I ran into an old friend...

... and co-worker, basketball teammate, high-energy, upbeat, all-around good dude. And a good dad. (I've noticed good dudes are often good dads, which isn't a simple statement to me; I try to be both and fail in as many ways as I don't fail.) But about this friend... I remember he sank a big three to win us a men's league title one season. Small victories, but they mean something; little inspirations, baby carrots; essential in the day-to-day. I remember this friend – we'll call him John, because that's his name – was a tireless, relentless, hard-nosed, blanket defender. Totally unafraid of collisions or injuries. I was never thrilled when he guarded me in pick-up ball; he often did; maybe he felt challenged trying to shut me down, and I felt complimented. Over the years, he came to work with busted fingers, limps, twisted ankles and knees, black-eyes and stitches from catching elbows ... and all of it from playin' ball the right way, the best way, every time, with total effort, confidence, like a fuckin' maniac (on defense for sure; and on offense he pushed the ball enough to give us a track meet during every bball game). Awesome. I hope M 'n' m run across people like this and learn from them. I have and I'm grateful. They're contagious, infectious. I have another bball friend named Jimmy. He's the same way. I've looked up to him for 30 years now. He's an animal, but a surgeon too, on the court. And a good dude and a good dad. Some people never stop; they never stop playing hard; they're inspired and fed by a kind of bottomless reservoir of spirit or energy. I digress... so I ran into John at the train and he complimented me for "putting myself out there." I appreciated it. He meant putting myself out there here. 'Out there here?' There's a reason I don't write for a living. He meant 'aboutmnm.' Here. That inspires me. Many of you have commented; I'm grateful. Of all the things I want for M 'n' m, maybe the most important is inspiration. Inspiration! Every day. Every single day!

On the train I saw a coffee mug that said "No coffee, no workee." Yep, 'fraid so. As in, 'afraid that's true for me lately.' But 'chemical inspiration' is a topic for another time. I mentioned this before: I asked the kids, "What do you think my favorite drug is?" Jeanette glared at me like I was advocating crack. The kids looked worried too. I said, "Coffee. It's coffee; whaddya think I was gonna say?" I intend to be clear with M 'n' m about this. Drugs are drugs. Some are worse than others but most of us medicate or use something. A few somethings, in fact. Advil PM, beer, espresso, melatonin, Skoal; guilty, and they all count in my book. So be aware and a little careful, M 'n' m, that's all. Caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, over the counter pills; all legal but not symptom-free or totally safe if overused. Sorry, I sound like Nancy Reagan. Should I fry an egg? This is your brain on drugs. I'll never forget it. And 'Afternoon Specials,' remember those?

#361

One of 'life's questions' I've pondered the most – as an adult anyway – is how to reconcile the messages, internal and external, of 'strive, achieve, advance, obtain' with 'be grateful; you're lucky and blessed; find some personal peace.' These ideas aren't entirely oil and water if, say, you're a Buddhist monk or Himalayan yogi. For me, however, 'striving' and 'contentment' chafe and clash like the Hatfields and McCoys, Capone and Moran, Hamilton and Burr (Carthage and Rome, the North and South, the Cubs and Cards; you get it). It took Lincoln and Grant to join the Blue and Gray, forcefully, and I likely won't be President and remembered forever. So what to do? Well, choose your parents well (insert smile). I did that. A good start. And enjoy the work, the struggle. I do that too. As a kid of course, with life just beginning its arc, things are a bit simpler; be a good student, sports and activities, get the girl, be a good person. Things in my 30s and 40s don't feel so clear, clean, untangled. Middle life, with kids, bills, a house, a career.... It's a bit more complicated, no? Calling it work-life balance doesn't describe it for me. Life-life balance is what I'm after, and what the hell does that mean? I suppose my goal, and my wish for M 'n' m, is daily brushes and breezes of joy, contentment, and gratitude, while maintaining a healthy and responsible big picture. But that sounds trite. I'll tell them to 'choose good wants.' That's important. Because 'wants' are often what lights the fire and keeps it burning. I want the best of M 'n' m; that's a big, burning, blazing fire for me, and I'm grateful for it. As for 'life-life balance,' I guess they'll figure it out. I hope I do too.

#360

We went to a wedding yesterday. My thoughts on weddings: I had one once. The Cubs lost again yesterday. They're scuffling this year. World Series hangover, I guess.

Kidding. I'm not cynical about weddings. I can't wait for Michael's.

My friend Jon, a Catholic priest, says he laughs at funerals and cries at weddings. Ah, he's kidding too; he doesn't laugh at funerals. I'm on a roll! Too dry? Tears at weddings are common, but he's not talking about tears of joy.

Marriage is a beautiful, brave, sacred institution, vocation, commitment, challenge, and adventure. It's many, many great things and I hope M 'n' m agree. And it starts with a wedding! Yesterday's was incredible; watching the emotionally-teetering father – who I love and respect – walk his glowing daughter down the aisle to a groom who was clearly moved and grateful (he was rolling tears looking back at his bride and I momentarily lost my shit too; Jeanette was already long gone, sniffling and sprinkling at first sight of all the awesomeness; I've always been drawn to her powerful, positive sensitivity)... anyway, I loved all the emotion. Does anything spice and flavor life more than emotion? No. Emotion = human. Seems to me. Simplest definition. And then – back to the wedding – we ate, drank, and danced like fools, maniacs, happy people! Nothing better.

#359

I'm afraid there's no denying I have a man-crush on Bear Grylls. What a fuckin' great guy! A British SAS commando turned adventurer, a reserved but resolute Christian, a family man, and – on camera at least – a kind, sincere, playful, respectful, humble, cool, authentic dude. Love his show Running Wild where he seems to initiate meaningful dialogue with celebrities after disarming them via some harrowing outdoor activity like ice climbing, canyon hopping, hanging from helicopters over mountains. Basic stuff. Yeah, I'm a huge fan of all I've seen and read from the guy. So, naturally, I'll quote his autobiography here in hopes that M 'n' m will read it someday, and hold Bear and his way in high esteem (but not admire him more than they admire me, of course...) and endeavor to encounter and engender and appreciate this wisdom and, you know, just live AWESOME lives!

"Every time I fell off (of my horse) in the wet sand and was on the verge of bursting into tears, Dad would applaud me and say that I was slowly becoming a horseman. In other words, you can't become a decent horseman until you fall off and get up again a good number of times. There's life in a nutshell."

"My young, boyish face felt as if it were literally about to freeze solid. I couldn't feel the end of my nose at all, which for someone with a big one like myself was a scary new phenomenon. I started to cry; that usually worked to show Dad that things were serious and needed his attention. But he just told me, 'Cover up better and push through it. We are on a proper expedition now, and this is not time to whinge (a British term for whine). The discomfort will pass.' Moments like that encouraged me to believe that I could persevere – especially, and more importantly, when I felt cold and rotten."

"I have always been, above all, a trier. I haven't always succeeded, and I haven't always had the most talent, but I have always given of myself with great enthusiasm – and that counts for a lot. In fact, my dad had always told me that if I could be the most enthusiastic person I knew then I would do well. I never forgot that. And he was right. I mean, who doesn't like to work with enthusiastic folk?"

"Mum was always so generous to Lara and me growing up, and it helped me develop a very healthy attitude to money. You could never accuse my mum of being tight: she was free, fun, mad, and endlessly giving everything away.... and that was a great spirit to grow up around. Mum's generosity ensured that as adults we never became too attached to, or attracted by money. I learned from her that before you can get, you have to give.... I love the quote she once gave me: 'When supply seems to have dried up, look around for something to give away.' It is a law of the universe: to get good things you must first give away good things. (And of course this applies to love and friendship, as well.)"

"I never had anything to fear, though, from Mum and Dad when it came to school reports... (they) just loved me, regardless, and that has helped me so much in my life: to have the confidence to just be myself and to go for things. I have never minded risking failure, because I was never punished for failing."

"To me, my Christian faith is all about being held, comforted, forgiven, strengthened, and loved – yet somehow that message gets lost on most of us, and we tend only to remember the religious nutters.... This is no one's fault, it is just life. Our job is to stay open and gentle.... The irony is that I never meet anyone who doesn't want to be loved or held or forgiven. Yet I meet a lot of folk who hate religion. And I so sympathize. But so did Jesus. In fact, he didn't just sympathize, he went much further. It seems more like this Jesus came to destroy religion and to bring life.... to make us free, to bring us life in all its fullness."

"Like most of the fears we all carry into later life, they are so often based on what could or might happen, rather than what actually did."

"Eton was only intolerant of two things: laziness and a lack of enthusiasm.... (Eton) also taught me to understand that life is what you make of it. And with that there comes responsibility. No one will do it all for you. That is left to each of us: to go out, to grab life, and to make it our own." 

"I learned during this trip to (a poverty-stricken area of Romania) that I had no right ever to grumble at my own circumstances and that I should always try to be grateful and hospitable wherever I can. Above all, I will always remember the kindness and warmth I was shown from those who had so little. I have witnessed so much of this generosity and kindness from people all over the world, and it never fails to bring me up short."

"Charlie helped me, at a very formative age, to understand that there are no prizes for taking either yourself or life too seriously, and that life should be lived freely.... through it all, our friendship has grown stronger as we have both been rolled and rocked by the boat of life"

"But I had a dream, and that always makes people dangerous. Dreams, though, are cheap, and the real task comes when you start putting in place the steps needed to make those dreams a reality."

"Little could have prepared me for what I saw on the squalid streets of Calcutta.... I felt overwhelmed, inadequate, powerless, and ashamed – all at once. Watty and I finally found the small hospital and nunnery that was Mother Teresa's mission.... We returned there every day we were in Calcutta, we gave the remaining rupees we had to her collection box, and I wrote Mother Teresa a folded, hand-written note to say how her work had moved me. I just wanted to thank her and encourage her. I never expected a reply. Knock me down, if two months later I didn't get a personal letter from her saying thank you. I still have it to this day. Believe me when I say that all we gave were a few pounds in total. Her response is called grace, and it amazed me. Her being, and her whole way of life (even though we never even met her), was a living, breathing example of God's presence on this earth, and it changed how I saw both myself and the world around me very powerfully. I realized that I had been given privileges beyond those any person could ever hope for, and that we, in turn, have a duty of care toward the world and her people. I wasn't yet sure what this meant for me. I just know that I left the squalor, dirt, and suffering of Calcutta with a sense that, in Mother Teresa's life, we had experienced a brush with God that was both beautiful and very real."

Killing zombies...

... for five years was a good time, but now he's really happy. Because Steven Yeun, from The Walking Dead, is a new dad. He says, "There's this thing that happens in your brain and body, which is to break free completely from the prior generation and know that you are now responsible for the next generation. It's a really beautiful time."

Joe Maddon quoting Sigmund Freud...

... "Nobody is remembered for being normal."

I would say Joe and Sigmund are both creative-thinking, creative-questioning pioneers in their respective fields, widely considered so and not soon forgotten. Especially in Chicago.

Megan did not...

... give this to me for Father's Day (last weekend). I saw it yesterday though and thought of her, especially with the bit about a 'stubborn understanding.'

I love her.

I love Michael.

God, thank you for M 'n' m. 

And thank you for Papa Mike.

"Dad, I need you. Our stubborn understanding is precious. Our special way is ours. No matter what, know this – I love you just the way you are."
     — Lady Lee Andrews, poet in San Juan, Puerto Rico

On humility and hubris both, it seems

I hope to be deserving...

... of high praise like this from my children and grandchildren. From Bear Grylls's autobiography:

"I remember (Grandpa Neville) as one of the greatest examples of a man I have ever known, and I loved him dearly. He was gentle, kind, strong, faith-filled, and fun-loving.... Neville remained a schoolboy at heart; thus he had a wonderful rapport with the young. Enthusiasm, Encouragement, and Love were his watchwords.... I never heard him speak ill of anyone; I never saw him perform an unkind act. He was in all respects a wonderful man."

"In many ways Dad never really grew up. It is what made him such a wonderful father, gentleman, and friend.... Above all, Dad wanted to be a cozy father to us, and he was – the best. For that I am so grateful.... I could not have had better preparation and training for life than I received through his example.

He goes on to describe his mom as a little "wacky" and "offbeat." Figures. Although, he says: "But that was Mum for you; and with only the rare exceptions, my childhood was blessed with love and fun, both of which have remained driving forces for me in my life with my own family." Amen!

#358

There is an unreality to the passing of time when you're raising kids. An unevenness, or, actually, an avalanche of months and years; that's the best way I can analogize it for myself; the post-infant and -toddler time seems to have passed in a single, jumbled, rolling blast of moments. An avalanche. Now Michael is over six feet tall.

The early years dragged at times; there's a kind of bogging down in the constant care, supervision, naps, meals, diapers. Then they become a little self-sufficient and things must accelerate; it doesn't make sense how quickly time flew from then until now. Michael will be in high school. High school!

Michael asked if Chicago has jazz clubs. I've been to blues clubs – Kingston Mines is my favorite, recommended many years ago by a great friend – but I know very little about jazz. I think it's awesome, and refreshing, even if a bit eccentric (to a guy like me who doesn't even play an instrument) for my child to ask about jazz. I thought of mentioning Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Other than Gatsby, however, I've only read bits and pieces of Fitzgerald, and though Gatsby could be the best novel ever, I should make sure my recommendations don't suck. Without a doubt, parents have a tenuous and finite amount of credit or capital – or credibility – so to speak, when making suggestions to their kids. I intend to use mine wisely.

From a documentary about the remarkable writer: "Fitzgerald moved to New York and got a job in advertising, but he didn't stop writing; he couldn't. Writing, even letter writing, was a vital part of what he needed to see in the mirror every morning."

"The little boy had wandered away from his mother, tacking across the grass toward the play structure. His mother watched him go, proud, tickled, unaware that every time they toddled away from you, they came back a little different, ten seconds older and nearer to the day when they left you for good. Pearl divers in training, staying under a few seconds longer every time."
     — Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue  

#357

Watched Bear Grylls again and his show 'Running Wild.' The guest this time was Sterling K. Brown, star of the TV series 'This is Us.' Sterling said the following and I had to immediately transcribe it. Well, not until the show ended, which I watched with Michael, and after Sterling's words about fatherhood and love I just looked at Michael and said, "It's true." I thought about saying, "It's fucking true," for emphasis – I really wanted the message, as a powerful truth about parent/child love, to stick – but M 'n' m have never heard the F-word exit my lips... because I only use it very, very, very, very rarely, probably just quoting others in fact (oh bullshit, I hear you saying). Anyway, on fatherhood...

Sterling K. Brown: "My dad passed away when I was 10 years old. It's interesting, I'm 40 now so I spent three-quarters of my life without him, but what I remember more than anything is that he loved me, like, unequivocally, you know what I'm sayin'? That kind of love, you can't understand it until you have kids yourself. And then once you have them you're like, 'they can never love me as much as I love them.' Because they're just here. Like, I just love that they're here! You know? I was that for my dad, and he let me know every chance he got. I catch myself sayin', 'Did I tell you I love you today?' because my dad would say that all the time, and I'd be like (rolls eyes), 'Yeah dad.' Man, and I just try to pour it all back into these children that I have right now."

My parents did this well, and I'm paying it forward. There is nothing to earn; I don't know if kids understand this until they have they're own. Nothing to preserve, nothing to analyze. The love... it's just here, and MASSIVE, because kids were born. Just born. That's it. "Like, I just love that they're here!" I'm grateful.

#356

Megan asked me, "Do you have a blog?" I said, "Uhhh, yes. How did you hear about it? She said, "I've heard people talk about it." Uh-oh. But then her real curiosity about it: "How many followers do you have?" I said none, since I'm not aware of any subscribers or followers, a feature on the site which, umm, is underused I guess; something about better content. Anyway, Megan was incredulous. "You have no followers?! Why do you do it then?" I spared her a sanctimonious lecture about how one's own path and interests and – shocking to her generation – fulfillment can be independent of social media followers, clicks, views, thumbs-ups (thumbs-ups?), whatever. Her cute face would've been a portrait of confusion and pity. And yeah, it would've been hypocritical as hell to get on my soapbox; I very much enjoy it when someone mentions my blog.

I'm watching Bear Grylls and Marshawn Lynch spear-hunt a wild hog in some gnarly mountains. Bear said, "This takes courage and a little skill." Marshawn said, "I got courage but no skill." Bear said, "Lean on the courage then." Brilliant. M 'n' m, if nothin' else, lean on the courage then.

I also watch documentaries – or listen to them while driving – on YouTube. The kids prefer proper YouTubers, whoever they are, but Michael doesn't complain. Recently I, and sometimes we, have learned or relearned about Marcus Aurelius, Wyatt Earp, Jackie Robinson, Hannibal, Ghenghis Khan, George Washington, Ponce de Leon, Vasco de Gama, Edward Teach, Seneca, Napoleon, Peter the Great, Tecumseh, Leif Erikson, and others. I especially like what Leif Erikson's mom supposedly taught him: Think before you draw your sword. I have mostly lived this way myself, metaphorically of course, and sometimes to a fault (unleashing a quick, unfettered response has its place and effectiveness too; and there's fun and exhileration to consider) but maybe it's saved me from an ugly consequence or two. I wonder how M 'n' m will judge themselves against this maxim someday. Think before you draw your sword.

#355

Megan is more of a talker these days than Michael. She offers some interesting and wonderful questions, all of our kids do, and it occurs to me I field them like grounders hit my way in men's softball: I make some good plays and boot a few also. Yesterday: "Dad, why does fear have to be a thing?" I mentioned it keeps us alert and safe, competitive and dynamic, but it has to be managed, held in check, balanced and understood. The monkey mind. I didn't mention the monkey acts drunk and hysterical at times, not just overactive. I'm afraid she gets her tendency to paralyzingly ruminate from me. I look forward to more conversations about this with her. Monkeys are strong, acrobatic, and creative, I might've added. Keep it positive...

Megan told me there are more people on Facebook than were on the entire planet 200 years ago. "That's only going back to the 1800's," she added. Good little mathematician, Meg. I'm reading two books set in the 19th century, coincidentally, the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant and 'The Son' by Philipp Meyer, which induced more hyperactivity in my monkey mind around the subject. Life was different then, and not long ago. I don't think of overpopulation and its effects as an abstraction. And 'worrying about it later' seems dismissive. But I didn't push the concern to Megan. "A good life for you and yours awaits," I told her. When we drive west through Iowa there are open spaces. I'm happy they see this regularly.

I remember a great conversation I had with Grandma Barb, probably when I was Megan's age. I must've mentioned that death seems like an unpleasant eventuality. My mom talked about the rhythms and cycles of life; we can be content and peaceful, if a little tired also, at the end of it all. We can be ready to move on, as many of our loved ones have already done so at that point. Reunions and good things await. Her words took the sting out of it. The words of mothers always take the sting out of things. Mom was prompt and clear to add, "But you don't have to worry about that for a long time, honey." I read a great quote but I can't locate its precise wording or author now, something like, "Since I wasn't afraid to be born, I won't be afraid to die." That got me thinking.... Of course, Woody Allen has a good one too about death (insert smile), "I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens."

Megan likes a song by the Foo Fighters I introduced her to. It has some of my favorite lyrics ever:

I, I'm a one way motorway
I'm the one that drives away
Then follows you back home
I, I'm a street light shining
I'm a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

I, I'm a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight

      — Foo Fighers, Times Like These

I'm a new day rising, I'm a brand new sky to hang the stars upon tonight. Awesome. I noticed this is #355. The number 55 is a memorable one for me. As is 11. My grandpa was in the 55th Armored Infantry Battalion in the 11th Armored Division of Patton's 3rd Army in WWII. They stormed into Germany and ended the war. A little pressure from Russia in the East helped, I know. All of it at great cost, sadly, which my grandpa was burdened by as a participant and survivor, but I can be proud of his sacrifice and I never see those numbers without thinking of him. This summer, Michael and Megan are both jerseyed with 11 in baseball and softball, respectively. Grandpa Swede was a good ballplayer too.