The secret to raising boys from this fathers perspective.

The secret to raising boys from my perspective is quite simple. 

Get married, have wife give birth to boy, tell boy he is wrong, repeat! 

Now before all of you, everyone deserves a trophy, what about their self esteem, let the child raise itself free from the oppressive parent to find their unbridled passion in life parents jump my shit! Let me explain.

It’s my experience that girls are smarter, and quicker to understand the learned message no matter the age. They are not trying to emulate you the male role model in any way. My daughter looks up to me, respects my opinion, and puts forth effort to make changes whenever conflict or mistakes occur. She is an ever evolving, growing, expanding being who has aspired to become her own person following the teachings of her combined parental figures from the monent her chubby little knees could carry her unassisted across our kitchen floor. Oh don’t get me wrong she can clam up, lock down and square that jaw with steely reserve when she wants to like no other! But she never stops learning. 

My boys on the other hand would light fireworks from their asses at the drop of a hat! 

Yep from the minute all three of them could walk it has been a constant parental repetition of; STOP! DONT DONT DO THAT! WHAT THE HOLY HELL HAVE YOU DONE!! Or my personal favorite; AND YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA, WHY??? Now some are better than others, but the old adage; boys will be boys always plays true. 

Snakes and frogs either left to scare mom or shoved in her face as she opens the door! Fish guts on the floor, rotting carcasses left forgotten in the basement for taxidermy, dirty clothes scattered across the house that apparently belongs to no one. 

Tools spread across the shop that no one has used, broken ranch equipment that no one has touched, trucks that are not running right and have never, ever made that noise before as enough mud falls from their wheel wells to build a city of indigenous huts! 

Ah yes boys. 

They will tell you from the minute they learn something, anything that you have been doing it all wrong. They have it all figured out, don’t need your advice, cannot for the life of them understand why you don’t feel they are ready to head out on their own, or take over some of the major projects in need of completion. You sir are old, frail and in need of stepping aside for the young, naturally accomplished male. 

They have no real understanding of time, and commitment because everything comes so easy for them in their minds. They are the true masters of their domain. Yet they are doing it all wrong! Their thinking is all wrong, the mistakes being made are from being wrong and at times are disasterous! 

Thusly my job as a male parental figure is simple. 

Raise them, tell them they are wrong, repeat. 

Because if I told them they were right they would never be mad at me. If they were never mad at me they really wouldn’t listen to what I have to say. Nothing sticks in a youthful male craw when testosterone is involved more than hearing your dad say you are wrong! 

That is when your boy will do everything he can to prove YOU are wrong. Then and only then will you be proven right, and with a celebratory beer in your hand all the wrong doings of your childhood come full circle. You are then stuck with the sound of your dads voice  echoing in the back of your head with witty one liners like: you know son if you had half a brain it would be an improvement! Or How did two average morons like your mother and I produce such a fucking genius? 

Ahhhh good times, good memories. Yes that much cherished sound of the old man reverberating through my brain, calling me a dumbass! It truly is the circle of life!

So there it is, my secret to raising boys! Tell them they are wrong, watch them fail, slap your own forehead while rubbing a little more hair from you dome, embrace the grey hair that comes with raising boys and relish in one of two things. The joy of when they do it right (your way) and succeed, along with the joy of telling them on that rare occasion they did it their way and it worked that maybe, just this one time they weren’t such an idiot after all. 

Remember dads sharing knowledge is caring and as a father the stronger your repertoire the easier to produce disappointment along with the better the one liners will be your son uses when he has a son. 

Dumbass….

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Thankful to be my kids dad

Fathers Day

A day centered upon, or celebrating being a father. I have always wondered how this national phenomenon came to fruition and after a little a research I found my answer. So before I ramble on with a long overdue edition of “Betty” let’s take a moment to enlighten our minds. If you already knew the answer please don’t ruin it for everyone else.

The nation’s first Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in the state of Washington. However, it was not until 1972–58 years after President Woodrow Wilson made Mother’s Day official–that the day honoring fathers became a nationwide holiday in the United States.

Mother’s Day: Inspiration for Father’s Day

The “Mother’s Day” we celebrate today has its origins in the peace-and-reconciliation campaigns of the post-Civil War era. During the 1860s, at the urging of activist Ann Reeves Jarvis, one divided West Virginia town celebrated “Mother’s Work Days” that brought together the mothers of Confederate and Union soldiers.

Did You Know?

There are more than 70 million fathers in the United States.

However, Mother’s Day did not become a commercial holiday until 1908, when–inspired by Jarvis’s daughter, Anna Jarvis, who wanted to honor her own mother by making Mother’s Day a national holiday–the John Wanamaker department store in Philadelphia sponsored a service dedicated to mothers in its auditorium.

Thanks in large part to this association with retailers, who saw great potential for profit in the holiday, Mother’s Day caught on right away. In 1909, 45 states observed the day, and in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson approved a resolution that made the second Sunday in May a holiday in honor of “that tender, gentle army, the mothers of America.”

Origins of Father’s Day

The campaign to celebrate the nation’s fathers did not meet with the same enthusiasm–perhaps because, as one florist explained, “fathers haven’t the same sentimental appeal that mothers have.”

On July 5, 1908, a West Virginia church sponsored the nation’s first event explicitly in honor of fathers, a Sunday sermon in memory of the 362 men who had died in the previous December’s explosions at the Fairmont Coal Company mines in Monongah, but it was a one-time commemoration and not an annual holiday.

The next year, a Spokane, Washington, woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, one of six children raised by a widower, tried to establish an official equivalent to Mother’s Day for male parents. She went to local churches, the YMCA, shopkeepers and government officials to drum up support for her idea, and she was successful: Washington State celebrated the nation’s first statewide Father’s Day on June 19, 1910.

Slowly, the holiday spread. In 1916, President Wilson honored the day by using telegraph signals to unfurl a flag in Spokane when he pressed a button in Washington, D.C. In 1924, President Calvin Coolidge urged state governments to observe Father’s Day.

Today, the day honoring fathers is celebrated in the United States on the third Sunday of June: Father’s Day 2017 occurs on June 18; the following year, Father’s Day 2018 falls on June 17.

In other countries–especially in Europe and Latin America–fathers are honored on St. Joseph’s Day, a traditional Catholic holiday that falls on March 19.

Father’s Day: Controversy and Commercialism

Many men, however, continued to disdain the day. As one historian writes, they “scoffed at the holiday’s sentimental attempts to domesticate manliness with flowers and gift-giving, or they derided the proliferation of such holidays as a commercial gimmick to sell more products–often paid for by the father himself.”

During the 1920s and 1930s, a movement arose to scrap Mother’s Day and Father’s Day altogether in favor of a single holiday, Parents’ Day. Every year on Mother’s Day, pro-Parents’ Day groups rallied in New York City’s Central Park–a public reminder, said Parents’ Day activist and radio performer Robert Spere, “that both parents should be loved and respected together.”

Paradoxically, however, the Great Depression derailed this effort to combine and de-commercialize the holidays. Struggling retailers and advertisers redoubled their efforts to make Father’s Day a “second Christmas” for men, promoting goods such as neckties, hats, socks, pipes and tobacco, golf clubs and other sporting goods, and greeting cards.

When World War II began, advertisers began to argue that celebrating Father’s Day was a way to honor American troops and support the war effort. By the end of the war, Father’s Day may not have been a federal holiday, but it was a national institution.

In 1972, in the middle of a hard-fought presidential re-election campaign, Richard Nixon signed a proclamation making Father’s Day a federal holiday at last. Today, economists estimate that Americans spend more than $1 billion each year on Father’s Day gifts.

~The History Channel/A&E~

 

Ok 1 billion a year on father’s day gifts? Where is my cut of that pie!! Of course Father’s Day was derived from Mother’s Day because without mom’s we would all be lost! And lastly its just like men to deny any recognition for becoming a father! There are so many baby momma and deadbeat dad jokes there I’m going to let you create your own! I do think an all parents day would be kind of cool, you know a consolidation of the whole thing. But that’s neither here nor there at this moment.

I am proud to be the father of four awesome kids! I know everyone thinks their children are awesome which makes that last remark a bit of a cliché, but in my world it is true.

My children are wicked smart, each in their own way. They are personable as hell, compassionate, loving and kind. They are also stubborn, temperamental, cranky, selfish and can be a complete pain in my ass when they want too leaving me with ulcers and migraines! YAY PARENTHOOD!!

But you know what? I have said it before and I will say it again. I have always wanted to be a dad so I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know why I have always wanted to be a dad, it is something that has burned inside of me forever. The thought of raising, caring for and mentoring children through adulthood has always seemed to be the ultimate human responsibility. A challenge worth accepting.

Now as we know parenthood is hugely romanticized on television and in the movies. (Thank you Disney and Lifetime) Parenthood is also used to create lifestyle fantasies within the advertising industry to help ease you into parenting via the almighty dollar. But those of us who have walked that line know it is all crap! A child’s room does not need to be perfect, painted any specific color or arranged to create the greatest learning curve or challenge them mentally! They will love you no matter what! There is no way, no matter how you sell it to ever make changing a diaper, disposing of human feces, cleaning up pee or wiping spittle and vomit from your clothing ever look romantic or enticing! Although the endless humor that comes from these events can be priceless. You do not need to go on the perfect family vacations every year spending thousands of dollars to create a picturesque childhood of joy. The reality is the only thing you need is love, patience, creativity and a good glass of wine or beer at the end of a day.

What parenting is? Parenting is hands down the hardest job I have ever held and I have held quite a few temporary career choices that quite simply sucked ass! They can and will drive you crazy these loves of your life, apples of your eye, chips from the old block! There will be days you just want to run and hide but you don’t, even though every fiber in your body is screaming to do so! In the end you know deep down inside running away accomplished nothing because in reality what you would be running and hiding from is not your children, but yourself as (whether you like it or not) they are a mirrored reflection of you. Whoa! Mind blown huh?

Parenting is the most rewarding experience in your life if you put in the time. Don’t expect wonderful results with minimal effort. Parenting is learning how to turn disappointment into positivity. Parenting is learning how to say no when the child within you wants so desperately to say yes! Parenting is standing your ground until it is time to no longer stand that ground. Parenting is understanding why your parents raised you the way they did. Parenting is allowing them the privilege of failing or losing at something while letting them figure out the best way to recover with a little advice from you. Parenting is to give every bit of yourself to another little human being without (and this is very important) forgetting to put your significant other first. Keeping your relationship alive inspires trust and comfort within your children, and teaches them how to become good partners. Parenting is admitting when you are wrong, in front of your kids not just to your partner. Parenting is learning how and when to apologize. Parenting is teaching your children to laugh, at everything. Parenting is showing never ending love, even when you want to strangle them. Parenting is a testament to your foot print left here on earth for all to see.

I am proud to be the parent of our four children. They truly inspire me each and every day to try my hardest, be the best dad I can be, learn from my mistakes and do my best to evolve as a father and human being. I may not always have the answer for them but I will try to get it. I will always be there for them when they fall, helping to guide their way with advice whether warranted or not and I will no matter what love them unconditionally while doing my best to stand behind any life decision they choose.

Cody, Jake, Jessica and Parker thank you for being my children and allowing me to become a part of Fathers Day simply by becoming your dad.

And to my dad (who is no longer with us) and all the dads who ever took an interest in me, looking over me, correcting me when I was wrong and whooping my ass when I was completely out of line, thank you. Thank you for taking this very special job seriously, and knowing in your heart that to become a father to one, you inadvertently became a dad to all. It takes a village.

Happy Father’s Day everyone!

 

Parenting is hands down the hardest most thankless job, yet I have always wanted to be a dad.

I am constantly panicking.

Being a parent is hands down the hardest job any human will ever hold and yet I have always known that I wanted to be a dad. When I was younger I can remember always thinking; when I am a dad things will be different! As if parental wisdom had been bestowed upon me at birth. What a joke, right? But strangely I still knew.

What the hell was I thinking?

These creatures produced through the magic of birth (yes I know how they were created I took part in the process) can bring us so much joy, but just like the picture perfect families we portray upon our Facebook pages there is the dirty underside no one sees that also exists. They test us to our emotional limits from the second we hold their little, chubby, cherub frames. Oh they get away with a lot at first, I mean come on it’s a slobbering, pooping, peeing machine with no real concept of right or wrong. One smile, one drool, one gurgled word and it is all over for us! We turn into puddles of loving goo!   But as they grow older their sponge like minds absorb, evolve, become wiser and learn quickly how to turn the tables on us every chance they get!

Fast forward a few years and they are teenagers

The hardest part of parenting is not the monotonous daily routines. Yes getting a child to rise from bed every day is a pain in the ass! What is especially frustrating is when it’s a hunting or fishing day, then that same child miraculously doesn’t need an alarm clock to rise, dress, pack a lunch and be ready to go at 4 am. Also struggling with homework, cleaning their rooms, getting them to come home on time, and not only do their chores but do them well will always be difficult! No the hardest part of parenting is watching your child stroll down the same life path you chose, unless you are of course incredibly successful, then NONE of this will make sense to you!!!! Where was I? Oh now I remember! Even though you have done everything humanly possible to keep them from traveling that rocky road, you nudge them, guide them, you flat out at times push them with all the force you can muster. They do it anyways and it is very painful to say the least.

I have always tried my hardest to teach our children from my mistakes. If you read this blog on more than one occasion then you know I am very open about my past. Teenage years sneaking out of the house, staying out all night, never telling my parents where I was and not caring about the retribution that awaited upon my return. At 16 I thought I knew it all. I had a truck which meant freedom and I no longer needed anyone’s advice. My nights were filled partying with my friends, drinking way too much, and throwing the middle finger to the rules and requirements of a 16 year old boy. I was a child of the eighties and damn proud of it!

My parents on the other hand, not so pleased. I put them through hell. Not quite sure when my father officially gave up on me but he did. Many nights I am sure they worried about where I was or what I was doing, but these were the days of no cell phones, no abilities to track my location and since I refused to adhere or conform I am sure at some point they just became numb. Now on the flip side, my dad knew every cop/Sherriff/CHP officer in town because they all ate at his restaurant. So the only consolation I have for my horrible behavior is these guys were constantly keeping tabs on either my green 64 Chevy or my blue 81 Chevy. Still no excuse for my lack of respect or behavior.

Yes I was a problem, yes my parents let me know I was a problem as they well should have, but what’s killing me is the thought of history repeating itself. All that time screwing off cost me big! All that time chasing others dreams and never having any of my own ruined my youth, all that time thinking only of myself and not others took me years to acknowledge and reverse course. All of my raging against the machine, living life the way I wanted while taking no responsibility for myself or my actions robbed me of much deeper experiences in life. I quite literally fucked myself over and I regret every moment or decision to this day! Where others talk about how great the old days were, I think; yeah it was fun, I did have experiences, but at what cost? While others regale themselves in stories of grandeur, I look at them and think, well at least you were able to do it all and finish your education, follow your dreams, live life before life ran you over. I was not. As others recount the amazing friendships they made along the way, I wonder just how many I ruined by traveling constantly to the next best thing? I was always trying so hard to be something besides myself that I never even found out who I was! I followed friend after friend’s dreams instead of having any of my own. If I was dating you, I supported your aspirations or at least helped you if I could but never found who or what I wanted to become. When things got tough, I found it easier to drink, become someone else and hide behind the hatred I had for myself because I felt I was too stupid to accomplish anything on my own. Of course you would never know that because rest assured I would tell you in conversation just how smart I was or how something should be handled. Why? Because I was terrified you would see right through me. And as one would expect, on more than one occasion people I cared about did, driving them away. It made me sad.

These are things that happen to a young man when left to his own devices.

I see this in the young men that come through our fire academies. I spot the frauds a mile away because I was one. I can tell when you are at the end of your rope and feeling like a failure while hiding behind bravado, whether you know it or not you stand out like a sore thumb. When I see you, I am immediately drawn to you and depending on how our five minute conversation goes I know whether or not you are ready for assistance. I still try.

These are skills that I have acquired over the 32 years since I was considered a young man. I want to help you so bad! I want you to see the value in yourself, because if you don’t see it how will another? I want you to know you are not alone, an angry ship fighting against a raging sea of phony social expectations. You need to do you, but you need to find out so desperately who you are, what you want to become and then YOU need to grab ahold and make it happen! No one else is going to do it for you! You can never succeed off others aspirations, others actions or dreams and without knowing who you are it becomes even harder to find those dreams and make them a reality.

I say these things and yet it feels as though it never makes a difference. Maybe my words are heard, maybe some of this sets in and changes are made. Maybe.

But I know this, I am angry at the time lost. I am bitter about never finishing my education, I cannot stand the fact that I am ten years behind the curve in life due to choices I made, and I feel as though there is so much more for me out in this world than what I am experiencing. Aren’t those the important lessons that our youth should learn? Shouldn’t these lessons of failure help shape a positive future for them to adhere too? Shouldn’t they understand the pain and sorrow that comes from making the very same mistakes over and over and over again without a course adjustment? Shouldn’t my word be enough to turn that tide of brazen youth and re-hone it into a productive, active young person who freely understands the risks, the hard work and the just rewards for chasing YOUR dreams and not the dreams of others? Shouldn’t they look into my eyes, judge the wrinkles of sadness and lost opportunity and realize instinctively that I speak the truth? Because god damn it I am screaming it to the heavens hoping you hear it!!!

Oh parenting is so freaking hard! I know you think life’s not fair and you are right, at times it’s not. I also know you’re thinking when you too become a parent or mentor, things will be different! But know this.

I want nothing but the best for my children both paternal and those taken under my wing, I ask for nothing more than I think any of you can handle, I am there for you all if you need help. I will become frustrated, it doesn’t change my love, and I will never leave your side no matter what may happen. But most of all, no matter how much you or anyone else may hurt my feelings, no matter how angry you or anyone else may become, no matter how hard life feels to you at that very moment I just want you to remember. I have never lied, I will always listen to you for I have walked in these shoes, and if you will just listen to me, listen to what I have to say I have a plan and I promise when you are older whether I am alive or not, some day you will thank me.

Why?

Because I have always wanted to be a dad.

The panicking part just takes some getting used too.

 

 

 

The basement and those never satisfied juvenile eating machines!

What the hell? What the holy freaking hell??? I mean I get it, kind of, they eat; they eat a lot! But I mean I never figured it would be like this!!!!

We as a family talk about how hard times come and go and right now our budget is squeezed a tad, we talk about the importance of shopping carefully, utilizing sale items, never being brand loyal and understanding the list dad has when he shops is because I have taken the time to figure out exactly what we need, when we need it so as to fall within those budgetary restraints! We talk about overeating along with understanding there are 3 meal times a day so you wont die from starvation if your little tummy pangs an hour before dinner! Apparently after all the long, loving, conversations held with temperance while speaking using the silky smooth stylings of Mr. Rogers some fucking remedial training is in order! 

I went into the underground cavern better known as our basement to watch television while partaking in my nightly ritual of laundry washing, drying and folding. (Apparently I am still a maid) As I began retrieving small piles of lovingly folded clothes from the day before off the floor (no one ever knows how they got from the table to the floor) while swearing like an angry Irishman, my Clint Eastwood, squinted fuming Dirty Harry gaze leveled down upon our pantry. Now this is no ordinary pantry mind you! This section of shelving is more than capable of holding a months’ worth of supplies to feed these two legged heathens and yet there is sits, almost empty..

I built cabinet doors, complete with locks to keep them out! They broke these crafted masterpieces, lost the keys and our honest little children swear they don’t know how any of that could have happened. I stored food in a manner that left bait food out front while everything else was hidden on the edges and in the rear. The bait food has been the last to be consumed while a small tornado seems to have traveled across all shelves leaving pasta and cans of soup on their side much like the remnants of a trailer park after such a storm. The middle shelves once glistening with ample product lay barren as the desert, nothing to show but dust and torn paper!

I stood straight up to make a play for our beloved angels, hitting my head on a rafter which further fueled the already raging fire consuming my being! Turning to march up the stairs I take a quick body check as to not add insult to injury upon my already throbbing noggin by clocking it again on the very same rafter!!! Carefully negotiating the piles of laundry strewn upon the basement floor I am headed up to rip some ass! Some apparently over eating fat asses need a stern talking too, because by now it has become abundantly clear their mother and I have laid no tantalizing tongue upon any of the delectable delights stored inside the sub cavernous residential pit! As I reach the stairs a little voice yells at me; look in the fridge! What??? Look in the fridge? There is no way our brooding hoard of teenage hormones has in any way decimated the fridge as well, I tell myself! My right foot hits the first stair and then my left foot makes the turn! My body has taken over, I am not sure if it is out of anger, curiosity or the little voice in my head has taken control. But quickly I am in a 180 headed straight towards the downstairs fridge! The ice cold box, filled with beer, sparkling waters, left overs, milk, sometimes candy and fresh fruit! Yes this will be fine, I begin consoling myself that 3 days ago when I filled both fridges and the pantry with five hundred dollars’ worth of supplies from our local grocery store and produce market it was going to last at least a week! A whole week, long enough for me to have retained half a paycheck, and there would be plenty for mother and I to feast upon when needed!

Opening the door my eyes cast upon a field of clear plastic shelving, like gazing through a frozen lake and yet instead of witnessing trout moving back and forth all I see is one lone grape, an empty plate of some foreign substance and beer, lots of beer. I mean thank GOD they aren’t swilling my only true inebriating pleasure, there may be at least one ray of heaven shining from within this glacial wasteland.

My anger intensifies!!!! I am headed upstairs again TO RIP SOME ASS!!!! Between the disrespect shown for the hard work in the laundry department and now this! Oh yeah, daddy is coming unglued, unhinged, the devil is shooting fire from my eyes!!!! I turn, slamming the fridge door, I’m angry, and to quote the HULK; you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry!!!!

Taking another step toward the stairs I promptly clock myself on the second rafter in our dungeon of delight!! There is a very small tunnel to which I staring, sounds coming from iPad are that of my new favorite show Bosch, yet to me they sound like eagles crying overhead! I’m sweating, hot and nauseous. The tunnel grows vastly smaller and I find the overwhelming need to hold my breath and bear down hard as to not lose consciousness. The world right now is NOT my oyster.

Coming around I find I am firmly planted on the staircase. It takes me a second to remember where I am at and why I am in the basement. Shaking it off while slowly getting to my feet I stare at the lovingly folded laundry which has somehow made it to the floor and begin picking it up while quietly cussing about our lazy children who don’t appreciate everything there father does for them. As I stand up my eyes throw a Clint Eastwood/Dirty Harry glare upon the empty cabinets that are our pantry and find myself in disbelief after stocking them not more than three days ago. I stand up as rage enters my being and scream what the bloody hell!!!!

I hate the basement…..

P.S. I came to realize after about ten minutes, there was a reason I knocked myself silly. The first time was Gods way of getting me to relax, take a hint. I didn’t listen. The second time was Gods way of saying, sit down and shut up!

I heard him loud and clear. Although our children can be frustrating, infuriating at times, and more than their mother and I can handle. We both know we have wonderful kids, we know they are going to become amazing adults, and I guess that means if they eat us out of house and home every now and again. Well so be it. No one ever said parenting is easy…

 

 

To go gentle into that good night.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas

 

This poem has resonated with me since that of a young man. I have had it stuck in my head for months now trying my hardest to determine what it means to me.

It brings about stirred emotions of an unwavering inner strength, tormenting whispers of the unknown, and an inner fight that arises much like a demon awaiting a moment to reign terror upon those who doubt its power. For there are those who will challenge your age, your wisdom and use the word to chip away at all that you are, have accomplished in life, or look to become. They don’t understand this poem speaks to everyone, not just those who proudly wear the wrinkles of time.

And so with that said I write..

The assumed stands before demise.

So expected and anticipated according to annals of time that my brain is washed by hollowed expectation.

Waiting and waiting to crumble so frail. My strength gone from age’s elastration.

But I refuse to go gentle into that good night

I have too much to lose by allowing forked tongues in shaping my destiny

To live, to breathe, to gather life in a bottle and sip upon its soulful nourishment

A man whose wrinkles should bring about empathy while disparaging apathy

I am strong, I am whole, I am man, I shall move forward no matter life’s dreadful weight

A second half of life laden with baggage and yet its burden bears no consequence 

I cry for those entrapped, ones who are youthfully pointed towards, a folly of jokes and insults fall upon this wasteland created through a wrinkle of time. Burdening a man’s soul it does, with stereotypes of ancient freight.

For they too shall bare ages haunting truth and most likely through inner weakness go gently into that good night

Sickle in hand, cloaked from light.

But not I, for quiet has never been my right.

 

It feels as though lately people are dying all around me, I can no longer ignore this truth. I am starting to feel the pressure to survive at all costs. Every time I turn around another child has gone, another mother is ill, another father has crossed over to the other side. Some I learn from phone calls or social media and others because I was there, my hands unable to help. It has brought me to fully understand that I can longer hide behind disbelief, a realization rings solid that yes we all really do have an expiration date.

For years we have known this to be true; but we never think it could possibly happen to us. It can and yes it does. In the blink of an eye, this glorious gift given us from God can be taken away. Our hearts beat loudly, our minds work endlessly and yet it is all for nothing once our bodies have vanished.

Every day driving into town, there is always something that reminds me how much I love life. Our world is very complex and filled with so many wonderful things, I just find it hard to fathom that at some point in time I will no longer be here to enjoy the majesty that continually surrounds me.

I have seen and felt so many things in this short life, more than some less than others. I have cried until there were no tears left to give, laughed until my stomach felt like one giant cramp, put my fist through a solid door and thrown a wrench through a wall in shame and or anger. I have hugged another, held out a welcoming open hand and used those same hands to bring pain upon another’s wrongful deeds.  I have screamed towards the sky, lied to appease emotions, and mumbled quietly at the voices in my head, begging them to leave me alone. I have not only felt my pain, but your pain as well because of a sworn life choice. I have sat befuddled by life’s obstacles, gazing upon an open field wondering, praying, and yearning for answers to so many questions. Some days the answers come, most days they do not, and then there are days I believe obstacles have been placed in my way to keep me from myself.

In my humble opinion.

This life it was not meant to be easy, it was meant to be experienced.

You may not currently like the experience, you may not enjoy the outcome at any moment in time. But know this; this life, it is yours. It is not someone else’s, it belongs to you and you alone. It is up to you in determining how you see life’s obstacles, how you react when life’s ugliness knocks upon your door. Do you stand tall, find the answers and move forward? Do you strive to provide positivity, a ray of light and hope or do you bury your head in the sand ignoring the life around you?

Do you simply become that who goes gentle into that good night?

I have and always will choose to fight.

It’s in my nature, it is who I am..

Who are you?

 

 

Climbing life’s mountain. 

Woke up this morning and strolled around our property despite the 30+ mph winds. There is so much that needs to be done, it sometimes feels incredibly overwhelming. Taking care of this place, our children and my wife weighs heavy on me all the time. Yet this morning is different. Yes the amount of work gave a bit of panic, but then I looked across the way and spotted our dirty ole horse trailers, still hooked to their respective trucks, I paused, I smilied and I felt really great.

You see all to often we look at our lives as a continual shit pile (mountain) we need to climb. (Myself very much included) What we don’t see or fail to recognize are the smaller climbs we need to make first before we reach the top. We as humans naturally tend to complain which then becomes a habit so we complain about everything. Before long complaining is as normal as putting on our pants (which is a complaint because damn they make me look fat) and it remains the norm. It’s then that we struggle to make a change as we have decided enough is enough. (Myself also included in this category) I don’t understand why we become this way, or why it seems there are some who always see the positive. I guess it just is the human way. 

Today I didn’t feel that way. Because today part of me realized we have been traversing those smaller climbs all along. Sometimes those smaller climbs just take so darn long you lose sight of the mountain. 

All I could think about while staring at our parked traveling circus was our kids and a wife who against her own advice packed up her best clothes, a supply of all her medications, her portable oxygen machine in case of emergency, threw on a wig to hide her once again balding head, then set out with a beautiful, giant smile on her face and a super positive attitude for an entire weekend of rodeoing! She had such a great time surrounded by her friends-our friends. She was able to finally witness in person her youngest son throw a steer, her daughter run barrels and poles and her middle son bulldog. She was no longer alone at home stuck in bed unable to move, waiting for me to send a video. She will undoubtedly pay for it today, as her body I am sure will protest but the price of admission was well worth it. 

The oldest son is in college and doesn’t partake in our traveling side show. He has a life of his own, training hunting dogs, fishing, hunting and counting down the days until he can test then become employed with either an out of state troopers or in state CHP position. We are blessed to have him around to keep an eye on things while we travel. He of all of us has steadily chipped away at the mountain before him with tenacity and will power. 

Our middle son has had a rough year on the rodeo trail and although he doesn’t see it this way, I think it is good for him. He has always been in the hunt. Always fighting for first position. This year not so much. His skills are there, his attitude when he nods his head once backed into the box is solid. He helps every bulldogger who crosses that line into the arena. And although he doesn’t feel like he has anything to show for all his hard work and positive attitude I think quite the contrary. 

God is teaching him patience and humility.

His time will come. He needs to remember we are climbing that mountain in small segments. This is one of them. His mother and I are very proud of him, we only want the best for him. And although he thinks at times we are to hard on him, or we don’t understand,​​ I know one day he will look back and thank the lord for all that was provided.

I smile at the thought of our daughter and how far she has come. Once terrified of going fast on a horse she is slowly gaining ground on her fears. She loves nothing more than being at the rodeo with her giant second family. Each rodeo she performed a little better and that is all anyone can ask for. Right when we thought it was all over for her this year the good lord through a good friend blessed us with the best horse possible for her to improve her skills. Our daughter has grit, and when she wants something she gets after it. Her mother and I can’t wait to see what she accomplishes in the off season. 

My smile broadens at the thought of our youngest yesterday. A boy who once screamed and cried: NO RODEO, I HATE RODEO. Running around receiving high fives from all who watched him drop a steer in roughly 4 seconds! 

Parker rode horses every day, then during a  jr. rodeo season he was bucked off three times with three trips to the hospital. After the third trip he said no more. It took over a year to get him riding again, this was his mountain to climb. He cried every time and after riding a few of our horses, my horse Tank became the only one he would almost willingly climb aboard. Then unexpectedly Tank died. His mountain to climb just got bigger. 

Three quarters of the way through the rodeo season the lad still hadn’t tossed a steer in competition. He was feeling discouraged. Then last month he not only tossed one, but two!!! After a great Bulldogging seminar and some more practice his timing was coming together. We started talking about the possibility that if he could throw both steers at next months (this last weekend) rodeo he may just barley qualify for state. He became excited, and the light and love for something he has accomplished both on his own and with the help of his brother began to grow. 

Yesterday that’s exactly what he did! By throwing that one steer he qualified for state. To say he is excited is an understatement! He cannot wait for another opportunity to throw steers! He looks up to his older brothers, the oldest for fishing and the one for Bulldogging. To follow in their footsteps makes his chest swell with pride. Knowing that in two years he will need to bulldog from a horse, he is looking forward to riding again. 

His mountain just got a little smaller. 

So I guess what I am trying to say is we ALL have mountains to climb in our life. From our grandparents to our children. Complaining about them is fine, it lets us express our frustrations, deal with our emotions and relieve the pressure associated with realizing there are problems. But in the end, if we do nothing about anything other than complain all the time we miss the beauty of watching those who have figured out just how to chip away at that mountain of troubles one hill at a time, we miss out on the shared elation as one day those troubles are gone and a beautiful view from the summit can be seen. 

Just a thought from a windy morning walk. 

God, could I get a little help? Please……

I have a confession to make.

I think I am mourning the loss of my wife.

Over the last couple of weeks, the two of us have held some very emotional and poignant conversations in regards to her health, my mental health and our families future.

She is by far the strongest woman I know. Her courage and tenacity is second to none. This shit sandwich she’s been handed and forced to eat time and again would leave most average humans gagging while pleading for the feeding to stop. Yet she bites down, grits her teeth and trudges through every mouthful!

I try to remind myself that God will never give us anything we can’t handle.

The other day during a conversation with her doctor she told him she’d had enough! It was time to either get busy living or get busy dying!

Think about that statement! A mashing of words spoken with the seriousness of an appellate court judge! No bullshit, no grins or giggles, no carefully chosen not wanting to hurt anyone else’s feelings words! This is a line in the sand and no one had better fucking cross it! For the first time in a long time I didn’t laugh, find a joke or even smile a nervous smile. She was making a stand and if you truly know my wife then you know never to cross her when she makes a stand!

And I think once again: God will never give us anything we can’t handle.

The last couple of days have been harder then normal. My irregular heartbeat is back, (which always leaves me panicking) my stomach is on fire and the head is pounding pretty hard. These are all secondary reactions to an emotional outpouring trapped deep within this sack of skin. I don’t know how to adequately express what I’m feeling or even describe it’s magnitude which tears my innards apart! Three long years I have been holding it together! Three long years I worry about tommorow and what it may bring! Three long years have been the worst juggling act I could ever have performed, always feeling like I am one hand movement from dropping all the balls.

Three long years and I continue to think: God will not give us anything we cant handle.

In that time I have gained 25 pounds, developed sleep apnea which leaves my chest and head hurting every morning and I have cried more times than I care to remember! Seriously cried like a baby! I’ve cried in the truck, the barn, while working a horse, after waking up from a nightmare to find she isn’t there only to quickly realize she’s at her dads for treatment! I have cried while blogging, in my dorm at work, after a call with a cancer patient, while reading a book and even while taking a shower.

To be honest I cry at everything nowadays! Like some stupid, weak, lovelorn teenager!! Show me a stupid animal video! Hell here comes the waterworks! A love story movie. Tears! Wedding videos! You guessed it more water!! And you know what makes it even worse?

I am angry as hell, looking for someone to blame and yet I continually tell myself; God will not give us anything we cannot handle!

That anger leads me to yell at our kids way more than I should, I yell at drivers on the road and sometimes I daydream someone will cut me off so we can fight! Senselessly hoping not to win, but instead to feel the stinging pain of loss. I know it’s wrong and because I know it’s wrong I work really hard at tempering my emotions!! But this long term tempering is wearing me the fuck out!! All political rants get deleted from my FB feed so I don’t get angry. If an argument starts I do my best to walk out of the room or tune it out by acting dead or stupid, much like a fainting goat! I have figured out how to curb all this anger when cornered by using a tried and true method of striking first with wicked biting sarcasm! But sometimes that bites me in ass when I take it to far and then hurt someone else’s feelings! I can’t win! Developing these weird coping mechanisms are only piling more worry and angst on top of an already over loaded emotional mountain! Yet I keep doing it because going through this joint struggle over the last three years I have found there are more important thing for me to focus on in life! Like waking up, or breathing!

And there I am wondering if God is really giving me what I can handle or if it’s all a big fucking lie!

Today really brought it home for me and it hit me harder than before. A friend posted a picture of my beautiful wife from five years ago and through all my inspirational quotes, kind words and such I realized why I am in this strange place mourning for the loss of my wife. Not that she is gone in the traditional sense of the term, because she obviously isn’t, but for who she used to be! That woman, that confident, beautiful woman who could teach 30 kids in classroom, come home and ride horses with me and the kids, whip up a dinner from absolutely nothing, then toss her hair into a pony tail, throw on some clean clothes and let me strut her sexy ass out on the town!

I hate what the drugs have done to her, I hate what this disease has done to her, I hate that everyday she wakes up and no longer recognizes the person looking back in the mirror and sobs. She’s had me cover all the mirrors in the house so she doesn’t have to look at herself and that makes me mad at God. I hate that she shakes so bad she can’t hold simple items and there is nothing I can do help! I hate that she struggles to get up, walk or climb stairs! She was once a toned, hard fitness instructor and now is a frail version of her former self! I hate that I feel like I am failing her, and I can’t do a thing to make any of this any easier in any way! I hate that she doesn’t know how beautiful I still think she is or how she continually stresses over some imaginary thing that should drive us apart!

I hate, I’m angry so I hate some more and I think again; God will not give us anything we can’t handle.

The realization that I am also mourning the loss of OUR life together weighs like an anvil around ones neck. I go to parent meetings alone, doctor appointments alone, after school activities alone and rodeo with the kids alone. She is miserable because she can’t be there for her children and it is a horrible heavy guilt for her and I am torn up because I can’t imagine how that must feel as a mother. Now, I don’t mind being alone, it’s good to be alone every now and again, just not all the time. Thankfully I am surrounded by some of the most wonderful, caring families anyone could ever ask for and they treat my family as if we were part of their families! Rodeo families are hands down the best in the whole world!!! I seriously look forward to seeing these people every month! But at the end of the day, when everyone goes there separate ways, I sit alone, in the trailer, pondering what life would be like, if Jacy had never gotten sick. All of the fun she is missing out on and how guilty I feel when I forget for a moment and start to have fun myself.
Then I’m mad it’s not me. Jacy is something special. I am not. She has done almost everything right her entire life. I have not, in fact I spent most of my early life doing just the opposite. She is kind to everyone, I can be a bit of an asshole. So why? Why has God burdened her with this punishment and left me alone? Why is God putting this upon our family, our children, our friends and relatives? Is it truly because God thinks we can handle it? What kind of bullshit is that? Does that mean people who hold no struggles are weak in Gods eyes so they get a free pass?? That makes no damn sense!

I always say we need to have faith. Believe in our faith. I believe in God. I believe there is a reason all this is happening. I believe we are being tested. I believe there is a plan and I hope God reveals it soon for as of now I can no longer see the Forrest for the trees.

The fact is pride is what leads us to believe we can conquer all without help or faith. It is how this simple statement I have repeated and lamented over continues to come forth.

“God will not give us anything we cannot handle.”

In reality it reads: No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

The way I read this is as such: God WILL give us all more than we can handle. He will challenge us, challenge our ability to retain faith and he will forgive us our temptations.

I believe my faith is strained right now. I believe we (my wife especially) have been given way more than we can handle. I believe the temptation to just quit is great.

So…..

God, could you give us just a little help? Please….

I’m not sure how much more of what you are giving us we can all take.

(Fuck I’m crying again)

Driving Ms. Daisy

Today a woman honked at me as she passed by my right hand side to enter the freeway! While doing so she gave me the old high handed Italian salute with the meanest deadlocked eye stare I had seen in quite some time! Now quickly being one to find fault with myself first I rapidly recollected the previous 2-3 minutes she had in fact been latched to my six and whether or not there was any way I had in fact wronged this poor desolate soul. I mean had I finally reached the dreaded old guy status while driving? I am not even eligible for my AARP card yet so the thought of a gray haired man swerving back and forth while traveling at 15 MPH under the speed limit with a Morgan Freeman grin upon my face just didn’t seem to fit the profile for this lead foot driver! I continued to ponder the ramifications of some unjust action cast upon her poor misunderstood self in regards to me having done something egregious?

There was nothing.

In fact the only fault I could find was my ability to stay ever so slightly under the posted speed limit while traveling extra cautiously due to several containers of fuel teetering precariously in the bed of my truck. This of course was due to the absence of ratchet straps (I forgot them) to secure these containers. I also had stopped for a full three seconds at the stop sign (gasp) prior to heading up the overcrossing for which she held no intentions of tapping her brakes judging by the way she moved as though I was towing her through the intersection.

So after carefully deducing the situation it meant apparently she was truly upset because I was in fact fully impeding her day.

How thoughtless of me! How irresponsible was I? I mean shit, I guess the first clue for myself that something was amiss should have been when her Acura symbol was trying to hump the RAM on my tailgate? Not many in such tiny disposable automobiles would ever dare challenge the mighty RAM for fear of self-destruction at the braking foot of an otherwise in desperate need of anger management male driver! Yet here I was doing my best to find Zen, stay centered while breathing carefully and calmly as to not inflame the continuous chest pain I live with on a daily basis. No I instead held strong, ignoring her pushy, NASCAR style bullying undertone! A selfish, grotesque abuse of automobile etiquette I was hoping would not ruin what had been an otherwise superb morning! I tried to think maybe she was having a medical emergency or family disaster which led to her rudeness behind the wheel, or maybe she was going to lose her job because she is late all the time and today was the last straw? Yeah, that could be it, after all it was not my fault she couldn’t get her ass out of bed on time, or maybe ran late because her kids moved like snails (probably also selfish little heathens)! OOOORRRRrrrr it’s simply because she is a hot headed ass who doesn’t like not getting her way on a minute by minute basis so in turn she makes everyone else’s day shit to appease her selfish needs??!!! Yep pretty sure that’s hitting the proverbial nail on the fucking head judging by the California wave I received as she passed on by! Heading onto the freeway where I am positive her negative attitude and poor driving skills probably molested and ruined many others mornings before she exited her 3000lb anger machine to become a two legged devil raining a shit parade upon all who fell beneath her shadow! So, far be it from me to let this one little act of indiscretion on her part ruin my morning, my perfect, once every two or three months, NO KIDS FIGHTING, OUT THE DOOR ON TIME, CHEERFUL GOODBYES AT SCHOOL DROP OFF GOD DAMN FUCKING SUPER AWESOME MORNING!!!! IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!!!!! NOT UP IN HERE!! N O T  U P  I N  H E R E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Deep Breath)

In hindsight I am sure it’s all Trumps fault…..

Think I’ll Tweet about it.

I dreamed a dream about a dream until I realized I had been dreaming all along.

As a child I would lay awake at night gazing upon a ceiling of white, not knowing what darkness or light of a new day may bring. Excitement, happiness, sadness, confusion or worry were commonplace in those silent moments before slumber. This single moment of nightly reflection was a time I dreaded for I neither knew nor had the ability to process each and every thought or feeling rapidly infiltrating my developing brain. So I did my best to create an alternate reality (you know the dreaming before you actually dream) about the future and what it may hold. This was done with a gentle rocking back forth as if I was a baby clutched within my mother’s arms.

Eventually I would contort until finding I was flat on my back. My eyes cast toward the sky, head laid upon a pillow for which I would trust with my slumber until well into adulthood. Then and only then after dreaming about dreams would I drift off to sleep and eventually dream. It’s funny how things can become so very important when we are children and yet nominal as we grow older. That pillow was a lifeline to some nominal form of sanity. It was a trusted object for which I looked forward to after a long day. A moment of pure bliss as my head met its tattered misshapen form. It smelled good, it formed to my head just right and it meant that hopefully after a little blank moment or enlightened thought process the best was yet to come.

To dream

What is it to dream? We dream with eyes wide open about our futures and what they may hold. We dream about what we want to become as we grow older or where we wish to be within a certain designated time frame. We dream about that perfect human match, a soul mate who mirrors our better selves forming a solid foundation for which life and dreams can be achieved. We also dream as we sleep. The subconscious collecting data from deep within our cerebral cortex, correlating it into a one night only performance. Hyper-infusing our confidences and fears into a woven tale of wonderment, confusion or terror.

As a child I recall dreams were abundant. They would come and go, filled with mystery and wonder. Our subconscious mind working overtime filling our thoughts with the impossible, the amazing and at times the downright frightening! But as a child, I can remember the importance of dreams. How some mornings they left me mesmerized or flat out invigorated! I can remember getting dressed before school thinking today anything is possible! All from a dream that boosted my confidence or left me wondering whether or not it was in fact a dream.

During those very early years it was mostly dreams of playing baseball, swimming, learning to ride a bike, or flying! Flying like a superhero, swooping long and low over rooftops with the speed of lightening. My dreams always had a happy undertone that I was popular, or famous and life was licking my fingertips waiting for me to grab onto it and hold it tight!

Into the age of teen wonderment, nightly I would drift off with rock music playing in the background much to my parent’s dismay. My dreams consisted of cars, high school and girls. Real cars would fill my head, not the plastic ones rolling around our streets today! A 1957 Chevy or a 1966 Chevelle! Yes hardened steel and abundant horsepower!!! My 1964 Chevy truck became my world and before sleep I would dream about having the money to one day fix it up so that it would shine, making the cover of Hot Rod Magazine.

During this time I was particularly fond of writing (shocker huh?) and would pencil my dreams in the morning upon waking. I dreamed of being a writer one day, I also dreamed of being a cowboy, or a movie actor. This of course led to desk bound daydreaming where in class my thoughts would wander off and I would be dreaming about the day I would have enough courage to leave home to chase those exciting dreams. An actor, on stage or in the movies I didn’t care! Imagining myself in a full scale western movie, riding, shooting and doing my own stunts! Sometimes I would dream about being a doctor, going to school for a really long time just to prove to my parents that even though school was incredibly hard for me I was in fact smart after all.. It was certified Walter Mitty syndrome!

I never did have the guts to leave, head out on my own. Terrified of the unknown and worried about rejection along with where I would sleep or eat, those dreams became nothing more than lost hopes. I regret those decisions to this day.

Early adulthood and my dreams began to wane. Sleep becomes more of a necessity as life treats you a little harder and exhaustion gives way to reality. The reality being there is no longer time for dreaming about any future while lying in bed. Work became my outlet and I ran at times to the beat of two or three jobs at once. My cherished pillow, the one I longed for at the end of the day no longer mattered as resting my head anywhere warm and dry was more important than comfort or security. Life has picked up speed and there no longer remains time for my silly dreams.

Marriage and not long after children come, days are filled with responsibilities beyond comprehension. My thoughts range from love and pride with this life we are building as a team to worry and fear for what the future holds for us both and this family we have created. Today’s moments are about these people who are now the backbone/foundation of your life. Your dreams for the future are no longer your own but those of a collective whose agreeance is mandatory. These moments of life you will cherish forever, they will create a better and stronger you, you will achieve more than you imagined but those achievements may not be part of what you initially dreamed life would become. You will smile at how quickly life expands, grows and evolves with the continued addition of all who come into your life. I believe these years are the years which leave you with a smile upon your face when your time has come to an end on this earth. You are now following a path and new hopes and dreams will emerge, but you must not forget who YOU are and begin to allow those day dreams to come back. You need to listen to your heart and follow the right path. You long for the nights when deep sleep brings about happy dreams about life, love and family.

There for to quit dreaming is to quit living and hopefully your dreams continue on through the latter portions of your adult years. For me, life and my dreams are much different. I now dream for the thought processes of a child, returning to the innocence of adolescence with all its narrow minded wonder. My head hurts every day, my body is so tired, it’s as though I have drug a truck uphill for miles. When I lay my head down at night I no longer have a single trusted pillow, hell any pillow that is thicker than a postage stamp will do. I can no longer stare upon the ceiling to dream about any kind of future and what it may hold for sleep apnea has its evil grip upon my body. When sleep does come it is at the hands of my wife’s oxygen machine running, the sound of dogs barking, a television squawking hoping to ease my wife’s nervous mind and sheer exhaustion overtaking me while I struggle to breathe through the mask of a CPAP machine.

To dream a lovely dream would in fact be a delightful dream.

Many times I fear sleep depending on the day, the stress level over Jacy’s health or what may have transpired during a shift at work. These dreams do come and with them sometimes death, tragedy, harm and images to disturbing to mention. Often times awaking in panic or fear, drenched in sweat while ripping CPAP mask from my face! This will lead to walking the halls until I can calm down. Many times I awaken feeling as though I am having a full blown heart attack complete with chest pain, sweat and difficulty breathing! It is scary, and tiresome at the same time. Most nights I can no longer fall asleep until I know all my children are safe at home, in their beds. Sleep comes with a price as my worries surpasses any expectations of deep slumber. Listening to Jacy’s labored breathing, coughing and doing my best to stay out of her way as she tosses and turns for fear of waking her from a much needed rest. When I do get the chance to fall into a drop dead slumber my dreams lead to a land I wish not to visit and these places only lead to eventually being awake. Once there I daydream about a life once lived, a love inspired by the continual thought of a new day where my wife is healthy, happy and free from all this torment.

I wonder why life can’t be like the movies. A story with all its problems neatly wrapped up in 90 minutes. Where a young boy can dream while gazing at an arcade machine about being BIG and it happens. Or a girl dreams about running her own clothing company and she does. Or a rat believes it can be a chef in Paris and voila! He is..

What would we be without dreams?

You see things and you say why? But I dream things that never were; and say, “Why not?”

~George Bernard Shaw~

You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.

~C.S. Lewis~

Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.

~James Dean~

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

~Oscar Wilde~

And my personal favorite

A man is not old until regrets take place of dreams

~John Barrymore~

And with John Barrymore’s quote I say this.

You are born with the ability to dream and with the very same skill set you shall perish. What you do with it in between falls squarely upon you.

Whether asleep or awake, dream, dream big and never let anyone detour you from those dreams.

7 Habits of a grateful Rodeo kid

 

parker-rodeo

 

I read an article today on being a grateful athlete in todays world.

The article was called; 7 Habits of a grateful athlete. It was authored by Brian Smith and can be found at www.athletesinaction.org

As I read through this article I found it refreshingly mirrored some of the very qualities we have been teaching our children. I then sat back and pondered what the 7 habits of a grateful rodeo kid would be? Using my own beliefs and the beliefs of many of my fellow rodeo parents, I came up with my own spin on the topic. My list holds a few similarities but also a few sport specific beliefs that many parents such as myself and my wife uphold on a daily basis.

Before we start though lets have a refresher for those who are unfamiliar with Rodeo and its concept.

So what exactly is rodeo?

Rodeo

The American English word “rodeo” is taken directly from Spanish rodeo ([roˈðe.o]), which roughly translates into English as “round up

Rodeo is a competitive sport that arose out of the working practices of cattle herding in Spain, Mexico, and later Central America, the United States, Canada, South America, Australia and New Zealand. It was based on the skills required of the working vaqueros and later, cowboys, in what today is the western United States, western Canada, and northern Mexico. Today it is a sporting event that involves horses and other livestock, designed to test the skill and speed of the cowboys and cowgirls. American style professional rodeos generally comprise the following events: tie-down roping, team roping, steer wrestling, saddle bronc riding, bareback bronc riding, bull riding and barrel racing. The events are divided into two basic categories: the rough stock events and the timed events. Depending on sanctioning organization and region, other events such as breakaway roping, goat tying, or pole bending may also be a part of some rodeos.

Many rodeo events were based on the tasks required by cattle ranching. The working cowboy developed skills to fit the needs of the terrain and climate of the American west, and there were many regional variations. The skills required to manage cattle and horses date back to the Spanish traditions of the vaquero.

Early rodeo-like affairs of the 1820s and 1830s were informal events in the western United States and northern Mexico with cowboys and vaqueros testing their work skills against one another.[9][10] Following the American Civil War, rodeo competitions emerged, with the first held in Cheyenne, Wyoming in 1872.[10] Prescott, Arizona claimed the distinction of holding the first professional rodeo, as it charged admission and awarded trophies in 1888.[11] Between 1890 and 1910, rodeos became public entertainment, sometimes combined Wild West shows featuring individuals such as Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley, and other charismatic stars.[10] By 1910, several major rodeos were established in western North America, including the Calgary Stampede, the Pendleton Round-Up, and the Cheyenne Frontier Days.

Rodeo-type events also became popular for a time in the big cities of the Eastern United States, with large venues such as Madison Square Garden playing a part in popularizing them for new crowds. There was no standardization of events for a rodeo competition until 1929, when associations began forming.

In the 1970s, rodeo saw unprecedented growth. Contestants referred to as “the new breed” brought rodeo increasing media attention. These contestants were young, often from an urban background, and chose rodeo for its athletic rewards. By 1985, one third of PRCA members had a college education and one half of the competitors had never worked on a cattle ranch.[12] Today, some professional rodeos are staged in large, air-conditioned arenas; offer large purses, and are often telecast. Many other professional rodeos are held outside, under the same conditions of heat, cold, dust or mud as were the original events.

~Wikipedia~

My wife and I have always preached being grateful as an adult and I believe that comes from a tempered or aged wisdom which allows adults to see what the youthful eye cannot. For when we are young it is very easy to become self-centered; forgetting the where, why and how of it all. Believing there is only one person in the universe that matters and that person is yourself. Parents often times inadvertently help with this self-absorption. Creating often times a very self-centered child by constantly praising their failures, awarding them for mediocre performances while never allowing them to work hard after recovering from the sting of defeat. These parents will purchase the newest greatest next everything including horses at the drop of a hat without any consideration the equipment they have is fine and the horse may not be the problem, but the child themselves. As a parent, in my opinion constantly bowing to a child whenever things don’t go their way is a set course for disaster! This often leads to a rodeo athlete who doesn’t understand just how lucky they are to be where they are, doing what they are doing, all why relying on a partner who speaks no English, knows nothing of what the game plan is other than a learned skill and has no way to say afterwards; Hey dude that wasn’t me this time it was all you! Hence ungratefulness and emotional meltdowns ensue.

I will constantly tell a child to smile while leaving the arena, no matter the outcome of a run! A simple reminder that this moment you are in was the luckiest, best thing you could have done today! Who else gets to do these amazing things on horseback in front of a cheering crowd? Who else but you and your closest friends? You have already beaten the odds by even being here! Smile! Smile big! You practiced and this time it didn’t work out, but next time it will! Just remain grateful and keep working hard.

I tell my children no matter how poorly you may have done, get up, knock the dust off and smile! People always remember the kid who gave it their all with a smile on their face! You can be mad at yourself, mad at the run, hell even mad at your horse because yes, even though I always preach look at yourself first before being angry at the horse, horses have bad days too! But take your time, wait until you are out of the arena, away from everyone else before you let any evil out of the jar!! Take a few minutes, compose yourself and remember you participated and did something most people only dream about. Hell most parents envy you a little because we can no longer compete! So you did something most people don’t get to do and your parents secretly envy you? Yeah I’d say that is pretty freaking cool!

One day coming out of the cutting pen my son reminded me of just how important my own words had become by throwing them right back into my face. I had worked hard during the winter on getting my horse just right. I strolled slowly into the herd as confident as I had ever been. I knew what cattle I wanted, my horse was supple and relaxed, Hell as far as I was concerned they should have already written the check out to me! After pulling my first cow out for a clean cut, I dropped my hand, sat back, turned out my toes and completely relaxed. This was going to be a kick ass run. In the end it was an; I got my ass kicked run. Nothing and I mean nothing went right after the second or third jump and I ended up schooling my mare. Instead of winning the round, I walked out with a zero.

As I passed through the gate, angry as hell, dejected and wanting to punch something (I am a little competitive) my son said; Great job dad! Smile! Who else gets to go out and do what you just did!

The son teaching the father. I smiled because I was in fact grateful.

With that little story here are my 7 habits of a grateful Rodeo kid

  1. Always thankful to God. We get up each morning and from the minute we pull our boots on we should be counting the many blessings put before us. Riding rough stock, training and riding horses, learning to rope, steer wrestle, goat tie and chute dog, it all takes time and skill. Thank God each and every day for the gift of life, the ability to thrive for everything you have achieved or will achieve. Thank God for the ability to fail! For failures are what eventually leads to improvement and a solid winning attitude.
  2. See’s the run in their head. You have practiced it, you have done it a million times the right way at home. Enjoy the very moment coming before you by closing your eyes and seeing yourself completing an amazing run, rope a steer perfectly, or wrestle a steer to the ground with ease. Riding bulls or Broncs? Who is your favorite rider, picture yourself making the very same ride your hero has, using the very same technique and effort! Enjoy this moment and use the power of your mind to see the perfection locked inside.
  3. Helps someone every single chance they get. Rodeo is a giant family and somewhere, someday you might need help in return. Always sharing knowledge you have gained, what you’ve seen while comparing notes you have taken. A truly grateful rodeo athlete knows that by helping others you are raising the competitive bar and that makes for a better rodeo all the way around. Be the first to congratulate another competitor when they have done well, always have an encouraging word, share a smile, a pat on the back, a high five! Your support will be returned tenfold, I promise!
  4. Always remains humble. Rodeo athletes who come across as entitled just don’t get it. They aren’t thankful, grateful and their attitude can bring about resentment and hate. Remain humble, honest and true to the values your parents gave you. Honesty, good sportsmanship, empathy and desire to be the best (best partner, contestant, coach, friend etc.) Buckles are great, money is awesome but those things should never define who YOU are. Remember you are only as good as your last run.
  5. Listens, listens, listens. You are never too good to take advice. The learning process never ends and someday when you are older you will hopefully feel the desire to pass everything you learned to another, whether it be your own children or clients. Remember to treat others the way you expect to be treated and that sometimes means to listen more and talk less..
  6. Treats ALL animals as if they were their own! You cannot compete without livestock! Don’t treat your horses, cattle and goats like a piece of machinery to be fueled, worked and thrown in a garage never to be seen until the next rodeo. Be grateful for their existence and abilities. Care for them like they were family because in some cases if you are really lucky that is exactly what they become. I have seen many of the meanest bucking bulls in the arena act like little puppies loving on their human for some ear scratching outside the arena! These animals truly love their jobs when treated right and in the end there is no greater bond than a grateful child and their horse.
  7. Continually thanking everyone that helped you along the way. Your parents, grandparents and even in some cases your brothers and sisters, they spent countless hours getting you where you needed to be when you needed to be there. Trainers, horses, cattle, ropes, saddles, tack, everything you need mom, dad and even sponsors did their best to make it happen. Nothing says you are a grateful human being like showing gratitude for the sacrifices these people all made so that you could ride into an arena, good, bad or otherwise and ride out with a smile on your face.

There you have it! How I feel our children should approach this great American sport. I know my children hear this all the time. It starts from the minute I remind them to remove their hats during the national anthem and continues until the moment they are asleep in the truck during our long ride home.

Our children should dream big! Shoot for the stars! But at the end of the day where ever they end up, these days here rodeoing with friends will be some of the best, most memorable days of their lives. Why not help by building a solid foundation that will lead them out into this world with a grateful attitude? It can only bring them success in life.

Let’s go, lets show, lets rodeo!!!