Month: February 2012

The Dance..

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Nervousness is in the air.

Does my shirt look right? Is my hair combed to  perfection? What time is it? Holy cow we are supposed to leave in a few minutes! Should I wear my boots dad or my tennis shoes? Oh my goodness I got water on my shirt while fixing my hair, what do I do? Mom quit messing with my hair! Can we go now dad, can we go?

My eleven year old went to his very first school dance last night. I was prepared to enjoy this moment; him running around like a train wreck waiting to happen.  Me teasing him constantly about everything from his hair to his clothes.  Making childish smooching noises as he spoke with his mom about the girl he asked to the dance! Oh yeah this moment was mine! 34 years in the making! The embarrassing verbal assault from father to son.  A time-honored tradition passed down from generation to generation. Yep the night was finally mine! Until something hit me, and hit me hard.  It was my conscience..

The year 1979;

Jimmy Carter is President of the United States. Margret Thatcher is elected as the first female Prime Minister of England. Gas is 0.86 cents a gallon and rent will run you an average of $200.00! My favorite television shows of the time were M.A.S.H., Mork and Mindy, Happy Days and the Walton’s.  Disco was in full swing, (Thank you John Travolta) and we loved listening to the Bee Gee’s, Blondie, Donna Summer, Rod Stewart and The Village People. The Walkman was introduced to America, at $200.00 it was a sign your parents had money.  It was also the year of Three Mile Island. The nuclear disaster that changed the way we thought about nuclear energy.

It was also the year I went to my first school dance. I was a girl crazy seventh grader, who felt awkward and ugly.  I overcame a lot of those emotions with a dry, somewhat misunderstood sense of humor.  I was also quite the story-teller (hmmm imagine that). If I could get you to like me and see through my awkwardness with a joke or a good story my confidence would rise from the shadows.  I never really fit in with one group or the other.  I never had the newest nicest clothes.  I was raised on a horse ranch and my parents owned a western store.  Money was always tight and my sister and I wore a lot of store returns.  I was picked on quite a lot by the “popular” kids for my western attire all through elementary school. Little did they know when our hormones were to hit their height from 1980-82 Urban Cowboy (Thank you again John Travolta) would change that forever! Oh yeah who is the cool one now bitches!!!  Yet I digress.

The first dance was near and I was terrified. I almost didn’t go that night, I made such a big production about the event my parents were ready to kill me.  My biggest hurdle to get over was the fact I had nothing to wear.  I wanted so badly to dress like the popular kids and yet I had nothing but used hand me down western store clothes.  WESTERN CLOTHES to a disco dance are kidding me!  My frail little ego was having none of that!  My parents didn’t understand the importance of this dance.  I wanted so bad to be there, looking my best just so I could have the opportunity in a dark room with lights flashing to ask the one girl I really liked to dance.  Then when she said no I wouldn’t be able to see her face in the darkness and I could walk away with some sort of dignity.  (being well dressed that is).  I fretted and worried, tried on every combination and finally found something I felt would work.  It was something I was all too comfortable with, I didn’t feel stupid wearing it, and everyone would notice me.  My parents didn’t approve, but were so frustrated with my emotional state they finally let it go.  I loaded up into the car and way we went.  

My father teased me non stop all the way to the dance.   Now for most kids this would be a 3-5 minute bit of secluded verbal abuse, easy to brush off and let go.  For me it was 20 minutes of non stop torture. You see we lived 10 miles out-of-town and another 5 miles to the Junior High.  Between the “how many girlfriends you got waiting for you” banter along with “kiss as many as you can” and ” boy they are gonna see you coming in that get up” I couldn’t wait to get out of the car!  My dad had no sympathy.  I am sure in his mind he was trying to be funny, to lighten the mood, but I was having nothing to do with it.  I arrived at the dance, was given the “you better not leave the campus” speech and away he went.  On my own at last.  The music was pumping out of every corner and crevice of the gymnasium! I could feel it in my bones, I had never been anywhere the music was this loud! Man it sounded it good.  I took a deep breath, put a smile on my face, pushed the scared awkwardness deep down inside and headed for the door. The night was mine.

I remember entering the gym, it was dark, the disco ball spinning, boys on one side and girls on the other.  A handful of kids dancing (eighth graders) and everyone staring at you.  It was then and only then I realized what a dreadful choice in clothes I had made in regards to this occasion.  Like I previously stated, I wore what came naturally to me, what left me feeling the most comfortable, little did I know I would end up making half ass excuses for wearing this combination the rest of the evening. You see I had chosen to wear my 4-H whites.  Oh yeah I had figured out if all white was good enough for the king of Disco himself; John Travolta, then it was good enough for this kid! One problem; remember that part about me wanting to “slip in and slip out” with my rejection after asking the popular girl of my dreams to dance.  That is kind of hard to do in a room filled with black lights and disco balls, especially when you are decked out in white!  I was Casper the freaking ghost! An apparition to some a human light bulb to others. I was laughed at, pointed too and left in the corner wondering just what the Hell I had done.  Oh I played it off well, or so I thought.  Sweat from my collar as I lied and recounted how I had come from a 4-H meeting, leaving me no time to change for the occasion.  It was bull, they knew it was bull, I knew it was bull, yet I stuck with the story.  It was a nightmare..

Eventually the pressure subsided, I came out of the shadows, my true friends stuck behind me and my little charade.  I asked the popular girl to dance and she said yes. I was never sure whether she said yes out of pity for all the teasing her friends were giving me or because she really wanted to dance with me.  Either way it didn’t matter, she was nice, we danced and after that night we remained acquaintance/friends through our senior year of high school. I had accomplished my goal, it was the highlight of my night! I went to the dance a frightened boy and came home a disco dancing, swaggering man! Oh yeah, Not only had I headed to “Funkytown” and survived, but I came home with my full-fledged Y.M.C.A. members card!

So my conscience is ruling the night. This is his moment, his time to overcome his own fears and worries, I have chosen taking the path of support.  I have given him honest answers to his choice in clothing, helped him with his hair and even allowed him the use of my cologne! Hey if the kid wants to smell good, who am I to argue!  I ask if he has asked anyone to the dance, expecting an embarrassed reply of no, only to find he has! And she said yes! The best part is we know the girl and she is an awesome young lady.  I can see his confidence level rising as we near the school.  We arrive and as I am walking him to the door to be checked in I decide to drop back just a little.  Just enough to allow him room to walk in without “dad” by his side.  Before he can turn around I am gone.  Smile on my face, warmth in my heart.  For I know he is going to have a great time. He is dressed sharp, he has tons of confidence, his “date” (what ever that is at eleven) is a very nice girl and his father kept his big trap shut. Severing the “all in good fun” verbal assault that has transcended one generation to another.

The First…

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The day came and I was surprised at the sight of your pink skin, little fingers, tiny nose, and gleaming eyes. It’s not that I didn’t know what a baby looked like, it was just you were everything I had always wanted and more! Your mother cried exquisite tears of joy.  I held her tight and cried alongside her at the sight of our first born child. The emotions overwhelmed and surprised me. 

You are the first to crawl, the first to walk, the first to get hurt and cry! The first to capture you mothers heart and leave me filled with emotions I didn’t understand! The first to keep us up all night worrying about your sleep patterns. Your mother and I are the first to run to your aid and hold you.  You are my first experiment in parenting, the first to have me realize I am a grown up with responsibilities.  You were the first to become a big brother. A job you have handled quite well.  The first to go to school and make first friends. The first time you stood upon a stage in elementary school it was all I could do to contain my feelings of pride. We were never first when I coached all your baseball teams, from coach pitch on up, but I tried very hard!   Your team mates voted me best coach every year, which made me first place in your eyes! You are the first in our family to master not one but two instruments. Amazing!  The music you create has inspired me, I am now listening to classical music for the first time in my life. 

The first time you received bad grades we worked through them and though your mother and I thought we may just have to kill you so the others could thrive.  We didn’t, you survived, we survived and you became the first to consistently carry a 4.0.  I remember the first time I received a phone call from your athletic director advising your mother and I that you had been voted male student athlete of the year.  I actually cried a little after that phone call.  My face was beaming and I couldn’t have been more proud!  The first time you showed an animal at the fair you did quite well. The second year you were first in showmanship! You became the first to sell an “average” show chicken for more money than the reserve grand champion.  That was a first in itself.  The first to ride a dirt bike and the first to ride a horse.  The first to go fishing with me, the first to learn to swim and the first to climb Half Dome. You were the first to go to state with your team, and the first to support me in remembering 9/11.   

Over the years son you have had many firsts.  You will always be the first.  For as you can plainly see being the oldest affords you that luxury.  But there is something I must tell you, something that is gnawing at my heart. An emotion that makes it hard for me to breathe. Squeezes my chest, leaving me with a feeling of helplessness.  Something I know you wont understand until you are grown with children of your own. 

Being first also means you will be the first to drive, the first to go to college and the first to leave home.  The day you leave home and head out into this crazy world is coming rapidly, and to me you are still that pink little boy with tiny fingers and sweet little eyes.  To me you are still everything I always wanted and hoped you would become.  To me you still need and will always want my help and protection. But I know you wont need it, you are incredibly smart and self-reliant. You will be just fine on your own without me..  Oh that “something” I was describing;

Sometimes I wish you weren’t first at everything….

You will be the first one I am going to miss. 

I love you…..

I’m having one of those days…..

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I’m having one of those days…

We have all heard this statement proclaimed at one time or another. Yet what does it mean? We automatically assume it refers to an absolute uncontrollable outcome.  A moment during a 24 hour period that spirals out of control, leaving the complainer in a state of irreversible turmoil.  I on the other hand would like to believe it may define a fantastic day! (hyper ecstatic) IM HAVING ONE OF THOSE DAYS! 🙂 Woo Hoo!

Yet the more I ponder that emotional direction , my theory falls flat on its face.  Heres why.

You see today I am having one of those days.  And no matter how much I try to save it, I keep falling short.  It’s like finding a hole in a dyke. You place one finger in the whole hoping to slow the flow of water, only to find another hole within arms reach.  You take your free hand and plug the new hole only to find another pop up around your feet.  Before to long you are spread eagle upon a dyke that you just can’t control!  (I’ll just let that image resonate for a while).

Today started out great! I made lunches the night before, set the coffee pot to start at precisely 0545 and I woke up on time.  The kids awoke without any problems, and breakfast went off without a hitch.  Most of the time I would have been very pleased with myself over the smooth flow of the morning.  Borderline patting myself upon the back as I watched the clock slowly ticking away towards departure time. Yet its then and only then, while at our highest confidence level things deteriorate rapidly.  This is where the (excuse the term) men are separated from the boys.

The youngest can’t find his lunch box! This is a perpetual problem we just can’t seem to get a handle on.  Heaven forbid you try to hurry him into locateing the damn thing! It is then and only then he finds the need to move slower. He says moving slowly helps him think, but I see the smirk on his face as he takes control my oldest childs morning!  The oldest is furious because now he will be late for zero period! He hates being late (got that from dad) and will do or say anything to create a reaction that gets people moving! (got that from dad too).  My daughter on the other hand is dressed, packed and ready to go. She is always the first one ready to head out the door. She reminds me very much of Lucy from the peanuts in her smugness.  All of my sons have been at the wrong end of “Lucy’s” controlling moods!  Ultimately resulting the proverbial “football” being pulled out at the last-minute resulting in someone staring at the sky in pain.  This morning she decides to remind every one of her status as “perfect” by making snide comments to the little on in passing.  She is not helping! The middle child, or as I like to refer to him “the puppet master” is slowly putting his shoes on listening intently.  He is not listening to see how he can help, mind you, oh no! This little future Jerry Springer, knows where and when to make the perfect inappropriate comment, sending all four of them into turmoil at once! Then as they all argue and fight he stands back, rubbing his hands together, interrupting just long enough to deliver little one liners, furthering the chaos! Step in, step out, laugh and manipulate. Throw in a couple of bouncers, some cameras, a studio audience, and this kid has a show! Dance puppets, dance!!

After getting the little heathens out the door, I kissed the wife told her good luck, and set to enjoying a hot cup of jo all alone.  Oh yeah, time to recoup!  Sure, like that is going to happen.

No sooner do I get the laundry started, the kitchen cleaned and dinner prepared, then my phone starts chirping at me! Guess who has a 9am meeting in town at the bank? Oh yeah its Betty!  So in thirty minutes time, I turned everything off, found the  dogs (oh by the way its raining and they are soaked), stoked the fire, changed the laundry and managed to get myself dressed and into town.  Walking into the bank with one minute to spare!  Deep breath! Finished my business at the bank, drove to the store, went to the feed store, and rushed back home!  Now I only have two hours to finish the laundry and complete the Banana bread I promised I would deliver before I head over to the barn so I may take care of our horses.  Once finished there, its off to pick up 4 kids on two different time schedules then back home in time to serve dinner before I head off to a club meeting in the next town.  Phew!

Now I am thinking I got this! Oh yeah, nothing old Betty can’t handle on a daily basis! But before I am able to gather my knickers I realize the laundry I washed earlier had no soap in the dispenser!   The dogs I brought inside, well after being so nice as to let them into the house, one of them decided to make my carpet his personal toilet! If that weren’t enough to send you over the edge I decided to take a gander at the kids rooms! And the kids rooms have an appearance that suggests hurricane “ass beating” is going to come on shore very soon. I finally get a moment to continue my Banana bread making only to discover that when I was at the store, even though I was holding my grocery list as if my life depended on it, I forgot eggs and butter!  Seriously EGGS and FREAKING BUTTER! How the hell am I supposed to bake without two of the three key ingredients!  I feel the day spiraling out of control! Oh and don’t get me started on our bathrooms! Yeah that was supposed to be squeezed into my day today as well!  Thinking that maybe, just maybe my kids have a heart and have thought of dear old Betty, I pop into the bathrooms hoping to see them clean and organized! AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! I think I have passed out drunk in cleaner public restrooms!  GGGRRRRRRRRRR! I quit!!!!

So there you have it, I am having one of those days. No positive connotations, no hope what so ever of recovery, spiraling out of control, all I can do is take a deep breath and wonder, what pub nearby has the cleanest restroom……

Why?

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Why?

A question that we ask on a daily basis. Why? A question that children ask, usually to learn, absorb knowledge and at times to drive us crazy.  Why? A quest that can become repetitive in answering. Example: Can I have a brownie dad? No. Why? Because it’s not good for you. Why? because it has sugar in it. Why? because its made with sugar. Why? Because th…. oh hell you get the point!

The thing about this adverb is it sticks in your brain and you can’t let it go! You as an adult constantly ask why without saying “why”.  Thats how we operate! Education and years of experience have taught us how to formulate a question to receive the maximum answer. Yet as children we only know one way to obtain information, that is to ask “why”? But what is bothering me, the reason I am into this little diatribe is that I also think as adults we may be to smart for our own good.

As adults, life has us running on empty constantly, we run to work to meet the expectations of our superiors.  We run to school dropping off and retrieving our children. We run back to the park or gymnasium for our children’s sports leagues.  Then there is the store, the dry cleaner, the gas station and so on. But that’s OK we are smart intelligent human beings, we can multi-task , operating on many levels. We need our information quickly, we don’t have time to mess around. Just look at all the parents at the soccer game paying not attention to their little Beckhams’s! No they are entrenched into the information first, life leash that is the modern-day cell phone! Life is short and getting shorter all the time! Just ask any frazzled parent, they will tell you! One of the first comments out of most parents partaking in small talk is; I can’t believe its: insert month here already. or Holy cow little Johnny is getting huge! The last time I saw him he was just a little guy! Where does the time go? A sure sign life is traveling fast and passing us by.   So at the end of the day, after answering the “educated” why questions multiple times over, we as adults have no more patience in regards to our own children. Especially to the myriad of “why” questions rolling around in their little brains.

Think about it, how many times in the afternoon while trying to focus on making dinner, providing lunches for the next day, getting the laundry going and having a glass of wine for your own personal sanity have you become frustrated with your childs constant “why” questioning? Inevitably at some point you are going to lose composure and bark at them: because I told you so!  My personal favorite by the way.  And WWHHYYY are you barking at them? Because you have forgotten about the inner workings of a child’s mind. Your brain is still entrenched in a please the boss, I am dealing with only frustrating, idiotic adults mentality.  You have forgotten how to turn that off and bring your thought process down to your child level of understanding.  A level of understanding that requires the use of the word “why”  when asking a question.

We as parents (myself heavily included) need to remember that every time a child asks “why” it is not to get under our skin. (Although I am sure there are a few of you who will disagree with me on that one. Just remember that child is not the norm, that child is possessed by Satan.) It’s because that’s the only way children know how to ask the question. They want a really good answer too. Because I said so; is not a qualified answer. Yet time and again we treat these questions as frustrating and annoying.  We as adults are doing damage to our kids by squelching the ability to ask why? Asking why is one of the fundamentals of being a human being. If we continue to suppress the urge to ask why as a child, the child will never understand how to ask why in a well formulated, information gathering fashion as an adult. That same adult will certainly never understand how to process any answer given.  It is all in our hands people! Our children’s futures are in our hands and we as impatient, self-absorbed adults are doing our best to destroy it by not allowing our children to ask the simple question of “why”? We are also destroying their futures by not taking the time to get down upon their level and answer the “why” question with an age appropriate knowledge provoking answer! Something they are so desperately seeking!

Anyways, that is my irrelevant thought for the day. A rant based probably on my own guilt as a short-tempered worn out father of four. Now go out today and do something positive for your kids!  Why?

Because I said so…..

 

Running out of time

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In June of 2011 after successfully completing the length of a marathon while walking in support of cancer awareness at the Relay for Life event held in our town.  I decided that I was going to get back to exercising everyday! I felt I needed to lose some weight (ok my doctor told me too but it always sounds better if it was my idea) and getting back into shape just might help my job performance as well.  I was already participating in a half ass workout at our firehouse but I felt it was time to kick it up a notch and take full advantage of all our department had to offer! 

I decided that I would start by running everyday, If I was going to lose weight, that was the first logical step! At 205 pounds I was lugging around an extra 25 pounds according to my B.M.I. chart.  Now running is an art as any of you out there who run on a regular basis already know!  If you just plunk along you are not really working in an aerobic state and you are destined to achieve shin splints! If sprint right off  the bat like superman you are destined to become injured and receive shin splints.  But if you start out slowly, walking for five minutes then working into a nice smooth rhythm while allowing your body to sink into the natural upright running position. Well you are destined to get shin splints! I guess what I am trying to say here, or the moral of this story might be, inevitably when you are 44 and havent run in ten years you are going to get bloody shin splints!!!

So off to the famous unnamed footwear store I go.  All my problems will be solved by actually knocking the cob webs off my thrifty little purse,spending more than $29.99 at COSTCO for sale item shoes! Oh and spend I did! The sales associate was good! Telling me all about the dynamics of my feet and how the proper support will solve all my shin splint miseries, I will be running marathons in no time! She went on for 15 minutes about the benefits of the shoes I was purchasing, but in my mind I was already running the Boston Marathon, leading the Bay to Breakers! Wind in my hair, sweat pouring through my Nike sponsored running clothes! Women and children cheering at the mere spectacle of a man my age bolting past 20 somethings struggling on the sidewalks! Oh yes I was going to fly! 

I went home, placed Thunder and Lightning (yeah I named my shoes) on my feet and instantly felt the electricity flowing through them all the way into my calves! These shoes had super powers, I just knew it! I went from an average everyday Joe to “super runner” just by donning these illustrious over priced, glitzy, shimmering blue, sweat wicking, pieces of running superiority! I trembled thinking about taking that very first step! Will they bolt me to speeds unheard of, or will they be gentle and allow me to break them in slowly! The anticipation had me sweating nervously just thinking about what was about to happen.  I kept telling myself: the salesperson said these shoes were custom fitted just for me!  No one has a pair just like them, and I will reap the benefits from my understanding of running technology! Oh I so bought it, hook line and sinker!

I walked in them for 5 minutes to warm up, allowing the wonder shoes to break in a little! My oldest who runs cross-country came out and looked me up one side and down the other, letting out a “Humph” when he saw the “chosen ones” upon my feet! I asked him if he liked them? (like he really needed to answer, I know jealousy when I see it) and wondered if he would like to join me in my little excursion! He mumbled something about the shoes being Ok then finished with a chuckle and: you know they wont make you run any faster. What does he know? I asked him if he wanted to join me but he said he didn’t want too. I’m thinking he didn’t want to be in the shadow of Thunder and Lightnings greatness! In reality he didn’t want to leave me behind within the first mile!

We made it to the road and Thunder and Lightning were plenty warm and ready to go! I leaned into them a little we started to pick up speed.  The first mile is always the hardest! Everything hurts, you start complaining in your head, then before you know it you are arguing with yourself over whether or not you should just quit! You start saying things like “I’m getting to old for this shit” and “whose dumbass idea was this anyways”! You start telling yourself its ok to be a quitter, no one will know, heck when you get home just splash some water on yourself and everyone will praise you for your effort! Then just about the time it all is about to come apart, the endorphins are released into your system! Oh yeah, so good! No more pain, breathing is easier, you feel stoned, (not that I know what that is, just a guess) higher than a kite. Nothing is going to stop you now, oh no! You are running faster and stronger! Your knees are coming up higher and your strides are increasing.  You are a runner sir! A bonafide runner! Thats right these shoes were worth every penny! No longer will I bargain shop for running shoes, oh no! My feet are on cloud nine and my brain is floating freely as I take in each deep refreshing cold breath. The countryside is flying by, the views are breathtaking! I feel as though I am Forrest Gump, I will not stop until I hit an ocean, then I will turn around and keep running until I hit the next ocean!  Go Thunder and Lightning go!

We make the loop around my house and I am soaked in sweat.  I feel like a true athlete, a runner of the highest caliber.  My legs are throbbing, my knees are shaky, and my heart is beating so hard my eyeballs are wiggling! It’s the best feeling ever! I walk around to cool down taking part in all the proper stretches. I am sure I have just run 10 miles, I mean come on, who runs like I just did, no ordinary man I can tell you that! I pull my I-phone from my pocket to turn off Pandora and check my jogging app for distance and time.  As I am waiting for it to load I exuberantly hum a rendition of Eye of the Tiger. The screen loads and my time/distance is revealed.

2.5 miles. What! that can’t be right! I know I ran more than 2.5 miles! Stupid program, who can trust military satellite technology anyways! Not me that’s for sure! Disgusted with the obvious blatant lie my I-phone has just delivered to me. I turn to walk back to the house, dejected by my effort, disappointed in my expectations of the wonder twins Thunder and Lightning. Thats when it hits me. Oh it hits me hard, nearly taking my feet right out from under me.

You see, it doesnt matter what shoes you wear.  It doesn’t matter what clothes you are in, it doesn’t matter how many miles you have run.  The only thing that matters after you have given it your all in an effort to turn back the hands of time and not declare yourself a overwieght 44-year-old man is; What the Hell I am going to do with these damn shin splints!!  OOOOWWWWWWWW!!

I could barely walk for three days after that run.  Today I run 4-5 miles a day at work and 4 miles at home on my days off.  Thunder and Lightning are doing just fine. They are not the superheros I made them out to be. But in the end they have become my heroes. My feet are thankful for their existence and my shins don’t hurt as much anymore.

TV & The Dying Brain

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When I think about it now as an adult it makes perfect sense. I see the reasoning behind the decision and understand the consequences.  Refusing to adhere to the policies set forth would bring swift and irrefutable repercussions. My mind failed to grasp the concept and I argued to a mind numbing end, my point of right.  As In “I have a right” to enjoy this time you are so heinously keeping from me! I was mocked, shunned and put into place by becoming nothing more that a slave to the dial.

It will rot your mind;I heard time and again.  Your sitting to close, it will damage your eyes, was heard bellowing through my house.  Oh my it seems you received a C on your report card, you are banned, and not to be found within watching distance!  Unless father needs you to turn the dial again. Your grades have slipped and the box of entertainment must surely be the cause!

As I am sure you have figured out by now I am referring to the “all mighty” power held over the human race by television! Our parents fully understood the potential for harm such a dreaded form of entertainment could bring upon a population of young underdeveloped minds! We (my sister and I) were held to 30 minutes at night and a couple of hours on the weekends! Weekend time was divided between Saturday morning cartoons and Saturday evening family shows.  Yet my parents retained the right to watch endless hours of television. Sometimes into the wee hours of the morning! Oh it held a spell over me! I would stand for hours with my bedroom door cracked and one lone eyeball straining to watch my fathers shows until the late hours of the evening! It amazes me to this day that it mesmerized us with three channels! Held our attention, took us away from reality, became our excuse for missing chores and slacking on homework.  Eventually becoming a trinket, or shiny bobble dangled in front of us to be given or taken away at a moments notice!  We were hooked and our parents knew it!

Today, we can’t escape the power of television! It is everywhere in our lives.  Playing at the bus and train stations, in the airport, behind the bar at your favorite watering hole.  Blaring away in elevators, behind lobby desks, or in the check out line at Wal-Mart. You can also find it playing on our computers, displayed on cell phones, playing endlessly in every room of every house in America! It’s there like an old friend, comforting us when we are having a rough go, or helping us get through a sleepless night! It is there, it’s always there…. 

In my day at 1 am the picture turned to the American Flag waving with the Star Spangled Banner playing until 6 in the morning.  Now, programs are shown 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  You can’t escape it, you can’t hide from it, it has become an addiction.  Between reality T.V. (an oxymoron I might add), news, sports, game shows, dramas, comedies, infomercials, movie channels, women’s channels, the gay/lesbian channels, music channels, cooking shows, car shows, shows about midget, parents with 65 kids, (deeeeeep breath) and the lives of Prairie Dogs in the wild! It’s really amazing what Americans will watch! 

Which leads me to my point…

I think our parents had it right!  Shut the damn thing off and go outside! Turn on your brain by reading a book or your Kindle! Let your brain enjoy all the powers it has locked up inside without interference from Snookie or Drake and Josh! Seriously we are ruining our kids ability to process information by having it force-fed to them through the lazy eye of television!  

I tried an experiment at home to prove what I call the “Butterfly Chaser”effect.   The Butterfly Chaser is where your kid is asked to perform a task. As your child is performing that task something else catches their eye, subsequently diverting their attention, leaving the original task unfinished.  Some children are easily diverted, others are focused and stay on task with little effort. 

Now introduce the almighty television!  I am not kidding when I say the morning will be progressing smoothly, like a fine wine. No interference, everyone is gathering their personal effect, brushing their teeth, putting dishes in the sink, and then just for fun, I will through on the T.V.!  They stop dead in their tracks! mesmerized, stupefied, mummified, frozen! It is absolutely amazing! Call out their names; they wont answer! Grab them, shake them, look them in the eyes, nothing!  It could be Good Morning America or Sponge Bob, it doesn’t matter!  The brain is frozen like your computer screen due to an invading virus! The T.V. is the virus and you don’t have the proper software to handle the eventual meltdown of the system! 

There is only one cure for this outbreak of stupification! Turn it off!  Stand where you can see their little faces when the T.V. is shut down.  Focus on them, and very slowly depress the off button.  POW! Blinking eyes, turning heads, bodies starting to move again, they look as though they were waking from a long coma. Focusing on what is around them, locating familiar objects, grasping at the time space continuum.  Then, they just go right back to what they were originally doing. Like nothing ever happened. Oh you may get the occasional child who is a little more astute than the others.  His reaction usually begins with a loud; HHEEEEEYYYYYYY who turned it off!  But the second he makes eye contact with you, the head goes down and the morning continues…

So what do we do? It invades every single moment of our lives! How do we go back thirty years to re-engage our children in the land of reality? I am not sure, but we have tried a few methods. 

My wife and I have reduced our house to one family T.V. with satellite. The other is connected to Net-Flix only, this way we pick a movie for them, which is played at our onvienance and ultimately diverts them from the main T.V.  Our kids have mandatory reading time and if all their homework and chores are finished; If showers and rooms are prepared for the next day before their appointed bed times, they can watch some television.  Holding to appropriate bed times I think helps immensely.  It limits your childs exposure and allows them time to decompress everything their minds have processed during the day.  My wife and I also go to bed at the same time as our last child. This sets agood example by showing them we feel sleep is just as important for us as it is for them.  “Lead by example” a statement that says it all.. 

They still hover over the T.V. like vultures every chance they get.  Their little minds crave the damn thing like sugar or crack cocaine!  But in the long run I think they will appreciate all the effort we have put into keeping them away from the entertainment box of hysteria, false lives and lies. 

 

 

Now that I have all that off my chest, I am off to watch another episode of “Family Guy”! Hey don’t judge me, it’s not my bed time!! 

The Missing Link…

theycallmebetty3 Comments

Laying on my back, staring up at the dogfight eternally raging in the sky’s above my bed. I am pondering a feeling that I have in the pit of my stomach. It’s not a sickness or pain, but rather that of loneliness associated with feeling out-of-place. I turn to my phonograph and lay down some heavy vinyl to sooth myself to sleep. RUSH usually does the trick. Placing my hands behind my head and crossing my legs, my body slowly sinks into the preformed shape that is my mattress. “Fly by night” is playing in the background and I am lip syncing the song.

Fly by night, away from here
Change my life again
Fly by night, goodbye my dear
My ship isn’t coming and I just can’t pretend

You see my parents told me very young that I was adopted at birth. A lot for a young boy to understand, but when the question comes up time and again as to why I don’t look like anybody in my family what is a parent to do? It’s not that I am miserable where I live, it’s not that I dislike my adopted parents, because I don’t. It’s not even that I want to be anywhere else. But what bothers me most nights as I lay in a rhythmic trance while music pounds the center of my soul. Is, I know. I know there are more of us out there! Dont ask me how I know, but I know! I wonder if I have brothers or maybe sisters out there somewhere. I wonder what my biological mother and father look like. I wonder if they gave me up because they hated me? Or if I was just too much to handle, I have seen friends of my parents with crying infants and it always left me wondering why someone would want to put themselves through that kind of torture. I lay awake at night wondering if any of them are looking up towards the sky thinking the same thing? Are they lonely too? Do they feel the emptiness inside that I feel? Like a part of you is missing? I live in a house with three other people and I am lonely. And I feel empty.

When you are a 10-year-old kid you don’t know how to identify with emotions that are mentally challenging. You know something isn’t right but you don’t know how to verbally express what you are feeling. So you listen to really great rock and roll, stare up at the model planes hanging from your ceiling, pretending they are dog fighting and pray you can fall asleep before the record player needle hits the label.

Present Day…

I am laying in bed staring at another episode of Law and Order. My tablet and keyboard in my lap. I no longer have model planes to stare at and unless I am looking to start a fight over which band is better “Led Zeppelin or RUSH” to fall asleep too I had better not wake my wife with any loud music! I lean back and place my hands behind my head and smile. I don’t have to worry about whether or not I have any brothers or sisters out there somewhere in the world. I know! Just like I knew then I know now! Because now, I have proof!

Through an emotional, exhausting search I located my brothers in 2006! I reached out to them and they answered my call. They too had a feeling there was someone out there and they had been passively looking for me as well! Man were those boys surprised when they received the call! I met my grandmother not long after! I have been welcomed with open arms into their lives! I am always excited when they call, and I look forward to the times we are able to speak. I have brothers, real flesh and blood brothers! They look like me, I act like them, we feel as though we have known each other our whole lives! It’s what I have always wanted. except for one thing….

Theres one more…

My brother calls to tell me he has information that our mother gave one more child up for adoption. The child was a girl, 18 months older than me. (woo hoo! I am still the youngest!) I am floored! Because just as I knew when I was young there were others, I had a feeling after meeting “the boys”, we weren’t done yet. I love it when I am right! Well everyone, I met her today! We had brunch at one of my favorite little “hole in the wall” restaurants. We met at 10:30 and departed at 2:15. I thought we needed to go before they started charging us rent. She is sweet and funny, well-traveled, opinionated, and has little ways about her that make her one of us! She even laughs like Betty himself! I cant wait to see her again! 15 minutes into the conversation and I felt like I had known her for our entire lives.

Summation

I don’t feel like something is missing anymore, I don’t feel alone in the world, I don’t feel the need to find someone or something. My sadness is gone. I am grateful for all my parents sacrificed to ensure I would have a good home growing up. I am grateful we have all been found. It would be easy to discount my feelings and recount me a fool. Nay say if you will, poo poo if you must, rain on my parade if you feel the need. But in the end a little 10-year-old boy who once felt all alone, in a home surrounded by family, is now all grown up and for the first time in his life he can honestly say;

I no longer feel empty….