I riffled through a newspaper yesterday, an abandoned Chicago Sun-Times on my commuter train. I read about the Bears. They suck. I read about the Cubs. They don't suck. It's been ages since I read a flimsy, flappy, newsprint daily paper. I wonder if M 'n' m have ever read a newspaper. Will 'the paper' even exist when M 'n' m are my age, with a date like 2040 on the masthead? Nope. It's headed the way of cassettes, hitchhiking, dinosaurs, leather football helmets... you know, things we don't see anymore (except in movies and museums). Answering machines, film photography, pagers, payphones, phonebooks, paper maps, paper dictionaries, paper encyclopedias... things involving paper are really on the existential brink. Technology: it giveth and it taketh away. Maybe we'll get some forests back, some hunting habitat, thanks to tech. My grandma used to play with paper dolls. Now there's an app for that.
Population growth feels like a very un-PC thing to talk about, but as I consider the pros and cons of technology growth, I can't help but puzzle over a burgeoning world population. We add another billion people to the planet in ever-shrinking intervals. It used to take centuries, now it takes a decade. We've hit the knee in the curve. What does this mean for M 'n' m?
Speaking of forests and hunting habitat, I'm lucky to be a part of a group I'll call my hunting buddies. They are good husbands, fathers, men. I'm
the least remarkable and experienced among them – as a human being I mean,
not just a hunter – and for this I'm thrilled and grateful. Hopefully
I've told M 'n' m, "If you find yourself in a group or place where
you're the least incredible, this is a good thing." And apropos of what I do here is the fact I wouldn't know any of these guys without my dad ('what I do here,' by the way, I think, is scribble about fatherhood and other things I find elusive in terms of clarity, explicability, order, logic). So these dudes are impressive and so is the breadth and depth of the topics they interpret and debate. They are profound, precise, and fucking funny too, which is essential, let's face it. I toss in my
two cents – generally lousy on perspective, accuracy, and real insight
– because it's my nature not to be silent among friends around a pickup truck or a campfire. Politics, parenting, history, sports, relationships,
guns, conservation... it's all covered (in person when we're together once a year,
and over email otherwise). Recently, somebody kicked up a discussion about
religious fundamentalists and the sacred texts they believe grant them authority and superiority. Of course, the Bible was mentioned, as was the
Koran. I have read bits of the Dhammapada, the Bhagavad Gita, and other religious writings, also. But my position on the OT – the Old Testament – is the one, due to personal religious practice and familiarity, I find myself examining the most. To me, it's a
broad set of books, espousing the whole spectrum of human and divine
behavior, good and not so good. In my own heart and
mind, I can't reconcile the combination of the OT and the NT (New Testament). The OT gives the NT some context, but I find few parallels in terms of direction and tone. I love the primary figure in the NT, and I feel his example and message run contrary to much of the rules, wrath, and retribution in the OT. (Have I lost
ya? "Never talk religion or politics.") I only mention this as one example of the material we plow into as a group of friends and hunters; we go anywhere and everywhere in discussion and it's awesome. I learn. Our spouses, partners, families, and best friends are in our lives too, of course, to examine and dissect the world in conversation, but I think I'll tell M 'n' m: "Get some good hunting buddies while you're at it."
Friday, September 29, 2017
Monday, September 25, 2017
#375
I think storytelling is important. I guess I'm not the only one. We have Barnes & Noble, public libraries, movie theaters, a thousand TV channels, and much more. We have YouTube, Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram. We have the Kindle app (but I still prefer books with paper pages).
Michael is over a month into high school. So far, so good. It's challenging, demanding, tiring but I haven't noticed any kind of crushing of the spirit. On the contrary; Michael seems upbeat. That was overly dramatic – the phrase 'crushing of the spirit' I mean – but peer pressure and serious mischief and bullying and bullshit like that can cause big problems. My firstborn is a full-on high-schooler now; it seems appropriate to be vigilant and observant. If I am only mildly naive and clueless, that would be swell. We'll see. Looking at my own experience isn't helpful; I was hazed more in junior high – by certain classmates – than in high school. And I was hazed again in college, but predictably so, by fraternity brothers. In all cases, thankfully, it was never anything serious; I would even call it invigorating and healthy (in my personal journey) and useful in toughening me up. In junior high there was periodic antagonism between factions we might've labeled 'preppies' and 'skaters.' I've joked here about wearing turtlenecks under sweaters and rugby shirts and spraying Polo cologne like I was putting out a forest fire. That should make it clear which army I was in. But the card-carrying, standard-bearing dudes on the other side tried just as hard as we did, to project an image, to be cool and expressive; they paid attention to detail also, rolling jeans and sculpting hair, and looking back I'd say they 'won' if victory can be measured by courageousness and originality. All of this reminds me of something I read in Esquire magazine from Lyle Lovett: "The idea that we humans are good-natured, politically correct, nonjudgmental beings is pure fantasy. We are, at the very least, judgmental. My lessons in how to dress came from classmates in parochial school. The time-honored, behavior-modifying method of ridiculing and instilling a sense of shame were not spared at Trinity Lutheran School in Klein, Texas. "A sweater?" a boy said in a loud voice in front of the whole class as I walked into my classroom on an early October day and heard everyone laughing. In my defense, my desk was by an always-open window, and it was getting cooler, and it was a new sweater I was eager to wear – an off-white cable-knit V-neck. I loved that sweater. I didn't wear it again until it was freezing, three months later. In my early 20s, Searcy Bond, who owned a hamburger joint I used to play at on Sunday nights, once asked me if I'd lost a bet. I asked him what he meant and he pointed at my shirt and suggested I'd been forced to wear it as payment for a wager gone wrong. Why would anyone wear a shirt like that if they didn't have to was his implication. But that's how you learn. Ridicule and shame don't get much of a chance in these sensitive times, which makes learning about how to dress that much more difficult. Fashion is communication, plain and simple. I don't mean to sound as though I'm telling you something you don't already know, because any self-respecting man with even a little common sense knows exactly what he's saying and to whom he's saying it as he gets dressed in the morning. We all wear uniforms of sorts that allow us to be accepted. There's no shame in that. That we have the gumption to clean up and, as we stare into our closet, care about how we'll look shows we're trying to put our best foot forward."
For the record, Michael dresses very casually (as in sweats and T-shirts mostly); I'm not sure what foot he's putting forward, or what look he's going for, or from which group he's seeking acceptance. I wouldn't consider him a sartorial standout. He's focused on other things. I know he has gumption. I know he cares about how he looks. Sometimes. But none of that matters to me as much as my sense that he's upbeat; it's hard work but my impression is he likes high school. So far.
Michael is over a month into high school. So far, so good. It's challenging, demanding, tiring but I haven't noticed any kind of crushing of the spirit. On the contrary; Michael seems upbeat. That was overly dramatic – the phrase 'crushing of the spirit' I mean – but peer pressure and serious mischief and bullying and bullshit like that can cause big problems. My firstborn is a full-on high-schooler now; it seems appropriate to be vigilant and observant. If I am only mildly naive and clueless, that would be swell. We'll see. Looking at my own experience isn't helpful; I was hazed more in junior high – by certain classmates – than in high school. And I was hazed again in college, but predictably so, by fraternity brothers. In all cases, thankfully, it was never anything serious; I would even call it invigorating and healthy (in my personal journey) and useful in toughening me up. In junior high there was periodic antagonism between factions we might've labeled 'preppies' and 'skaters.' I've joked here about wearing turtlenecks under sweaters and rugby shirts and spraying Polo cologne like I was putting out a forest fire. That should make it clear which army I was in. But the card-carrying, standard-bearing dudes on the other side tried just as hard as we did, to project an image, to be cool and expressive; they paid attention to detail also, rolling jeans and sculpting hair, and looking back I'd say they 'won' if victory can be measured by courageousness and originality. All of this reminds me of something I read in Esquire magazine from Lyle Lovett: "The idea that we humans are good-natured, politically correct, nonjudgmental beings is pure fantasy. We are, at the very least, judgmental. My lessons in how to dress came from classmates in parochial school. The time-honored, behavior-modifying method of ridiculing and instilling a sense of shame were not spared at Trinity Lutheran School in Klein, Texas. "A sweater?" a boy said in a loud voice in front of the whole class as I walked into my classroom on an early October day and heard everyone laughing. In my defense, my desk was by an always-open window, and it was getting cooler, and it was a new sweater I was eager to wear – an off-white cable-knit V-neck. I loved that sweater. I didn't wear it again until it was freezing, three months later. In my early 20s, Searcy Bond, who owned a hamburger joint I used to play at on Sunday nights, once asked me if I'd lost a bet. I asked him what he meant and he pointed at my shirt and suggested I'd been forced to wear it as payment for a wager gone wrong. Why would anyone wear a shirt like that if they didn't have to was his implication. But that's how you learn. Ridicule and shame don't get much of a chance in these sensitive times, which makes learning about how to dress that much more difficult. Fashion is communication, plain and simple. I don't mean to sound as though I'm telling you something you don't already know, because any self-respecting man with even a little common sense knows exactly what he's saying and to whom he's saying it as he gets dressed in the morning. We all wear uniforms of sorts that allow us to be accepted. There's no shame in that. That we have the gumption to clean up and, as we stare into our closet, care about how we'll look shows we're trying to put our best foot forward."
For the record, Michael dresses very casually (as in sweats and T-shirts mostly); I'm not sure what foot he's putting forward, or what look he's going for, or from which group he's seeking acceptance. I wouldn't consider him a sartorial standout. He's focused on other things. I know he has gumption. I know he cares about how he looks. Sometimes. But none of that matters to me as much as my sense that he's upbeat; it's hard work but my impression is he likes high school. So far.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
#374
Sounds like homecoming went well. Lots of dancing. Grandpa Mike cut right to the chase, "Was there any slow dancing?" Michael said no, it was all hip-hop and jumping around, getting sweaty and thirsty. The lines to get water were really long, he said. Lines to get water? WHO CARES? I'm kidding. Sort of. At least he didn't give a one-word answer. But it seems strange; don't they promote at least some pairing-off, close-contact, partner dancing? You know, something that forces a bit of intimacy. Although, it's 2017; maybe that IS how they pair off and close-dance at high schools now? I know that's the scene at clubs in the city. Or it was. 15 years ago. Damn, I'm 15 years removed from 'clubs in the city' and 25 from 'dancing at high schools.' When did I get so out-of-touch? This calls for further investigation. Only because I'm out-of-touch.
Michael is playing soccer and getting better every game. It's fun to watch. On Sunday, he drove in the winning run in his fall baseball game. His cello concert was terrific, although he said they didn't sound good. I disagree. Although I like Grunge too. Michael has a refined ear. He likes blues, jazz (and hip-hop, apparently). I'm just happy he's involved and busy, playing, trying, competing; there's no better time in life than high school to do so many things. He has friends that play soccer and then rush to marching band practice and then, presumably, tackle their homework for an hour or two before bed. That's a long day. But they love it. And they get good grades. It's possible. It's awesome. I hope M 'n' m encourage their kids to be busy like they are. Megan has basketball tryouts this weekend. And she's rockin' the cello too. Just like her favorite person on the planet. Michael is far from lovey-dovey super-nice to his little sister. But he sets a good example and I'm grateful. My older sister Jenny set a great example for me – the best – and I'm grateful for that too. And my friends were busy with sports and activities and we pushed each other. How many times can I say I'm grateful?
The Cubs magic number is 11. I love that number. It's lucky. But I hope it goes to zero quickly.
Something I've wanted to document here for awhile: I fear I've shortchanged M 'n' m by not exposing them to a certain time-honored tradition.... I know my parents experienced it with their parents, as did Aunt Jenny and I with ours. Movies are made about it; think Chevy Chase and Wally World. I'm referring, of course, to the 'tradition' of the family driving vacation. M 'n' m have flown to Florida and Texas a few times. Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Wisconsin, Missouri, Michigan. They've been on a Caribbean cruise. But they have not – like I was as kid – been driven to Washington DC, Boston, Gettysburg, Niagara Falls, the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and – my favorite – Deadwood. So much impressionable history. The Freedom Trail, the Salem Witch Trials, Ford's Theater, Mount Vernon, the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, you name it. We even went to the baseball, basketball, and football Halls of Fame. But back to my favorite, from Robert M. Wright's book Dodge City, The Cowboy Capital:
"I also insist that Dodge City was not the worst place on earth and at last I have heard of a town which was equal to, if not worse than Dodge City, and, by way of comparison, I here quote a graphic picture taken from the Virginia City Chronicle, published in the '70's, of another bad town: 'There are saloons all over the place, and whisky four bits a drink. They put two barrels upon end, nail a board across for a bar and deal out. A miner who wants to treat pours some gold dust on the barrel head and says, "Set 'em up!" They never weigh the dust. Sometimes a man won't put down enough dust, but they never say a word, and if he's a little drunk and puts up ten or fifteen dollars' worth they never mention it. They have three faro banks running all the time. They don't use checks, for the boys, when they won a pile of checks they threw them all over the place and some of them were too drunk to handle them. So the checks got played out. Now a man puts a little gold dust on a dollar greenback. Two dollars worth of dust on a ten-dollar greenback goes for twenty dollars, and so on – don't weigh the dust at all but guess the amount. We have a daily newspaper – that is, sometimes it's daily, and then when the compositors get drunk it doesn't come out for several days. If a man wants gun wadding he goes and pays four bits for a newspaper. Whenever they start a new city government they print a lot of city ordinances, then there's a grand rush for the paper. Sometimes it comes out twice a week and sometimes twice a day. Every man in Deadwood carries about fourteen pounds of firearms hitched to his belt, and they never pass any words. The fellow that gets his gun out first is the best man and they lug off the other fellow's body. Our graveyard is a big institution and a growing one. Sometimes, however, the place is right quiet. I've known times when a man wasn't killed for twenty-four hours. Then again they'd lay out five or six a day. When a man gets too handy with his shooting irons and kills five or six, they think he isn't safe, and somebody pops him over to rid the place of him. They don't kill him for what he has done, but for what he's liable to do. I suppose that the average deaths amount to about one hundred a month.'"
Michael is playing soccer and getting better every game. It's fun to watch. On Sunday, he drove in the winning run in his fall baseball game. His cello concert was terrific, although he said they didn't sound good. I disagree. Although I like Grunge too. Michael has a refined ear. He likes blues, jazz (and hip-hop, apparently). I'm just happy he's involved and busy, playing, trying, competing; there's no better time in life than high school to do so many things. He has friends that play soccer and then rush to marching band practice and then, presumably, tackle their homework for an hour or two before bed. That's a long day. But they love it. And they get good grades. It's possible. It's awesome. I hope M 'n' m encourage their kids to be busy like they are. Megan has basketball tryouts this weekend. And she's rockin' the cello too. Just like her favorite person on the planet. Michael is far from lovey-dovey super-nice to his little sister. But he sets a good example and I'm grateful. My older sister Jenny set a great example for me – the best – and I'm grateful for that too. And my friends were busy with sports and activities and we pushed each other. How many times can I say I'm grateful?
The Cubs magic number is 11. I love that number. It's lucky. But I hope it goes to zero quickly.
Something I've wanted to document here for awhile: I fear I've shortchanged M 'n' m by not exposing them to a certain time-honored tradition.... I know my parents experienced it with their parents, as did Aunt Jenny and I with ours. Movies are made about it; think Chevy Chase and Wally World. I'm referring, of course, to the 'tradition' of the family driving vacation. M 'n' m have flown to Florida and Texas a few times. Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Wisconsin, Missouri, Michigan. They've been on a Caribbean cruise. But they have not – like I was as kid – been driven to Washington DC, Boston, Gettysburg, Niagara Falls, the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and – my favorite – Deadwood. So much impressionable history. The Freedom Trail, the Salem Witch Trials, Ford's Theater, Mount Vernon, the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, you name it. We even went to the baseball, basketball, and football Halls of Fame. But back to my favorite, from Robert M. Wright's book Dodge City, The Cowboy Capital:
"I also insist that Dodge City was not the worst place on earth and at last I have heard of a town which was equal to, if not worse than Dodge City, and, by way of comparison, I here quote a graphic picture taken from the Virginia City Chronicle, published in the '70's, of another bad town: 'There are saloons all over the place, and whisky four bits a drink. They put two barrels upon end, nail a board across for a bar and deal out. A miner who wants to treat pours some gold dust on the barrel head and says, "Set 'em up!" They never weigh the dust. Sometimes a man won't put down enough dust, but they never say a word, and if he's a little drunk and puts up ten or fifteen dollars' worth they never mention it. They have three faro banks running all the time. They don't use checks, for the boys, when they won a pile of checks they threw them all over the place and some of them were too drunk to handle them. So the checks got played out. Now a man puts a little gold dust on a dollar greenback. Two dollars worth of dust on a ten-dollar greenback goes for twenty dollars, and so on – don't weigh the dust at all but guess the amount. We have a daily newspaper – that is, sometimes it's daily, and then when the compositors get drunk it doesn't come out for several days. If a man wants gun wadding he goes and pays four bits for a newspaper. Whenever they start a new city government they print a lot of city ordinances, then there's a grand rush for the paper. Sometimes it comes out twice a week and sometimes twice a day. Every man in Deadwood carries about fourteen pounds of firearms hitched to his belt, and they never pass any words. The fellow that gets his gun out first is the best man and they lug off the other fellow's body. Our graveyard is a big institution and a growing one. Sometimes, however, the place is right quiet. I've known times when a man wasn't killed for twenty-four hours. Then again they'd lay out five or six a day. When a man gets too handy with his shooting irons and kills five or six, they think he isn't safe, and somebody pops him over to rid the place of him. They don't kill him for what he has done, but for what he's liable to do. I suppose that the average deaths amount to about one hundred a month.'"
Monday, September 18, 2017
Stuff About Things #4
"A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone."
— Tyrion Lannister
"Children always understand. They have open minds. They have built-in shit detectors."
— Madonna
"Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them."
— James Baldwin
"If you're offended easily... you're a bad resource allocator; it's a bad use of finite resources, which include your energy and the hours you're on this planet."
— Tim Ferriss
"I came along toward the tail end of a grand old tradition of manly self-destructiveness in American writing—Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Faulkner, O'Neill, Cheever, Carver, Tennessee Williams. And then of course there was Dylan Thomas, the Welshman. So when I determined at the age of 18 to become a writer, I accepted my obligation to smoke many packs of cigarettes a day and learn how to drink gin and whiskey in goodly amounts, and to shun exercise done for the sake of exercise. No running. Writers were not runners. It was too awkward to run and smoke at the same time. We sat, brooding, and lit up and refilled the glass. I was a healthy young man who enjoyed tennis and softball and basketball, but I made the leap from beer to bourbon, skipped the low-tar smokes in favor of Luckies, Camels, Pall Malls, and, when feeling flush, Gauloises. I drank a gallon of coffee a day, all because that's what writers did.... I was an English major at the University of Minnesota and I was very shy, which many people misinterpreted as intelligence. On the basis of that wrong impression I became the editor of the campus literary magazine. I hiked around campus... with a pack of smokes in my pocket. If you hadn't anything to say but wanted to appear thoughtful, you reached for the pack and shook a cigarette out.... Back then, a pack cost 35 cents and a drink was a dollar.... (Mr. Tate) chain-smoked in class, so we did too. The whole English department reeked of smoke and was proudly alcoholic—anyone who didn't do both was considered an interloper, possibly a Mormon. In Mr. Wright's humanities class, he stood at a lectern with an empty tuna fish can for an ashtray and chain-smoked through his lectures on Dickens and Whitman and Dickinson, which he delivered through a haze of hangover."
— Garrison Keillor
"You learn more from getting your butt kicked than from getting it kissed."
— Tom Hanks
"Over time, talent and hard work become indistinguishable."
— Gerard Butler
"When there's a hill to climb, waiting won't make it any smaller."
— anonymous
From Pacific Standard magazine: "As people learn to see their thoughts and symptoms as separate from themselves, there is an uncoupling of the pain stimulus from their emotional responses.... Everyone wrestles with unruly minds and emotions.... Improving impulse control contributes to an overall sense of psychological well-being.... Social psychologists have found that most people are happier and less anxious from their mid-50s onward."
"Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness."
— Edward Stanley
"Happiness, like so many things, is a choice. So many people don't choose it."
— Ryan Reynolds
"Sometimes people confuse nonaction with weakness, but letting anger hook you is true weakness."
— Alex von Bidder
From Men's Health magazine's "What Winners Know" lists: "Your retirement account isn't just in dollars and cents. It's in skills, interests, and relationships." ... "The bigger the group, the less interesting the ideas it will generate." ... "You often have to fight hardest for the ideas that make the most sense."
"My son James smiled and said, 'So they died of old age, then.' I smiled back and stared off into the woods. That had been my own prayer back in Vietnam. Dear Lord, let me die of old age. And let me die before my children do. Amen."
— Anthony Doer
"If you can't pray sincerely, offer your dry, hypocritical prayer, for God in his mercy accepts bad coin."
— Rumi
"I usually start out in a totally rote sort of way. But if I stick with it, there is a moment when I become intensely present in the prayer. It feels like plugging an electric cord into a socket. I can feel the energy change. There is total connectivity."
— Sally Kempton, Yoga Journal
"Just as smiling actually makes you more happy, doing manly things makes you more manly. And manliness is self-perpetuating, because every time you push yourself to try something difficult, you become less afraid of everything else."
— Joel Stein
From Pacific Standard magazine: "The cathartic benefits of reaching out for help are hardly a secret. As scientists have come to better understand the brain, they have documented the potentially catastrophic consequences for individuals, particularly men, who go it alone when confronted by profound emotional challenges."
"Ask the great athlete or the concert pianist of the successful actor if they arrive at the place where they need no further practice. They will tell you that the higher you climb in proficiency and public acceptance, the greater the need for practice."
— Eric Butterworth
"Let food be your medicine."
— Hippocrates
"Iron rusts from disuse; stagnant water loses its purity..."
— Leonardo da Vinci
"It is not enough to be busy; so are the ants."
— Henry David Thoreau
"The constant question you should be asking yourself is, 'Will this make me stronger?'"
— Steven Lamm, MD
"I have always loved the quote from John F. Kennedy: 'When written in Chinese, the word crisis is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.' Looking back on my life, I can see that I have never had a crisis that didn't make me stronger. And here was all that I loved before me (on Everest): great risk, but also great opportunity."
— Bear Grylls, Mud, Sweat, and Tears
"While it is hard enough to inoculate the integrity of the word 'friend' against today's epidemic of misuse and overuse, it can be even harder to calibrate our expectations of those who have earned the benediction of the title - the chosen few we have admitted into the innermost chambers of the heart and entrusted with going that hard way with us. 'Ponder for a long time whether you shall admit a given person to your friendship,' Seneca counseled in contemplating true and false friendship, 'but when you have decided to admit him, welcome him with all your heart and soul.' Two millennia later, the question of whom to welcome and to what extent remains one of the most delicate discernments with which life tasks us."
— Maria Popova, brainpickings.org, I really hope M 'n' m have great friends, now and always; it enriches life and we're learning it also lengthens life (see all the studies linking longevity not with exercise or diet or bad-habit-cessation, but with an active, healthy social life)
— Tyrion Lannister
"Children always understand. They have open minds. They have built-in shit detectors."
— Madonna
"Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them."
— James Baldwin
"If you're offended easily... you're a bad resource allocator; it's a bad use of finite resources, which include your energy and the hours you're on this planet."
— Tim Ferriss
"I came along toward the tail end of a grand old tradition of manly self-destructiveness in American writing—Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Faulkner, O'Neill, Cheever, Carver, Tennessee Williams. And then of course there was Dylan Thomas, the Welshman. So when I determined at the age of 18 to become a writer, I accepted my obligation to smoke many packs of cigarettes a day and learn how to drink gin and whiskey in goodly amounts, and to shun exercise done for the sake of exercise. No running. Writers were not runners. It was too awkward to run and smoke at the same time. We sat, brooding, and lit up and refilled the glass. I was a healthy young man who enjoyed tennis and softball and basketball, but I made the leap from beer to bourbon, skipped the low-tar smokes in favor of Luckies, Camels, Pall Malls, and, when feeling flush, Gauloises. I drank a gallon of coffee a day, all because that's what writers did.... I was an English major at the University of Minnesota and I was very shy, which many people misinterpreted as intelligence. On the basis of that wrong impression I became the editor of the campus literary magazine. I hiked around campus... with a pack of smokes in my pocket. If you hadn't anything to say but wanted to appear thoughtful, you reached for the pack and shook a cigarette out.... Back then, a pack cost 35 cents and a drink was a dollar.... (Mr. Tate) chain-smoked in class, so we did too. The whole English department reeked of smoke and was proudly alcoholic—anyone who didn't do both was considered an interloper, possibly a Mormon. In Mr. Wright's humanities class, he stood at a lectern with an empty tuna fish can for an ashtray and chain-smoked through his lectures on Dickens and Whitman and Dickinson, which he delivered through a haze of hangover."
— Garrison Keillor
"You learn more from getting your butt kicked than from getting it kissed."
— Tom Hanks
"Over time, talent and hard work become indistinguishable."
— Gerard Butler
"When there's a hill to climb, waiting won't make it any smaller."
— anonymous
From Pacific Standard magazine: "As people learn to see their thoughts and symptoms as separate from themselves, there is an uncoupling of the pain stimulus from their emotional responses.... Everyone wrestles with unruly minds and emotions.... Improving impulse control contributes to an overall sense of psychological well-being.... Social psychologists have found that most people are happier and less anxious from their mid-50s onward."
"Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness."
— Edward Stanley
"Happiness, like so many things, is a choice. So many people don't choose it."
— Ryan Reynolds
"Sometimes people confuse nonaction with weakness, but letting anger hook you is true weakness."
— Alex von Bidder
From Men's Health magazine's "What Winners Know" lists: "Your retirement account isn't just in dollars and cents. It's in skills, interests, and relationships." ... "The bigger the group, the less interesting the ideas it will generate." ... "You often have to fight hardest for the ideas that make the most sense."
"My son James smiled and said, 'So they died of old age, then.' I smiled back and stared off into the woods. That had been my own prayer back in Vietnam. Dear Lord, let me die of old age. And let me die before my children do. Amen."
— Anthony Doer
"If you can't pray sincerely, offer your dry, hypocritical prayer, for God in his mercy accepts bad coin."
— Rumi
"I usually start out in a totally rote sort of way. But if I stick with it, there is a moment when I become intensely present in the prayer. It feels like plugging an electric cord into a socket. I can feel the energy change. There is total connectivity."
— Sally Kempton, Yoga Journal
"Just as smiling actually makes you more happy, doing manly things makes you more manly. And manliness is self-perpetuating, because every time you push yourself to try something difficult, you become less afraid of everything else."
— Joel Stein
From Pacific Standard magazine: "The cathartic benefits of reaching out for help are hardly a secret. As scientists have come to better understand the brain, they have documented the potentially catastrophic consequences for individuals, particularly men, who go it alone when confronted by profound emotional challenges."
"Ask the great athlete or the concert pianist of the successful actor if they arrive at the place where they need no further practice. They will tell you that the higher you climb in proficiency and public acceptance, the greater the need for practice."
— Eric Butterworth
"Let food be your medicine."
— Hippocrates
"Iron rusts from disuse; stagnant water loses its purity..."
— Leonardo da Vinci
"It is not enough to be busy; so are the ants."
— Henry David Thoreau
"The constant question you should be asking yourself is, 'Will this make me stronger?'"
— Steven Lamm, MD
"I have always loved the quote from John F. Kennedy: 'When written in Chinese, the word crisis is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.' Looking back on my life, I can see that I have never had a crisis that didn't make me stronger. And here was all that I loved before me (on Everest): great risk, but also great opportunity."
— Bear Grylls, Mud, Sweat, and Tears
"While it is hard enough to inoculate the integrity of the word 'friend' against today's epidemic of misuse and overuse, it can be even harder to calibrate our expectations of those who have earned the benediction of the title - the chosen few we have admitted into the innermost chambers of the heart and entrusted with going that hard way with us. 'Ponder for a long time whether you shall admit a given person to your friendship,' Seneca counseled in contemplating true and false friendship, 'but when you have decided to admit him, welcome him with all your heart and soul.' Two millennia later, the question of whom to welcome and to what extent remains one of the most delicate discernments with which life tasks us."
— Maria Popova, brainpickings.org, I really hope M 'n' m have great friends, now and always; it enriches life and we're learning it also lengthens life (see all the studies linking longevity not with exercise or diet or bad-habit-cessation, but with an active, healthy social life)
Saturday, September 16, 2017
#373
Occasionally, when Jenny and I were kids, and Dad would say or buy or do something silly, something a little crazy, and we would laugh and stare and be interested and excited and give exactly the response fathers love, Mom would tell us, "Don't encourage him." She would say it semi-seriously, because she loved his ideas and humor and enthusiasm also. But, indeed, fathers do goofy, funny, unusual things sometimes to entertain and energize their families, and if you are one, a father, and it's been awhile since you earned yourself a "Don't encourage him," then maybe it's time to stir things up. I sometimes insist on word games, or question games, at the dinner table. Or I randomly bust out a dance move (that I butcher) and block the TV. Or I impersonate someone or sing very badly or make wild suggestions about things we should do, try, learn, whatever. In these moments, I hear groans and see eyes rolling and feel scorn, but the trick is to win a supporter or two also and then, if you're lucky, you hear it: "Don't encourage him." Bingo. You know you're not a boring dad.
Friday, September 15, 2017
#372
I let Megan have ice cream for breakfast. I am a shitty father. But it's Saturday, and she's helping me paint. Although that feels like another favor and acquiescence; she was begging for a brush. I decided she would be helpful and committed and not too messy. And she has been. She didn't quit the minute it became more work than novel fun. We're a good team. Of course, we aren't on scaffolds doing the Sistine Chapel; we're doing the crappy, '70s-style-wood-paneled stairwell down to our basement. We're dripping onto the stairs, but we'll paint those too. The blunder to avoid is stepping on the drops and tracking them onto carpet. So far, we haven't ruined anything. Life is good. Though I wonder: Should I hold myself to a higher standard – in painting, parenting, and everything else – than 'just don't ruin anything?' That's a low bar. But not always an easy one.
I am halfway through a book called The Glass Castle. Speaking of fathering and ruining kids – or sadly, painfully strengthening them – it's quite a story. So far. I'm inclined to say I have some of the good qualities of the dad in the book (creativity, enthusiasm, and – like us all I assume – a powerful love for his children) without suffering his extreme flaws (alcoholism, 'visits to the Green Lantern,' and a powerful restlessness that precludes any familial stability). And yet, how can I compare one father to another? I would say less, and not more, is agreed upon and cut-and-dried when it comes to best practices for fathers. And I'd say it's too complex for clear, indisputable conclusions when comparing this father to that one, or this culture to that one, or this philosophy to that one. And certainly we can't give all the credit (for the development of remarkable people) to the parents of those people, and none to the individuals themselves... just as we can't give anyone all of the blame. How's that for a parental disclaimer? Ha! When I think of incredible people, I certainly think their upbringing plays a part, but so does their very own heart and soul and energy and resilience and work ethic and intellect and convictions and love and optimism and relationships and kindness and so on and so forth.
Michael is off to homecoming this weekend. The game, the dance, the pre- and post-parties, the fun, the drama, etcetera etcetera. Any questions I ask about any of it will get a one-word answer. 'Good.' 'Alright.' 'Okay.' 'Fine.' Then based on his tone and body language (also, if needed, hearsay, comments from other parents, and whatever his talkative friends let slip) I'll learn a little more and decide how much to pry. I just hope he has a blast. A safe and healthy one. That's all. These should be good times, even if imperfect.
My days of writing about my son should probably end. But that's sad and I don't want it to end, and I'm selfish when it comes to my cathartic habit here, so maybe I'll keep at it, confusingly, vaguely, lovingly, with a kind of false distance to allow for awkward deflection or disavowal if necessary.
"My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness."
— Dalai Lama
I am halfway through a book called The Glass Castle. Speaking of fathering and ruining kids – or sadly, painfully strengthening them – it's quite a story. So far. I'm inclined to say I have some of the good qualities of the dad in the book (creativity, enthusiasm, and – like us all I assume – a powerful love for his children) without suffering his extreme flaws (alcoholism, 'visits to the Green Lantern,' and a powerful restlessness that precludes any familial stability). And yet, how can I compare one father to another? I would say less, and not more, is agreed upon and cut-and-dried when it comes to best practices for fathers. And I'd say it's too complex for clear, indisputable conclusions when comparing this father to that one, or this culture to that one, or this philosophy to that one. And certainly we can't give all the credit (for the development of remarkable people) to the parents of those people, and none to the individuals themselves... just as we can't give anyone all of the blame. How's that for a parental disclaimer? Ha! When I think of incredible people, I certainly think their upbringing plays a part, but so does their very own heart and soul and energy and resilience and work ethic and intellect and convictions and love and optimism and relationships and kindness and so on and so forth.
Michael is off to homecoming this weekend. The game, the dance, the pre- and post-parties, the fun, the drama, etcetera etcetera. Any questions I ask about any of it will get a one-word answer. 'Good.' 'Alright.' 'Okay.' 'Fine.' Then based on his tone and body language (also, if needed, hearsay, comments from other parents, and whatever his talkative friends let slip) I'll learn a little more and decide how much to pry. I just hope he has a blast. A safe and healthy one. That's all. These should be good times, even if imperfect.
My days of writing about my son should probably end. But that's sad and I don't want it to end, and I'm selfish when it comes to my cathartic habit here, so maybe I'll keep at it, confusingly, vaguely, lovingly, with a kind of false distance to allow for awkward deflection or disavowal if necessary.
"My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness."
— Dalai Lama
My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Dalai Lama
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama108820.html
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama108820.html
My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Dalai Lama
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama108820.htm
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama108820.htm
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