor does it provide a proper segue for what I want to share now.

He Channeled My Voice

Sometimes I shake my head because the words coming from my mouth are an exact copy of what my own father would say but that is not why I am shaking it now.

Now it is because the boy in the back seat is telling me about how he channeled me. He is not using those exact words but he is saying that he got irritated at school and he realized that what he said sounded exactly like me.

I shouldn’t be surprised because he is mine. You might not see it in his face but his hands, feet and build at me and apparently so are a bunch of his mannerisms.

I listen to his tale and silently pray that I have done a proper job because if he is going to imitate me let it be my best traits and not the bad. Let him pick up on the good and ignore the bad because I don’t want the sins of the father visited upon the son.

Jesus Hates Tim Tebow & 17 Other Reasons Why Your Blog is a Failure

I used those words a while back as the headline for a different post that is just as relevant now as it was then. I shouldn’t be surprised because it is proof that all this crap is cyclical and that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Probably not worth crying about but sometimes I just can’t ignore it and so I put it out there so that it doesn’t lie inside and fester. I suppose it is tied into some of what is contained in Are You Guilty of Bad Blogging?

I don’t know a writer who is worth a damn that doesn’t ask the hard questions of themselves and wonders if maybe they are churning out junk.

It is part of the package. Writers are filled with rage, insecurity and fear. Writers are filled with hope, dreams and confidence that somehow they will construct the right words in the write way and that when they do they’ll be found and elevated, taken to the karmic destiny writers dream of.

Words Left Unwritten

I am not officially doing the whole Nanowrimo thing this year but not because I fear it. This time it is because I am supporting too many blogs and need to reel things in a bit.

Besides there are a million tales at WLU that need to be expanded upon. Somewhere in the ether is someone who experienced more than a single moment of joy celebrating a few birthdays this year.

Somewhere out there she knows precisely what I am talking about and understands that I am not kidding when I say I know things. She knows how the brush of a hand against a hip or knees touching under a table can make a heart pound and understands a story of two souls.

Only In LA

Back in the parking lot the boy wants to know who the idiot on the cellphone is and why he is pacing around the parking lot. I don’t mention that I recognize him because I don’t know his name.

I just know he is a character actor who plays wing nuts, lunatics and the slightly unhinged. That might not be completely accurate but I am irritated with him and the drivers who can’t park straight. Between them it is becoming a nightmare to park here and I haven’t any patience.

If you ask me why I don’t it is because I miss 1724 and I am irritated about having to do what has to be done. But part of me is cool with it all because this is just a moment in time and I know that life is made up of these moments.

And it is why I don’t share all of my thoughts because this boy and I are sharing a moment now and I don’t want him to get distracted because dad says the guy out there is acting like “a fucking asshole.”

But in the silence I wonder if that is what my son said at school and if he knows that he wasn’t just channeling me but three other generations of men in the family.

Life is something else sometimes.