We interrupt this blog for the start of Football Season.
The quantity and quality of any future posts will depend heavily on the success, or lack thereof, the New York Giants and Syracuse Orange football teams enjoy this season.
It looks like its going to be a long year.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
To Do list
Once summer morning about 12 years ago, when I was a TV news cameraman, I was diverted on my way into the TV station to cover a single-vehicle rollover accident on a rural highway outside of town.
I arrived on the scene and was stopped by the Highway Patrol. Beyond the patrol car I could see a pickup truck lying upside down on the side of the roadway. From the marks on the road and the condition of the truck it was clear the truck had rolled multiple times, literally cartwheeling down the pavement, ejecting contents of the vehicle with each bounce. One of those items, about halfway between where I stood and where the truck came to rest, was a single body, covered by a sheet.
Over the course of my 10+ year career at a TV news photographer I’ve seen my share of injured and dead people. This one, seen from a distance and covered by a sheet, was not abnormally upsetting. Not to be callous about it, but wasn’t something that haunted me. I felt sorry for the individual, his family and loved ones, to be sure, but in terms of visually disturbing images, this one was not particularly horrific.
No, what struck me about this accident was one of the first items to be ejected from the truck as it rolled, and therefore closest to my vantage point. It was a daily planner, one of those leather, loose leaf binders with a set of daily or weekly pages. It happened to be lying open on the road. Using my camera I zoomed in on the planner, and while I couldn’t make out any of the words, it looked to me like a to-do list.
A list of items that now would never be completed.
A list, no doubt similar to my own, the one in the planner on the dashboard of my news vehicle.
I’ve never forgotten the feeling I had that morning, wondering what that person had planned to do, and now no longer would. Wondering what items would forever be unchecked.
Fast forward a few years, to 1999 or 2000. No longer a TV News guy, I’m now a white-collar mid-level Advertising Executive. The Wall Street Journal hits my desk every morning. Flipping through it one day, I come across an article about a man name Ted Leonsis, an executive with AOL. The article praises his ability to prioritize his multiple responsibilities and get an incredible amount of work done, while still maintaining a balanced, fulfilling personal life. He attributes this ability to a single, defining moment in his life. I clipped the paragraph out of the paper and kept it in my planner – I still have it to this day. It reads as follows:
‘One of his defining moments, he says, came in 1986,
when he was flying to Atlanta and the plane made an
emergency landing in safety foam. “I said, ‘God, if I live,
I will play offense with the rest of my life,’” Mr. Leonisis
recounts. So he set out to create a list of 101 things he
wanted to do before he dies, including hitting a
hole-in-one, catching a foul ball and entering
outer space. To date, he has done 61 of them.’
I was impressed with one line in particular – “I will play offense with the rest of my life.” What a great philosophy. Live as though you are trying to score, trying to make things happen, trying to accomplish something. I resolved to do exactly that.
Sadly, several years later, I have to confess that I have not lived up to my goal.
In fact, one could make the case that I should be nominated for Defensive Player of the Year.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of to-do lists, and I cross things off them every day. Work lists – projects, meetings, reports – all listed, all accounted for, all regularly checked as Completed. Personal lists – birthdays, anniversaries, soccer games – duly noted, not forgotten, appropriate actions taken – Check. Honey-Do lists, household projects, all listed…not always checked off as often as others might like, but progress made nonetheless. Check.
No, what’s missing is The List. The 101 things, or whatever the number is, to do before I die. The Offensive Game Plan, if you will.
For try as I might, I have not been able to come up with items important enough, meaningful enough, to place on that list, and to strive to then cross off that list.
And having recently stood on my own gravesite (granted, I’m not in it yet), I’m feeling a bit of urgency to get a list made and make some plans to accomplish something.
Compounding the issue, I’m also at the age where a mid-life crisis is, while not imminent, certainly a possibility in the not-to-distant future.
The problem I have is trying to determine what is worthy of being placed on such a list. I think it would be relatively easy to make a list of things that might be fun to do, interesting to say that you did, but not necessarily worth devoting an inordinate amount of time to achieving. Using Ted’s list, for example, he mentions hitting a hole-in-one and catching a fly ball as things he wants to do before he dies. I think, while I would happily do either one, I’m not going to make a priority of doing those things. Sure, I’d like to hit a hole-in-one, but I’m not going to get out and play golf four or five times a week until it happens. I’m not going to go to dozens or hundreds of baseball games, strategically sitting in zones where foul balls are often hit, just for the opportunity to catch one. For me, those things would be nice if they happened serendipitously, but they are not things I personally consider worth pursuing.
For me, the list should include things that are worth pursuing – making a conscious, concerted effort to achieve.
One thing on my list is to one day own my own business. That is something I want to do. I’ve taken steps along the way to make that possible, and I continue to do so. I do believe someday I will do that.
Another thing I want to do is attend a game in the championship series of each of the four major professional sports – The World Series, The Super Bowl, The NBA Finals and The Stanley Cup Finals. To date I have done two of those – I’ve been to an NBA Finals game, and I’ve been to a Stanley Cup Finals game (in Madison Square Garden, no less!). Two down, two to go. I’d like to do the last two with Chris and Tommy, one day – perhaps go back and do all four with them. Is that an accomplishment, or an indulgence? Probably mostly the latter. But it’s on my list
Still, it seems like there should be more.
Also, I’m not talking about the things that, to me, are obvious, no-brainer, things to be expected. Being a responsible, involved parent. Being a faithful husband. Being a good role model for my kids. Being a good friend, being a contributing member of my society. Yes, I expect to look back on my life and acknowledge that I have done those things. But is that really an accomplishment? It seems to me that anything less is failure, not something to be recognized as outstanding. That is the bar – not exceeding the bar.
I want to look back on my life and point to certain things that I can justifiably feel good about accomplishing. I want to look back on a life lived, not a life existed. It’s not about leaving a legacy; it’s about leaving with few regrets. I don’t want to look back and have my list be full of “I wish I had…”
As I read this it seems like the post is getting very morbid. That’s not the intent. We’re all going to die one day. But for me, sometimes it takes contemplating death to force me to try to make the most of life.
It’s all too easy to get caught up in getting through each day, fulfilling all of the obligations that come with a modern life. Professional responsibilities, family responsibilities. Employee, husband, father. Often, at the end of each day, it’s considered a success if nothing has fallen through the cracks, if nothing major was forgotten or left undone.
More and more, it seems, I’m simply keeping up with the treadmill, not sliding off the back. And considering that successful.
Less and less, it’s about personal fulfillment, accomplishment, achievement.
The equation has to change.
I think the way to make the change is to make the list. It gets back to the to-do list. If it’s on the list, you have the obligation to get it off the list. You commit to doing it. It sits there, reminding you, badgering you, challenging you to knock it off.
Maybe many of you don’t share my feelings on this. That’s fine. I’ve been told by people close to me, including MBW, that I am extremely introspective, often hard on myself, and have unrealistic expectations about what I need to accomplish.
Perhaps that is true.
Still, that’s how I feel. The older I get, the faster time seems to go. Days become weeks, weeks become months. Especially when you have young children. Here is my observation about the nature of time when you have small children – any given day can last for what seems to be forever. Yet the weeks, months and years go by at light speed. One day when your kid is sick, or the weather is too nasty to go outdoors, it can take forever for bedtime to roll around. Yet the next thing you know, your kid is off to kindergarten. High school. College.
And all the while, time is running out to do those things you want to do, or think you want to do, or even want to make time to decide if you really want to do.
At some point, it becomes too late. It becomes, “I wish I had…”
I already have a closet full of things I wish I had done. What it that saying? You most regret the things you didn’t do, not the things you did.
Hey…I resemble that remark!
It’s time to revisit the playbook – the Offensive playbook. It’s time to look for the Flea Flicker, the Statue of Liberty, the End Around. To find those things that are meaningful enough to commit to doing. Those things that I’ll look back on one day and say, “I’m glad I did…” instead of “I wish I had…”
Find them, put them on the list, and knock the suckers off.
Before my metaphorical pickup truck cartwheels down that old rural highway.
When someone picks up my planner off that cold pavement and looks at my to-do list, I want them to see checkmarks in boxes. To ask, “Did he really do these things?”
To which, from the great beyond, I’ll say, “Damn right I did.’
I’ll put together my list, over time, and post updates here in this space.
If you care.
And now, to bring this back full circle to my last post.
What’s on YOUR list?
Tag.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
I arrived on the scene and was stopped by the Highway Patrol. Beyond the patrol car I could see a pickup truck lying upside down on the side of the roadway. From the marks on the road and the condition of the truck it was clear the truck had rolled multiple times, literally cartwheeling down the pavement, ejecting contents of the vehicle with each bounce. One of those items, about halfway between where I stood and where the truck came to rest, was a single body, covered by a sheet.
Over the course of my 10+ year career at a TV news photographer I’ve seen my share of injured and dead people. This one, seen from a distance and covered by a sheet, was not abnormally upsetting. Not to be callous about it, but wasn’t something that haunted me. I felt sorry for the individual, his family and loved ones, to be sure, but in terms of visually disturbing images, this one was not particularly horrific.
No, what struck me about this accident was one of the first items to be ejected from the truck as it rolled, and therefore closest to my vantage point. It was a daily planner, one of those leather, loose leaf binders with a set of daily or weekly pages. It happened to be lying open on the road. Using my camera I zoomed in on the planner, and while I couldn’t make out any of the words, it looked to me like a to-do list.
A list of items that now would never be completed.
A list, no doubt similar to my own, the one in the planner on the dashboard of my news vehicle.
I’ve never forgotten the feeling I had that morning, wondering what that person had planned to do, and now no longer would. Wondering what items would forever be unchecked.
Fast forward a few years, to 1999 or 2000. No longer a TV News guy, I’m now a white-collar mid-level Advertising Executive. The Wall Street Journal hits my desk every morning. Flipping through it one day, I come across an article about a man name Ted Leonsis, an executive with AOL. The article praises his ability to prioritize his multiple responsibilities and get an incredible amount of work done, while still maintaining a balanced, fulfilling personal life. He attributes this ability to a single, defining moment in his life. I clipped the paragraph out of the paper and kept it in my planner – I still have it to this day. It reads as follows:
‘One of his defining moments, he says, came in 1986,
when he was flying to Atlanta and the plane made an
emergency landing in safety foam. “I said, ‘God, if I live,
I will play offense with the rest of my life,’” Mr. Leonisis
recounts. So he set out to create a list of 101 things he
wanted to do before he dies, including hitting a
hole-in-one, catching a foul ball and entering
outer space. To date, he has done 61 of them.’
I was impressed with one line in particular – “I will play offense with the rest of my life.” What a great philosophy. Live as though you are trying to score, trying to make things happen, trying to accomplish something. I resolved to do exactly that.
Sadly, several years later, I have to confess that I have not lived up to my goal.
In fact, one could make the case that I should be nominated for Defensive Player of the Year.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of to-do lists, and I cross things off them every day. Work lists – projects, meetings, reports – all listed, all accounted for, all regularly checked as Completed. Personal lists – birthdays, anniversaries, soccer games – duly noted, not forgotten, appropriate actions taken – Check. Honey-Do lists, household projects, all listed…not always checked off as often as others might like, but progress made nonetheless. Check.
No, what’s missing is The List. The 101 things, or whatever the number is, to do before I die. The Offensive Game Plan, if you will.
For try as I might, I have not been able to come up with items important enough, meaningful enough, to place on that list, and to strive to then cross off that list.
And having recently stood on my own gravesite (granted, I’m not in it yet), I’m feeling a bit of urgency to get a list made and make some plans to accomplish something.
Compounding the issue, I’m also at the age where a mid-life crisis is, while not imminent, certainly a possibility in the not-to-distant future.
The problem I have is trying to determine what is worthy of being placed on such a list. I think it would be relatively easy to make a list of things that might be fun to do, interesting to say that you did, but not necessarily worth devoting an inordinate amount of time to achieving. Using Ted’s list, for example, he mentions hitting a hole-in-one and catching a fly ball as things he wants to do before he dies. I think, while I would happily do either one, I’m not going to make a priority of doing those things. Sure, I’d like to hit a hole-in-one, but I’m not going to get out and play golf four or five times a week until it happens. I’m not going to go to dozens or hundreds of baseball games, strategically sitting in zones where foul balls are often hit, just for the opportunity to catch one. For me, those things would be nice if they happened serendipitously, but they are not things I personally consider worth pursuing.
For me, the list should include things that are worth pursuing – making a conscious, concerted effort to achieve.
One thing on my list is to one day own my own business. That is something I want to do. I’ve taken steps along the way to make that possible, and I continue to do so. I do believe someday I will do that.
Another thing I want to do is attend a game in the championship series of each of the four major professional sports – The World Series, The Super Bowl, The NBA Finals and The Stanley Cup Finals. To date I have done two of those – I’ve been to an NBA Finals game, and I’ve been to a Stanley Cup Finals game (in Madison Square Garden, no less!). Two down, two to go. I’d like to do the last two with Chris and Tommy, one day – perhaps go back and do all four with them. Is that an accomplishment, or an indulgence? Probably mostly the latter. But it’s on my list
Still, it seems like there should be more.
Also, I’m not talking about the things that, to me, are obvious, no-brainer, things to be expected. Being a responsible, involved parent. Being a faithful husband. Being a good role model for my kids. Being a good friend, being a contributing member of my society. Yes, I expect to look back on my life and acknowledge that I have done those things. But is that really an accomplishment? It seems to me that anything less is failure, not something to be recognized as outstanding. That is the bar – not exceeding the bar.
I want to look back on my life and point to certain things that I can justifiably feel good about accomplishing. I want to look back on a life lived, not a life existed. It’s not about leaving a legacy; it’s about leaving with few regrets. I don’t want to look back and have my list be full of “I wish I had…”
As I read this it seems like the post is getting very morbid. That’s not the intent. We’re all going to die one day. But for me, sometimes it takes contemplating death to force me to try to make the most of life.
It’s all too easy to get caught up in getting through each day, fulfilling all of the obligations that come with a modern life. Professional responsibilities, family responsibilities. Employee, husband, father. Often, at the end of each day, it’s considered a success if nothing has fallen through the cracks, if nothing major was forgotten or left undone.
More and more, it seems, I’m simply keeping up with the treadmill, not sliding off the back. And considering that successful.
Less and less, it’s about personal fulfillment, accomplishment, achievement.
The equation has to change.
I think the way to make the change is to make the list. It gets back to the to-do list. If it’s on the list, you have the obligation to get it off the list. You commit to doing it. It sits there, reminding you, badgering you, challenging you to knock it off.
Maybe many of you don’t share my feelings on this. That’s fine. I’ve been told by people close to me, including MBW, that I am extremely introspective, often hard on myself, and have unrealistic expectations about what I need to accomplish.
Perhaps that is true.
Still, that’s how I feel. The older I get, the faster time seems to go. Days become weeks, weeks become months. Especially when you have young children. Here is my observation about the nature of time when you have small children – any given day can last for what seems to be forever. Yet the weeks, months and years go by at light speed. One day when your kid is sick, or the weather is too nasty to go outdoors, it can take forever for bedtime to roll around. Yet the next thing you know, your kid is off to kindergarten. High school. College.
And all the while, time is running out to do those things you want to do, or think you want to do, or even want to make time to decide if you really want to do.
At some point, it becomes too late. It becomes, “I wish I had…”
I already have a closet full of things I wish I had done. What it that saying? You most regret the things you didn’t do, not the things you did.
Hey…I resemble that remark!
It’s time to revisit the playbook – the Offensive playbook. It’s time to look for the Flea Flicker, the Statue of Liberty, the End Around. To find those things that are meaningful enough to commit to doing. Those things that I’ll look back on one day and say, “I’m glad I did…” instead of “I wish I had…”
Find them, put them on the list, and knock the suckers off.
Before my metaphorical pickup truck cartwheels down that old rural highway.
When someone picks up my planner off that cold pavement and looks at my to-do list, I want them to see checkmarks in boxes. To ask, “Did he really do these things?”
To which, from the great beyond, I’ll say, “Damn right I did.’
I’ll put together my list, over time, and post updates here in this space.
If you care.
And now, to bring this back full circle to my last post.
What’s on YOUR list?
Tag.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tag
While I’ve seen this tag thing play out on other blogs, I never really quite got it. But now that I have been ‘tagged,’ courtesy of Helen, author of Life In Texas, I guess I should participate, even if my answers might not be very entertaining. I'm honored to have been selected.
Before we get to the ‘tag’ questions, and my answers, let me say that this exercise sort of leads into something I’ve been working on for awhile. In my next post I will put a different spin on the whole ‘ask strangers some questions and see what the answers are’ concept. Because lately I’ve been struggling with some questions of my own, I’m not sure I have the answers, and maybe writing the post will help me achieve some clarity.
But that’s for next time. This post is my ‘tag’ response. Remember, I’m just answering the questions I’ve been asked.
1. What is the ratio of sexy panties to granny panties currently in your possession?
I don’t wear panties. However, I have not seen anything resembling ‘granny’ panties in our house in a long time.
2. Pretend you won one of those "Make your dream come true" deals that Oprah is always giving away. What would you ask for?
Maxed out college funds for Chris and Tommy.
3. Describe your high school days in one word.
Forgettable.
4. If you could shag any celebrity in the world who would be your top three picks?
This is the honest truth, and I’m not just saying this because MBW reads this blog. I am so out of touch with the celebrity scene I cannot come up with three names. I guess I am attracted to young, slender and sexy…which describes my wife.
5. If you had all the money in the world, more money than you could spend in four lifetimes, would you eat some?
No, but I’d see to it that more people had enough to eat.
6. Tag three people.
Rather than choose three specific people, I’ll throw this out to everyone reading this. If you care to participate, leave your responses in the comment section for all to see.
So there it is, my first game of tag. I assume my responses are so lame that I will not be tagged again. Not that I mind, but surely there are more interesting responses to be found.
With that said, my next post will explore the ‘question and answer’ exercise a bit more.
It’s probably not great to play Tag with The Family Man (unless you are Chris or Tommy, in which case you can’t get enough!).
Before we get to the ‘tag’ questions, and my answers, let me say that this exercise sort of leads into something I’ve been working on for awhile. In my next post I will put a different spin on the whole ‘ask strangers some questions and see what the answers are’ concept. Because lately I’ve been struggling with some questions of my own, I’m not sure I have the answers, and maybe writing the post will help me achieve some clarity.
But that’s for next time. This post is my ‘tag’ response. Remember, I’m just answering the questions I’ve been asked.
1. What is the ratio of sexy panties to granny panties currently in your possession?
I don’t wear panties. However, I have not seen anything resembling ‘granny’ panties in our house in a long time.
2. Pretend you won one of those "Make your dream come true" deals that Oprah is always giving away. What would you ask for?
Maxed out college funds for Chris and Tommy.
3. Describe your high school days in one word.
Forgettable.
4. If you could shag any celebrity in the world who would be your top three picks?
This is the honest truth, and I’m not just saying this because MBW reads this blog. I am so out of touch with the celebrity scene I cannot come up with three names. I guess I am attracted to young, slender and sexy…which describes my wife.
5. If you had all the money in the world, more money than you could spend in four lifetimes, would you eat some?
No, but I’d see to it that more people had enough to eat.
6. Tag three people.
Rather than choose three specific people, I’ll throw this out to everyone reading this. If you care to participate, leave your responses in the comment section for all to see.
So there it is, my first game of tag. I assume my responses are so lame that I will not be tagged again. Not that I mind, but surely there are more interesting responses to be found.
With that said, my next post will explore the ‘question and answer’ exercise a bit more.
It’s probably not great to play Tag with The Family Man (unless you are Chris or Tommy, in which case you can’t get enough!).
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
The Trouble with Tommy
If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile you’ve read the stories where Chris and Tommy are transformed into adults in various eras – Ancient Rome, The Wild West. In each case I’ve tried to project their current personality into the adult characters they’ve become for that particular story. So you may have a sense, if you’ve read those stories, about how each boy differs from the other.
Let me preface what I’m going to say next with a disclaimer – both boys are young. I’m not trying to typecast them or label them in any way. The personality traits they exhibit a year from now may be very different from how they act today. They may, in fact, both grow up to be model citizens; fine, upstanding young men.
Having said that, it’s also quite possible one of them might give me a heart attack before he becomes a teenager.
Can you guess which one?
Chris is a lot like me. Too much, perhaps. Physically he is, and pretty much has been since the day he was born, a dead ringer for me. His personality is similar to mine as well. He is thoughtful, considerate, a bit introspective (as much as one can be at age five). He wants to please, he hates to disappoint. He’s a very social boy, likes to make friends, and he generally gets along with and plays well with others. He will usually do as he’s told, follow the rules, and work within the system.
He does have an impish streak. He will occasionally tease his brother or play a trick on him, but it is usually in fun and not mean-spirited. He’s a bit possessive over his toys, but what kid isn’t at this age? Even when he’s acting a bit naughty, more often than not we can reason with him and help him solve problems by talking through the different ways they might be handled. Usually he’ll see the light and choose the right solution.
Tommy, on the other hand, is none of the above.
Tommy Two-Gun. Tomas’ the Fierce.
Tommy is a maverick. A spitfire. If he doesn’t get his way, he’s as likely to take a swing at you as he is to cry and stomp his feet. If he doesn’t care for his dinner, he might sit there and chew one bite for ten full minutes. He might sit there and not eat it at all. He might just get up and walk away from the table. Or he might, as he did the other night, take his peas, one by one, and launch them across the kitchen. Laughing all the while.
He has his own time zone. Tommy Standard Time. Which means that he’ll go somewhere when he’s good and ready. Not when everyone else is ready – when he’s ready. Example - we’re trying to leave the grocery store the other evening, and he’s looking at the gumball vending machine.
“Tommy, come on, time to go home.”
“Okay, dad.” Not moving.
“Tommy, come on!”
“Okay, dad.” Not moving.
“TOMMY!”
He turns, looks at me, exasperation written all over his little face.
“Just a minute, okay? Geez!”
As I turn to walk back and physically lift him off his feet, he begins to walk toward me. Slowly.
For every Tommy story I have, MBW has ten. She’s home with both boys during the summer when school is out. Virtually every evening when I come home from work I hear the latest chapter in The Saga of Tommy.
Chapter 12 – Tommy hit and pinched Chris for no reason.
Chapter 19 – Tommy dumped the Ant Farm on the floor “just to see what would happen.”
Chapter 31 – Tommy knocked over Chris’ tower of blocks, then threw one of the blocks and hit Chris in the head. For fun.
Chapter 44 – He hit MBW and, when she packed him off to sit on his bed, called her “stupid.”
Chapter 60 – Tommy pulled all the leaves off one of the houseplants and threw them all over the living room like confetti.
There are more. You get the idea.
This past weekend we had dinner on our back deck. It’s a lovely place to sit in the evening with a cool breeze blowing. Perhaps because it feels more relaxed and casual, Tommy decides he can lean backing his chair, put his feet on the table, and eat his dinner with his fingers.
“Tommy, get your feet off the able and sit up straight, please,” I said.
He looks at me, smiles, does nothing.
“Tommy, do the right thing.”
A bigger smile.
“Tommy, take your feet off the table or you’re going to your room!”
A grin like you wouldn’t believe.
It isn’t until I start to push back from the table that he quickly lowers his legs and sits up straight, all the while with a twinkle in his eyes.
He’s won again.
The other night MBW and I were talking about him. “He’s driving me crazy,” she says. “I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do!”
I nod my head seriously, agree with her, maintain a very earnest and frank expression on my face. Acknowledge that is it very frustrating. Promise to consider different ways to reign in this wild behavior. Assure her that I’m with her, that we are a united front against the Disruptive Force that is Tommy.
With MBW safely in bed, my own smile creeps across my face.
Because, honestly, I admire the kid.
I love his spunk, his attitude, his willingness to be his own person. While any given individual expression of this personality may be inappropriate, and while we do need to provide rules and structure for his behavior, I refuse to try to crush the independent, maverick spirit he seems to have.
Chris is in the 95% for height among kids his age. He’s got wonderful motor skills. He can run, throw, hit a ball like nobody’s business. Tommy, on the other hand, is in the 23% for height among kids his age. He’s underweight, plus he has asthma. He’s had far more medical issues in his young life than Chris ever had.
But what he lacks right now in physical stature or stamina, he more than makes up in attitude. He is fierce. He won’t back down. He may lose, but he’s never beaten. He’ll go toe-to-toe with Chris, and often get the best of him. And while I don’t condone fighting between the two of them by any means, it does happen, and it’s interesting to me to see how when I get there to break things up it is, more often than not, Tommy who’s gotten the best of it.
I said at the beginning of this post that Chris is more like me. The truth is I wish I had some of Tommy in me. So I’m not going to try to take it out of him.
The world needs people like me. Ordinary men, doing the right thing. Chris, it appears, is on that path. Get an education, get a job, pay your taxes, raise your family, be a productive, contributing member of society.
The world needs mavericks, too. Risk takers. Individuals unafraid to be who they are, go their own way, march to the drummer only they can hear. Maybe Tommy will be one of those men.
He’s certainly one of those boys right now.
Will I work to provide boundaries, set expectations, enforce consequences for him? Absolutely.
Will I crush his spirit, make him conform, break his will? No way in hell.
Maybe we should all spend a day, now and then, in the Tommy Standard Time zone.
It sounds like fun to me!
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Let me preface what I’m going to say next with a disclaimer – both boys are young. I’m not trying to typecast them or label them in any way. The personality traits they exhibit a year from now may be very different from how they act today. They may, in fact, both grow up to be model citizens; fine, upstanding young men.
Having said that, it’s also quite possible one of them might give me a heart attack before he becomes a teenager.
Can you guess which one?
Chris is a lot like me. Too much, perhaps. Physically he is, and pretty much has been since the day he was born, a dead ringer for me. His personality is similar to mine as well. He is thoughtful, considerate, a bit introspective (as much as one can be at age five). He wants to please, he hates to disappoint. He’s a very social boy, likes to make friends, and he generally gets along with and plays well with others. He will usually do as he’s told, follow the rules, and work within the system.
He does have an impish streak. He will occasionally tease his brother or play a trick on him, but it is usually in fun and not mean-spirited. He’s a bit possessive over his toys, but what kid isn’t at this age? Even when he’s acting a bit naughty, more often than not we can reason with him and help him solve problems by talking through the different ways they might be handled. Usually he’ll see the light and choose the right solution.
Tommy, on the other hand, is none of the above.
Tommy Two-Gun. Tomas’ the Fierce.
Tommy is a maverick. A spitfire. If he doesn’t get his way, he’s as likely to take a swing at you as he is to cry and stomp his feet. If he doesn’t care for his dinner, he might sit there and chew one bite for ten full minutes. He might sit there and not eat it at all. He might just get up and walk away from the table. Or he might, as he did the other night, take his peas, one by one, and launch them across the kitchen. Laughing all the while.
He has his own time zone. Tommy Standard Time. Which means that he’ll go somewhere when he’s good and ready. Not when everyone else is ready – when he’s ready. Example - we’re trying to leave the grocery store the other evening, and he’s looking at the gumball vending machine.
“Tommy, come on, time to go home.”
“Okay, dad.” Not moving.
“Tommy, come on!”
“Okay, dad.” Not moving.
“TOMMY!”
He turns, looks at me, exasperation written all over his little face.
“Just a minute, okay? Geez!”
As I turn to walk back and physically lift him off his feet, he begins to walk toward me. Slowly.
For every Tommy story I have, MBW has ten. She’s home with both boys during the summer when school is out. Virtually every evening when I come home from work I hear the latest chapter in The Saga of Tommy.
Chapter 12 – Tommy hit and pinched Chris for no reason.
Chapter 19 – Tommy dumped the Ant Farm on the floor “just to see what would happen.”
Chapter 31 – Tommy knocked over Chris’ tower of blocks, then threw one of the blocks and hit Chris in the head. For fun.
Chapter 44 – He hit MBW and, when she packed him off to sit on his bed, called her “stupid.”
Chapter 60 – Tommy pulled all the leaves off one of the houseplants and threw them all over the living room like confetti.
There are more. You get the idea.
This past weekend we had dinner on our back deck. It’s a lovely place to sit in the evening with a cool breeze blowing. Perhaps because it feels more relaxed and casual, Tommy decides he can lean backing his chair, put his feet on the table, and eat his dinner with his fingers.
“Tommy, get your feet off the able and sit up straight, please,” I said.
He looks at me, smiles, does nothing.
“Tommy, do the right thing.”
A bigger smile.
“Tommy, take your feet off the table or you’re going to your room!”
A grin like you wouldn’t believe.
It isn’t until I start to push back from the table that he quickly lowers his legs and sits up straight, all the while with a twinkle in his eyes.
He’s won again.
The other night MBW and I were talking about him. “He’s driving me crazy,” she says. “I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do!”
I nod my head seriously, agree with her, maintain a very earnest and frank expression on my face. Acknowledge that is it very frustrating. Promise to consider different ways to reign in this wild behavior. Assure her that I’m with her, that we are a united front against the Disruptive Force that is Tommy.
With MBW safely in bed, my own smile creeps across my face.
Because, honestly, I admire the kid.
I love his spunk, his attitude, his willingness to be his own person. While any given individual expression of this personality may be inappropriate, and while we do need to provide rules and structure for his behavior, I refuse to try to crush the independent, maverick spirit he seems to have.
Chris is in the 95% for height among kids his age. He’s got wonderful motor skills. He can run, throw, hit a ball like nobody’s business. Tommy, on the other hand, is in the 23% for height among kids his age. He’s underweight, plus he has asthma. He’s had far more medical issues in his young life than Chris ever had.
But what he lacks right now in physical stature or stamina, he more than makes up in attitude. He is fierce. He won’t back down. He may lose, but he’s never beaten. He’ll go toe-to-toe with Chris, and often get the best of him. And while I don’t condone fighting between the two of them by any means, it does happen, and it’s interesting to me to see how when I get there to break things up it is, more often than not, Tommy who’s gotten the best of it.
I said at the beginning of this post that Chris is more like me. The truth is I wish I had some of Tommy in me. So I’m not going to try to take it out of him.
The world needs people like me. Ordinary men, doing the right thing. Chris, it appears, is on that path. Get an education, get a job, pay your taxes, raise your family, be a productive, contributing member of society.
The world needs mavericks, too. Risk takers. Individuals unafraid to be who they are, go their own way, march to the drummer only they can hear. Maybe Tommy will be one of those men.
He’s certainly one of those boys right now.
Will I work to provide boundaries, set expectations, enforce consequences for him? Absolutely.
Will I crush his spirit, make him conform, break his will? No way in hell.
Maybe we should all spend a day, now and then, in the Tommy Standard Time zone.
It sounds like fun to me!
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Shopping Spree
I’m not a guy who enjoys shopping. I only go when I desperately need something, and even then, I’m in and out as quickly as possible.
The exceptions are books – I love to browse a good bookstore; and gadgets. I could spend a few minutes at Best Buy.
But for most things, I don’t subscribe to the Shopping as Sport theory.
But yesterday I went shopping for something I never imagined I would do. Fortunately, I’ll never have to do it again.
Yesterday I bought my own gravesite.
I should back up a bit to put this in context.
If you’ve read this blog for awhile you know my mother passed away this past spring. She had wanted to be cremated, and we scattered her ashes in the ocean at Nags Head, North Carolina.
But I kept a small amount of her ashes, with the idea that I would buy a burial plot for her back here where we live. Although our family is not originally from this part of the country, we’ve lived here for awhile. This place is home now for me, especially since my children were born here. My mom lived here, too, for many years, and in the last year of her life she told me a couple of time she wished she had never left. So there is a case to be made that this could be her final resting place.
Selfishly, I want to have a burial site for her here so I can bring Chris and Tommy to her grave on Memorial Days. Though they never really knew her while she was alive, I’d like them to understand a part of their heritage, their family history.
I told MBW about this plan, and she was on board with the idea. But then she took it one step further.
“Why don’t you buy three plots?” she said.
“Um, why should I do that?”
“Buy two for us,” she said, “so she won’t be there all alone.”
That was one of the most touching things she has ever said.
Both my wife and I are transplants to this city and state. We have no ancestors buried anywhere near here. There isn’t a ‘family plot,’ for either one of our families of origin, within 750 miles. So it is true that if we buried my mothers’ ashes here, she would be ‘alone,’ as far as being near relatives.
Honestly, I don’t think my mom would care. But I was so moved by what MBW said that I decided to do it.
So I went out shopping for gravesites.
I walked into the cemetery office and the woman at the desk said, “May I help you?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’d like to buy some burial plots.”
She picked up a walkie-talkie and said, “Doug, a customer is here; come in and show the property please.”
Show the property?
Yes, they sell this like real estate. Which, I guess, technically it is. But I wasn’t prepared to be taken around in a golf cart and given the sales pitch.
Doug drove me around the office and up a hill. He pulled over, we got out, and as we walked he gave me his pitch. “It’s one of the best values in the area,” he said. “It goes up in value every year. You’re making a wise decision to buy now, to lock in the savings. It will cost far more in the future, when you actually need it. Also, it makes sense not to burden your heirs with having to do this for you.”
He stopped, pointed to an area with no markers, and said, “This is a lovely section, with several nice sites left. From here you have both mountain and valley views.”
Mountain and valley views?
He’s selling me a view lot!
Um…how well can you enjoy this view from SIX FEET UNDER?
But I didn’t say that. I know he’s talking about the view for the people who will come to visit. Us, for now, when we pay respects to my mom. Perhaps some day in the future, Chris and Tommy will come to pay respects to MBW and I. Chris will turn to Tommy and say, “That’s vintage Dad. Even dead, he has to have a nice view.”
Or maybe they’ll have moved far away, and it won’t matter.
I went ahead and bought the property. The view lots. Paid cash. Gave the manager my mothers’ ashes. By the time this is posted, she’ll be laid to rest. There will be no ceremony – we’ve already done that, exactly as she wished. No, this is for me, for my boys, for some small sense of family, of heritage, of history.
Sometime between now and Memorial Day I will buy a marker for her, have it placed on her grave. There’s no rush.
And next spring, on Memorial Day, we’ll go up there and place flowers on her grave. Say a few words. Start a family tradition.
It’s weird, in a way, to stand on the place where you know, one day, you are going to be laid to rest. I don’t know if we will move someday, buy a new house, a vacation property, whatever. I may live in many places, or I may never move again. But I have now bought my final home.
And I learned something else in this whole process that I found interesting.
It turns out you can buy one burial plot, but have two people buried in it. Doug explained it like this:
“You can, if you choose, bury two family members in the same plot. They will each have their own casket. When one person dies, they will be buried in the plot. When the second person dies, the grave will be dug up to just above the first casket, and the second casket laid just over the top of the first one.”
“It’s more economical,” he said. “Many couples choose this option. Some have said they want to be as close in eternity as they were in life.”
Personally, I think once you’re dead, none of that matters. But you never know.
So I bought two plots. One for my mom. And one for MBW and I. It was the economical choice. Those view lots are pretty pricey.
It’s statistically likely that I will die before MBW. Hopefully, not soon. But when that day comes, she knows where to put me. And I’ll wait there until her time comes as well. I hope she takes a long time to join me.
But when it finally happens, I told her how it’s going to play out. When her time finally comes, they’re going to dig all the way down and get my box out of the ground. She’s going in first. Then they’re going to open my casket, flip me over, close me back up and put me down on top.
She smiled when I told her.
That night we ‘celebrated the joy of being alive,’ if you get my drift. We both had a chuckle, afterward, thinking about that position for eternity.
I read a quote once, somewhere –‘You’re a long time dead.’
So you might as well make sure your ‘final position’ is comfortable.
From a view lot, no less!
It’s great to be The Family Man.
The exceptions are books – I love to browse a good bookstore; and gadgets. I could spend a few minutes at Best Buy.
But for most things, I don’t subscribe to the Shopping as Sport theory.
But yesterday I went shopping for something I never imagined I would do. Fortunately, I’ll never have to do it again.
Yesterday I bought my own gravesite.
I should back up a bit to put this in context.
If you’ve read this blog for awhile you know my mother passed away this past spring. She had wanted to be cremated, and we scattered her ashes in the ocean at Nags Head, North Carolina.
But I kept a small amount of her ashes, with the idea that I would buy a burial plot for her back here where we live. Although our family is not originally from this part of the country, we’ve lived here for awhile. This place is home now for me, especially since my children were born here. My mom lived here, too, for many years, and in the last year of her life she told me a couple of time she wished she had never left. So there is a case to be made that this could be her final resting place.
Selfishly, I want to have a burial site for her here so I can bring Chris and Tommy to her grave on Memorial Days. Though they never really knew her while she was alive, I’d like them to understand a part of their heritage, their family history.
I told MBW about this plan, and she was on board with the idea. But then she took it one step further.
“Why don’t you buy three plots?” she said.
“Um, why should I do that?”
“Buy two for us,” she said, “so she won’t be there all alone.”
That was one of the most touching things she has ever said.
Both my wife and I are transplants to this city and state. We have no ancestors buried anywhere near here. There isn’t a ‘family plot,’ for either one of our families of origin, within 750 miles. So it is true that if we buried my mothers’ ashes here, she would be ‘alone,’ as far as being near relatives.
Honestly, I don’t think my mom would care. But I was so moved by what MBW said that I decided to do it.
So I went out shopping for gravesites.
I walked into the cemetery office and the woman at the desk said, “May I help you?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’d like to buy some burial plots.”
She picked up a walkie-talkie and said, “Doug, a customer is here; come in and show the property please.”
Show the property?
Yes, they sell this like real estate. Which, I guess, technically it is. But I wasn’t prepared to be taken around in a golf cart and given the sales pitch.
Doug drove me around the office and up a hill. He pulled over, we got out, and as we walked he gave me his pitch. “It’s one of the best values in the area,” he said. “It goes up in value every year. You’re making a wise decision to buy now, to lock in the savings. It will cost far more in the future, when you actually need it. Also, it makes sense not to burden your heirs with having to do this for you.”
He stopped, pointed to an area with no markers, and said, “This is a lovely section, with several nice sites left. From here you have both mountain and valley views.”
Mountain and valley views?
He’s selling me a view lot!
Um…how well can you enjoy this view from SIX FEET UNDER?
But I didn’t say that. I know he’s talking about the view for the people who will come to visit. Us, for now, when we pay respects to my mom. Perhaps some day in the future, Chris and Tommy will come to pay respects to MBW and I. Chris will turn to Tommy and say, “That’s vintage Dad. Even dead, he has to have a nice view.”
Or maybe they’ll have moved far away, and it won’t matter.
I went ahead and bought the property. The view lots. Paid cash. Gave the manager my mothers’ ashes. By the time this is posted, she’ll be laid to rest. There will be no ceremony – we’ve already done that, exactly as she wished. No, this is for me, for my boys, for some small sense of family, of heritage, of history.
Sometime between now and Memorial Day I will buy a marker for her, have it placed on her grave. There’s no rush.
And next spring, on Memorial Day, we’ll go up there and place flowers on her grave. Say a few words. Start a family tradition.
It’s weird, in a way, to stand on the place where you know, one day, you are going to be laid to rest. I don’t know if we will move someday, buy a new house, a vacation property, whatever. I may live in many places, or I may never move again. But I have now bought my final home.
And I learned something else in this whole process that I found interesting.
It turns out you can buy one burial plot, but have two people buried in it. Doug explained it like this:
“You can, if you choose, bury two family members in the same plot. They will each have their own casket. When one person dies, they will be buried in the plot. When the second person dies, the grave will be dug up to just above the first casket, and the second casket laid just over the top of the first one.”
“It’s more economical,” he said. “Many couples choose this option. Some have said they want to be as close in eternity as they were in life.”
Personally, I think once you’re dead, none of that matters. But you never know.
So I bought two plots. One for my mom. And one for MBW and I. It was the economical choice. Those view lots are pretty pricey.
It’s statistically likely that I will die before MBW. Hopefully, not soon. But when that day comes, she knows where to put me. And I’ll wait there until her time comes as well. I hope she takes a long time to join me.
But when it finally happens, I told her how it’s going to play out. When her time finally comes, they’re going to dig all the way down and get my box out of the ground. She’s going in first. Then they’re going to open my casket, flip me over, close me back up and put me down on top.
She smiled when I told her.
That night we ‘celebrated the joy of being alive,’ if you get my drift. We both had a chuckle, afterward, thinking about that position for eternity.
I read a quote once, somewhere –‘You’re a long time dead.’
So you might as well make sure your ‘final position’ is comfortable.
From a view lot, no less!
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Dad I Am
MBW and Chris are visiting her sister and family. I am charged with giving Tommy, a notoriously finicky eater, his dinner.
All by myself.
What you are about to read is true.
“Dad I Am! I’m Dad I Am!
Here with your dinner, delicious lamb!
Along with butter, bread and jam,
And some fine green beans and yams!
“Daddy, Daddy, Dad-I-Am,
Yes I’ll eat this scrumptious lamb
I’d even eat a can of Spam,
But I won’t eat green beans and yams.
“Tommy, eat them, yes you should
I know you’d love them, yes you would!
Try them once, I know you could,
If you did, you’d know they’re good!
“Daddy, Daddy, you should know,
Into my mouth they will not go.
I tell you this; it’s not for show,
I will not eat them, never…NO!
“Tommy, try them, just for me,
If you did, you’d surely see
Just how good these foods can be
And that would make me so happy!
“Dad-I-Am, please here me now
I will not eat them, no way, no how.
This food’s not fit for a mangy cow,
It belongs on a garbage scow.
“Now, now, Tommy; that’s not nice,
I’ve said it once; I’ll say it twice,
Eat it warm or cold as ice,
If you don’t eat it, you’ll pay the price
“Dad-I-Am, you should just quit
For I will simply throw a fit,
Then chew some up and simply spit,
And then I would be done with it
“Tommy, son, what must I do
To somehow get this through to you,
You must eat this, yes, it’s true,
Or else you will be feeling blue
“To eat this, dad, I will not stoop
For all I know, it tastes like poop!
Get it together, try to regroup,
‘Cause I’m not going to eat this goop!
“Eat it, eat it, yes you will
Leave this table you won’t, until
You will surely get your fill
Even if it tastes like swill!
“Daddy, watch me, watch me run,
Away from the table, it’s so much fun!
Outside into the evening sun
Now I’m gone, dinner’s done!
“Tommy, boy, you’d best get back
Before I really blow my stack!
How is it you have such a knack
For giving me a heart attack!
“Hee, hee, hee; it’s such a joy
To be your favorite naughty boy!
To play you like my favorite toy
Is something I so much enjoy!
“I’m prepared to try most anything!
Would you eat them on a swing?
Would you eat them while I sing?
While I blow bubbles from a ring?
“I will not eat them on a swing,
I do not want to hear you sing.
You can’t blow bubbles from a ring,
I won’t eat these for anything!
“Will you eat them in the car
Traveling from near to far?
Gazing at an evening star?
Or how ‘bout sitting at a bar?
“I will not eat them in a car
Not near or far, not under a star
Mommy won’t let me in the bar,
You should just put them in a jar.
“Speaking of Mommy, she’ll be mad
Not to mention really sad
That not one bit of this you’ve had
She’ll think I am an awful Dad
“That’s too bad for you, old man,
Although I truly understand,
I hate to put you in a jam
But I won’t eat them, Dad-I-am!
“Son, my love for you is strong
But what you’re doing now is wrong
You cannot keep this up for long
In your mouth this food belongs
“I hate to be so blunt, old Pop
But now it’s time for you to stop
I will not eat that awful slop
Not one bite, no single drop
“You are driving me insane
My head hurts now with awful pain
It’s really quite a bad migraine
I cannot go through this again
“Like thread unwinding from a spool,
Dad-I-Am, you’ve lost your cool.
You’re acting like a crazy fool,
Go cool off in the swimming pool.
“Tommy, yes, my face is red,
Veins are throbbing in my head
My patience worn down to a thread
I cannot wait to go to bed.
“Face it, Dad, this game is done
It was over before it begun
You have lost and I have won
And I have really had some fun!
“You may think you’ve won today
But hear now what I have to say
You may think its fun and play
But regret this, you will, one day!
“Dad-I-Am, don’t be so curt
Just ‘cause your feelings I hurt
And sweaty stains now soak your shirt,
Just tell me this – What’s For Dessert?
It’s great to be The Family Man!
All by myself.
What you are about to read is true.
“Dad I Am! I’m Dad I Am!
Here with your dinner, delicious lamb!
Along with butter, bread and jam,
And some fine green beans and yams!
“Daddy, Daddy, Dad-I-Am,
Yes I’ll eat this scrumptious lamb
I’d even eat a can of Spam,
But I won’t eat green beans and yams.
“Tommy, eat them, yes you should
I know you’d love them, yes you would!
Try them once, I know you could,
If you did, you’d know they’re good!
“Daddy, Daddy, you should know,
Into my mouth they will not go.
I tell you this; it’s not for show,
I will not eat them, never…NO!
“Tommy, try them, just for me,
If you did, you’d surely see
Just how good these foods can be
And that would make me so happy!
“Dad-I-Am, please here me now
I will not eat them, no way, no how.
This food’s not fit for a mangy cow,
It belongs on a garbage scow.
“Now, now, Tommy; that’s not nice,
I’ve said it once; I’ll say it twice,
Eat it warm or cold as ice,
If you don’t eat it, you’ll pay the price
“Dad-I-Am, you should just quit
For I will simply throw a fit,
Then chew some up and simply spit,
And then I would be done with it
“Tommy, son, what must I do
To somehow get this through to you,
You must eat this, yes, it’s true,
Or else you will be feeling blue
“To eat this, dad, I will not stoop
For all I know, it tastes like poop!
Get it together, try to regroup,
‘Cause I’m not going to eat this goop!
“Eat it, eat it, yes you will
Leave this table you won’t, until
You will surely get your fill
Even if it tastes like swill!
“Daddy, watch me, watch me run,
Away from the table, it’s so much fun!
Outside into the evening sun
Now I’m gone, dinner’s done!
“Tommy, boy, you’d best get back
Before I really blow my stack!
How is it you have such a knack
For giving me a heart attack!
“Hee, hee, hee; it’s such a joy
To be your favorite naughty boy!
To play you like my favorite toy
Is something I so much enjoy!
“I’m prepared to try most anything!
Would you eat them on a swing?
Would you eat them while I sing?
While I blow bubbles from a ring?
“I will not eat them on a swing,
I do not want to hear you sing.
You can’t blow bubbles from a ring,
I won’t eat these for anything!
“Will you eat them in the car
Traveling from near to far?
Gazing at an evening star?
Or how ‘bout sitting at a bar?
“I will not eat them in a car
Not near or far, not under a star
Mommy won’t let me in the bar,
You should just put them in a jar.
“Speaking of Mommy, she’ll be mad
Not to mention really sad
That not one bit of this you’ve had
She’ll think I am an awful Dad
“That’s too bad for you, old man,
Although I truly understand,
I hate to put you in a jam
But I won’t eat them, Dad-I-am!
“Son, my love for you is strong
But what you’re doing now is wrong
You cannot keep this up for long
In your mouth this food belongs
“I hate to be so blunt, old Pop
But now it’s time for you to stop
I will not eat that awful slop
Not one bite, no single drop
“You are driving me insane
My head hurts now with awful pain
It’s really quite a bad migraine
I cannot go through this again
“Like thread unwinding from a spool,
Dad-I-Am, you’ve lost your cool.
You’re acting like a crazy fool,
Go cool off in the swimming pool.
“Tommy, yes, my face is red,
Veins are throbbing in my head
My patience worn down to a thread
I cannot wait to go to bed.
“Face it, Dad, this game is done
It was over before it begun
You have lost and I have won
And I have really had some fun!
“You may think you’ve won today
But hear now what I have to say
You may think its fun and play
But regret this, you will, one day!
“Dad-I-Am, don’t be so curt
Just ‘cause your feelings I hurt
And sweaty stains now soak your shirt,
Just tell me this – What’s For Dessert?
It’s great to be The Family Man!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Bust
Well, apparently VamPickle was a bust.
Judging from the response to my last post, the story of VamPickle, the not-quite a vampire, the Vampire who tickles, did not enthrall the vast majority of the audience. So we’ll cut right to the chase, and then move on.
I am Vampickle.
It’s a game I occasionally play with Chris and Tommy, who love to get into their Superman and Batman outfits and play Superheroes. All Superheroes need a super villain. In previous play they have vanquished Doctor Stinker. I thought they would enjoy a having a new evildoer to test themselves against, so I created VamPickle.
Chris and Tommy love to do battle with VamPickle.
But apparently I did not tell the story well enough to make it really engaging. Hey, you win some, you lose some.
I guess my point is simply this. I try hard to engage my kids in fun, interesting play. I want to stimulate their minds, be involved with them, and create a bond with them. Sure, right now they are only five and three years old. I don’t think I can remember a single thing from when I was that age. But I do remember my mom and dad interacting with me throughout my childhood. I remember always feeling like my mom and dad were there for me, would make time for me, would put down what they were doing and listen to me if I needed to talk to them.
I want my boys to feel the same way about me.
And to some extent I feel the same when it comes to blogging. It would not be very interesting if my post said, “Today I tickled Chris and Tommy. They laughed. We had fun. Then everyone went to bed. The End.”
Not only is there no passion, energy and excitement in a post like that, it doesn’t convey what actually transpired.
If you’re going to make the time to read this blog, I want to make it worth your while. And I think at some level I’ve been successful. I know several readers come back a few times each week and are kind enough to leave encouraging comments. I know others stop by regularly and choose to remain silent, and that’s fine as well. I look at the site statistics, and though readership has dropped by about half since I am no longer linked to a very popular blog, there are still quite a few people who visit this site.
So I try to convey some of the sense of fun and engagement I have with my boys into this blog. I tell stories. I try to make it interesting. I try to put into words the pure love I have for my kids, my wife, and my life.
I love my life. I am truly blessed.
Yet as I mentioned recently, I am an Ordinary Man. The stories are simple. They will appeal to some people and not to others. It’s just another slice of life, posted on the Internet, for the viewing pleasure of those who choose to read it.
There’s only so much a person can say about their life.
So I hope you’ll put up with the occasional post that falls a bit flat. Because, truth be told, Life occasionally has its flat moments. As wonderful as my life is, there are stretches, believe it or not, where nothing very interesting happens. So I sit here in front of the keyboard and think to myself, “What the hell can I say tonight? Why should anyone care? I need to post something…”
And that’s when VamPickle raised his ugly head.
My final thought tonight is this. Thank you, each of you, who make time out of your day to check in on the Family Man, his two wonderful boys, his absolutely spectacular wife, and his rambling, verbose posts. It amazes me to see that people are reading this from all over the world – not just theUSA, but from Australia, Scandinavia, Singapore, India, and other places far from here. There’s even someone from the east coast of Africa who stops by – I’m ashamed to admit how Ameri-centric I am that I cannot tell the Country by looking at the dot on the world map.
I’ll try to raise the bar in future posts. Keep the standard high. And I hope you’ll let me know when I fall flat, as well as when I strike a chord that resonates with you.
I don’t want to beg for comments, but if you have a moment I’d love to know why you find my blog worth your time. Some of you are regulars, but for the rest of you, perhaps sometime you could drop a line or two about why you read these posts. If you don’t want to comment in the public forum, click the e-mail link.
I promise I’ll do better next time.
It’s okay to be VamPickle. Once in a while.
But it’s always great to be The Family Man.
Judging from the response to my last post, the story of VamPickle, the not-quite a vampire, the Vampire who tickles, did not enthrall the vast majority of the audience. So we’ll cut right to the chase, and then move on.
I am Vampickle.
It’s a game I occasionally play with Chris and Tommy, who love to get into their Superman and Batman outfits and play Superheroes. All Superheroes need a super villain. In previous play they have vanquished Doctor Stinker. I thought they would enjoy a having a new evildoer to test themselves against, so I created VamPickle.
Chris and Tommy love to do battle with VamPickle.
But apparently I did not tell the story well enough to make it really engaging. Hey, you win some, you lose some.
I guess my point is simply this. I try hard to engage my kids in fun, interesting play. I want to stimulate their minds, be involved with them, and create a bond with them. Sure, right now they are only five and three years old. I don’t think I can remember a single thing from when I was that age. But I do remember my mom and dad interacting with me throughout my childhood. I remember always feeling like my mom and dad were there for me, would make time for me, would put down what they were doing and listen to me if I needed to talk to them.
I want my boys to feel the same way about me.
And to some extent I feel the same when it comes to blogging. It would not be very interesting if my post said, “Today I tickled Chris and Tommy. They laughed. We had fun. Then everyone went to bed. The End.”
Not only is there no passion, energy and excitement in a post like that, it doesn’t convey what actually transpired.
If you’re going to make the time to read this blog, I want to make it worth your while. And I think at some level I’ve been successful. I know several readers come back a few times each week and are kind enough to leave encouraging comments. I know others stop by regularly and choose to remain silent, and that’s fine as well. I look at the site statistics, and though readership has dropped by about half since I am no longer linked to a very popular blog, there are still quite a few people who visit this site.
So I try to convey some of the sense of fun and engagement I have with my boys into this blog. I tell stories. I try to make it interesting. I try to put into words the pure love I have for my kids, my wife, and my life.
I love my life. I am truly blessed.
Yet as I mentioned recently, I am an Ordinary Man. The stories are simple. They will appeal to some people and not to others. It’s just another slice of life, posted on the Internet, for the viewing pleasure of those who choose to read it.
There’s only so much a person can say about their life.
So I hope you’ll put up with the occasional post that falls a bit flat. Because, truth be told, Life occasionally has its flat moments. As wonderful as my life is, there are stretches, believe it or not, where nothing very interesting happens. So I sit here in front of the keyboard and think to myself, “What the hell can I say tonight? Why should anyone care? I need to post something…”
And that’s when VamPickle raised his ugly head.
My final thought tonight is this. Thank you, each of you, who make time out of your day to check in on the Family Man, his two wonderful boys, his absolutely spectacular wife, and his rambling, verbose posts. It amazes me to see that people are reading this from all over the world – not just theUSA, but from Australia, Scandinavia, Singapore, India, and other places far from here. There’s even someone from the east coast of Africa who stops by – I’m ashamed to admit how Ameri-centric I am that I cannot tell the Country by looking at the dot on the world map.
I’ll try to raise the bar in future posts. Keep the standard high. And I hope you’ll let me know when I fall flat, as well as when I strike a chord that resonates with you.
I don’t want to beg for comments, but if you have a moment I’d love to know why you find my blog worth your time. Some of you are regulars, but for the rest of you, perhaps sometime you could drop a line or two about why you read these posts. If you don’t want to comment in the public forum, click the e-mail link.
I promise I’ll do better next time.
It’s okay to be VamPickle. Once in a while.
But it’s always great to be The Family Man.
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