While in a locker room at a health club many years ago with my x-brother in-law (squared), I learned a great parenting tip. We were with our young boys, and I heard Tim's boys start swearing like sailors. Before I could ask where this foul verbal discourse originated, Tim turned to his boys and said, "Good job guys - locker room talk! Say anything you want in here. But remember it stays in here. When we leave the locker room, no more foul language."
This parenting lesson is a great basic rule for boys, (and I suspect for girls, but I don't really want to know, and in fact I am slightly afraid, of those details) that there are appropriate outlets for certain, otherwise-inappropriate, behaviors. This reality is the basic reason why sports continue in society. Sports are a socially acceptable outlet for aggression. And locker room talk is now called "locker room talk", no longer talking "like a sailor", because sailors aren't pressed into service anymore; so they aren't as angry. Also, their jobs have largely been automated, so there are less of them. So, in our modern world, more people are swearing in locker rooms than on ships. If locker rooms start fading away like sailors, soon it may be called "golf course talk".
I drove four 15 year old boys from their hockey practice to their high school at 7am this morning. Because I am a Dad, and not a Mom, there is a certain latitude afforded how the boys are allowed to speak and act. So, yes, we were essentially a locker-room on wheels. Don't get me wrong. There are still boundaries. But they tend to get stretched and tested by raging hormones and testosterone.
So the conversation in the car went something like this:
Frank: Hey! Guys! Look at my school I.D.. I look like a pedophile!
Austin: Look at mine! I look like a rapist!
Max: (silent - grinning)
Dad: How does a pedophile and a rapist look any different? (I can't believe I was trying to logically follow this conversation)
Frank: The rapist would have, like, a mullet.
Austin: Which scares away the kids.
Max: (grinning - silent)
Matt: Dudes! You won't believe who's texting me!
Frank: Austin has the longest tongue. Dad! Check out Austin's huge tongue!
Dad: (Ewe) That's OK, I'll take your word for i.... Er, that's a big tongue, Austin. Congratulations.
Matt: Fu@#..!
Dad: HEY!
Matt: Sorry, Mr. Zimmerman. Frank, it's your girlfriend!
Frank: Shut up! She's not my girlfriend! You are so gay!
Dad: How does that make him gay? (I'm still applying logic - which is totally illogical. I'm on the Starship Testosterone and I am Spock.)
Max: (silent - grinning)
Frank: Dad. Drive through Xavier (girls school) and, oh, I need $5 for lunch. And another $5 that I borrowed from Austin.
.............................................. And so it went.
Parenting is so very rewarding that we parents are all glad we do it. Either that, or we all say we're glad, because once started, you can't exactly yell "do-over!". So we may as well enjoy it. But - no, I really DO enjoy it. And I'm also glad there are other parents to help show the way. Because let's face it: you need a license to operate a boat, but you can spray children all over the planet with no permission, training or direction.** So we need all the help we can get.
I hope Tim is doing well. He's a good guy, and being divorced twice-removed makes keeping in touch difficult.
**See "Wilt Chamberlain", "George Foreman"; and "Catholic birth-control 101".
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
To Really Laugh, You Have to Cry
It is a well trod-upon topic. No good without bad. No ups without downs. No heaven without hell. But regardless of how one has to periodically get sucker-punched to remind one of this inevitable balance in the world of emotions, the reality of this law has to reassert itself; less we forget.
I ended up in management very early in my career because of my demeanor. I have typically been described as good natured, unflappable, and someone who doesn't overreact. Yet this same trait has been my biggest weakness as well. Sometimes I don't react fast enough when movement is necessary.
Of course, this is as relevant to my just-ended marriage as it is to my career. Having had a spouse that reacts strongly to virtually any situation, it was inevitable that a husband who is much less reactionary would come up short in her mind. Amazing, really, that it took 20 years. But that length of time is also indicative of the fact that I probably didn't react fast enough.
Last week I was sitting outside on my balcony looking up at the sky, and realized I had a big grin on my face. Life is good. Sunshine is good. Seeing shapes in the clouds is good. My son Clark is particularly good at seeing shapes in clouds. Moments like that have been mostly absent from my life for many years. But they are coming back with more frequency.
The non-stop way I allowed life to proceed is changing - for the better, for sure. But I was reminded how far I still have to go in a recent phone conversation with my new friend Laurie.
Me: What are you up to?
Laurie: Not much. Just sitting here on the couch.
Me: Working?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Watching T.V.?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Reading a book?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Then what are you doing?
Laurie: Nothing. Just thinking.
Me: (silence)
I was so jealous. What a concept. The over whelming revelation resulting from this short conversation was, of course, that I have this need to fill up my time - this realization made me want re-read Thoreau. See - it's still there. Maybe move to Waldon Pond instead of read it.
The best part of my new life is in the realization that the things I most desire are the things that are best for me and those around me. Uncomplicated time with the people I love: walks in the park, reading a book outdoors, cooking, laughing, playing my guitar at church - and now a little blogging.
These are activities that have a growing presence in my life, and are emerging from reacting to my own expectations as opposed to the expectations of someone else. I like this guy. And although I had to make the hardest decision of my life to start down this path, laughter now comes from deeper down in my gut. Smiles come more often to my face. I'm healthier. I drink less. And I feel more loved, both by others and myself.
So for now I am content to see some extra shapes in the clouds. As I look in the sky right now, I think I see a divorce attorney in one cloud, but the one that looks like a judge's gavel is starting to dissipate. To the right of that, I think I see a bunny!
Better. Much Better.
I ended up in management very early in my career because of my demeanor. I have typically been described as good natured, unflappable, and someone who doesn't overreact. Yet this same trait has been my biggest weakness as well. Sometimes I don't react fast enough when movement is necessary.
Of course, this is as relevant to my just-ended marriage as it is to my career. Having had a spouse that reacts strongly to virtually any situation, it was inevitable that a husband who is much less reactionary would come up short in her mind. Amazing, really, that it took 20 years. But that length of time is also indicative of the fact that I probably didn't react fast enough.
Last week I was sitting outside on my balcony looking up at the sky, and realized I had a big grin on my face. Life is good. Sunshine is good. Seeing shapes in the clouds is good. My son Clark is particularly good at seeing shapes in clouds. Moments like that have been mostly absent from my life for many years. But they are coming back with more frequency.
The non-stop way I allowed life to proceed is changing - for the better, for sure. But I was reminded how far I still have to go in a recent phone conversation with my new friend Laurie.
Me: What are you up to?
Laurie: Not much. Just sitting here on the couch.
Me: Working?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Watching T.V.?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Reading a book?
Laurie: Nope.
Me: Then what are you doing?
Laurie: Nothing. Just thinking.
Me: (silence)
I was so jealous. What a concept. The over whelming revelation resulting from this short conversation was, of course, that I have this need to fill up my time - this realization made me want re-read Thoreau. See - it's still there. Maybe move to Waldon Pond instead of read it.
The best part of my new life is in the realization that the things I most desire are the things that are best for me and those around me. Uncomplicated time with the people I love: walks in the park, reading a book outdoors, cooking, laughing, playing my guitar at church - and now a little blogging.
These are activities that have a growing presence in my life, and are emerging from reacting to my own expectations as opposed to the expectations of someone else. I like this guy. And although I had to make the hardest decision of my life to start down this path, laughter now comes from deeper down in my gut. Smiles come more often to my face. I'm healthier. I drink less. And I feel more loved, both by others and myself.
So for now I am content to see some extra shapes in the clouds. As I look in the sky right now, I think I see a divorce attorney in one cloud, but the one that looks like a judge's gavel is starting to dissipate. To the right of that, I think I see a bunny!
Better. Much Better.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Where Misery Loves Company
I was raised in Detroit, and I now see it was inevitable that I wind up in Phoenix. What do these two American cities have in common to draw me inexorably from one to the other? The snow? The sunshine? The glacial moraine? No, no. The football!!
Having grown up in Detroit rooting for the Lie Downs, er, Lions, where could I move that the storied tradition of NFL heartbreak could be continued? It took Bill Bidwell a move from St. Louis a couple of decades ago; but this NFL site relocation assured that Phoenix sports fans would have many, many years of heart break and agony to look forward to.
Fans of these two teams remind me of golfers. Because both activities are an exercise in frustration, people's reactions and personalities fall into two categories: bitter, hot headed idiots - and affable, sympathetic jokers. Come to think of it, divorcees also probably fall into these two personality categorizations as well. But I digress.
After the Cardinals overtime loss to San Francisco this week on Neil Rackers missed chip shot, it is reported that a Phoenix fan attacked his Christmas tree, ripping and wrenching limbs from the trunk. On the other end of this scale of reaction would be the mothers out there who uttered under their breath, "oh that poor boy. And his poor mother." Better pray for his whole family.
So far, the major difference between being a Lions fan and a Cardinals fan has been the willingness, or not, of the fan base to go to the stadium. Detroit fans have such a long history of losing that they enthusiastically fill the stadium every week, keeping up a positive front that to all outward appearances looks like they believe a win is imminent. This is done for the kids, so the children will not lose faith. Later, when the kids grow up, they will realize what's really going on, and take their kids to the stadium with a smile on their face to keep up this long-standing tradition. Sort of like Santa Claus.
The Cardinals fans, however, still want to be shown their football team will win. So the stadium has often been empty; as if this might be a motivation to produce a winning franchise. A notion long ago abandoned in the motor city. As any true Lion fan can attest, it's not about winning. It's about how you draft great college quarterbacks, and how many years it will take to squash all the confidence and potential out of them. That's true suspense and drama. I mean, if they won, what next?
For the valley of the sun, however, hope sprung eternal this year with a new stadium and a new coach. I bought it hook line and sinker, too. They really seemed to be acting different. They had confidence! They had swagger! We were going places! And the town went nuts when they got to a 500 winning percentage! In the NFC West division that puts you in second place one game behind the leader. But after a home loss to the 2 win - 8 loss 49ers, this looks all too familiar.
It is about this time each year that we American transplant desert dwellers come to the conclusion that there is just one thing left to say about the football season:
Go Suns!!
Having grown up in Detroit rooting for the Lie Downs, er, Lions, where could I move that the storied tradition of NFL heartbreak could be continued? It took Bill Bidwell a move from St. Louis a couple of decades ago; but this NFL site relocation assured that Phoenix sports fans would have many, many years of heart break and agony to look forward to.
Fans of these two teams remind me of golfers. Because both activities are an exercise in frustration, people's reactions and personalities fall into two categories: bitter, hot headed idiots - and affable, sympathetic jokers. Come to think of it, divorcees also probably fall into these two personality categorizations as well. But I digress.
After the Cardinals overtime loss to San Francisco this week on Neil Rackers missed chip shot, it is reported that a Phoenix fan attacked his Christmas tree, ripping and wrenching limbs from the trunk. On the other end of this scale of reaction would be the mothers out there who uttered under their breath, "oh that poor boy. And his poor mother." Better pray for his whole family.
So far, the major difference between being a Lions fan and a Cardinals fan has been the willingness, or not, of the fan base to go to the stadium. Detroit fans have such a long history of losing that they enthusiastically fill the stadium every week, keeping up a positive front that to all outward appearances looks like they believe a win is imminent. This is done for the kids, so the children will not lose faith. Later, when the kids grow up, they will realize what's really going on, and take their kids to the stadium with a smile on their face to keep up this long-standing tradition. Sort of like Santa Claus.
The Cardinals fans, however, still want to be shown their football team will win. So the stadium has often been empty; as if this might be a motivation to produce a winning franchise. A notion long ago abandoned in the motor city. As any true Lion fan can attest, it's not about winning. It's about how you draft great college quarterbacks, and how many years it will take to squash all the confidence and potential out of them. That's true suspense and drama. I mean, if they won, what next?
For the valley of the sun, however, hope sprung eternal this year with a new stadium and a new coach. I bought it hook line and sinker, too. They really seemed to be acting different. They had confidence! They had swagger! We were going places! And the town went nuts when they got to a 500 winning percentage! In the NFC West division that puts you in second place one game behind the leader. But after a home loss to the 2 win - 8 loss 49ers, this looks all too familiar.
It is about this time each year that we American transplant desert dwellers come to the conclusion that there is just one thing left to say about the football season:
Go Suns!!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Desert Mursing Needs
There are many advantages to living in the desert. From dry foods seeming to never go stale to towels that hang dry in minutes, there are a myriad of sunny reasons to love the southwest lifestyle of outdoor rooms and exterior activity. As a result of endless gorgeous days one after the other, a morning ritual evolved with my neighbor Mark in my old neighborhood. Each morning we would walk out the front door and grin at each other across the street until one of us exclaimed "still doesn't suck!" I have to give Mark the credit for coming up with this joyous and poignant exclamation of our mutual appreciation of a beautiful morning.
Another benefit to desert living is how people dress. 15 years ago I was wearing a suit and tie to work every day. The business community has loosened up a bit over the last 15 years - but nowhere more than in Phoenix, Arizona. I now wear ties more often for personal events than professional functions. When I started my current management job, they said "any other district office, you need to be in full business attire. But here in Phoenix, it gets hot!" Never mind that summer is when everyone needs to bring a sweater to work to keep from catching a cold in the frigid air conditioned environment.
But for a man, there is a down side to this tolerance for casual attire. Frankly, I have nowhere to put my two cell phones, ipod, keys, wallet, band aids, wipes, handkerchief, nail clippers and chap stick. Sure, I know what you're thinking. Why don't you keep your wallet in your pants? Well, when I turned 40 and my hip started hurting all the time, my chiropractor told me I probably unbalanced the earth's axis, and my spine, by keeping my wallet in my back left pocket for 25 years. So the obvious answer to my storage woes is that I need a purse.
But for god's sake, Shirley, I can't carry a purse! I considered the "murse". Described at Urban Dictionary as "a man-purse. very fashion-forward right now, seen on many hipster guys." So that's obviously not an option. I saw some khaki pants advertised recently that has lots of hidden pockets for electronic devices. But I already am not wearing a coat that should hide my middle-aged bulge. So adding lumps to my hips doesn't appeal to me either. "Ewe!! Look mommy! That man has nicely tailored pants with no visible pockets - but there are lumps all over the sides of his hips and legs." No thanks.
So "yippee" that winter finally arrived yesterday; because I am wearing a coat. Yes, winter arrives in Phoenix in one day. Two days ago it was still in the eighties. Yesterday the temperature topped out at 69! And now, all my stuff is alphabetised in a clockwise circumference starting with the interior pockets, and the bulk is nicely balancing my upper body so that I am shaped in the most ideal way a man can be shaped. I have 5 months (give or take a month, depending on global warming effects) that I do not have to worry about my storage-challenged self.
For now, no worries. Maybe by next summer I'll be a hipster guy - but probably not.
Another benefit to desert living is how people dress. 15 years ago I was wearing a suit and tie to work every day. The business community has loosened up a bit over the last 15 years - but nowhere more than in Phoenix, Arizona. I now wear ties more often for personal events than professional functions. When I started my current management job, they said "any other district office, you need to be in full business attire. But here in Phoenix, it gets hot!" Never mind that summer is when everyone needs to bring a sweater to work to keep from catching a cold in the frigid air conditioned environment.
But for a man, there is a down side to this tolerance for casual attire. Frankly, I have nowhere to put my two cell phones, ipod, keys, wallet, band aids, wipes, handkerchief, nail clippers and chap stick. Sure, I know what you're thinking. Why don't you keep your wallet in your pants? Well, when I turned 40 and my hip started hurting all the time, my chiropractor told me I probably unbalanced the earth's axis, and my spine, by keeping my wallet in my back left pocket for 25 years. So the obvious answer to my storage woes is that I need a purse.
But for god's sake, Shirley, I can't carry a purse! I considered the "murse". Described at Urban Dictionary as "a man-purse. very fashion-forward right now, seen on many hipster guys." So that's obviously not an option. I saw some khaki pants advertised recently that has lots of hidden pockets for electronic devices. But I already am not wearing a coat that should hide my middle-aged bulge. So adding lumps to my hips doesn't appeal to me either. "Ewe!! Look mommy! That man has nicely tailored pants with no visible pockets - but there are lumps all over the sides of his hips and legs." No thanks.
So "yippee" that winter finally arrived yesterday; because I am wearing a coat. Yes, winter arrives in Phoenix in one day. Two days ago it was still in the eighties. Yesterday the temperature topped out at 69! And now, all my stuff is alphabetised in a clockwise circumference starting with the interior pockets, and the bulk is nicely balancing my upper body so that I am shaped in the most ideal way a man can be shaped. I have 5 months (give or take a month, depending on global warming effects) that I do not have to worry about my storage-challenged self.
For now, no worries. Maybe by next summer I'll be a hipster guy - but probably not.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sir Ringo and Synergy
As my sister recently reminded me on her blog, Sir Paul is looking desperate. If you read the Vanity Fair interview on the bubble gum Beatle, (which I took in at an orthodontist appointment for one of my kids) you also know he is a sad old guy. It was one of the most depressing articles I've ever read. Which is why I'm planning to peak in my eighties.
While still in their thirties though, all four Beatles put out one decent album right after they broke up - even Ringo. Well, it depends on how you define "decent". But they must have had synergistic residue stuck to their Nauru jackets. Ten years after the break up you could look back and see how four guys had hit the heady peaks of musical synergy when they were together - and steadily fell after that. And, in my personal opinion, none fell harder than Paul. (Sorry Sir Paul.) At least Ringo seems today like he's still having fun. I think Ringo is on the "peak-in-your-eighties" plan, too.
After "Band on the Run", I never cared much for any of Paul's stuff. John and George kept my interest over the years. But let's face it - Beatles stuff is great; and holds up!
My kids re-discovered this with the "Across the Universe" soundtrack. At first I was all excited. But now these new versions are irritating the hell out of me almost as much as Peter Frampton and the Bee Gee's did with their Sgt. Peppers movie.
So what's the point? Great songs hold up - and none more so than those penned by Paul and John. Except maybe Irving Berlin. And Beethoven.
Oh, never mind.
While still in their thirties though, all four Beatles put out one decent album right after they broke up - even Ringo. Well, it depends on how you define "decent". But they must have had synergistic residue stuck to their Nauru jackets. Ten years after the break up you could look back and see how four guys had hit the heady peaks of musical synergy when they were together - and steadily fell after that. And, in my personal opinion, none fell harder than Paul. (Sorry Sir Paul.) At least Ringo seems today like he's still having fun. I think Ringo is on the "peak-in-your-eighties" plan, too.
After "Band on the Run", I never cared much for any of Paul's stuff. John and George kept my interest over the years. But let's face it - Beatles stuff is great; and holds up!
My kids re-discovered this with the "Across the Universe" soundtrack. At first I was all excited. But now these new versions are irritating the hell out of me almost as much as Peter Frampton and the Bee Gee's did with their Sgt. Peppers movie.
So what's the point? Great songs hold up - and none more so than those penned by Paul and John. Except maybe Irving Berlin. And Beethoven.
Oh, never mind.
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