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 March 2016

About Your Aging Parents

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Don’t start writing a post about your aging parents with Johnny Cash’s cover of Danny Boy playing in your ears.

Not because it is not a fine song, but because it sets a more somber tone than you might want to start with.

That is because your blog is the tool you used to get through the time when your father lay in a hospital bed thousands of miles away from you.

Because you flew there and back praying that he would still be alive when you landed having been told it could go either way.

And though it is 12 years later and dad proved the doubters wrong you haven’t ever forgotten seeing his unconscious body breathe because machines were keeping him alive.

Most days you don’t focus on those moments because when you are with him you see the same spark in his eyes you always have and know that your father is present.

Present in his presence it is clear his mind is as active as it ever was and you hear him talk about plans for the future so you know what his intention is.

But there are little things, little moments that make it clear that his body isn’t always agreeable about the things he wants and tries to do.

It might not be a full blown mutiny, but there is dissension in the ranks and in some ways his health is very similar to a house of cards.

parentalgods

Steiner the minor doesn’t know that I look at the bull elephant in the picture above and recognize similarities between my father and him.

Go about your business and everything is ok, but the moment you become a threat life might get very ugly for you.

Those few of you who know me well might even recognize some similar traits in me and now you know why.

He taught me what it means to be a person, a man and a father.

And he did it in spite of my being a major pain-in-the-ass who knew more than he did.

I only have two kids at home to deal with, he had me and my four sisters.

Once I became a dad it didn’t take me very long to recognize I had a lot less on my plate to deal with than he did.

He hasn’t ever mentioned it but I am not surprised. It is not who he is.

Now And Then

I missed the poker game with the boys this past Friday night. Wanted to go but the craziness of the current moment in time left me exhausted and I just wanted to be somewhere quiet.

Wanted to go but the craziness of the current moment in time left me exhausted and I just wanted to be somewhere quiet.

Part of me wonders if that was a mistake because we all need time with the people who know us best and it would have been good to see the guys.

We would have sat around the table and told some of the same silly stories we like to tell and then we would have spent a few catching up on current events in our lives.

Twenty-five years ago we probably wouldn’t have scheduled the game for a Friday night.

That would have been date night for those of us who had a girl in our lives or “let’s try to find a girl for our life” night.

Twenty-five years again almost all of us had two parents now some of have lost one or in some cases both.

Now our conversations sometimes include comments about having become the new sandwich generation.

We take care of our kids and look out for our parents.

About Your Aging Parents

My parents had dinner with us Sunday night and I got another close-up of seeing how time and age has impacted them.

Neuropathy in dad’s feet has made walking a little more challenging at times for him.

Since he doesn’t have much feeling in them anymore he is not as sure footed as he once was and walking stairs or going up/down hills has become trickier.

I try to make a point to casually wander over to him so that he can put his hand on my shoulder to help with his balance.

A few years ago he would have told me to get lost but he never does anymore. Neither one of us make a big deal about it because it wouldn’t make things any better if we did.

****

I suppose the move has made me more aware of some age-related issues too.

It is about six weeks roughly since they moved out of the house I grew up in into their new place.

They are mostly unpacked but there are still things on the “to-do” list that have lingered there far longer than they would have in the old days.

Things that would have been unacceptable had they not been handled in a timely fashion are listed on there because they get tired much faster than they used to.

It is not a huge deal to me, but it is noticeable.

And I won’t lie and say I wasn’t pleased to get a telephone call from mom asking me to come help move stuff because she wanted my father to “stop doing things he shouldn’t be doing.”

abelincoln

It is 50 some years since my parents met as Peace Corps volunteers.

They have traveled all over the world, fostered children in their home and done more than most.

It has been a pretty good life so far and I expect to see it go on for a good long while because there are more stories and adventures to be had.

But like I alluded to above, sometimes there is a little whisper in my head that tells me to pay close attention because the end is closer to the beginning.

Still I remind myself that seventy-something years isn’t particularly old for our family and that genetically speaking we might get another 25 years or so.

Here is hoping that all that can go right does and that all that can go wrong loses their address.

Teenagers Are Harder Than Toddlers

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My heart aches and my spirit has been battered and bruised.

There is a teenager down the hall that opened a door better left closed and has gotten sucked into a vortex of nonsense that was beyond his control.

Been doing all that I can to help him figure it out so that we can find our way back to the sunny side of the street but success has eluded us.

If there is a mark or moment of pain in a parent’s life it must be centered upon the moment they see their child struggling with something that seems beyond their grasp.

That is the moment I stumbled upon a short while ago but I didn’t recognize it as such and though I know better than to beat myself up over an oversight I cannot help but question myself.

A father is supposed to have the all knowing and all seeing eye. He is supposed to be vigilant, present and aware but apparently I let my eyes wander elsewhere.

stayinsunlight

I have long prided myself upon my ability to imitate the Oak trees ability to stay standing in both sunlight and rain.

The secret to successfully withstanding storms doesn’t lie in my size 12 EEE boot but by knowing when to bend with the accompanying winds.

It is in figuring out how to make the strength of the storm work for or with and not against you.

And though I would like to say this has always been my approach the reality is far different.

There have been ample times where I stood in the center of the clearing and screamed at the sky, “is that the best you have got.”

Blame some of it upon youth and my own desire to prove myself. Blame it upon my vision of my father as having superhuman qualities and my desire/need to show him and I that inherited those items too.

And then look at my current approach as having been derived from the wisdom and maturity that comes with age.

When I recognized and realized it wasn’t necessary to fight the storm every time I stopped doing so and started taking advantage of what I had learned.

****

What I fear is that the teenager has inherited his father’s stubbornness and desire to test himself. What I fear is that the teenager is going to be as dumb about this as I might have been at his age.

Though I am technically not responsible for the choices that have been made I still feel accountable.

I still feel responsible for helping the willfully blind to see how these choices are wreaking havoc upon the current moment and how they can impact the future.

And I do all this while trying to balance my thoughts and fears against Ben Franklin’s advice.

Because there is time and opportunity to turn and sail with the wind instead of against it.

troublegirls

Teenage Awareness

What I haven’t figured out yet is where the aforementioned teenager is fully cognizant of what is going on.

Do they understand the consequences of opening Pandora’s Box?

Do they recognize the impact upon the rest of the family?

Against the overall picture these things are immaterial and irrelevant because what is done cannot be ignored or rolled back in time.

The horse left the barn and this wild stallion is a mighty beast who won’t be tamed or walked back without significant effort.

And here is where my guilt raises its head again and the whispers in my mind start flowing.

“If you had done XYZ you might have prevented this or headed it off.”

“Maybe you should have taken it more seriously earlier and not allowed the beast to get a head of steam.”

So I look at the reflection in the mirror and remind the face that stares back at my own that if I was prescient and or clairvoyant we’d have won the lottery and would be living a different sort of life.

I also would have made several other choices but I am not prescient or clairvoyant so there is no point in crying about what could have or should have been.

There is no time for self-pity or whining, only for taking care of the current situation.

Chances are the teenager didn’t take time to think things through and didn’t consider what happens when the wind starts blowing right after you have torn open the feather pillow.

Teenagers Are Harder Than Toddlers

Some of you with young children might feel like arguing the point because physical exhaustion doesn’t allow you to think clearly.

You might see parenting teenagers as being easier because some of the fears you have about toddlers and infants don’t seem to exist anymore.

I am here to tell you that toddlers and infants are easier because physical exhaustion is easier than mental.

And yes, there is an ample amount of mental exhaustion that comes with bigger children.

Doesn’t matter if they follow the so-called straight and narrow and are good students and people.

You can’t help but be concerned about bigger issues like teenage driving, sex, drugs and a million other issues that you have less control over.

That is what it is, control.

Because teenagers do much more outside of their parents supervision and though that is precisely as it should be it doesn’t eliminate concern or worry.

This Too Shall Pass

It will, it really will.

One day this will be a moment in time but for now it feels like the only moment.

For now it feels like I am fighting the damn storm the way I did when I was much younger but I haven’t got that 25 year-old body anymore and I am bone weary.

The aches and bruises don’t fade as fast and physically and mentally this is hard.

However the one thing I have that I didn’t then is a mental toughness that will not let me down. I’ll find a way to help this kid stop tripping over his own feet.

But fuck…this isn’t easy.

What Kind Of Writer Could You Be?

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They say sculptors can look at a block of stone or metal and visualize what that unfinished hunk of material can be.

I am told that painters can do that too, they can look at an empty canvas and see the picture they are going to paint before it is painted.

Ask me if I can do the same with my writing and I’ll say…sometimes.

The lack of a definitive answer isn’t because I can’t say yes or no because I can.

I can see and heard the stories inside my head long before they hit the page but the thing is, sometimes the characters force me to change directions so what I really have is a basic outline.

Think of it as a rough map with not much more detail than North, South, East and West plus a couple of other odds and ends.

aboutawriter

Steiner the Minor and I are playing Call Of Duty on the Xbox and my heart swells with pride because this boy of mine, this child is calling out orders and suggestions that make perfect sense.

He sees things I don’t and has ideas about how to handle the make-believe situations that don’t occur to me and I know that this kid is on track for something special.

“Dad, I’ll be the sniper. I’ll find a place to hide and pick them off one at a time. I am better at that than you are. You do a better job of wreaking destruction, go out and destroy.”

I smile and do as I am told.

The game is a pretty good example of how well we understand how to leverage our individual strengths and weaknesses.

But I don’t tell him I see an opportunity to use it as a teaching moment and insist that I take a turn at being the sniper.

“Dad, you were awesome. I can’t believe how patient you were.”

I tell him I like to take myself out of my comfort zone and push the limits by doing things I might not otherwise do.

His comment about patience is spot on, in this game I don’t like waiting. I want to push ahead and rain fire and destruction upon all that cross me.

I don’t spell out that it is a game and I don’t have to worry about trouble. There are infinite lives and it doesn’t matter what I do.

So I take my turn as sniper and demonstrate how I can adapt and adopt to anything I encounter. My focus can be absolute and I hope he takes this moment and integrates it into his own life.

My focus can be absolute and I hope he takes this moment and integrates it into his own life. It may be just a game, but maybe it can be something more too.

What Kind Of Writer Could You Be?

I don’t want to be the kind of writer who puts together meaningless expressions like my doppelganger shared like “Optimize and prioritize so that we can maximize.”

Granted that dude used those seven words as part of a post about writing and the importance of not being another member of the echo chamber.

He, I, we are in complete agreement about this.

The question isn’t what kind of writer am I now but what kind of writer can I be.

Old Jack Steiner’s tag line about being the original dad blogger was developed as a sarcastic reply to the dad blogger popularity contests of some years ago.

But I am not just a dad blogger.

I am more than that.

Not because there is anything wrong with being a dad blogger, it will always be part of the core but it is too small to define who and what I am now and will be.

I write about too many different things to limit myself and a guy like me is compelled not just to write, but to push, poke and prod.

It would be a mistake to imprison my mind in a cage I’ll never agree to live in.

Would You Recognize Me?

Many years ago I told The Shmata Queen that we had one of those rare connections where it would never be broken.

We could go for fifty years without speaking and pick up where we left off.

“My heart will always recognize yours.”

“How do you know that and how does it work?”

“I know things and you don’t really want me to prove it to you, do you.”

I share that moment with you because I have this funny feeling, this hope that one day someone will read my works and recognize me.

They’ll see more than words, they’ll see…me.

“Jack, we have something for you. We have a writing gig you can’t say no to you because you are the perfect person for it.”

And I’ll somehow know this is the click I have been waiting for and I’ll drop my guard and natural cynicism and walk towards the future.

But even though it might be a blank page I’ll move faster and faster towards that canvas because I can see the painting that doesn’t yet fill that empty canvas.

Sometimes You Fight The Devil…Inside

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I told him that sometimes fear is an uninvited guest and that the mark of being a man isn’t being fearless but of managing your fear.

And then I told him about how there were times when I was younger in which the dark terrified me and how even now there are moments where I feel like there is something out there waiting for me.

But the difference between now and then is I hate waiting so there have been times when I have gone looking for that beast.

Moments where I have wandered through dark forests ready to do battle but relieved when I found…nothing.

doorknock

If he could see inside his father’s head I’d show him this video and find a way to help him see what drives me.

Heroic speeches like the. one in Gladiator populate his head

My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.

He’d see his father lean forward in his seat, watch his eyes focus and see his fingers twitch and know that I love that kind of stuff.

Dad loves the hero who finds a way to overcome all odds to save the day, even if it means that the hero doesn’t always get to experience the aftermath of victory.

Or maybe we’d go a different direction, maybe he’d see Rick in Casablanca.

A different sort of hero, a different sort of man who figures out how to dance in the fire.

Sometimes You Fight The Devil…Inside

The toughest opponent we will ever face is the one that wears the same face as you and I.

They don’t always recognize all of your strengths but they know every weakness with the sort of intimacy that is usually granted to a lover or maybe a doctor.

The question isn’t whether they will use that knowledge to yank your chain but what will you do when they choose to press your buttons.

How will you respond when the voice tries to move from a soft whisper to a loud roar.

Will you tell it shut up and slink back to its cage or will you indulge it knowing that it feeds upon your fear and that it will not willingly walk away.

What hurts me the most and is by far the hardest part is this is one devil I can’t fight.

I would do so without question and without thought.

There is a reason that Old Scratch went down to Georgia and bypassed LA. It is because he knows damn well that some neighborhoods here would be dangerous to his health.

But there is no invitation to this battlefield and even with an invite there is no way to wander in off of the streets.

So I have to be like Mr. Miyagi and stand on the sidelines, hoping my Daniel-san has learned to paint the fence and wax on as well as wax off.

5 Songs

  1. El Dorado- Iron Maiden
  2. Livin Thing- Electric Light Orchestra
  3. Paranoid- Black Sabbath
  4. You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up)- Josh Groban
  5. Tapestry- Carole King

The music involves the usual roll call of people, places and memories.

Somewhere in the moments I remember something about Soft and Smooth and think of promises made and broken.

There is something in that particular piece, a moment or memory that I need to pay attention to because it provides a clue as to the future I want to build.

Wisps of memory float by and as I try to grab ahold of the fragment I wonder how it relates to everything else and if there is a bigger picture moment here.

Maybe it is about giving up or being told it feels like I have given up because that is never said to me by anyone who knows me well or is thinking clearly.

Not because of ego or bravado but because I am not programmed to just let go.

I am built to do what is required and to if necessary take the beatings that come with not letting go when things get tough.

Maybe that is tied into why I like those heroic speeches and get off on the idea of one guy taking on ridiculous odds knowing that his chances of victory are slight.

Perhaps that is it and I am supposed to use that realization to help show him how he can still be his own man yet be like dad too.

Or maybe that is just one father’s dream.

Secrets of The Dad Blogger Cliques & Mommy Blogger Cartels

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There is no truth to the rumor that you can find any of the dad blogger cliques or mommy blogger cartels in the photo at the top of this page.

Hell, I used that shot because it looked like the perfect building for a Scooby Doo mystery or some other cool drama to be shot in.

Don’t ask me to give you more information about the cliques or cartels because some people go nuts whenever I suggest that there is any such thing in blogging.

No collusion, no nepotism–nope it doesn’t happen.

People just like working and hanging out with their friends or so I am told. Nothing to see here, just move along.

Truth is I would rather ask you to look at the photo and tell me if you can see the mysterious figure looking out from the far window.

Who is that person and what are they doing up there?

There could be some great stories tied up in that or it could be as simple as it being the guy cleaning the windows.

Yeah, a simple window cleaner. Nothing to see here, keep up with your tour guide and move along please.

livenow

Someone asked me to describe myself in under two minutes and I told them I needed more time to think about it.

Why?

Because I took it seriously and like most people I wanted sound cool, erudite, collected and interesting.

I wanted that description to be more than “Jack is a fire-breathing dragon who is unfiltered, unfettered and free to do and say anything to anyone, anywhere and at any time.”

I wanted to tell them to check out the archives and say these posts tell you everything and nothing about me.

I wanted to tell them to ask my closest and friends and survey my readers so that they would get a double dose of reality.

But none of that happened because I asked for time to think about it.

Parenting A Teenager

You can blame some of this upon what happens/comes with parenting, especially a teenager.

Because if you try to be mindful of it all you start to realize just how many of your beliefs are arbitrary and have come from your having accepted what was spoonfed to you.

Some of them come from your having had life experiences that make you realize you don’t accept or believe those things anymore.

Or they come because some genie in the sky connected their cable to your melon and they were downloaded into you.

But for me, mostly they come from the last ten years of life or so it seems to me.

The combination of some crazy life experiences personally and professionally and the trials and tribulations of raising a teenage boy who is exactly as I once was and so very different.

Reminds me of the time I looked The Shmata Queen in the eyes and told her she was the greatest and worst thing to ever happen to me. I understand everything and nothing.

****

Steiner the minor will be 16 this year.

At some point we’ll start talking seriously about driving and his ideas about freedom will expand well beyond where they are at now.

He already senses the possibilities but he doesn’t completely understand what driving can and will do for him.

I know and think of it differently, both as the 16-year-old I was and the father I am today.

He sees endless highways and I hear a clock ticking.

We’re Both Changing

Part of the uncertainty surrounding this moment in time is because we are both changing.

The ticking I hear isn’t meant to be a bad thing, it is more of a wake-up call telling me that it is time to focus and refocus upon some areas.

I don’t have unlimited time and even though I expect to live for another 90 years or so I can’t depend upon that happening.

The only thing I can rely upon is change and my ability to manage whatever comes during that time.

But I know I have a perfect record of having survived every bad day I have ever had.

When I tell him he has the same record he nods his head, but I don’t know if he completely buys into it or not.

Even though I am sincere about it I still push it hard because I want and need for him to internalize that because it will help him find his north star when both the days and nights are dark.

Given this has been the hardest two weeks I have had as a father it is more important to me than ever.

“I need you to believe what I am saying. I need for you to take that leap of faith and trust me. I can still carry you.”

“Dad, I am too big to be carried.”

Before he can say anything I throw him over my shoulder and start marching  up the stairs.

“Fine, you can still carry me.”

parentalgods

I called my father Wednesday and asked a series of questions.

He listened and laughed, reminded me that I have got this.

“Jack, you’ll be ok and so will he. Take a deep breath and remember what a nightmare you were at times. You both have too much energy and spend too much time thinking. Just be.”

I hung up the phone feeling refreshed, a goofy smile upon my face.

Even though I had already hung up I thanked dad again for coming through. One day I won’t have that and the days and nights will be darker.

Vomit On The Page

Long ago a journalism professor told me not to vomit all over the page.

“Sometimes you overload your page with content and ideas. Some readers won’t be able to deal with it and they’ll leave.

But remember, some won’t.  Some will relate to your puke, so vomit away.”

I thanked him for the contradictory advice and told him his shirt was a lovely shade of black and white.

And now I must run, it is time to listen to The History of Rock and Roll while I work. See you in the comments.

Facebook Unlikes You

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They tell me that after 12 years of blogging I should have a bigger reach and more engagement.

I don’t have as many Twitter followers as they think I should and that is because I am part of Triberr.

“Jack, you know that real engagement is the key to success and you obviously don’t have it if you are part of…that.”

The criticism continues to roll in and I hear about my writing should be more focused and that it is a problem because it is not.

“Your readers don’t know what to make of you. You cover too many topics and sometimes not as well as you could or should. Tighten up.”

When the pause comes and they ask me to reply I say three words: Facebook Unlikes You.

Facebook Unlikes You

Hell, the truth is Facebook doesn’t just unlike you, it unlikes me too and it will continue to unlike me until it sees me pay for access to eyeballs.

Sometimes I think about doing it…paying for access to eyeballs.

Why?

Because if only more people read my words they’d tell me how impressed they are and say I am the greatest writer throughout all the land or at least 17 states.

Sometimes I think about doing it because if I jump off of the social media hamster wheel and let go of all of the shirttails I have been hanging onto what will I have.

Very few readers and fewer invitations to the finer blog functions out there. If I let go they won’t ask me to speak at the conferences or send me cool stuff to review.

That is the problem with being unliked by Facebook and not part of the bigger and better blogger cliques.

Or is it.

I don’t teach my children to chase love or attention by being someone they aren’t. I don’t push them to wear designer clothes to be like the cool Sneetches that have stars on their bellies.

Am I like this because Facebook unlikes me or because it suits me to be the lone wolf?

Maybe yes or maybe no.

whytowrite

If Stephen and I were to grab that cup of coffee he owes me I’d tell him there have been times where writing was absolutely about getting laid.

Why?

Because I was a 23-year-old writer and the words I put on the page sometimes helped me meet women.

Sometimes those words on the page broke the ice in a way that I couldn’t always do in person. I could be far more open and vulnerable there than if you saw me at a party or in a bar.

Though, it wasn’t always like that.

Twenty-some odd years later it is different because now the focus is writing to get happy but not because I am unhappy but because these words on the page provide clarity and understanding.

They shape ideas and create pathways that are of paramount importance to me. I have used them to shave and pare away the fluff and the extra.

I know exactly who I am and what I want.

Sometimes the path is hard to see and I am not entirely sure of where I am going, but I can alway sense the presence of my North Star.

I can always feel her and I know which way to turn and head, doing so even when it feels strange or I am uncertain.

It doesn’t matter whether Facebook unlikes me because I hear music.

Basie

A Rocky Roadmap

Three years ago I wasn’t here.

I was 1,497 miles away in a place that was a contradiction, life in a state where I knew I belonged but had no idea how it was I did.

Three years ago today or close to it I found the apartment that would become my home and prepared to move out of the hotel I lived in.

Blink once and you’ll understand how fast the time between now and then passed or did it.

Because sometimes I think it would be better and more suitable to ask you to pull a bus with your teeth.

It wouldn’t have to be far, just 100 yards…with your teeth.

However long it takes you to move it would be the equivalent of how fast or how long the time between now and then went.

****

The roadmap between then and now has been…rocky.

Though I haven’t always know how to get where I am going I have always known where it is I want to be.

For a while I thought I had figured it out and was following the map I had prepared but then something happened and it didn’t work as I hoped or expected.

Maybe it is because I spilled something upon it and I mistook an inkblot for a mountain range and tried to drive around or through it.

Or maybe when I mopped it up I accidentally inserted an empty desert where the city was supposed to be, I am not really sure.

The Hardest Part Of Parenting

I am still thinking about the hardest part of parenting and how communication works with teenagers.

The boy who used to see me as Superman and would imitate whatever I did has discovered none of us are infallible and or invulnerable.

I watched him try to figure it out, silently stood by and waited to see how he would proceed and did my best not to insert myself.

When it got complicated I didn’t say anything, I just strapped on my armor, hopped onto my horse and rode into the thick of it.

Did my best to show him what happens when dad says “fuck you to fear” and go roams wild through the battlefield.

Once upon a time he would have followed me, would have stood next to my side or just behind my hip and together we would take on whatever and whomever came at us.

But that didn’t happen here, so I watched and waited some more and then decided I had to clear a path and light a torch he could see.

It is too soon to say how it will all shake loose but I feel far more optimistic about it. Today I saw him walk through the clearing and I saw a smile.

Who cares if Facebook likes or unlikes me.

I write for clarity. I write to get happy and I write because I fucking love to write.