Books 6-30-08

Mid way through Peter and the Starcatchers. I like it, it's good kitch. Next I think, The Poisonwood Bible.

Family's are Forever

From the time I was a small boy I have believed that Jesus was the Christ. I have believed that he is the Son of God. I believe that my Heavenly Father loves me. The doctrines of the Gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints are a testimony to me that my Heavenly Father loves me.

I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for over 12 years. Until recently I have never received a personal confirmation from God that families can be forever or that what I do by way of keeping covenants I've made really matters if I want to be with my family forever. My children are the impetus for this inspiration. I have felt it twice as I did no more than watch them. The feeling was very powerful. I believe that the Holy Spirit testified with my spirit of the truthfulness of eternal families. I am grateful for my family every day.

Grandma D

Visited Grandma D today. She wants out of her room, out of that building. She is spending 98% of her time in a place she doesn't want to be without contact from those she loves. She gets visits, but it's not enough. When we saw her today she wanted outside bad. It was like 110 degrees, but we took her out straight away. I'm going to try taking her out more often, to make it a priority.

Grandma is seeing her mom and her sister, both dead. She talks to them. She says she knows they're dead. My Dad doesn't buy it. I can't really say one way or another, but if it comforts her what do I care?

Dg4 didn't want to leave her again today. The boys both had pretty good behavior during the visit.

It's Impossible

Can it be possible to play your best, to plot your strategy, to execute on that strategy, and still have your wife love you? I think not. My game playing days with my bride may be over.

7-4-08 My bride takes what I do in the game personally. Today I got a little perspective on the subject from friend Joseph. He caused me to liken it to my work. At work there is a man I'll call Jumbalia Frog because that is what I call him. He is my favorite person in the whole place. His personality is wonderful. However, his performance is wanting and if I were to pick a person that had to go it would be him. I cannot allow my personal feelings to influence my actions. I must strive to do what is best overall. I bring this same attitude to competition. It isn't personal.

In the case of competition among friends however, I guess I'm realizing, even as I write that my tack is to do what is best to execute my overall strategy and win and not what is just best overall. I will have to think about that some more.

A bad father day

This evening wg2 and dg4 were playing peacefully in our backyard. It is always nice when they do that. The boys wanted to blow bubbles out there and that turned into other fun. km and I were using my wireless to play Settlers and I enjoyed a bird's eye view of the boys playing. I watched wg2 overturn a full bottle of bubbles. I don't know why, but my jaw clenched and I stormed outside (much to his surprise) and I got in the two year olds face.

"Why did you do that?" He didn't have a clue. "Why did you dump those bubbles out!" I smacked his hand. He cried. I grabbed his shoulder and marched him straight to time out. When I weigh the cost of my response against the 98 cents the bubbles probably cost I want to take it all back. I'm an idiot.

In the end we talked and the reason he dumped out the bubbles is very simple. He said, "We were being bad guys." Well then his actions were consistent with his role. I would be lucky if it's the worst thing he ever does. I don't care about those bubbles at all. I only care about my son.

Please God, grant me the strength to be a better man, a better father, a better husband, a better son, a better brother, a better uncle, a better grandson, a better friend, a better boss. Please help me to be better.

Tonight

This evening dg4 suggested we should put a lock on the refrigerator. I said, "Why?" To which he replied, "So if some breaks in you know, they can't you know, steal all our food." Obviously!

Daily recap
dg4 also asked in our evening family prayer for there to be more movie watching in our house. Today was a good day. We went as a family and watched WALL-E. (Holy Cow $26 to get in and $6 for popcorn. We snuck in candy). Then we came home, ate a little and while the family napped I worked with a friend to trim the oleanders that pollute our pool. Then I blogged. dg4 was up first and as we began a game of Chutes and Ladders nh came in and joined us. Before it was done wg2 was with us and it was a family affair. Then Maw Maw and Paw Paw came over and just ere they left the boys demonstrated their swimming skills in the pool. Dg4 is getting really quite good. As he might say, "I'm turning into a fish!" Then baked potatoes for dinner, a quick trip to the mall for gellato and a movie at home with my bride. It was a good day.

Bruno

I'd like to introduce you to Bruno.

I don't know where this picture was taken. One of my very earliest memories is of Bruno as a puppy high-tailing it under the bed. He went to the bathroom in the house and was about to receive the wrong end of the newspaper for his trouble.

Bruno, was a medium-sized, muscle-bound, death machine if you didn't know him. I saw him snap the neck of a ground hog who had the audacity to take up residence in the back-yard. He grabbed that ground hog, shook his head (very effectively breaking the things neck), dropped it and never looked back.

Sometimes people would use our yard as a through way to the mall. Once Bruno chased a couple of guys back they way they'd come. One of them didn't make it. Below is a picture of what used to be my side yard as a kid. The gate at the back is where Bruno caught the perp.

We pounded a spike into the ground and attached a log chain around Bruno's neck to make sure he couldn't pull it out. I saw him break that huge chain. I know it doesn't sound real, like something out of a Homer poem, but he broke it, sure.

When he was young my Dad tested him. My Dad wrapped a towel around his arm and let Bruno bite him, I guess to see what it was like. It wasn't very smart. My Dad dropped to his knees instantly. Bruno loved my Dad, he let him go instantly.

I threw many tennis balls that Bruno brought back covered in slobber from frothing jowls; it was disgusting. The slobber drops would hang down after drinking water and I remember pulling my legs up to get away from him.

I loved Bruno and one day when I came home and my Mom said he had run away we went looking for him. After a short while I didn't buy what my Mom was selling. Bruno was aged. He didn't walk or see well. When you let him out to go the bathroom he went and came right back in. Bruno was past running away, he was past living well. We were never as faithful to him as he was to us. He was a good friend and companion. In the end, he either died quietly or my Mom had him put down. Either way that old friend will always be remembered and loved. I hope I'll see him again. I'd give a great deal to throw him a few more tennis balls.

Bedtime Stories @ 2.5

Nh is reading to the boys right now. It's a bedtime story. She cannot finish two sentences before wg2 interrupts her. She explained, "I'll never be able to finish this book if you don't quit interrupting me!" dg4 gets it instantly. wg2 just whispers his interruptions. We stifle laughs.

wg2's interruptions are inane. "That's Timon. And that's Timon. And that's Timon." or "That's Pumba, that's Pride Rock, and those are Hyenas and that guy digged a hole." The Lion King is his favorite story.

We think the story will never end. It does. Sometimes we hope this will never end. It will.

A prayer

Tonight dg4 prayed for Grandma D, that no one will die, that we will find the whole body of a dinosaur and he was grateful for his Aunt G.

Wg2 has a food allergy we don't know about. Saturday at Paw Paw's Birthday party he ate something in the enchilada that triggered an allergy. Sunday morning he exhibited something like mosquito bites on his stomach and ribs. Nh was sure it was because he was playing outside; a mosquito must have gotten in his shirt. The next day he was covered in what we found out were hives. He has hives so bad he can barely walk at times. It tears my heart out. It's suppose to last a week. Uggghhh. His spirits are pretty high and when they're not a little cuddling goes a long way.

I've decided to bunk in his room tonight. Couch cushions on the floor. My own pillow. A down comforter. (It's 95 outside, no really). I rig the fan to blow on me and turn it on high.

He's talking in his sleep which is unusual. I'm worried. I love wg2. If the doctor is wrong I'm going to want to break his bones. He'd better not be wrong. I hope my kids will be peacemakers, Lord knows I struggle at it.

Good Boys

Tonight we visited Grandma D. Everytime we go there wg2 picks a flower for Grandma. It is very sweet, he never forgets.

For some reason tonight dg4 was very sensitive. He stared at Grandma a lot. I bet he kissed her 30 times. He asked to stay with Paw Paw and Grandma D. He wanted to walk as close to the wheel chair as possible.

Joking me

On the way home from visiting Grandma D, I said, "I'm glad Grandma was ornery tonight." I take her spunkiness as a sign that she is feeling better.

Dg4 said, "What does ornery mean?" I said it means when you play jokes, but not mean ones. Dg4 said, "I'm gonna start joking you a lot more." He asked me if I wanted to know some of his tricks. I said, "Sure." He said, "No" and laughed. I guess I fell for that one.

Blogging

It is weird to write in a blog. You try to write for yourself, but you are conscious that others are reading it and then you write differently. I have to work on that.

Unsupervised youth

A Christmas Present
When I was a kid there was a kid named Tony Keel that lived in apartments behind my house. He got a great bike for Christmas and rubbed it in our face. I took it from him and threw it down these stairs that were full of snow at the time. By the time he got it out it was rusted pretty bad. I should have had to work until it was replaced.



New Shoes
Once in the school yard Jamie Schreiner bragged about his shoes. I took them off and threw them in a huge mud puddle. Jamie went into the school crying and out came the principal. The principal ordered me to wade out into the puddle to retrieve the shoes. I began to take my shoes and socks off. He stopped me and made me wade out into puddle; shoes, socks and all. School yard justice. Administrative justice.

Broken Doors
I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was unsupervised much of the time. Tw and I were racing on our bikes through the apartments where he lived. It was our haunt. We looked around in the backyard of an empty apartment. There was a half-dollar sized hole in the apartment’s sliding glass door. We thought we would make a fish tank out of it so we took a hose laying in the closed in back patio, put it into the hole (a perfect fit), and turned the water on. We closed the gate and proceeded to circle the apartments.

I can’t remember if we heard the doors explode, but we saw the broken doors, turned off the water, and entered. We put a drinking glass to the wall and listened to see if we could eavesdrop on the people in the apartment next door. We snooped around upstairs and left.

Some days later tw’s mom called me over to his apartment. She asked if we had broken the doors. Tw admitted that we had done it. “She knows,” he said. “I didn’t do it,” I said. She left the decision up to me, to tell my Mom or not. I didn’t tell my Mom. The punishment didn’t fit the crime very often in my house.

For the next six weeks tw had to pick up trash every day after school. I saw him many of those days. I never helped him. I was afraid.

Father's Day 2008

It is Father’s Day. I am in the Detroit airport. I extended a business trip to visit family in Findlay. It was a good trip.

I write this blog as my journal. I would like to have a journal from my father and mother, from their parents and from their parent’s parents and so on. I call it A Portrait because in words that is what I expect. It will never be the sum of me, nothing is, but when my progeny reads it now, as km17 does, or in years to come when dg4 and wg2 do, I hope it will give them some insight into who I am or what mattered enough to me to write it down. It is a great gift to be a Father. I don’t need to be celebrated for being a Father, I want to celebrate because I am one.
June 15, 2008

The Millenial Generation

I've learned today that km is from the Millenial or the Y generation. So is my wife, is that legal?
I texted km saying "You don't look millenial."
"Thanks," she texts. Hmmm. Sarcasm.
"I don't know what it means to be millenial. Shouldn't you be shiny or something?"
"I am shiny. Duh," she texts. Millenials all think they're shiny, duh.

A life without guile pt. 2

dg4 explained something to me he thought was funny. This is what he shared.

"Dad, you know when you are trying to go around someone?"

"Yeah."

"And they step one way and you step the same way?"

"Yeah."

"And then you step the other way and they step the other way?"

"Yeah."

"That's funny."

"Yeah. Sometimes you say, would you like to dance? Cause that's what it looks like."

"Yeah. That's funny."

Echoes

Like an echo, faintly, we hear each other through the generations. It isn't immortality; it's a distillation. The first man migrating. And to that beginning something original, something new, a true inheritance in the new generation. A smile, a frump, a way. And then joy at that ephemeral utterance, satisfaction, gratitude; that we are not lost here, that we continue. Praise to God, we exist.

wg2 repeats what dg4 says on a 2 second delay. "Get the bad guy," dg4 says. One beat. Two beats. "Get the bad guy." They play in proximity, but separately when it happens. (I rather prefer it when they play together, which they do often. They do it without fighting less often.) Wg2 watches dg4, emmulates behavior, learns.

dg4 uses the word suck. ugghh. I use the word suck regularly. It's a lazy, undisciplined speech. I never thought it sounded ugly, but when that 4 year old says it I cringe at the vulgarity and the innocence. Juxtaposed.

I'm very often told how much I look like my Dad. I don't believe it, I don't see it. I think others mistake an inflection, a motion, some similar affect for looks. Nevertheless, I consider it praise.

My father has an easy way and yet he's firm. He makes decisions and moves on. He loves his mother, he cares for her during her rehab. Many hours, many days.
Dad horses around like his uncle Abe. Ah, there it is. Echo

I think it matters to God.

I'm fat. I know it isn't going to get any easier. The spring allergies kicked my butt (hence no exercise - excuse #1) and I've eaten whatever I want (no excuse). It will especially be hard to get going. Here is my plan.

Weight Watchers for food intake.
Two Protein shakes a day.
Lift weights M-W-F. Run 1/2 hour prior to lifting weights.
Ride bike T-T for an hour before work.
On all days eat prior to exercise.
Get sleep.
Keep going, keep trying.

Did I say get sleep. Sleep will be as important as watching my food intake. These will have to be cornerstones of my effort. I must keep this commitment. It is important. My life matters. The lives of my family matter to me; I want to be a part of their lives, I have a responsibility to be a part of their lives.

My goal is not to lose the 65 pounds I'm overweight. My goal is to do the list. I believe if I do the list the weight will take care of itself. Do the list.

Wearily, happily (I missed one)

In the last ten days I have slept in California, Arizona, Michigan, Ohio and Colorado. That's enough and I want to go home again.

Yesterday my flight into Detroit was delayed. I missed my connection and through a series of errors by the devil (united airlines) I had to spend the night in Colorado. I felt so angry. I wanted to go green and break the place up. I was really, really looking forward to seeing nh and the boys.

I called to let my Mom know because she wanted me to call her when I got home and it clearly wasn't going to happen. She suggested I call my aunt and spend the night at her house. I felt weird about it. I'm not much for inconveniencing people if I can help it, but I'm no martyr. I didn't call.

My mom called back awhile later and said she called my aunt and that she is happy to pick me up and that I better call her. I did, as I said I'm no martyr. My aunt and uncle drove an hour and a half, picked my butt up, took me to their house where we arrived at 1:45 am and they gave me a warm bed. The next day I got a shower and we went to breakfast with my cousin. It was so much better than sleeping in the cold, dirty airport. Man am I grateful.

The truth is they are good company and that was the best part of the whole thing. When they dropped me off they came in and spent some time with me and we talked. It was a tender mercy. What are the odds my bag will arrive?

Despite a warm bed I only slept about 5 hours. I'm weary. Please let there be rest.

Words

gg called my daughter incredible. km17 liked it.

I love my wife. I think of her very often throughout every day. When we met she taught me that character is important to me. I hadn't previously known it, but then I met her, a young woman of character. I tell her I love her. I mean it. I feel it.

Words are easily said, easily written. What I mean when I say I love my wife is that I want her to have peace in her life, happiness, joy. I want her to have comforts, rich experiences and I want her to know she is the most important thing in my life, that I will care for her no matter what, that being together with her and our family is what I want most. What I mean when I tell her I love her is that I want to contribute to these goals.

But how does she feel? Is she happy? Does she have rich experiences, joy, peace? Does she always feel loved? I know that she doesn't sometimes and that sometimes I'm the reason. I know I'm not perfect and I don't think she expects me to be, but when my actions make my words empty it's painful for me and I would guess trying for her.

Incredible that words should come so easily and be so hard to live up to. I didn't know it would be that way, but I see the reality of it in the single most important relationship in my life.

We speak promises with our words. We don't know that sometimes we can't live up to them. Or that living up to them may be the pursuit of a lifetime. I continue to try to live up to the words I speak to my wife, to behave in ways that make her feel loved, safe, happy. Ultimately, I think the reason I fell in love with my wife is that I believed that she would spend her life trying to live up to her promises. I believed I could trust her with me. I wanted to be the one she trusted with her. nh has kept that sacred trust and it is the greatest gift I've ever been given.

I hope gg doesn't just call km17 incredible, I hope gg treats her that way. I hope km17 is smarter than I was, I hope she will expect everyone she loves in her life to keep their promises, to keep that sacred trust.

"Great" Places

I'm in Michigan. I went to the beautiful beach today and played Frisbee. The temperature was perfect, the beach sand was white and soft, the water was freezing cold. Some kids got in the water and then climbed up over the boardwalk and up the giant sand dunes. Brave souls.

I spoke with nh and the boys. dg4 began swimming across the pool by himself today. It is a good step for him.

The next title challenge is a non-primary color. Good Luck

Not Regretfully (Yes it's two adverbs)

My Father has tattoos. He got them before I was born and for as many years as I can remember he's told me he wishes he never got them.

A friend of mine has a tattoo of Warner Bros. Tasmanian Devil holding an Italian flag. My friend has an Italian heritage, he was in college and feeling uninhibited when he got it. A silly college act he might say.

My younger sister has a tattoo. It's a large fairy on her lower back. She's only had it a few years and laments every having done so. Her hubby, jl, has a gecko "tat" on his back and has never expressed the same regret that I know of.

Last weekend on the beach in San Diego I saw a very pretty girl. She laid her towel right in front of us and was hard to miss so I took some pics. The tat on her back is religious in nature. On her right and left sides there are others.



I sometimes understand why people get tattoos. My friend's taz devil for instance; in the moment, maybe drinking, camaraderie, whatever. Maybe tattoos are signs and symbols to others. Maybe people identify with a particular symbol, feel some connection to it. Dad's at 18 could have been to demonstrate he was tough. I wonder if he even remembers why he did it. A gang member might do it to show loyalty.

But really, what does a tattoo say? Does it really mean you're loyal? or pious? or tough? I can honestly say I have never seen a tattoo that made me think a person was loyal, pious, or anything really or improved the way a person looked. Not one. And even if a person identifies with a tattoo at a certain age, feels it represents an important piece of who they are and they want to share it, I'd wager forty years or less will do wonders to alter the strength of that identification.

What God gave us is top notch and the little vine tattoos, or butterflies on the ankle, or peace symbols take what looks downright perfect and makes it look, well, like something less.

Now plastic surgery is a different story.

Simply, Silently

"Can you help us find our Dad? He's lost." That's what the oldest one told our neighbors when the boys went to find me. After knocking on the neighbor's door early that morning for five minutes, the night owls that live there answered. That early in the morning it is always better to be greeted with "hellos!" or "how are yous?" The tallest knocker does not know this.

"I'm sure your Dad's not lost," was the reply and shortly after, off the boys went leaving artifacts on the guest house porch; a sippy cup, a rock.

I imagine them, the oldest one in the lead, wending their way back to our house where they found me, without the help of our guest house neighbors (who watched from his door until they got back into their own), in my bedroom talking to their mother.

I'm irritated that I didn't hear them go out of the house. I explained the rules, that I was scared not knowing they went out of doors, that they might be injured and then I let it drop. After all they are two and four, if I want them to stay inside I need higher locks and also, how sweet that my adventurers went to find me.

****Note to self, go buy higher locks.

Interestingly, Haltingly

A few years ago dg4 received a fishing pole from his uncle jg. At the time I thought, Oh great, now I have to go fishing. It isn't that I really minded taking dg4. I'd take him anywhere he wanted to go, but I am wont to find a more mind-numbing, boring, sleepy, wasteful task. I mean, can't you just buy fish at the store?

Time went by. Every time dg4 saw that fishing pole in the top of his closet he asked, "Can we go fishing?" My response very often was, we need to talk to your uncle jl or jg and then we'll see. It was a stall tactic.

Interestingly, dg4 wasn't just interested in catching the fish, but in cooking and eating them as well. Hmmm? What to do?

And then it happened, we learned of a fishing derby where dg4 could fish with cousins cj, k?, and cl with uncle jg at the helm. I was in.

1. dg4 observes the catch, haltingly
2. dg4 lands a big ol' catfish - 1.9 lbs. & 2nd place in the 0-4 years age category



3. Me, professional hook remover. Fish are icky & slimy.
4. dg4 receiving his 2nd place prizes - Sponge Bob Fishing Pole, tackle box & fishing net



5.&6. Uncle jg preparing the fish, which friend mj cooked up and dg4 spat out. Yuck!

Before it was over dg4 caught 3 fish, more than everyone else combined. He caught them early in the day and all within about 1/2 hour. Though I fought boredom in the long hours after the fish were caught, I felt dg4 and I did something wonderful together. I'm not sure what dg4 felt, he seemed very interested in touching the non-"poky" part of the catfish - the underbelly. I also learned, that while I may think fishing sleepy it is also restful, while the fish may taste badly the experience with dg4 was beautiful. It was a good day.

Thanks to the jg clan for making it possible & especially uncle jg for everything, everything, everything he did.

Verily Verily

Grandma D. is back at the hospital. She is weak. Blood work shows a red blood cell count that is a little low, but not alarming. She is a little dehydrated, but not a lot. Grandma's blood sugar is 300+. She is listless and has to be fed and reminded to chew and then reminded to swallow.

She still has a sense of humor. When I was trying to encourage her once I said, "Good job, I'll take it." To which she gutturally replied, "I'll give it."

My Dad is her cheerleader. He is adamant with nurse Dede that she be given plenty of attention during breakfast the next morning. He wants someone to make absolutely sure she eats. I pray it gets done like she needs.

Grandma got out, "I don't want to stay here." Dad and I replied, "Then you have to eat."

Grandma is 77 and will be 78 in August.



Grandma B. is a ball of fire at 93. She was one of those women who is so short that she had to sit on a cushion to see over the dash. We asked her to stop driving and she refused, stubborn old bird. Grandma B. was 87 then. She stopped driving the day she pulled out of her driveway and got t-boned at 55 mph.

At the hospital during recuperation they exercised Grandma B. until she passed out. This happened twice. Grandma is still under the distinct impression that they were trying to kill her. She refused to exercise any further. Her doctor was furious.

A man who had been her doctor for 29 years was retired, but on the hospital board. He came by to visit and she complained that they were trying to kill her. The rehab stopped. I asked what the hero doctor's name was. I thought she said, "Doctor Lipshitz." I laughed. nh chimed in, "It's Dr. Lipshootz." I laughed again.

I've accepted km17's challenge as of today my blogs begin with not one, but two adverbs. Whooa!

I hate guns

The boys got toy guns today. uggghh. When I think of guns I think of death. Death of an animal, of a human being. It is a tool that takes life. Target practice is only for getting better at taking life. Sure the good guys protect the innocent from the bad guys, but they draw their guns for one reason. uggghhh.

The boys haven't had any guns. In the absense of guns they make guns of sticks and legos. How does that happen?


We told the boys that bad guys kill people with guns. We let the boys get guns if they would always be the good guy. They promised. See the smiles on their faces. How naive are we?

June 2, 2008

Today was a busy day at work. It went fast and felt satisfying. I think people want to contribute. I think people want to help. I think people want to have their contribution acknowledged. I think it was a good day at work.

Grandma D. is worse. I reminded my Dad that after her last transfusion she perked right up. In the last 10 days she has been slowly declining. They are doing blood work to see if her blood count is where it's supposed to be. We are waiting eagerly for the results.

The family is going for Pizza tonight. It's family home evening tonight (fhe). There are 6 components to fhe. 1. song 2. prayer 3. lesson 4. practice memorizing our articles of faith 5. the game 6. the desert. Tonight they won't happen in that order. At pizza the games will likely proceed all else.

Lies

Dg4 just passed wind over by the fireplace. He giggled and I said, "Did you just pass gas?" To which he replied, "Mom did it" and then "Wg2 did it." Not very convincing since wg2 is in the other room sleeping. I'm keeping an eye on his Mom however.

Scary

Yesterday I got to sleep in thanks to my bride. When I got up I heard the clan in the foyer. I went that way and they were putting on shoes and preparing to leave to buy a special breakfast (doughnuts). They were all facing the door. I growled a low growl like a T-Rex to wake the boys up a little. When to my surprise my bride wheeled around, fists up, stance wide, ready for a fight. When I realized I scared the crap out of her I gave her a hug and she cried.

I don't know why I believe scaring people is funny. It certainly wasn't funny yesterday, but it was impressive to see a mother prepare to defend her cubs.

I remember another time in high school when I played a prank on my much younger step-brother eb. I came from a date undetected, crawled into my closet, the back of which shared a wall with eb's room. I knocked on the wall and he call in our parents. They searched a little, reassured eb that all was well and went back to the living room. I knocked on the wall a second time and eb and the parents repeated the routine.

I then got out of the closet and went into eb's room, shhhsing him as I entered. I asked him to call them one last time and when my step-mom reached around the wall to turn on the light I touched her hand. I thought she was going to come out of her skin. It was an over-the-top scare and I felt like a jerk and probably got into trouble too I just don't remember.