The nice thing about a blog...

... with bits about parenting, is that material is pretty ubiquitous in everyday life. More from Bear Grylls:

"I think the best way to parent is by example."
     — Bear Grylls

He said this in an interview before explaining a pic of himself doing pushups on a frozen lake naked (to generate bodily warmth while his clothes were shed and drying). And then a chat about how he skinned a dead, rotten seal to make a wetsuit (a stinking, bloody wetsuit). Okay. That's how my words and actions line up too sometimes.

#362

Awesome stuff. There's a lot of awesome stuff goin' on in the world. There's a lot of awesome stuff that went on before us. Awesome stuff. Funny, I think I wrote a poem. A bad one, but I tell M 'n' m there are no bad poems, there are words, art, creative expression, catharsis. Use them, and use more of your hours on the good. There's a lot of pain and tragedy too, past and present, and we shouldn't be ostriches or disrespect that, but I remind myself, sometimes, what Chicago-guy Billy Corgan said:

"The world is a vampire."

     — The Smashing Pumpkins

So stay in the sun. Maybe keep close a symbol of inspiration and blessedness to you? (You know, the cross, holy water thing....)

The 24-hour news cycle is a tyrant. Scary, shocking, sensational. I try not to be its peasant.

The world can be tough and dangerous. But we have art. And it doesn't have to be pretty.

"And yet, paradoxically, in the very act of exposing the abiding instability of existence, art moors us to a sense of the eternal and becalms our momentary tumults against the raging ocean that has always washed, and will always wash, the shoreline of the human spirit."

     — Maria Popova

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.

One of the reasons I scribble here...

"The idea muscle is like any other muscle: if you don’t use it, you lose it. Leg muscles atrophy after just two weeks of non-use. You actually need physical therapy to walk again. And yet, how often do we really use our creativity? Come up with ideas. Write down ten ideas a day. Does that mean you use them? No! It’s just practice. Throw them out. But I guarantee within six months you will be an idea machine." — James Altucher, a hedge fund manager, entrepreneur, bestselling author, venture capitalist and podcaster, founder or cofounder of more than 20 companies (and 17 times he's failed at company-building, he says), publisher of eleven books, and frequent contributor to popular publications.

After more than a decade I may not be an idea machine, but I write things, inelegant, overwritten, nonsensical this-or-thats perhaps, but about my favorite subjects (M 'n' m) who I love powerfully – so powerfully I can selfishly harness the energy to force into exercise this supposed idea/creativity muscle. I do, in fact, fear it will atrophy. I fear tight spaces too, and panic attacks, and many things, but my worry that everything can wither isn't unreasonable; technically everything does, my loved ones, your loved ones, even institutions and ideas themselves go through summers and winters, if history is evidence. But maybe that's where God comes in. And life is good and I'm grateful, especially for M 'n' m.

No wonder the Cubs signed this guy

M 'n' m's great grandpa was an impressive pitcher and catcher from central Illinois. He threw no-hitters, pitched 10-inning shutouts, you name it. He was a helluva backstop too. The Cubs signed him to a contract but he joined the Army and went to the Korean War instead. They are the greatest generation; there's simply no doubt about it.

Michael graduates from 8th grade today

So it's not high school, but it feels like a time to reflect. So I'm reflecting. Wow, elementary and junior high, done. Eight grades – ten including preschool and kindergarten – kaput, finito, history. Man it flew by. Only four years – high school – left? If this is a hockey game we're in the 3rd period already. Holy shit! Are we winning? Fuck, I don't know how to skate!

If it bleeds, we can kill it...

The first intense movie I watched with my dad – rated R for violence, F-words, jokes I didn't fully understand yet – was Schwarzenegger's 1987 film called Predator. I was a little younger than Michael and it blew me away. (Back then we rented movies as VHS tapes from storefronts with names like 'Dollar Video' that sometimes had an adult section behind a curtain. The good ol' days.) In Predator, Arnold's best-in-the-world team of pro soldiers is wiped out by an unbeatable enemy. Or so it seems. The bad-guy killing machine is an ugly mo-fo of an alien shaped, oddly enough, like a big human. But then there's Arnold. Naturally, Ahhnold goes native, all-in, all-warrior to face the thing, head-on, do-or-die, despite the odds, camouflaging himself in mud (but not enough to hide his overdeveloped muscles), and then, in his warpaint, he whips up a bow, arrows, spears, rope, and booby traps with a knife (Rambo was good at that shit, too). I was so engrossed in the film I wouldn't have noticed if a swimsuit model walked by, or the cutest girl in school (a tossup then, as I recall, between Gina and Shane). What's my point? Do I need one? Why can't I just babble about a movie? Actually, my point is this: I've listed mantras here before, motivational bits, and there's one from Predator I haven't included because it's cheesy, but I gotta tell ya... it's oh-so-good: "If it bleeds, we can kill it." I just can't deny this has an alternative meaning to me and a place in my list of phrases that fire me up. Arnold says this after his team fires hundreds of rounds at the alien, which they can't see because it's cloaked and invisible – they are technologically outmatched for sure – so they don't even know what they're up against, it keeps picking them off and vanishing, but they find a florescent substance on a leaf that can only be their enemy's blood. This is when Arnold says, in his glorious accent: "If it bleeds, we can kill it." Awesome. There ya go. Any sign, any hint of headway, progress, don't give up. Keep going. If you can nick it, cut it, chip away at it, you can finish it. Press on. Back to basics, guts, will. Find a way. Get it done. Because Arnold says so.

The movie also introduced me to a favorite song, Long Tall Sally by Little Richard.

More and more, Michael is acting like a teenager...

... which is expected, naturally, and mostly a relief, given the way I see the world, myself, and how the best and not-so-best among us navigate youth. It's a minefield and a gold mine, both. It's fucking exciting, eye-opening, full of blessings and trials, fun and discomfort. I know my opinions are just that, 'opinions' and, even more disqualifying, 'my' opinions, but I offer them nonetheless. I want M 'n' m to act exactly like teenagers when it's time. I believe a certain aloofness, and willingness to strut and defend oneself and be dismissive of certain things (peer pressure and pestering peers and pestering fears, to name a few) will serve them well. I believe I lacked any kind of real rebelliousness, and now look at me (that there was not a statement of self-flattery by the way, more like a confession of self-mediocrity). So, a little attitude can be helpful. Quite often in fact. Life takes toughness. Mental fortitude, stubbornness, attitude, okay then, just don't give ME any attitude Michael, or Megan, because I'm your father, and I don't take any shit. And if that's not laughable, I don't know what is. I'm not a stern enough father – I'm lacking 'attitude' perhaps! – but thankfully, so far, they're good kids. For that, and for everything else they are, I'm grateful.

A favorite quote...

... although I find it a bit sad and cynical, it's true nonetheless. And from a holy source:

"The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness."
     — Annie Savoy, Bull Durham

... but someone – Socrates? – also said, "The unexamined life is not worth living," and I tend to agree with that, as well. What would I do if I wasn't constantly ruminating? Be more productive and happy, you say? Oh.

More old bits, part 2

It's interesting to read stuff I wrote here years ago, much of it eager and stupid, but I remember the enthusiasm; I still feel it, am grateful for it, so, uh, I got that goin' for me. Here's more old stuff:

I told the kids I was off to meet Papa Mike and friends – and their dogs! – to hunt pheasants. (6-year-old) Megan asked if she could come. I told her she was too young for guns. She said, “Oh, I’ll hunt with a bow and arrow then."

The other day I heard, “Daddy is always happy.” It was (6-year-old) Megan’s sweet voice in the backseat, and she said it again, pointing out a thing to her brother, as she often does, “Daddy is always happy, Michael.” One of my proudest moments as a father

(8-year-old) Michael wants a gecko for Christmas, a real lizard. I think I’ll put this one on Santa while I still can. On Christmas morning: "Hmm, Legos but no gecko? Sorry, Bud, Santa’s gettin’ old, his memory’s probably shot. And he's probably depressed; you know, depression's more prevalent in northern latitudes..."

(9-year-old) Michael’s been taking an archery class offered by the park district. It takes place in a school gym. A bunch of kids with longbows, nice ones, powerful, I figured nothing was safe: the basketball hoop, scoreboard, conference pennants, clock, storeroom door, lights overhead; all of it behind or above the targets. But so far, no inadvertent damage.

(7-year-old) Megan likes broccoli but she’s picky about its freshness and greenness; it must be perfect. A single decaying floret and, "There's a brown spot here," she says, squinting, glaring at the poor vegetable. "It's rotten," she adds, and I know a door has slammed in her head. It's a pinhead of discoloration. I tell her it's nothing to worry about; it's rinsed, steamed, safe as can be, and tastes the same. But none of that matters now; she's a brick wall. I hope Meg scrutinizes men this way. If she can detect – or even imagine – the tiniest flaw, it's rotten! All rotten!

On the way to a birthday party, (6-year-old) Megan said, "Dad, you don't have to stay at this party with me. I'm a big girl now. I don't need daddies anymore." My heart thought about shattering, then it smiled. It would be swell if Megan always needs me, even just a little, forever.

I have been laminating scraps of paper that I've collected over the years. They are handwritten notes that say things like, "I WOT DODDY RIT NOW, I LOVE MI DADDY." That one's from little Megan and it's more valuable to me than anything else I have on paper, except similar notes from Michael and my grandfather's WWII letters.

(I wrote this five years ago; who knew he'd be President) Birthdays come and go, things fossilize, glaciers move, Donald Trump's hair would even crack or unravel! in the time it takes my children to tie their shoes... when we're in a hurry to go somewhere.

Megan is a crumb factory. The most prolific and industrious of its kind.

I saw this quote recently: "Parenthood immediately makes you a hypocrite."

I thought about Grandpa Byard over the holidays; he was missed, of course. (I wrote this after Christmas 2012.) Michael’s baseball team had a game on the Saturday morning I awoke to the sad news; there was a voicemail from my mom that she couldn’t finish. I am not exaggerating when I say Michael began to hit the baseball during that game, that Saturday, consistently, confidently; he suddenly became a tough out. Now he's comfortable and fluid at the plate; he fights and fouls off tough pitches and crushes good ones. He has a nice swing and sees the ball well. Just stating the facts here. Grandpa Byard signed a contract with the Cubs and played in their farm system before he served in the Korean War. He would be pleased that they finally won a World Series.

Men's Journal magazine profiled the world's 25 most adventurous men...

... and a few things surfaced about parenthood and fatherhood. And Mars.

Jimmy Chin: Yeah, my parents had a fairly fixed view of what I'd be: lawyer, doctor, professor. They had me playing the violin at three, swimming competitively, and starting martial arts at 5. But I also had that rebel phase – well, not phase, 'cause I'm still in it – where I got expelled from my boarding school.... I had a problem with authority. My dad was so strict that he was the only person that I feared, so everybody else was like a joke.

Richard Branson: I think sometimes when you come from a conservative background you want to rebel a little. I dropped out of school at 15 and learned early in life that saying yes was a lot more fun than saying no.... I was damned if I was going to sit around watching television...

Ben Stookesberry: My father was really good at reverse psychology: He'd tell me I couldn't do something to give me a shove. He'd been hoisted into the family lumber business and had that dream that I'd follow my passion in some way. He passed away in a car accident when I was 21, but the day before we lost him, he got to watch me on the river. I remember how happy he was...

Jimmy Chin (when asked how his parents took it when he announced, after college, he intended to live out of his car and climb Yosemite): Well, they stopped speaking to me for a while, so not great. I'd told them it was for a year, to get it out of my system. But then one year turned to two, which turned to three or four, and I was doing expeditions in the Himalayas and, well, you know, there went law school. (But his mother got over it, apparently.) So we were in the Karakoram Mountains, on these walls that hadn't been climbed because it was a war zone and no one had gotten access. We were sending back daily dispatches via satellite phone when I took a big fall, and my teammates were like, great, let's post that! Two days later, we're about to summit and we see this team of soldiers at the base of the wall. We're all freaking out – are they here to arrest us? – till one of them goes: "Jimmy Chin... your mother wants to know if you're okay?!" Somehow, she'd gotten hold of the brigadier general and demanded they send a team to check on me. It was the most mortifying moment of my life.

Jimmy Chin: We've evolved not to just sit and let our fingers do all the work. We're programmed to do certain very physical things, and if we don't do them, we get depressed and sick. If you don't get in the sun, and feel the bite of cold, you start to dull or fucking die. Steel sharpens steel, and I'll never forget it. That's something my dad taught me, and I'll teach my kids.

Richard Branson: Ten years ago, Larry Page and I posted an April Fool's Day ad asking for volunteers for a one-way mission to Mars. Within four hours, 10,000 people signed up! Needless to say, we had to come clean about it being a joke, and I can tell you, a lot of those people were sorely disappointed. But one day in the not-too-distant future, there will be a one-way journey to Mars, and that will be the ultimate adventure.

Some old excerpts (again)...

I put M 'n' m in a bath together. Things didn't go well. (6-year-old) Michael said, "Megan kicked my penis and that is really terrible for my penis." True. It's also true that a pronoun can be used to avoid repeating a noun.

M ‘n’ m and I were eating at a diner and some college-age women walked in. Excited by her new membership, (6-year-old) Megan said, “I wonder if those girls are in Girl Scouts, Dad!”

Whenever (3-year-old) Megan sees baseball or football or any sport whatsoever on TV, she says, “Look, Daddy, the Cubs!”

(4-year-old) Megan still puts her shoes on the wrong feet. It should be 50/50, right? As in, half the time she gets it right, half the time wrong? No. We’re not even close to that.

(7-year-old) Michael asked me, “Do Jedi take baths or showers?”

I told (5-year-old) Megan that Grandma and Papa picked out a new puppy. A little girl. Megan liked that! She did NOT, however, like it when I mentioned the puppy has to stay with her mommy at the breeder for another month. Megan said, “A month?! How many minutes is that, Daddy?”

(5-year-old Megan) decided to teach me about ‘the birds and the bees.’ She said, “Daddy, did you know girls have a special pipe?” I was confused and said, “Pipe?” She said, “Yes, girls have a pipe in their tummy, it’s a special pipe for babies. Mommy has one, and I have a little one.” Not ready for this discussion yet...

(5-year-old Megan) learned the Hail Mary prayer. She recited it correctly except for, “Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for the scissors.” Scissors, sinners, nearly the same...

When Michael gives (5-year-old) Megan a command like, “Pick up your mess, Megan,” or “You need a jacket, Megan,” she says, “You know Michael, you’re not the daddy!” That’s right, Honey-Bunny! Good girl! I’m the daddy!!

(From 2010) I'm off to China again for work. The kids will visit Houston while I’m gone. “Megan asked me, “Do we go past China to get to Houston?” No Lovebug, but I wish.

We play T-ball in the front yard. Of course only the kids hit. Finally, Michael said, “We should let Daddy hit too.” Megan said, “Oh no, Daddy will hit it all the way to Africa.”

I took Megan to school and must’ve deviated from the usual route. She said, “Daddy, you’re going the wrong way.” I said, “Okay My Love, can you show me how to get to your school?” She said, “Yes, I will show you when I see it.”

(6-year-old Megan) read to me last night. "Go, Dog. Go!" was the book. Megan said, "It's pretty long, Dad, but I can read it to you fast if you want."

We were watching the Cubs and Meggie said, "Dad, the baseball players spit on their court. It's crazy, right? You can't spit on your court!"

Megan said, "Dad, did you know a long, long time ago in Egypt, they didn't wear underpants? I said, "Really, that's interesting, how do you know that?" Megan said, "I saw it at the museum, there was a picture of an Egypt man, and he was naked." 

From the top of the Sears Tower looking down at massive, busy Chicago, (7-year-old) Michael said, “I can’t believe God has this all under control.”

I started the shower for (8-year-old) Michael. He said, “I don’t wanna take a shower.” I said, “Five minutes ago I asked you, and you said you’d shower instead of bathe today.” Michael said, “Well, do you ever answer a question without thinking?” “Yes,” I admitted. “Well I do too,” he said.

(7-year-old) Michael said, “For some reason, I have an effect on girls. I don’t know what it is.”

(6-year-old) Michael asked me, “Daddy, does looking at cake make you want to eat cake?” Deep, Michael. Very deep.

(From 2011) The other day I heard, “Daddy is always happy.” It was Megan’s sweet voice in the backseat and she said it again, just pointing out a thing to her brother like she often does, “Daddy is always happy, Michael.” One of my proudest moments as a father….

#354

The most professionally successful person I know is also the most impulsive. He's a dynamo, a titan, whatever the trendy word is, but his impulsivity is titanic also. A prominent person in the lives of M 'n' m, I thought of him when I read this quote from Baltasar Gracian: "Let the first impulse pass. Wait for the second." ... And yet, how can I suggest impulsivity is something – for M 'n' m, I mean – that needs restraining or softening in every sense? The guy I'm referring to always compulsively worked his butt off, starting off every day knocking out tasks, checking things off his many professional and personal to-do lists, etcetera etcetera. He can be a force. Grandma is a workhorse too – uh-oh, have I given it away? – and she's not impulsive at all, so that muddies up the clear answer I was searching for in my little philosophical dissection here. And there's a pretty massive difference between teenagers and adults to consider. One group can act like a racecar without a driver, but the other, arguably, always acts like that. I guess this is the point where I say: if life was cut and dry and neat, it wouldn't be life at all. Just teach your kids to be impulsive about the right things. Easy, right? Whatever the case, I don't wish to entirely dispossess M 'n' m of any particular impulsivities. Yet.

From the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry: "Many parents do not understand why their teenagers occasionally behave in an impulsive, irrational, or dangerous way. At times, it seems like teens don't think things through or fully consider the consequences of their actions. Adolescents differ from adults in the way they behave, solve problems, and make decisions. There is a biological explanation for this difference. Studies have shown that brains continue to mature and develop throughout childhood and adolescence and well into early adulthood. Scientists have identified a specific region of the brain called the amygdala that is responsible for immediate reactions including fear and aggressive behavior. This region develops early. However, the frontal cortex, the area of the brain that controls reasoning and helps us think before we act, develops later. This part of the brain is still changing and maturing well into adulthood.... Pictures of the brain in action show that adolescents' brains work differently than adults when they make decisions or solve problems. Their actions are guided more by the emotional and reactive amygdala and less by the thoughtful, logical frontal cortex. Research has also shown that exposure to drugs and alcohol during the teen years can change or delay these developments."

Great, they had to go and mention drugs and alcohol, on top of the rest. Life isn't cut and dry and it's full of wildcards.

Let's talk about good things....When I reflect and mine for great childhood memories with my parents – excepting those at school or only with friends – there are many, but it's interesting to see what commonly surfaces. And this, in turn, possibly reminds me what things M 'n' m may fondly recall. The 'childhood' ship has almost sailed for Michael; it will be unmoored very soon, but hopefully not rudderless, or frontal-cortex-less, or fond-memory-less. Here are some experiences and memories from my youth that I'm grateful for (grateful to my parents): Washington DC, Boston, the Badlands, Hawaii, San Antonio, lots of California, lots of Florida, Disney, every sports hall of fame, Niagara Falls, Summit County (Colorado), Mount Rushmore, the No. 10 Saloon, the Old North Bridge, Gettysburg, Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Salem (Mass. – that freaked me out a little but what a lesson), Ford's Theatre, Kennedy Space Center, every major attraction in the cities I mentioned, and on and on. Holidays were fantastic, and the support in school and sports. M 'n' m have that for sure. I wouldn't give myself a bad grade overall. I'll be able to paint a wall with my coaching plaques someday. But that is selfish; I enjoy coaching so much I see it as a gift from M 'n' m, not the other way around. But they owe me, so it all works out in the end...

And more good things, books.... there are three books that I've read, in my 40 plus years, that are so good I reread them backwards; well, not quite, but I pick them up, sniff and sigh happily, and crack them open anywhere, thumbing upstream or down, re-enjoying the bits I've underlined, starred, bracketed, and accidentally darkened with delicious food residue like chip-cheese and grease. They're just awesome stories, and the writing is like the richest thing you've ever eaten; they are: A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin, City of Thieves by David Benioff, and Gentleman of the Road by Michael Chabon. I wonder what M 'n' m's 'three' will be in about twenty years?

#353

One the heels of mentioning love, let's talk about vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable; might as well embrace it. Pretty sure M 'n' m will have their hearts kicked around; happens to the best of us. Pretty sure M 'n' m will be vulnerable to mockery, needling, discomfort, insecurity, and minor embarrassment in social situations once in a while, especially involving anyone they're crushing on – is the term 'crush' even used in this century? – and I hope they handle it well, and still act and do and express (in all the ways that are fun, healthy, and legal I mean) as reward for not avoiding vulnerability. I like what Brendon Burchard says (I'm paraphrasing): "I realize fear and doubt aren't going to serve me in social situations.... and I choose to say, okay, I don't know how this will go, but I'm confident if I engage and talk, things will go fine, I might stick my foot in my mouth, say stupid things, but if they give me another three minutes, I'll turn it around.... Emotional health comes from vulnerability and vulnerability has gotten this weird rap in the world because a lot of people, I think, have been teaching it in a poor way.... Real vulnerability is voice.... Does the world know what you think? Do your friends and family know who you really are, and what you really feel, and what you're really after?"

Some people – Megan? – have zero hesitancy, and no filter or inhibitions, about expressing discontents, and God knows the world, myself included, is really good at oversharing these days, but I believe the vulnerability piece is about genuineness, authenticity, and the well-being that comes with finding and being true to yourself, and not being afraid to express the truths that you subscribe to, that inspire you, that inform the way you show up everyday to live. And love. It is okay to love things, and love other people. It's not just okay, it's good. Or, as the musician Ryan Adams says, “There is nothing wrong with loving the crap out of everything. Negative people find their walls. So never apologize for your enthusiasm. Never. Ever. Never.” Amen, brother.

Sharing – whether it's your writing, music, art, or any other hobby, love, or work – has a little to do with vulnerability. But it's also a lot about catharsis, and health, and sanity, and joy.

This from Sheryl Strayed, author of the book Wild and also famous for the terrific phrase, given in her advice column, "Write like a mother#^@%*&." Specifically, when asked by a woman named Elissa Bassist,“How does a woman get up and become the writer she wishes she’d be?” Strayed replied: “Writing is hard for every last one of us – straight white men included. Coal mining is harder. Do you think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig. You need to do the same.... So write, Elissa Bassist. Not like a girl. Not like a boy. Write like a motherfucker.”

"I would say the most cathartic thing in my life, right alongside motherhood, has been writing." — Cheryl Strayed

#352

Couple comments on young love. Megan, in particular, has unwittingly revealed special interests in special someones before; lately, she insists on riding the school bus – even if a drop-off or pick-up by parent is available – and we think it's about a boy. Oh brother. I had my first crushes on girls named Desiree and Ashley – I'm sure, thankfully, they don't read this – and I remember the feelings as not silly or insignificant (at the time, when I was a little younger than Meg). I wanted badly to impress. Oh brother. Yeah, again. Oh, Megan's little heart. I'm no expert on love – never was, never will be – but mercifully I see in plenty of other decent folks what I see in myself, a sort of effortful but scuffling amateurism, when it comes to reading and loving your person expertly, for their optimal happiness and yours.

expert
noun 
1. one with the special skill or knowledge representing mastery of a particular subject

mastery
noun
1. command or grasp, as of a subject
2. the upper hand in a contest or competition, superiority

That settles that. So M 'n' m are lucky to be at the starting line. It's fun; it's painful; it's novel, eventful, and more human than almost anything else, the rush and energy of emotional love. Hopefully their young experiences serve to wisen, strengthen, and point them in the best direction.

From Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet: To love is also good: for love is difficult. Fondness between human beings: that is perhaps the most difficult task that is set us, the ultimate thing, the final trial and test, the work for which all other work is only preparation. Therefore young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot know love yet: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their strength gathered about their lonely, fearful, upward beating heart, they must learn to love. But apprenticeship is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving is for a long while, far into life.... Loving in the first instance is nothing that can be called losing... it is a sublime occasion for the individual to mature.

And another applicable quote? When stricken with 'bad luck' and heartbroken?

“You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.” — Cormac McCarthy

I blew past 350 posts...

... and something John McPhee wrote comes to mind, about – paraphrasing now – how the subjects you write about must be of powerful interest to you; they must see you through the process of learning how to write well, or not so poorly you're afraid to share; and I'm afraid of many things; although I feel that energy soften sometimes as I age, before it roars back; after all, we have more things, more people to worry about as we age. Don't we? I believe so, if we live well. And yet we only have a single windshield to look through, truly, as humans, as we go, so our speed and direction, obstacles, traffic, ice, breakdowns, flat tires, thoughts of why my 'car' isn't as expensive as that one, and bugs – summer bug explosions on windshields are worthy of mention, aren't they? No, not if I follow McPhee's advice and write well – and run-on sentences are bad, and staying on message is essential – so every age and moment we look through our one-and-only view, our windshield, can't be that unimportant, consciously or not (we are complex creatures with some pretty persistent Darwinian horsepower, if nothing else); we should keep moving if we're blessed with the means; our future is a kind of structure made of bricks, one for every day before it, mortared and stacked – I've gone from cars to buildings now – so put some design and intentionality in it, right? Oh, what happens when cars drive themselves soon; we won't have to keep eyes forward anymore. So... M 'n' m are my subjects, obviously. I am very, very grateful for them. I express that often. Most importantly, to them. And in the context of this M 'n' m canvas, which kind of has a life of its own now, here and there I drop a note, a jot, a wordy and confusing scribble about sports, music, history, Iowa State, or writing itself. It took me years to learn – though I wander off the path and only every time, albeit happily – that good writing is really about omission. John McPhee: "Writing is selection. Just to start a piece of writing you have to choose one word and only one from more than a million in the language. Now keep going. What is your next word? Your next sentence, paragraph, section, chapter? Your next ball of fact. You select what goes in and you decide what stays out. At base you have only one criterion: If something interests you, it goes in – if not, it stays out. That’s a crude way to assess things, but it’s all you’ve got.... Write on subjects in which you have enough interest on your own to see you through all the stops, starts, hesitations, and other impediments along the way. Ideally, a piece of writing should grow to whatever length is sustained by its selected material – that much and no more." 

Indeed, the "that much and no more" part is unsurprisingly what I struggle with. 350. I never feel comfortable going back to any of them. Thank God a picture speaks a thousand words. Thank God for digital cameras (in our smartphones now and ubiquitous, my life's work to this point it occurs to me). But thank God for creative catharsis, I'll call it; for me it's this. And the music I'm listening to on YouTube right now. Thanks for reading. It's fun to have an audience; incidentally my readership is larger than it's ever been. Did I mention being human?

"Remember, you are a thought machine, everything you see, hear, experience is usable... whatever makes you unique... do it, and know that there's room for you."
     — Steve Martin 

"You could damn yourself with silence but never so effectively as by running your mouth."
     — Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue

But I say – fishtailing through life haphazardly, or intentionally haphazardly; sorry, but I've never seen another way, despite some impressive and enviable facades; slapping down those bricks, every day a new one, and it looks good, really, it looks good because everything is art and heart and expression, every step, every slip, every crash; enjoy the ride – do it anyway.

#351

The weather's turning and this morning I hear a beautiful sound outside my bedroom window. April showers? Warm winds? Airliners with spring-breakers leaving O'Hare? No. Songbirds? Yes, actually, if any get drafted. You know, Cardinals, Bluejays? (The Cubs open tomorrow in St. Louis, coincidentally.) Yeah, I'm thinking baseball; our home abuts an area high school and they're at it again; I hear bats crushing baseballs, hard throws popping leather, shouts over the diamond. To me, a symphony. Released from the gym, the weight room, the indoor cages, free on the dirt and grass. Pounding baseballs into nets is a poor substitute for driving them over fences or into gaps. The feel of spikes on a good field, fingertips on seams, batting gloves and grips. Megan has her first softball practice this afternoon. I'm excited to coach her 5th and 6th grade team this year. Michael's been practicing all winter and has another session tomorrow. As Bruce Buffer says... "It's time!"

"People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring."
     — Rogers Hornsby

"Any ballplayer that don't sign autographs for little kids ain't an American. He's a communist."
     — Rogers Hornsby

"I don't like to sound egotistical, but every time I stepped up to the plate with a bat in my hands, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the pitcher."
     — Rogers Hornsby