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

Things About Jack

What Are You Doing In There?

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The dark haired beauty looks up at me through a mass of dark curls and giggles. She is up to something, I know it and she knows that I know it. The key question is what has she done and why are her eyes sparkling.

I won’t have to wait long for the answer. In a matter of moments she’ll be unable to contain herself and she’ll confess. I already know from experience it is unlikely to be serious because when she thinks she is in trouble she remains silent. Of course her older brother is usually happy to try and tip me off, getting the little sister in trouble remains one of the joys of being an older sibling.

Of course it goes both directions as she is more than happy to try and tweak his nose. They are typical siblings and exhibit the standard behavior of love/hate for each other. Most of the time they get along beautifully, but they have their moments. Ah, the joy of children.

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Sometimes when those moments come I find myself asking questions that many parents ask, such as why didn’t I wear 19 condoms or if I leave now can I be in Vegas before nightfall. A half second later reality sets in and I go to the second set of options.

That famous second set which consists of wondering how long I let them try to work it out before I get involved and if I get involved, how many years will I ground them for.

It is a serious thing. You have to teach them how to cope when things don’t go the way that they want. You have to help them learn how to share and negotiate their way through life. So when I wonder how long I need to wait before interceding there is an educational component to it. But there is also the question of my sanity.

How long can I listen to them kvetching at each other. And of course the joy of having a home office is that during the summer you have substantially more exposure to the joys of your life.

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Sometimes if you are me you have also adopted a strategy of heading off to the second office. You can blame this on having watched Happy Days as a kid. Fonzie always took Ritchie into the bathroom and we all know that he was the coolest guy ever, at least until he jumped the shark.

Anyhoo, there have been some occasions when I have opted to answer the call of nature during these little dust ups. And upon occasion inquiries have been made as to whether I really was busy or not as it seemed far too convenient for me to be in there at moment.

I of course have always offered to provide proof and was always turned down, until recently. That dark haired beauty decided that she wanted to see for herself. Standing outside the door, she asks me to open it so that she can see for herself. I pause for a moment and suggest that she find something else to do.

Without missing a beat she tells me that she is almost five and besides she has seen boys go to the bathroom before. So I open the door and just as I am about to tell her what I think about all that she starts laughing because she knows that she has gotten me.

Then for good measure she steps inside, sniffs the air and proclaims, “it doesn’t stink in here, you are just hiding from us.”

And people ask me why I am losing my hair.

A Father’s Day Post

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Confession time. I have listened to Josh Groban sing You Are Loved about eight times in a row. There is something about it that grabs my attention. I haven’t watched more than thirty seconds of the video.

Canto Della Terra with Andrea Bocelli & Sarah Brightman does it too and so does Springsteen singing Tunnel of Love. Don’t know exactly what it is, but they touch me. I listen to those songs and others and find myself wishing that I could sing.

Second confession. If I could sing, I mean if I could really sing I’d want to be able to do a couple of things. First, I’d want to have the sort of voice that made you stop in your tracks. Second, I’d want to have the sort of presence that made you feel like that when I was singing it was for you only.

Third confession. I do sing and have sung for you before. You might not remember, or perhaps you do, that day so long ago on Hampshire Road or was it somewhere else, in a secret garden all of our own. The world that no one else has seen. There I sang softly, quietly because that is the only way that my voice sounds ok.

Perhaps I shall sing again for you, perhaps not. Somewhere, some day along that Hampshire Road.

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The kids couldn’t wait until Father’s Day to give me their gifts. They were far too excited and insisted on my receiving them earlier this week. I didn’t mind. They were both handmade and will be gifts that I hold onto for more than just sentimental reasons.

The big guy gave me a travel mug that has a note from him and a picture of him holding a football. His sister the dark haired beauty gave me a desk tool that holds papers and was decorated by her. I don’t want her to feel like she is getting the short shrift here because I am already using it. It really is something that is helping me to stay organized and it is beautiful because she made it.

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As it happens tomorrow is the third yahrtzheit of the death of my paternal grandfather. I have been fortunate to have been close to my grandfathers and am glad that I still have my maternal to hang out with. But not a day goes by that I don’t think about my other grandfather.

Tomorrow I’ll see my dad and we’ll celebrate Father’s Day together, but it will be different for me. Different because I’ll get to do it as both a son and a father. It is different because when things are hard and I feel like I need to lean on my father I can still do it. If I want his advice or to just bitch about things, he is there.

But my dad doesn’t have that option any more. I haven’t forgotten listening to him talk at the funeral and how he said that his father was his hero.

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Three years have passed since I had to call my father and tell him that grandpa had died. Fifteen since I had to tell him that his little brother had died. When my grandmother died I was young, so I didn’t have to pass that news along.

He doesn’t hold it against me and never would, but when I think about it I sometimes feel badly.

Tomorrow night he’ll celebrate the day with half of his grandchildren and most of his children. It will be a lot of fun, but I am sure that there will be a moment or two where he thinks about his dad and misses being able to talk to him.

Not because he is in dire need of his help, but because sometimes it is nice to be able to talk to your dad. Because there are moments where it is just nice. One of the best Father’s Day gifts I got was reading my son’s report card. It was just awesome to see how we’ll he had done and to read about how much he had grown.

I couldn’t help but call my folks and tell them about their grandson. The kid is smart and has always done well, but this was just something else. I got a lot of pleasure out of telling them about him and how he deserved most of the credit because had done the work.

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So tomorrow I’ll make a point of asking him if he wants to go visit grandpa. And if he does I’ll offer to drive and the two of us will go say hi. And if not, well that is ok with me because it is Father’s Day and the whole point is to ask my father what he wants for his day.

Happy Father’s Day Dad, I love you.

Music to Play At My Funeral

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Had a discussion earlier this week with what sort of music to play at a funeral. Ok, this isn’t really so much for a funeral, but any sort of memorial service. Truth is that when I am dead, I am dead, so anything can happen.

I don’t want a lot of tears and fuss. When the day comes and I take that final breath I want people to smile when they think of me. And to be clear, I haven’t any intention of dying any time soon. I have plans to fulfill. Got to walk down that Hampshire road through the burning river and decorate a few places.

Got a little covent tree that I am going to take care of. But I’ll cover all that in a separate post. For now this is the beginning of music for my funeral or memorial service. Call it whatever you want, I won’t be in attendance in the corporeal sense.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly Soundtrack- Haven’t found the entire soundtrack in a clip that plays straight through so here are a few different links. Good Music.

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Theme from the Magnificent Seven
May it be– Enya
Theme from Harry’s Game– Clannad
I will find you – Clannad
Hero of The Day– Metallica
As Time Goes By – Casablanca
Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)- Bruce Springsteen

More to come, or not.

My Blog Posts Need A Soundtrack- Thoughts on Writing

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If I had the resources and ability every post here would include video/photos and would be accompanied by a soundtrack. Now I suppose if I were a finer writer I wouldn’t be concerned about that because I could create a tapestry of images by constructing sentences and paragraphs that painted a picture.

Sometimes I can do that, but not as often as I’d like which is part of why I find myself including links to music and or video in these posts. There are moments where I am trying to express something that is similar to the clip below:

Or like this (NSFW)

Some of you won’t appreciate those clips. They may seem to over the top, but there is a message, a story being told and that is what I am after. It is part of why artists like Springsteen grab me, they tell stories that you can relate to and visualize. Listen to Tunnel of Love and tell me that you can’t picture it. Tell me that inside your head you can’t see it. I don’t believe you.

For years the Shmata Queen has tried to convince me to get into Barry Manilow. I can’t say that I suddenly love his music, but songs like Weekend in New England and Somewhere Down the Road tell a story and that I can appreciate.

One of the reasons that I enjoy blogging is the self discovery it provides. And no, that is not a clever euphemism for being master of my domain. It is exactly as it sounds. Blogging provides an opportunity for me to unclutter my mind and clarify thoughts and feelings about life.

That is part of how I have come to the conclusion that somehow, some way, I need to find time to write a book and make a movie. There are stories that need to be told, things inside my head that are yearning to break free.

Ah, the joy of being 40 and feeling like it is time to reinvent and start over. Now the question comes, do I have the will to act.

Henri Ducard: You traveled the world… Now you must journey inwards… to what you really fear… it’s inside you… there is no turning back. Your parents’ death was not your fault. Your training is nothing. The will is everything. If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, you become something else entirely. Are you ready to begin?

Joy & Sadness

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I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Those of you with children will likely appreciate that sentiment more than others. It is one of those places that offers a momentary refuge in which I can be alone and unencumbered by distractions.

Anyway, this morning I was thinking about how big my kids are getting and how exciting and overwhelming it was to become a father the first time. As the water cascaded over me I remembered a moment that I had forgotten about.

I had gone downstairs for a cup of coffee or something and was just heading back to the maternity ward when I passed a woman and a few others crying. They looked vaguely familiar and I remember thinking that I thought that I knew them from the Lamaze class.

As I walked past I heard whispers of conversation and I got the feeling that something had happened. She had been pregnant with twins and for some reason I took those whispers to mean that something had happened to one of her babies.

Now I never did get confirmation of that, it is not really something that you ask. But for a moment it really took my breath away because for the first time in my life I truly understood the joy that a child can bring and the fear that can come with being a parent.

So even though these wacky children sometimes make me want to scream, I never forget how lucky we really are. They are good kids.

Playing it Safe

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You can blame a lot of things on a man turning 40. There are all of the traditional and stereotypical things going on here. The desire for a sports car, the need to feel young and vibrant etc.

I admit to feeling all of those things. But I also can say that I truly don’t feel old. Ok, so that is a contradiction to some of what I have said. I do feel the pressure of time. I do feel like there are more responsibilities and fewer chances to take a risk. All that is true.

But it doesn’t change the overall feeling inside that I really am not old. I may not look like I did at twenty. I may have some mystery aches and pains that didn’t exist, but mentally I don’t feel like an old guy.

Ask my children and they’ll tell you that their dad is a big kid. I chase them around the house ans wrestle with them. Little Jack and play handball. I challenge and win races against he and his friends all the time.

Ok, not that impressive to beat a bunch kids. But give me a break. In ten years they’ll be on the verge of entering their peak and I’ll be fifty. Got to take advantage of the opportunity to win while I can. And believe me, I am not conceding anything when I am fifty.

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Spent several hours at a school event last night. It was a dinner for the kindergarten class of 2009-10. The dark haired beauty was in rare form. Not long before we left she told me that she is a big girl and it won’t be long before she is married and has a baby in her tummy. She emphasized the tummy part by sticking her belly out at me.
I smiled and told her that she has plenty of time to learn and grow before she becomes a mommy. She told me that she is ready. So I leaned over and told her that I am ready to speak to any boy that wants to help her become a mommy. She looked at me and told me that I wasn’t going to speak to them, I am going to punch them in the nose.
Good to see that she understands the score. Truth is that little girl is going to take some little boy and turn him inside out. But just in case, I will be there. Good to know that she knows that.
Anyway, at the dinner I made a point of playing with the kids and then moseyed off to hang out with some of the fathers. We made the usual small talk about life. Batted around the idea of retirement and how if we pulled our kids out of private school we could retire earlier.
I laughed. Some of those guys are making so much money it is hard to believe that retirement is an issue that they worry about. Some of them played it safe, doctors and attorneys who moved into the family practice. I don’t fault them for it.
At times I have wondered if I didn’t make a mistake by playing it safe. There are easier paths to walk than the one that I have chosen. There are fewer bumps and bruises to be had by hiking the trail that has already been blazed. But that is not me. I like trying to Shoot the Moon. I like the razor’s edge.
The trick is be aware of where you are at. I don’t want to become the next Icarus. If it works. If I find that way to make it all happen then all is good. And if it doesn’t, well, I have a fall back plan. The hard part is that falling back could end up being a literal experience and that is where my age comes into play.
It is not that you can’t get back up, but the bruises and aches have a way of hanging on a bit longer than they did in the past. I guess that we’ll see what happens.