Waiting for inspiration as a writer is like a kid waiting for the first snow of winter. They peek out the window looking for a cloud, a flake, any indication that a blizzard is around the corner. You can hope, pray and perform native dances to induce the gods to visit, and deny that you have no control over the situation. Fact is, a writer controls their "block" as much as any of us control the weather. The nice thing about that first snow, and the inspiration to write, is that they both eventually come (depending on the climate) in bunches and they both leave you snowed under.
My kids are the source of so much creative energy that sometimes they lead my business astray. For awhile, I wanted to write children's books. Then I wanted to teach elementary school. A phase passed in which I wanted to base my business on speaking about kids and their Dads. Their wonder and energy is contagious; like Superman, I need to learn to harness that power for good!
The boys asked for a chain saw this past weekend. "What for?" I inquired. Turns out they "need" a tree fort, and a friend at school advised them that a chain saw is a needed accessory to any building project. "Tell you what. When you guys are adults and move out of the house, you can buy your own chain saw. Until then, no chain saw." They were crushed. For about two minutes. Then Nick's (the 10 year old) face brightened. "Chris, when we get a chain saw, we can build a house and live in a tree in the backyard!"
I'm glad they'll be moving out. And I'm glad they're planning on staying close to home.
Fight writer's block, or any creative block, by diving in and seeing where your journey takes you. "Control" isn't nearly as important as we adults make it out to be. Sometimes, you just need the right tools, an optimistic outlook, and a tree to build your dreams in.
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Dad - The New "Satan"?
Eight-year old Chris called me "Satan" the other day. It's hard to interpret that for any audience, but my sense is that he believed at the moment that the Devil and me were pretty much interchangable. My "sin" as far as I can ascertain, is that I wouldn't let him (Chris, not the Devil) wwatch YouTube on the computer past 9pm.
Being a parent is like riding a rollercoaster. One minute you're the shining star of your child's life, the next minute you're Mussolini, only without the captive audience. My wife Terry has a good approach to the changing fortunes of parenting, never getting too high or too low. I wish I could adopt that stance for myself, but when Chris lashed out I took his words to bed with me and felt like a real failure as a father.
What saved me was remembering some of the hateful things that I said, or imagined I said, to my own father. The world of a child is centered on self, and that world revolves around their wants and needs. Not having computer time in 2010 is a lot like being called in off the playground while the sun is still out in 1971. The level of technology changes, but not the perspective of the child.
As I approach fifty, it's striking how much I value contact with my folks. Perhaps as we learn to cope with their imperfections, they teach us how to cope with our own. As parents, we're no angels, but we're certainly not satan either.
Being a parent is like riding a rollercoaster. One minute you're the shining star of your child's life, the next minute you're Mussolini, only without the captive audience. My wife Terry has a good approach to the changing fortunes of parenting, never getting too high or too low. I wish I could adopt that stance for myself, but when Chris lashed out I took his words to bed with me and felt like a real failure as a father.
What saved me was remembering some of the hateful things that I said, or imagined I said, to my own father. The world of a child is centered on self, and that world revolves around their wants and needs. Not having computer time in 2010 is a lot like being called in off the playground while the sun is still out in 1971. The level of technology changes, but not the perspective of the child.
As I approach fifty, it's striking how much I value contact with my folks. Perhaps as we learn to cope with their imperfections, they teach us how to cope with our own. As parents, we're no angels, but we're certainly not satan either.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Which Rules to Obey?
I watched a Dad and several youngsters hop into the hot-tub at our gym recently. They dropped their towels right by the sign that reads "No children 12 and under allowed in the hot tub!" Both kids looked to be five or six years old. Being a parent can feel like being under a 24/7 microscope sometimes, and this situation made me think about what we teach our children about rules and the truth.
Telling a "white lie" is accepted as part of navigating society. We cut corners a bit here and there to ease potential rough spots in relationships. What was the father in the hot-tub teaching his kids about rules? Are some "made to be broken" like athletic records? I can't imagine telling my children to obey traffic signals and speed limit signs, while I keep one eye on the road and the other on a radar detector. I can't imagine letting my kids into the hot-tub before they're twelve years old. If they see me flaunt one rule, that will confuse them about which rules can be bent or broken.
That said, I hope that sixty years ago I would have insisted that my boys give up their "front of the bus" seats to an African-American woman, regardless of where on the bus that woman was "supposed" to sit. Some rules were made to be broken I guess. How do you explain to your children when a rule doesn't make sense? Or when a rule, like the hot-tubs at my club, makes sense for some people but not for others?
Telling a "white lie" is accepted as part of navigating society. We cut corners a bit here and there to ease potential rough spots in relationships. What was the father in the hot-tub teaching his kids about rules? Are some "made to be broken" like athletic records? I can't imagine telling my children to obey traffic signals and speed limit signs, while I keep one eye on the road and the other on a radar detector. I can't imagine letting my kids into the hot-tub before they're twelve years old. If they see me flaunt one rule, that will confuse them about which rules can be bent or broken.
That said, I hope that sixty years ago I would have insisted that my boys give up their "front of the bus" seats to an African-American woman, regardless of where on the bus that woman was "supposed" to sit. Some rules were made to be broken I guess. How do you explain to your children when a rule doesn't make sense? Or when a rule, like the hot-tubs at my club, makes sense for some people but not for others?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Aloha Spirit Means Heart-ful Fathering
Our planned 6-day family vacation in paradise turned into a week and a half of emergency room visits and hospital stays. Hawaii never looked so lovely I'm sure, I just wish we'd seen more of it through a windshield and less of it from room 410 of the North Hawaii Community Hospital http://www.northhawaiicommunityhospital.org/
As I watched the nurses and doctors, the paramedics and even the staff of our hotel react to our health issues, I was struck by how much sincere caring everyone displayed. Both of our sons were sick with salmonella, and two stressed-out parents are not the easiest people in the world to deal with. The health professionals always had a smile, timely information and words of assurance when we needed them. Our hotel staff (the Hilton at Waikoloa) extended our room indefintly and slashed the room rate to one-third of what we'd booked at. Friends from United Airlines were proactive in re-booking our flights several times, and made sure we were seated right next to the lavatories (critical!) on the seven-hour trip home.
All this has me thinking about what I would refer to as "Aloha Fatherhood". As parents, we can choose to lead with our brain or our heart. If I had to choose between the two, I'd hope that my heart would provide the guidance and wisdom necessary to bring up children with good brains.
As I watched the nurses and doctors, the paramedics and even the staff of our hotel react to our health issues, I was struck by how much sincere caring everyone displayed. Both of our sons were sick with salmonella, and two stressed-out parents are not the easiest people in the world to deal with. The health professionals always had a smile, timely information and words of assurance when we needed them. Our hotel staff (the Hilton at Waikoloa) extended our room indefintly and slashed the room rate to one-third of what we'd booked at. Friends from United Airlines were proactive in re-booking our flights several times, and made sure we were seated right next to the lavatories (critical!) on the seven-hour trip home.
All this has me thinking about what I would refer to as "Aloha Fatherhood". As parents, we can choose to lead with our brain or our heart. If I had to choose between the two, I'd hope that my heart would provide the guidance and wisdom necessary to bring up children with good brains.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Kids and Ethics
Each day's headlines bring news of leaders in the church, community and business who have made moral missteps. I do believe that all of us can trip into the ethical abyss from time to time. It's what you do once you're there, and how you recover, that is the measure of the man and father.
A football player from Cleveland was recently arrested at an airport security gate. Shaun Rogers was trying to bring a carry-on bag with a loaded and cocked gun, into a secure area and onto a plane. He says now that he didn't know the gun was in his possession. Sorry, this falls into categories of both supreme stupidity and casual arrogance.
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=5058703&campaign=rss&source=ESPNHeadlines
Professional athletes may not be role models, as basketball player Charles Barkley once said, but they are public figures. When an athlete complains about the scrutiny they're under, I wish they'd remember that they could have easily been police officers, accountants or Subway sandwich shop managers. Athletes choose their line of work, as do we all. Some in the media point out with a bit of validity that the "regular" people like us aren't hauled before kleig lights and cameras every time we commit an offense. I can't help think that us "regular" people also can't afford high priced attorneys, nor can we schedule our jail time around spring training or the NFL season.
I wish just once (Tiger, Shaun, Alex, Roger, anyone?) someone in the spotlight would 'fess up to their misdeeds before they're caught. Now that would be news!
A football player from Cleveland was recently arrested at an airport security gate. Shaun Rogers was trying to bring a carry-on bag with a loaded and cocked gun, into a secure area and onto a plane. He says now that he didn't know the gun was in his possession. Sorry, this falls into categories of both supreme stupidity and casual arrogance.
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=5058703&campaign=rss&source=ESPNHeadlines
Professional athletes may not be role models, as basketball player Charles Barkley once said, but they are public figures. When an athlete complains about the scrutiny they're under, I wish they'd remember that they could have easily been police officers, accountants or Subway sandwich shop managers. Athletes choose their line of work, as do we all. Some in the media point out with a bit of validity that the "regular" people like us aren't hauled before kleig lights and cameras every time we commit an offense. I can't help think that us "regular" people also can't afford high priced attorneys, nor can we schedule our jail time around spring training or the NFL season.
I wish just once (Tiger, Shaun, Alex, Roger, anyone?) someone in the spotlight would 'fess up to their misdeeds before they're caught. Now that would be news!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Logic Wins Out Over Rules
Like the Allies and German forces, huddled in trenches awaiting the whistle to go "up and over" for some penultimate WWI battle, the boys and I used to gird for the nightly trauma over baths, pj's and bedtime. When they were 4 or 5 years old, this ritual became a power struggle of epic proportions. As the boys have gotten older and I have matured, the scene plays out with far less intensity. We're all thankful for that.
My wife Terry used to counsel me "pick your battles" when I'd come downstairs from the boys' bedroom after those fights. My face would be red, jaw clenched and the last thing I could think about was a relaxing night's sleep for myself. When I was a kid, bed-time was clearly defined, "lights out" meant exactly that, and very few breaches of protocol were allowed! I thought that was how it had to be.
What I've been reminded of recently is that all us parents are imperfect, and we're all free to set our own rules. My folks learned from their folks, who learned from their folks, and so on back to the Shtetl and ghetto of Eastern Europe. That doesn't mean I have to be a carbon copy of my father. He certainly wasn't a carbon copy of his Dad.*
As I let go of my kids and encourage them to be independent and seek their own way in life, I realize that I can't control them, only influence them. So Nick wears a t-shirt to bed. So Chris stays up late reading. We all get a good night's sleep in the end.
*For the uninitiated, "Carbon Copy" refers to the carbon paper you used to slip between sheets in a typewriter. This is how we made copies in the mid-20th Century. If you have to ask what a typewriter was...I can't help you.
My wife Terry used to counsel me "pick your battles" when I'd come downstairs from the boys' bedroom after those fights. My face would be red, jaw clenched and the last thing I could think about was a relaxing night's sleep for myself. When I was a kid, bed-time was clearly defined, "lights out" meant exactly that, and very few breaches of protocol were allowed! I thought that was how it had to be.
What I've been reminded of recently is that all us parents are imperfect, and we're all free to set our own rules. My folks learned from their folks, who learned from their folks, and so on back to the Shtetl and ghetto of Eastern Europe. That doesn't mean I have to be a carbon copy of my father. He certainly wasn't a carbon copy of his Dad.*
As I let go of my kids and encourage them to be independent and seek their own way in life, I realize that I can't control them, only influence them. So Nick wears a t-shirt to bed. So Chris stays up late reading. We all get a good night's sleep in the end.
*For the uninitiated, "Carbon Copy" refers to the carbon paper you used to slip between sheets in a typewriter. This is how we made copies in the mid-20th Century. If you have to ask what a typewriter was...I can't help you.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Leprechauns
Whoops. My wife is out of town and she usually facilitates the arrival of leprechauns at our house for St. Patty's Day. This time, the imps were not only late, but failed to measure up to our sons' expectations. They left green sparkly liquid in both the bathroom sink and toilet. No Lucky Charms cereal, no green milk, cupcakes or cookies.
When 8 year-old Christopher came down the stairs this morning, he plaintively wailed that this was absolutely "The Worst Saint Patricks Day Ever!" I came "this close" to revealing the leprechaun's true identity, but I held my tongue. In that split second, I realized that his ability to still believe in Santa, Leprechauns and the Easter Bunny is a character strength I truly admire.
What do you believe in that you can't prove?
When 8 year-old Christopher came down the stairs this morning, he plaintively wailed that this was absolutely "The Worst Saint Patricks Day Ever!" I came "this close" to revealing the leprechaun's true identity, but I held my tongue. In that split second, I realized that his ability to still believe in Santa, Leprechauns and the Easter Bunny is a character strength I truly admire.
What do you believe in that you can't prove?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Safety and Change; Teach Your Children Well
There was a "lock down" drill at my 4th grade son's school today. I hate that our kids are growing up in a climate of fear, where dis-trust comes before trust. Life seemed simpler and less dangerous two generations ago when I was growing up, and yet when I reflect a bit deeper, it seems that times haven't changed as much as many of us think they have.
The late 60's and early 70's were times of dramatic social challenges. I can recall "duck and cover" drills at my elementary school. I didn't realize that these were to protect (as much protection as a school hallway can provide) us from Russian nuclear devices. I was convinced that the North Vietnamese would be invading Penfield, New York any day.
How do you create a safe environment for your children? How do you ensure that they feel free to experiment and test their limits, without pushing beyond the edge into reckless behavior?
The late 60's and early 70's were times of dramatic social challenges. I can recall "duck and cover" drills at my elementary school. I didn't realize that these were to protect (as much protection as a school hallway can provide) us from Russian nuclear devices. I was convinced that the North Vietnamese would be invading Penfield, New York any day.
How do you create a safe environment for your children? How do you ensure that they feel free to experiment and test their limits, without pushing beyond the edge into reckless behavior?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Explaining the Unexplainable; School Shootings
We had another school shooting here in Denver this week. Memories of the Columbine nightmare lie just below the surface in this part of the country, even eleven years later. Thankfully, the two middle-schoolers who were wounded are expected to recover from their injuries. I can't begin to fathom what goes through a deranged person's mind when they set out to harm kids, or anyone for that matter. Regardless of where you stand on the issue of gun rights and the place of firearms in today's society, how you talk to children about tragedies like this is intimidating.
With our two boys, I try to be candid without being alarming. Bad things happen to good people and that's a part of this world I'd like to protect them from. I know these truths; (1) I can't protect them forever, and (2) keeping them from reality wouldn't serve them well in the long run.
The basic tenets of fatherhood are the best guide when you're faced with explaining the unexplainable to your kids. Be honest and ask lots of questions to understand how they're feeling. Remember that kids own their emotions just like adults do. What they feel and believe is real to them, and it's never a father's place to try and convince a child to feel differently.
With our two boys, I try to be candid without being alarming. Bad things happen to good people and that's a part of this world I'd like to protect them from. I know these truths; (1) I can't protect them forever, and (2) keeping them from reality wouldn't serve them well in the long run.
The basic tenets of fatherhood are the best guide when you're faced with explaining the unexplainable to your kids. Be honest and ask lots of questions to understand how they're feeling. Remember that kids own their emotions just like adults do. What they feel and believe is real to them, and it's never a father's place to try and convince a child to feel differently.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Dads, Humanity and OJ
Watching the Olympics brings back memories of my own athletic dreams. In my early teens, like most boys I guess, being a "jock" was the height of cool. I didn't know then that football players wore shoulder pads. I spent one autumn walking around with my shoulders hunched up, trying to imitate my heros on the field. In my Buffalo Bills' #32 jersey, I tried to emulate my then-hero OJ Simpson.
Wow, how a few decades and an internationally televised ride in a Ford Bronco can change your perspective. My parents have an artful collage of family pictures in their hallway. Right there in the middle is yours truly, hair down to my shoulders in that jersey celebrating OJ. That may be the only photo celebrating his deeds (on the field) in the world.
I tend to agree with the retired basketball player Charles Barkley. He riled many parents a few years ago by declaring he wasn't out to be any child's hero. Worshipping anyone beyond your circle of family and friends can be fraught with danger. The idols on a poster are far too fallible and their transgressions get played out in the national media. Babe Ruth had his faults and demons, but his fans didn't have ESPN to update them on the hour.
As Dads, we showcase our humanity on a daily basis. Falling from grace in our children's eyes can happen quickly, but we also don't have to wait for the next news cycle to explain our faults to teach (and learn) from them.
Wow, how a few decades and an internationally televised ride in a Ford Bronco can change your perspective. My parents have an artful collage of family pictures in their hallway. Right there in the middle is yours truly, hair down to my shoulders in that jersey celebrating OJ. That may be the only photo celebrating his deeds (on the field) in the world.
I tend to agree with the retired basketball player Charles Barkley. He riled many parents a few years ago by declaring he wasn't out to be any child's hero. Worshipping anyone beyond your circle of family and friends can be fraught with danger. The idols on a poster are far too fallible and their transgressions get played out in the national media. Babe Ruth had his faults and demons, but his fans didn't have ESPN to update them on the hour.
As Dads, we showcase our humanity on a daily basis. Falling from grace in our children's eyes can happen quickly, but we also don't have to wait for the next news cycle to explain our faults to teach (and learn) from them.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Handling Fatherhood Stress!
I'd last about three days as a single parent. Okay, make that seven days. That's how long my wife was gone on her most recent trip, leaving me to fend for (and off) the boys on my own. For those of you who shoulder solo parenting full-time, I could not have more respect.
Parenting is about rising to the occasion. Resiliency as a parent means being prepared for as much as you can, and being flexible when the un-expected occurs. Here are the things I try to remember when fatherhood takes on added stress.
1. Re-think priorities. If the kids are clean, fed and happy, that's enough until you reach a place of relative calm.
2. Be kind to yourself. Whether your guilty pleasure is soaking in a warm bath or having a sitter take over for an afternoon, be selfish in the short term to be your best in the long term.
3. Give the kids more autonomy, not less. This sounds like the exact opposite of what you should do, but hear me out. My sons rise to the occasion, much like I hope I do. They're eight and nine years old. What a joy it is to hear their laughter and witness the creativity when I say "Guys, dinner is on your own this evening!" Yes, we eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly, and the kitchen counter is sticky for days. It's well worth the price for one evening where I'm not cogitating on how to prepare pasta in new and exciting ways.
A mentor told me once that parenting "isn't rocket science". That's true. It took the USA a dedicated decade to put men on the moon. We're still working on the art and science of parenting, and we will be far into the future. What you're doing as a Dad is far more difficult than any far-flung other-worldy endeavor.
Way to go Pop!
Parenting is about rising to the occasion. Resiliency as a parent means being prepared for as much as you can, and being flexible when the un-expected occurs. Here are the things I try to remember when fatherhood takes on added stress.
1. Re-think priorities. If the kids are clean, fed and happy, that's enough until you reach a place of relative calm.
2. Be kind to yourself. Whether your guilty pleasure is soaking in a warm bath or having a sitter take over for an afternoon, be selfish in the short term to be your best in the long term.
3. Give the kids more autonomy, not less. This sounds like the exact opposite of what you should do, but hear me out. My sons rise to the occasion, much like I hope I do. They're eight and nine years old. What a joy it is to hear their laughter and witness the creativity when I say "Guys, dinner is on your own this evening!" Yes, we eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly, and the kitchen counter is sticky for days. It's well worth the price for one evening where I'm not cogitating on how to prepare pasta in new and exciting ways.
A mentor told me once that parenting "isn't rocket science". That's true. It took the USA a dedicated decade to put men on the moon. We're still working on the art and science of parenting, and we will be far into the future. What you're doing as a Dad is far more difficult than any far-flung other-worldy endeavor.
Way to go Pop!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
My Son's Reality Show
Young love sounds as confusing as old love. Nine-year old Nick gave me a primer on this last night as he recounted in hushed tones the amorous adventures of his fellow travellers in the fourth grade. It turns out that Max is in love with Miranda, Alexa has her eye on Tommy, and while Levi likes Annabelle, he does not "like like" her and hence she is fair game for the intentions of Blake. At least, that's how I recall the conversation twenty-four hours later. Of course, all names have been changed to protect the young and innocent.
As an adult it's easy to look back on your childhood as a simpler time in life. Perhaps it was a simpler time but that doesn't mean it was without complexity. I look at Nick's homework some nights and find myself truly baffled. I can answer the math questions, but the lessons of how to arrive at one sum or another have vanished. On the social scene, he's learning how to be an individual, and how to "fit in" all at the same time. I stuttered through phone calls with girls until my college years. He's fielding those same phone calls like a Lothario. I try to remember to pick my battles, whether it's on the length of his hair or the favorite jeans that are now more holes than fabric. Somewhere (the Upper West Side of Manhattan) my parents are chuckling about generational revenge.
Our kids will follow their own path in life. They'll make mistakes, some of the ones we made and are making today, and some brand new mistakes they can truly call their own. As complex as his life is today, Nick will trade 2010's complications for those of 2030 and beyond. I'll try to protect him from the inevitable hurts, and hope he learns from his forays into the complex world of reality.
As an adult it's easy to look back on your childhood as a simpler time in life. Perhaps it was a simpler time but that doesn't mean it was without complexity. I look at Nick's homework some nights and find myself truly baffled. I can answer the math questions, but the lessons of how to arrive at one sum or another have vanished. On the social scene, he's learning how to be an individual, and how to "fit in" all at the same time. I stuttered through phone calls with girls until my college years. He's fielding those same phone calls like a Lothario. I try to remember to pick my battles, whether it's on the length of his hair or the favorite jeans that are now more holes than fabric. Somewhere (the Upper West Side of Manhattan) my parents are chuckling about generational revenge.
Our kids will follow their own path in life. They'll make mistakes, some of the ones we made and are making today, and some brand new mistakes they can truly call their own. As complex as his life is today, Nick will trade 2010's complications for those of 2030 and beyond. I'll try to protect him from the inevitable hurts, and hope he learns from his forays into the complex world of reality.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
What's Your Comfort Food?
I can feel the lump in my stomach. Hours after an invigorating workout with weights and cardio combined, I've just submarined my fitness efforts with a two-hotdog lunch. The warm buns, mustard (and ketchup) remind me of skipping school for the cheap seats and baseball's opening day, making sure to evade my father who was sitting in the box seats! Cold and cloudy days like today remind me of growing up in Western New York. According to NOAA, Denver (my home today) averages nearly seven of every ten days with sunshine. Rochester, where I grew up, has one sunny day for every one with clouds, 51% days with sunshine to be exact.
I'm not blaming the hotdogs on my upbringing, convenient though that would be. But that lump got me thinking about our "comfort" foods. Are they regional? Do they help us make a link (hotdogs, "link", get it?) to our childhood? Do we choose them, or do they choose us? Mine are the aforementioned frankfurters, along with mac 'n' cheese, chocolate ice cream and my mother's pot roast. Had I chosen them, I like to think I would have chosen more wisely. Broccoli anyone?
I hope my kids will be comforted by many things as they grow older. Perhaps the scent of a cologne, or their mom's homemade burritos. With a nod to the 21st century, it might be the nearly imperceptible hum of their Nintendo toys or laptop. As odd as it sounds, one of the most comforting reminders in my life is the smell of a slightly mildewed garage. That takes me back to my maternal grandparents and their home in Muncie, Indiana. Once in awhile, that same smell visits in our own garage. Some 40 years later and I'm right back playing in the front yard with my little plastic toy soldiers.
The things that comfort us probably choose us, not the other way around. Memories, like hotdogs, are probably best when they are mixed infrequently with our present, and our future.
I'm not blaming the hotdogs on my upbringing, convenient though that would be. But that lump got me thinking about our "comfort" foods. Are they regional? Do they help us make a link (hotdogs, "link", get it?) to our childhood? Do we choose them, or do they choose us? Mine are the aforementioned frankfurters, along with mac 'n' cheese, chocolate ice cream and my mother's pot roast. Had I chosen them, I like to think I would have chosen more wisely. Broccoli anyone?
I hope my kids will be comforted by many things as they grow older. Perhaps the scent of a cologne, or their mom's homemade burritos. With a nod to the 21st century, it might be the nearly imperceptible hum of their Nintendo toys or laptop. As odd as it sounds, one of the most comforting reminders in my life is the smell of a slightly mildewed garage. That takes me back to my maternal grandparents and their home in Muncie, Indiana. Once in awhile, that same smell visits in our own garage. Some 40 years later and I'm right back playing in the front yard with my little plastic toy soldiers.
The things that comfort us probably choose us, not the other way around. Memories, like hotdogs, are probably best when they are mixed infrequently with our present, and our future.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
As Ricky said to Lucy, we Dads "Got a lotta 'splainin to do!"
Between Tiger Woods and his fooling around and Mark McGwire with his steroid usage admissions, my kids are asking some pretty tough questions. How do you explain to an 8-year old what infidelity is? Or why a professional athlete chooses to cheat? With the latter, it's been tougher to explain his media blitz "explanation parade" than it has to explain why he wanted bigger muscles.
All this reminds me of my favorite quote about truth and self-deception. I wish I recalled the source, but the essence is "Character is who you are when no-one is watching." Don't you love the simplicity of that? Whether we choose to cheat on our spouse or flick a cigarette butt out the car window, we exercise what my son Chris refers to as "free will."
An athlete may decide to blame the era in which he played, or the pressure of performing in front of millions of fans. In the end (pun intended) he only has himself to blame for injecting performance-enhancing drugs. I have no doubt that Tiger Woods feels tremendous pressure on and off the golf course, but we've learned more about his character in the last month than from any putt he's ever made.
Whether you're in the middle of a crowded arena or alone in the car with your thoughts, you are constantly acting on your free will. The character you display is truly the measure of the man you are.
Between Tiger Woods and his fooling around and Mark McGwire with his steroid usage admissions, my kids are asking some pretty tough questions. How do you explain to an 8-year old what infidelity is? Or why a professional athlete chooses to cheat? With the latter, it's been tougher to explain his media blitz "explanation parade" than it has to explain why he wanted bigger muscles.
All this reminds me of my favorite quote about truth and self-deception. I wish I recalled the source, but the essence is "Character is who you are when no-one is watching." Don't you love the simplicity of that? Whether we choose to cheat on our spouse or flick a cigarette butt out the car window, we exercise what my son Chris refers to as "free will."
An athlete may decide to blame the era in which he played, or the pressure of performing in front of millions of fans. In the end (pun intended) he only has himself to blame for injecting performance-enhancing drugs. I have no doubt that Tiger Woods feels tremendous pressure on and off the golf course, but we've learned more about his character in the last month than from any putt he's ever made.
Whether you're in the middle of a crowded arena or alone in the car with your thoughts, you are constantly acting on your free will. The character you display is truly the measure of the man you are.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I feel like the groundhog on February 2nd. All I want to do is pop my head out of my den to see if the loud noises and fireworks are over. Then some stranger comes along and yanks me out, naked, for all the world to see.
Okay, leaving the holidays behind and getting back into a routine isn't quite as startling as Groundhog Day must be for Punksatawny Phil. Still, my first full day of work in the New Year felt like "back to reality" day. I noticed this with my sons as well. Both boys return from their school day lately with a glazed look in their eyes, nodding off into their dinner and barely staying awake until bedtime.
When the days are short, and cold, as they are here in Denver, it's easy to fall into hibernation mode. All you want to do is make it from sunrise to sunset, and then back to bed. As a Dad, the challenge is to keep yourself from turning into a sleep-addled zombie. Now is the time to throw your habits a curveball. Here are three ideas:
1. Have the kids make dinner for you. As the restaurant chain slogan goes, "no rules, just right". See what they come up with!
2. Change your workouts. Lift weights? Take an aerobics class! Run in the mornings? Go the local rec center and see how many laps you can swim.
3. Complete a genuine act of self-less gratitude for your spouse or partner. A card tucked under their pillow, flowers, a gift certificate or a simple hug and sincere "I love you" will do wonders for them and for you.
Think of it this way. In the darkest days of winter here in the Northern Hemisphere, our friends in the south are sweating out the dog days of summer. Making small changes in your behavior and being alert to the needs of others gets you focused on something besides yourself.
Okay, leaving the holidays behind and getting back into a routine isn't quite as startling as Groundhog Day must be for Punksatawny Phil. Still, my first full day of work in the New Year felt like "back to reality" day. I noticed this with my sons as well. Both boys return from their school day lately with a glazed look in their eyes, nodding off into their dinner and barely staying awake until bedtime.
When the days are short, and cold, as they are here in Denver, it's easy to fall into hibernation mode. All you want to do is make it from sunrise to sunset, and then back to bed. As a Dad, the challenge is to keep yourself from turning into a sleep-addled zombie. Now is the time to throw your habits a curveball. Here are three ideas:
1. Have the kids make dinner for you. As the restaurant chain slogan goes, "no rules, just right". See what they come up with!
2. Change your workouts. Lift weights? Take an aerobics class! Run in the mornings? Go the local rec center and see how many laps you can swim.
3. Complete a genuine act of self-less gratitude for your spouse or partner. A card tucked under their pillow, flowers, a gift certificate or a simple hug and sincere "I love you" will do wonders for them and for you.
Think of it this way. In the darkest days of winter here in the Northern Hemisphere, our friends in the south are sweating out the dog days of summer. Making small changes in your behavior and being alert to the needs of others gets you focused on something besides yourself.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Just Joking Around
We hosted one of Chris' friends for a sleep-over recently. One of the beauties (and curses) of winter break is that every day becomes a Saturday night. "John" arrived at about 6:30pm, with pizza and cherry pie fueling the pre-Tween festivities. Without my darling wife Terry here (off on a trip to her folks' in New Mexico) I was left to fend for myself. So I did what any well-adjusted parent would do. I locked myself in the bedroom and watched a Humphrey Bogart movie.
My take on sleep-overs is that unless there is blood seeping under a door, or screams in the middle of the night, the kids can take care of themselves. After a peaceful night, I fixed chocolate chip pancakes for the boys and John's dad arrived (on a white stallion if I'm not mistaken) around 10:30am and we sent them on their way.
What I've realized lately is that as complex as toys and video games can be, my sons can be amused and enthralled by the simplest things. A conversation about bodily functions can lead to non-stop giggles for an hour. A game of "Go Fish" makes us all giddy. Knock-knock jokes with non-sensical punch lines reach from the early morning into the night.
One difference between the current generation of parents and parents of the past, is that today we seem to want to plan every excursion, or fill every minutes of our kids' time with swim and guitar lessons. Scheduling in un-structured time to enjoy each other's company might help our children understand that the simplest pleasures lead to the most lasting rewards.
My take on sleep-overs is that unless there is blood seeping under a door, or screams in the middle of the night, the kids can take care of themselves. After a peaceful night, I fixed chocolate chip pancakes for the boys and John's dad arrived (on a white stallion if I'm not mistaken) around 10:30am and we sent them on their way.
What I've realized lately is that as complex as toys and video games can be, my sons can be amused and enthralled by the simplest things. A conversation about bodily functions can lead to non-stop giggles for an hour. A game of "Go Fish" makes us all giddy. Knock-knock jokes with non-sensical punch lines reach from the early morning into the night.
One difference between the current generation of parents and parents of the past, is that today we seem to want to plan every excursion, or fill every minutes of our kids' time with swim and guitar lessons. Scheduling in un-structured time to enjoy each other's company might help our children understand that the simplest pleasures lead to the most lasting rewards.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I Never Had a Christmas Tree
Okay, so technically that's not true. Despite our Jewish roots, I do recall badgering my Mom and Dad into buying a Christmas tree one year. This was probably 1967 or 1968, somewhere in that turbulent decade (I blame all of my pre-teen idiosyncracies on the Summer of Love). Growing up in a predominantly Christian city, with holiday advertising and media all around, it was frankly hard to understand why we should be any different than the families of all my friends.
One of things I'm proudest of as a father is that my kids are growing up with a strong sense of who they are. My wife is Mexican/Catholic, I am Jewish/French/Polish/German/Russian. Our two sons know that they represent a melding of cultures and beliefs. I'm amazed at how easily they slip from culture to culture. One moment we're lighting Hannukah candles, the next we're sitting in church as communion is taken. I've been the beneficiary of many lectures from the booster seats in the back of the car on God and spirituality, each one delivered with the passion of true faith.
How we teach our children to be proud of their heritage is paramount to how they define themselves. Where previous generations of parents may have found subjects like this "taboo" or too "complicated" to talk about, 21st century parents have the opportunity to challenge kids intellectually. The more I discuss real-life issues with my sons, whether it's politics or the dalliances of Tiger Woods, the more I realize that my kids are growing up fully capable of making decisions about values for themselves.
Since we embrace all the cultures of our family heritage, we celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas. It's nice to have a tree again!
One of things I'm proudest of as a father is that my kids are growing up with a strong sense of who they are. My wife is Mexican/Catholic, I am Jewish/French/Polish/German/Russian. Our two sons know that they represent a melding of cultures and beliefs. I'm amazed at how easily they slip from culture to culture. One moment we're lighting Hannukah candles, the next we're sitting in church as communion is taken. I've been the beneficiary of many lectures from the booster seats in the back of the car on God and spirituality, each one delivered with the passion of true faith.
How we teach our children to be proud of their heritage is paramount to how they define themselves. Where previous generations of parents may have found subjects like this "taboo" or too "complicated" to talk about, 21st century parents have the opportunity to challenge kids intellectually. The more I discuss real-life issues with my sons, whether it's politics or the dalliances of Tiger Woods, the more I realize that my kids are growing up fully capable of making decisions about values for themselves.
Since we embrace all the cultures of our family heritage, we celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas. It's nice to have a tree again!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The Bongo Beat of Learning
I've read that kids who are involved in music show an increased ability to concentrate on their studies. My two siblings are great examples of this correlation; I couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments! My sister Julie played the cello for many years and later graduated with honors from Harvard Law School. My brother Tom has a Masters from the University of Washington in Chinese studies, he played the cello as well. More important than their academic achievements however, they along with their spouses actively encourage their kid's' musical ambitions. As an aside, I lasted in piano lessons for six months.
Yes, that's a limited focus group, but as our sons have expressed interest in playing instruments, we've supported their passion wholeheartedly. Nick can pick his way through "Smoke On The Water" on the guitar, and Chris will drum anything that's not moving. Including my belly during a recent Sunday afternoon snooze. Still, with expensive lessons and equipment, their favorite instrument to play is a worn and ancient bongo drum. Not even bongo "drums" because it's just one bongo. Or drum.
I've written about the need to feed your children's passions before, even when those passions are fleeting. It's important for kids to experience the excitment of trying something new. Just as important, it's vital for them to understand that exceptional talent in music, or in anything, comes when they match their passion with practice.
Perhaps there is a bongo drum in your house right now. Or a squeaky violin. Or a recorder that can't manage low notes but hits the high notes with alarming frequency. Smile when your kids want to show off their talents, and listen carefully for the sounds of their passion and purpose in life. They're not trying to make it at Carnegie Hall, they're just trying to secure their place in your heart.
Yes, that's a limited focus group, but as our sons have expressed interest in playing instruments, we've supported their passion wholeheartedly. Nick can pick his way through "Smoke On The Water" on the guitar, and Chris will drum anything that's not moving. Including my belly during a recent Sunday afternoon snooze. Still, with expensive lessons and equipment, their favorite instrument to play is a worn and ancient bongo drum. Not even bongo "drums" because it's just one bongo. Or drum.
I've written about the need to feed your children's passions before, even when those passions are fleeting. It's important for kids to experience the excitment of trying something new. Just as important, it's vital for them to understand that exceptional talent in music, or in anything, comes when they match their passion with practice.
Perhaps there is a bongo drum in your house right now. Or a squeaky violin. Or a recorder that can't manage low notes but hits the high notes with alarming frequency. Smile when your kids want to show off their talents, and listen carefully for the sounds of their passion and purpose in life. They're not trying to make it at Carnegie Hall, they're just trying to secure their place in your heart.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Saluting the Single Parent
My wife's been out of town for three days. The kids and I miss her very much for a wide variety of reasons. Her smile, her hugs, her warm words, her errands, her cleaning, her schedule-keeping. Get the picture? Without Terry here, the kids and I slip into "bare necessities" mode. As long as there is un-expired milk in the fridge and pizza at the door, I'm happy and so are the boys.
The good news is, I know my wife will return. At 6:19pm Friday evening to be exact, not that anyone is counting.
For the single parent, help often doesn't arrive at a scheduled time. Nor is the help "guaranteed" like when there are two parents in the picture. I've had friends throughout the years that raised kids on their own, and I can't imagine greater heros in our daily midst. Some people parent alone, meaning their spouse doesn't provide a whole lot of help. Others parent individually due to tragedy, love lost or because they choose to.
You probably know a single parent. The holidays are a great time to offer a helping hand to these heros. Even if it's just a few hours of childcare so they can have some time to themselves, the brief respite is a marvelous present. And you don't even have to wrap it!
The good news is, I know my wife will return. At 6:19pm Friday evening to be exact, not that anyone is counting.
For the single parent, help often doesn't arrive at a scheduled time. Nor is the help "guaranteed" like when there are two parents in the picture. I've had friends throughout the years that raised kids on their own, and I can't imagine greater heros in our daily midst. Some people parent alone, meaning their spouse doesn't provide a whole lot of help. Others parent individually due to tragedy, love lost or because they choose to.
You probably know a single parent. The holidays are a great time to offer a helping hand to these heros. Even if it's just a few hours of childcare so they can have some time to themselves, the brief respite is a marvelous present. And you don't even have to wrap it!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Putting Your Kids First
There she sat at the light, one hand on a cell-phone to her ear, a cigarette in her mouth and the other hand manipulating a lighter. As she pulled away, I spotted the toddler in the back seat. While I wanted to scream at the lady about careless driving, all I could do was marvel at her audacity. What happens when a child becomes something less than our top priority?
Here's a quote from the playwright Arthur Miller, who as I learn about him I realize did many more wonderful things other than marry Marilyn Monroe.
He wants to live on through something-and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. All of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.
The messages we send children about their importance in our lives are constant and form a lasting impression on our kids. When I'm reading the paper or watching a football game, I want "time out" for me. A period to stare mindlessly at sport or the news is part of my wind-down time at the end of a busy day. You probably have that same time as well.
How can you incorporate your kids in your down-time? Perhaps it's as simple as throwing an arm around a young shoulder and encouraging them to wind-down as well. However you choose to reach out, reminding your kids that they're "number one" on your list of priorities makes them feel great. It'll make you feel great too.
Here's a quote from the playwright Arthur Miller, who as I learn about him I realize did many more wonderful things other than marry Marilyn Monroe.
He wants to live on through something-and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. All of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.
The messages we send children about their importance in our lives are constant and form a lasting impression on our kids. When I'm reading the paper or watching a football game, I want "time out" for me. A period to stare mindlessly at sport or the news is part of my wind-down time at the end of a busy day. You probably have that same time as well.
How can you incorporate your kids in your down-time? Perhaps it's as simple as throwing an arm around a young shoulder and encouraging them to wind-down as well. However you choose to reach out, reminding your kids that they're "number one" on your list of priorities makes them feel great. It'll make you feel great too.
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