Meg-Pie saw these at Starbucks...

... but I didn't buy her one. I can't afford it. Drinks, okay, but snacks and drinks both? Not at Starbucks; not if M 'n' m want help paying for college.

#340

I think it's important that M 'n' m understand something, a simple concept, but easy to dismiss, easy to ignore. I ignore it sometimes; I forget. We don't see and applaud it like we do outcomes, awards, trophies, the knockout, the finish line. We celebrate victory and celebrity. And I suppose that makes sense. We don't have parades for hard work by itself; not many headlines, posters, championship belts just for effort (although CrossFit and other endurance and strength events come close). So yeah, this 'important something' – as I have so stirringly and ingeniously described it :) – is just really, really hard work. That's it. But it's essential for greatness. And – more importantly, if you can believe it – it leads to fulfillment and self-respect, which, at times, are elusive in life (I've suffered periods without them, at least, chasing, grasping, floundering; but I shouldn't speak for anyone else) ... Man, I'm on a roll! SERMON ALERT! ...

Bluto: ... Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Otter: Germans?
Boon: Forget it, he's rolling.

So – you could've skipped the first paragraph – what I'm trying to say is:

I think it's important that M 'n' m understand that behind every Lebron, DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, Zuckerberg, Rihanna, whoever impresses us, is a TON of hard work. These people work very, very hard. Hugh Jackman hits the weight room at 4 AM – or some ungodly hour – when filming. Stephen Curry makes hundreds of shots a day. Kobe Bryant routinely came to practice early. Like three hours early. Elon Musk works 100-hour weeks when he has important projects, and he has a lot of important projects. By all accounts, the others I mentioned have unrelenting, tireless, powerful work ethics. I don't mean to plagiarize Gladwell and the ten-thousand-hours camp. I just want M 'n' m to know that superstars work like dogs. They work like dogs, and they suffer countless moments of discomfort, struggle, defeat, drills, repetition, tedium, terror, pressure, and grueling physical challenge. They lose games, bomb auditions, make mistakes, fall, fail, but they earn their place at the top with hours, days, months, years, and decades of getting better, and staying better. They have physical gifts, sure, but we all do; we all have strengths, skills, some piece of ourselves we can push to the highest levels of achievement if we put in the work. Okay, I'm done. What a preachy, eager-beaver, go-get-'em burst of pulpit-pounding today! It's for the kids :) Get out there and kick ass, kids! And remember: hard work is its own reward! (Although, I have trouble mocking any of this, because I know my best days are the busy, grinding, uphill ones that take guts and send me to bed pleasantly exhausted. Maybe I'll have a day like that today.)

According to his teammates, Michael Jordan had a legendary work ethic. The Manning brothers (Peyton an Eli) subjected themselves to extra practice at 4:30 or 5 in the morning, in high school. Aaron Rodgers would show up every morning in his coach's office before class to study offensive and defensive schemes. And Kobe Bryant... whether he was a jerk or not, I don't know, but he was a great basketball player...

"Even more than his prodigious scoring output and crowd-pleasing style, Bryant's most defining trait would come to be a work ethic that seemingly had no off switch." – Dan McCarney, NBA.com

"He was always in the facility by himself, working out in the gym or practicing on the court. He was always the first one to show up. I don't know when he slept. He would call me at 1 or 2 in the morning to go over something and then be at the gym by 5 a.m." – Ronny Turiaf, former teammate of Bryant

"He's in a full sweat 10 minutes before we're supposed to meet and be ready to go. That's when I realized 5:30 a.m. meant 4:45 a.m. with Kobe." – Rasheed Hazzard, former Lakers scout

"I heard one time in a workout that he practiced a shot for an hour. The same shot. For one hour. And it wasn’t like a three-pointer, it was a little shot in the mid-range area. Do you know how tedious that is? Do you know how locked in you have to be to do one shot for an hour? To trick your mind that way? That’s unbelievable." – Jamal Crawford, NBA player, speaking of Bryant

"What do you mean, how do I know? I know because I counted them." – Kobe Bryant, after he told reporters he went spot to spot until he made 400 shots that morning, and they asked how he knew it was 400

"There's a choice that we have to make as people, as individuals. If you want to be great at something, there's a choice you have to make. We all can be masters at our craft, but you have to make a choice." – Kobe Bryant

Megan updated her message on Michael's whiteboard

It's generally some form of adoration like this. Michael's lucky.

#339

Megan's laundry was a pain in the butt today. Everything was inside-out and impossibly twisted; every sock was in a ball, every undie knotted in pantlegs (I assume because they're removed together). I do more unfolding than folding. And I do a lot of folding. Megan helps, but not much. Someday soon, she won't need me for this stuff. I grumble, sure, but when that day comes, I won't be thrilled.

I learned that baldness in Native Americans is rare. I've been touting my Native-American-ness for years now; I think I'm one-sixteenth. Or maybe less. Clearly not enough to dodge alopecia.

We assume our kids can fix simple things. Tighten a screw, patch a hole in the wall, do a little painting. What could go wrong? Well... tools get lost, materials are broken and wasted, paint get spilled and tracked through the house. Murphy's law. That Murphy was a fuckin' genius. It's kind of inspiring actually, the creativity with which things get screwed up. Wow, I would've never thought to do it that way (thereby guaranteeing disaster). We all mess things up when we're kids. We lack experience and attention to detail. So now, as parents, the way I see it: we have no choice but to let our kids do and learn. Start simple, start cheap, be safe, have insurance, hold your breath, pray....

Megan had a basketball game yesterday and wanted to go early – a full hour! – to shoot around. Oh my God, if Meg becomes a gym rat... I will love her even more... which, of course, is impossible; pretty sure the needle swings to max when they're born and never moves. We might think it does, dipping, bouncing, like the needles in Papa's old marantz receiver, but it doesn't move; it's pegged, pinned, permanent. Even Darth Vader's needle wasn't moved by the Emperor and the Dark Side. And everything in life is analogous to something in Star Wars. Duh.

#338

I noticed if I set things on the stairs that belong to the kids – like shoes, books, shit that needs to be put away – it will sit there until the end of the world.

M 'n' m applied for passports. I didn't get one until I was 20; I'm happy they're way ahead. I heard only 36% of Americans have valid passports. I hope that number climbs. I hope it's always easier, cheaper, safer for the next generation to go abroad. I want M 'n' m to see 50 countries. When I was Megan's age, my parents toured Asia (with my Dad's employer). I was impressed. But it was another decade before I left America myself, excluding Niagara Falls, which makes me think of The Breakfast Club and Brian's lie to Bender, "She lives in Canada. I met her at Niagara Falls; you wouldn't know her." ... "Well, in addition to the number of girls in the Niagara Falls area..."

Let's examine, for a minute, the hug. According to family lore, my great-grandma Dora was a bigtime hugger; you couldn't enter or exit her house without one, without a big embrace. They don't make 'em like Grandma Dora anymore; I remember a tenderness, but there was a toughness too; she lost a young son to drowning for one thing; I can't imagine how that affects a mother. And now I suddenly understand why she hugged so much. Wow, writing gives me perspective. Anyway, predictably, Dora's daughter and granddaughter became leading huggers themselves, distinguished and exceptional, which brings us to the grandson, me. I hug M 'n' m a lot. And I'm hardly alone; people in sports, for example, get busy hugging and back-slapping each other all the time. Awesome. Hug it up! Michael's not the most enthusiastic hugger, but he accepts one when I'm proud of him, or happy Iowa State won, or excited there's a new GOT episode. Megan is different. If I outstretch my arms in invitation, she expresses annoyance. I feign hurt. She sighs. Too bad, gimme a hug! I love you! Of course, when she wants money, or help, or permission to do something, well then, different story, she's all about it....

#337

I listened to an interview of Connor McGregor this morning. When asked, "At what age did you realize you were good at fighting?" he said, "I'm Irish, we're all good at fighting." Naturally, this made me think of... Megan. Does her stubbornness, her combativeness, come from her Irish ancestry? (Along with, maybe, her charm?) She likes a melee, especially with me. She can come out swingin'. Only with words, of course. Although, maybe I should put boxing gloves on her and headgear on myself. I'd prefer this to the verbal shots, jabs, complaints.

Meg-Pie was the first at our house to finish Christmas shopping. She made a big list (a Google doc, actually, which they use in school now; what cavemen we were for using loose leaf paper). Then we hit Target, and what was left, ordered online. She quickly had 20 gifts, wrapped and ready. I asked her to wrap some presents for me and she did it cheerfully. I said, "What have you done with Megan?" No, I didn't; I said thank you. Meg has an unselfish, practical streak, and a powerful organizing instinct (not reflected in the rubbish and rubble comprising her room, most days, but still). She's a bit of an artist also, and studios aren't spotless. She's painting on canvas now. It's cool. I really love the shit out of my daughter. Ooh, that's maybe too much, not right, gross... but reminiscent of the days she was small enough to fit on a changing table; that was a cute little Megan.

I read an article about how dads should have a "stern but encouraging paternal hand." Slick writing. Which is my way of deflecting. "Stern" is not a strength. I'm so not stern that this article reminded me of Bronson Alcott, father of the famous Louisa May. (You'll see why I remember him in a second.) Bronson sought to reform schools about 200 years ago. Perhaps his most controversial idea was to have students punish teachers. Yeah. A guilty student, having committed some error or offense, would punish the teacher, who was also to blame for allowing the failure to occur. Or something. A misbehaving child would strike the teacher's hand, for example. Think back to your school days now.... It was supposed to illicit shame in the student. Regardless, I don't wish to disparage Bronson Alcott. He had a special daughter for one thing. He was an abolitionist, an activist for women's rights, and a philosophic, progressive thinker who sought to awaken both the minds and souls of young people. Right on.

#336

Michael shaved. No shit. First time. You turn around one day and they're big. And hairy.

Oh, the ups and downs of parenting.... It's painful when M 'n' m exhibit issues I can see, especially in hindsight, may come from my biology and chemistry, my heredity in other words – oversensitivity, insecurity, anxiety, social unskillfulness, no need to list them all – which compounds my frustration in trying to help them. For example: Megan needs to be more aggressive in sports. She's gifted with athleticism. She needs to care less about appearances, and more about playing with intensity, competing, staying focused. If I sound crazy – there's that synonym for 'parent' again – rest assured I'm not too tough on Meg. Many of you know this. My point, and the part that puts a little zing in the heartache, is that I was the same way, and even today struggle with competitiveness and intensity. Expecting Megan to change overnight is ludicrous. Expecting her to change at all perhaps....

My favorite scene in the movie Forrest Gump is when Jenny shows Forrest a little boy...

Jenny: His name's Forrest.
Forrest: Like me.
J: I named him after his daddy.
F: He got a daddy named Forrest, too?
J: You're his daddy, Forrest.

And then the touching part, Forrest knows what his shortcomings are; his expression changes; he's instantly worried about the obvious...

Forrest: He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen but is he smart or is he...?
Jenny: He's very smart, Forrest. He's one of the smartest in his class.

Some of our flaws flow downstream, so to speak, but not all. This is good. And maybe it would be good if parenting was more like... the army?

Drill Sergeant: Gump! What is your sole purpose in this army?
Forrest Gump: To do whatever you tell me, Drill Sergeant!
DS: God damn it, Gump! You're a god damn genius! This is the most outstanding answer I have ever heard. You must have a goddamn I.Q. of 160. You are goddamn gifted, Private Gump.
F: [narrates] Now for some reason I fit in the army like one of them round pegs. It's not really hard. You just make your bed real neat and remember to stand up straight and always answer every question with "Yes, Drill Sergeant."
DS: ...Is that clear?
F: Yes, Drill Sergeant!

Since I share old, bad notes...

... that I save and find in random places, drawers, piles, wedged in favorite books – I mean notes from Megan like "Daddy, If you don't love me just take me to Mom's and I won't come back" – then I can share nice ones. I like the one below. I preach the shit out of gratitude, and I preach it primarily so they feel better, M 'n' m – though a neat side effect is parental pride – because the science is in; practicing gratitude is loaded with benefits. I know that high-energy, high-achieving people – the sluggers in business and life, the doers, the winners – often have gratitude and optimism rituals, or see the world naturally this way. If you're grateful for the glass and its contents, you probably see it as half full.

I bring my son to work too sometimes

Yep, this little fella's a son and not just a young assistant (at last night's postgame press conference). God I love the Iowa State Cyclones. And it's true that Michael – and Megan – join me at work too, on occasion. They love it. And I love that they love it; I love that they're interested. I love commuting with them, catching trains, walking city streets, sniffing the urban air, feeling tiny among towers and thousands of restaurants, drifting in the bustle and muscle and energy that made a poet think of big shoulders. I love Chicago. And I love Iowa State. And I love M 'n' m. It's just like Tesla told me (the band), "Luuuuu-ooooove is all around you."

Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders: ... Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning. Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities ... 
     – Carl Sandburg

#335

We put the Christmas decorations away. Now we can be crabby until April. Sub-zero Monday mornings, short days, dirty snow, windchills at negative-absurd, frozen vehicles, dangerous ice on roads and walkways (four people I know have slipped and suffered serious injury in recent years). Chicago winters are pretty good at reminding us we don't live in the Caribbean. But I tell M 'n' m there's no reason to be crabby. "We're very lucky," I preach, "And besides, if you're crabby, you only poison yourself." Then I bitch and moan about something and feel like crap. To be a parent is to be a hypocrite, practiced and unapologetic. "Do as I say, not as I do" is wisdom I received from the Greatest Generation in fact, from my grandfather, so I know it's tried and true.

By the way, I'm not mocking Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's real. I'm not immune. It pulls many of us down and I, for one, have to fight it tooth and nail (or maybe tooth and pill). I badger myself to stay active and positive, and in doing so achieve a kind of normal. I think.

I said to Megan, "Sweetheart, you should cut your toenails more than once a year." She took the hint. They don't look like bear claws anymore.

I read an article about Mark Wahlberg. I'm a fan. He says, "You do things when you're younger that when you become a father make you go, 'Well, I'll have to explain that to the kids.'" Wahlberg and his wife have two boys and two girls ranging from 6 to 12. They don't watch Dad's grownup movies. And Wahlberg says, "We don't give them access to computers and YouTube and Google and all that shit." The moment you realize someone in Hollywood is a better parent than you.

#334

I'm grateful Michael has a cell phone, and I'm grateful for texting. I'm not grateful for the monthly cost, or the expensive devices Michael drops and breaks. But the texting... M 'n' m have just boarded a flight from Kansas City to Chicago. How do I know this? The very same way I'll know instantly when they've landed. Hey, I never said I'm not an anxious person. I was gonna say 'a worrywart crazy mother-f*cker' but that sounds self-critical. I go easy on myself. So now I wait for Michael's "we've landed" text. I know flying is the safest way to travel. I do it myself a bit. But M 'n' m don't fly much, and I've seen 'La Bamba' too many times. I've stayed away from 'Sully,' Denzel Washington's 'Flight,' 'United 93,' and others. Flipping through channels, I stopped on 'Snakes on a Plane' though; there's a limit to my paranoia. I'm just a little crazy, which is the same, to me, as admitting I'm a parent.

Ah, here it is; they're safe:

I need to clean up the language on this blog. Look at all the complaints I'm getting in the comments below (yeah, that's a joke). It's funny, I've used the F-word before, but paired with a 'mother' I felt inclined to buffer it with an asterisk. I was raised right. I do, in fact, have mixed emotions about the pervasiveness of profanity in TV, the media, the workplace. We are funny and crazy, aren't we? Human beings, I mean.

#333 and Happy 2017!

I came home the other day to Michael blasting music in his room. It made me happy. It's just a very teenager thing to do; it felt normal. As a parent, I appreciate normal sometimes. I realize it's a floating concept – what we think of as 'normal' – different for different people, cultures, ages, deluding us in some ways, guiding us in others. Michael hasn't gone off a cliff behaviorally, so his music – even if mildly profane, loud, annoying – is fine. Our shared future will involve cliches and surprises both. I know this. Lets hope the 'normal' and the pleasant outnumber the unpleasant.

My daughter has a flatulence problem, or, stated in a positive way, she is exceptional at 'accumulating and expelling intestinal gas.' (I like definitions and dictionaries.) This will sound sexist, but I always thought my son would be the household champion, not my daughter.

Megan asked me, "Can I see your bald spot?" I tilted my head so she could see it. She said, "It's not getting any smaller, Dad." I know, Honey, thank you. I'm not sure if she was being sympathetic or being a smartass. Sarcasm: not my favorite. I think it was sympathy. Or pity. Pretty sure Meg knows it'll take pills or surgery to reforest my head at this point. Spring has passed; there won't be another (on my scalp), but I still have loyal follicles, many, and I salute them!

Does Rogaine make you eyebrows go gangbusters? What about hair in your ears? I'm just wondering for a friend of mine that uses it...

"It was like the army: Be careful, find a cool dry place to stash your mind, and hang on until it was over. Except, of course... it never would be over. You never would get through to the end of being a father, no matter where you stored your mind or how many steps in the series you followed. Not even if you died. Alive or dead or a thousand miles distant, you were always going to be on the hook for work that was neither a procedure nor a series of steps but, rather, something that demanded your full, constant attention without necessarily calling on you to do, perform, or say anything at all.... Fathering imposed an obligation that was more than your money, your body, or your time, a presence neither physical nor measurable by clocks: open-ended, eternal, and invisible, like the commitment of gravity to the stars." 
     – Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue

"Everybody knows their mother loves them unconditionally, but fathers have to say it out loud I think."
      – Marnie, The Meddler

"She's a good girl. Good kids don't get that way by accident."
      – Einar, An Unfinished Life

"Having a baby, it's massive, and on a very unexpected level. Suddenly I understood my parents much more profoundly than I ever had before."
      – Benedict Cumberbatch

HAPPY NEW YEAR! All the best to you and yours in 2017!