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

#350

I mentioned Michael watches Saturday Night Live skits on his device. By the way, this was my device:

And this:

But my point isn't to lampoon the seemingly Flintstone-era Walkman or Atari or Apple IIe. My point is to go on record with a momentous avouchment, one surely to endure, be proven indubitable following some distant-future deconstruction – with technology that makes the shit we have today look Flinstone-era by the way; that always happens let's not forget – so as to answer, with scientific rigor, which ironically means by folks more left-brained than right-, what to me is a very fun but slippery question: why is this so fucking funny?! The Debbie Downer at Disney skit is THE funniest SNL piece of all time. There, I said it. And a thousand SNL seasons from now this will be as true as it is today.

#349

I ate sardines from a tin yesterday. Michael would've eaten them too, but he was eating swordfish on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. M 'n' m are on spring break and it 'isn't my year' as those of us engaged in divorced, joint-custody parenting must enumerate to clarify. M 'n' m have called or texted me from the Bahamas, the Dominican, and St. Thomas so far. Their first time outside the continental US; I'm excited for them. I can't wait to see their travel-widened and -wisened eyes when they return; and I said take lots of pics please. Regarding sardines and swordfish, I'm applauding Michael's palate; he tries everything. He enjoys every kind of fish and seafood, raw (oysters, sushi, poke) or otherwise; game meats and birds like pheasant, Thai noodles, soups, curries; Indian buffets; good ramen (restaurant prepared, I mean, with any number or unusual things in it); Vietnamese pho; sauerkraut, strudel, schnitzel, vinegar and cooked cabbage; kimchi, bibimbap, japchae, and Korean dishes; Greek food, eggplant, lamb, olives, feta; anything with lots of onions; wild morel mushrooms; hot Chicago-style giardiniera; teppanyaki and teriyaki; Middle Eastern fare; and, of course, anything from the Chinese, Mexican, and Italian places we patronize. He even eats my cooking. I read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. I don't wish that broad of an experience for Michael – Mr. Bourdain recounts some racy stuff, and still pursues uncharted culinary territory it seems – but something of a similar enterprising and open spirit.

The depth and everlastingness of my love for Iowa State basketball leaves me pretty vulnerable this time of year. It's a possessive, obsessive love like the kind I have for M 'n' m. I am especially possessed, so to speak, during conference tournament week and March Madness. I'm joking but only a little; I want badly for the Cyclones to do well; how will I handle M 'n' m in high-stakes competition? I guess I'll be fine if I can pace, turn away, turn back again, and so on. It's stressful, dude. Iowa State won the Big 12 tourney, but were ousted playing for the Sweet 16. Overall, a good season. My blood pressure is normal again; I can enjoy Spring. I was pretty lousy at watching the Cubs in the field during the World Series, also. When they batted? No problem. But when pitching and on D? Different story. One pitch left over the plate, one mistake, can put you in a hole. Then maybe you hope for a rain delay and, for sure, a comeback. It's a little like life around a diamond. 

I'm thinking of giving Michael some mandatory reading assignments. The first? Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. The second? Either Meditations or The Emperors Handbook by Marcus Aurelius. The list is long. If I can get distract him from SNL skits on YouTube....

#348

We still have an issue I mentioned before: the kids wear something for five minutes, then toss it in the hamper. No! The clean hoodie you wore downstairs for breakfast? Not dirty! The t-shirt that covered you from bedroom to shower. No! Underthings are different; I get that; one day, tops. Those are the rules. Period. No mountains of dirty clothes! Maybe if I did laundry more often... but I'm not on trial here, YOU ARE, M 'n' m! I set a good example: it's shameful how many reps I get from jeans and sweaters. Sweaters = years.

Meg was wonderfully unwarlike this morning. She was pleasant. It was unusual. Eerie, in fact. A movie title popped into my head: Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It's a 1956 film I've never seen, but in desperate search of explanation... and from there, repetition! Repeating positive results, an engineering problem, for which my training and career should be suited...

This weekend, Megan told her friend, "My dad says yes to everything." Again, something popped into my head. This time, not a cute movie title. More like an air raid siren; in 1940 the Luffwaffe bombed London in one stretch 56 out of 57 days and nights. Lots of loud sirens, bad things. The Blitzkrieg. I do NOT say yes to everything. I am, however, open to creative ideas and activities my kids propose. I felt complimented. And I felt un-complimented. Dads should be feared; isn't that time-tested wisdom? Proverbs 13:24 and all that. M 'n' m are good kids. Good grades, good friends; no behavior issues at school. Good developing minds, hearts, and energies. Could Megan be more polite? Uh, yeah. (But I exaggerate her crabbiness; what else am I supposed to write about?) Could Michael be more proactive about responsibilities at home? Sure. I'm hesitating now; be careful what you document; maybe this paragraph will disappear. M 'n' m certainly aren't stifled by rigidity and authority in my company. Is this the best approach? Time will tell.

I still haven't seen Logan, the movie. Wolverine is the best superhero. Come on, everyone has a favorite. When I was little, it was the Hulk; I had the Underoos; I had the doll, I mean action figure. Hugh Jackman does a perfect Wolverine, conflicted, protective, dangerous. Jackman is 48. I like the oldest ballplayers now too, veterans and journeymen. Michael is an Iron Man guy. (Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes ain't bad either.) Meg loves Guardians of the Galaxy. Chris Pratt's pretty great as Star-Lord, but for her it's Groot and the racoon.

Well on my planet, there's a legend about people like you. It's called Footloose. And in it, a great hero, named Kevin Bacon, teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that dancing is the greatest thing there is.

     — Star-Lord

You just wanna suck the joy out of everything!
     — Rocket Racoon

I am Groot.
     — Groot

Quit smiling you idiot, we're supposed to be professionals.
     — Rocket Racoon 

I come from a planet of outlaws: Billie the Kid, Bonnie and Clyde, John Stamos...
     — Star-Lord

Dance-off, bro. Me and you.
     — Star-Lord

No one talks to my friends like that.
     — Drax

This is what life looks like, people who love you, a home, you should take a minute and feel it.
     — Professor X to Logan

A perfect description of what I am...

... when putting down and rearranging words here: a 'sublime fool.' And what I wish (within the bounds of reason and personal responsibility, of course) for M 'n' m: regular moments of creative sublimity. Whether they're artists, cellists, gardeners, chefs, ballplayers, basket-weavers – even if the output sucks, and I know what that's like – I hope they find and love the process, and I hope they do so in many creative forms and outlets, professionally, personally, in every way possible.

"If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories – science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world."

     — Ray Bradbury

I enjoy writing; skill be damned, the sublimity and flow of creating – even turning out shit – is as effectual as a drug. I wish M 'n' m habits and hobbies that put them here often, especially as adults, where their energy and focus go bulletproof, where little burdens and bindings fall away and time is imperceptible, where boredom, drudgery, depression are not just impossible, they're absurd. Because we're busy being foolish, crazy, and in love. 

Naturally, I find parallels between creative flow and parenthood. For every complexity and responsibility parenthood heaps upon us, other things seem to crystalize in a kind of symmetry and order; for every confusion and conflict added, others are obliterated.

Yes, I hope M 'n' m are creative 'for the next 20,000 days' (and then 20,000 more, you can check my math). Those around me do this well, some in fulfilling careers, some by other pursuits, and when I realize I'm preaching to the choir, I see it's my own vulnerability and weakness I'm worried about; I'm preaching to myself: stay active, creative, and in love with life. Amen.

"If your everyday life seems poor to you, do not accuse it; accuse yourself, tell yourself you are not poet enough to summon up its riches; since for the creator there is no poverty and no poor or unimportant place." 
     — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

#347

Megan's digestive system is superb at breaking down fiber. I know this because of sounds and smells I won't attempt to describe here; my writing would badly underrepresent their shocking acoustic and olfactory effects. 

At the train station every morning there is a gentleman with a dog. The man's eyes are partially closed in a way that suggests visual impairment. And the dog is leashed and behaves in a way that suggests the same: the dog is the man's eyes. How lucky are those of us who can see. But here's the thing: the guy is always smiling; he's cheerful. It's preachy, proverb-y to say so, but I try to remember: in life we always have a choice. Even when we think we don't, we do. Easier said than done in storm and disaster, but we do. The choice? Our attitude. Our response. The first and last of our freedoms. Viktor Frankl said it better. I'm grateful for the guy at the train.

Last week at Meg's basketball practice, on the track above the courts, I noticed another man. He was moving, as my Grandpa Byard would say, like a turtle in a windstorm. No faster than the sun across the sky on a long, lazy afternoon. He shakily gripped a railing in one hand and a walker in the other, shuffling, clearly fighting back from illness or injury. He wasn't a middle-ager, but not a centenarian either. He was decked in a shiny new running suit and, I suspect, a pair of kickass tennies. As a member of the Greatest Generation, I doubt he was thinking exactly this, but something like: I'm gonna get healthy and mobile again and I don't give a fuck if I look ancient, fragile, as everyone races by me on the track, kicking high, gliding, bouncing; my skin and bones were young once too; I'm here to do my thing and get walking again. His choice. His attitude. A good one. Maybe not so easy to muster.

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

     — Viktor Frankl

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
     — Dylan Thomas

Mantras, again

Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment.
– Rumi
The intelligent want self-control, children want candy.
– Rumi
Free yourself from the tyranny of constant thought.
What you do defines you.
It's okay to live a life others don't understand.
Be a force for good.
Be anti-fragile.
Be comfortable being uncomfortable.
Discomfort is growth.
Keep making shots.
Keep moving. – Rambo
Just do it.
Push yourself.
Press on.
Be calm, be strong.
Train your will.
Life is an attitude. Have a good one.
You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him.
Pay no attention to the critics. Don’t even ignore them. – Samuel Goldwyn
The painting isn't done in the middle.
Pioneers take the most arrows.
There is nothing wrong with loving the crap out of everything. – Ryan Adams
My song is love. – Coldplay
Love is all around you. – Tesla
God's lookin’ out for us. – Marcus Luttrell
If it disappoints you, think of it less.
Brother, stand the pain, escape the poison of your impulses. – Rumi
Self-respect comes from hard work.
Do work, Son.
Finish it.
One more.
We gonna do this, or we just gonna talk about it?
There is no try. – Yoda
Satisfaction lies in effort.
How may I serve?
Sprinkle kindness, scatter joy.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
– Dylan Thomas
This mustn't register on an emotional level.
– Sherlock Holmes
My cup runs over. – Psalm 23
The only easy day was yesterday.
– Navy SEALs
If it doesn't suck, we don't do it.
– Navy SEALs
There is no tomorrow. – Apollo Creed
Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with. – Rick TWD
We won't get weak, that's not in us anymore.
– Rick TWD
Your bad habits are in the hallway doing push-ups.
Relax Luther, it’s much worse than you think.
– Ethan Hunt
Every warrior hopes a good death will find him.
– One Stab
But Tristan refused to speak of her. – One Stab
The wind cannot defeat a tree with strong roots. – The Revenant
You're okay. Keep fighting. – Ronda Rousey
Comparisons are odious – Jack Kerouac
Traveling hopefully is better than arriving.
Love more, worry less.
I can do this all day. – Captain America
Oh hell Max, I been in tighter places than that.
– Grandpa Swede (after his Model T rolled and Max thought he'd been crushed and killed)
We carry our own. – Grandma Bev at Grandpa Swede's funeral
There is power in optimism.
There is power in ritual.
Make practice a practice.
Rust never rests.
Terror is a fine instructor.
Bet on him, if you like. – Herger the Joyous
Grow stronger. – Herger the Joyous
(I am not a warrior!) Very soon, you will be.
– Herger the Joyous
I’ve been through worse. – Wolverine
Life makes goats of us all. And heroes.
A smooth sea never made a skilled mariner
Does iron wrought, in furnaces hot, in withering heat, complain?
Which is the greater pleasure?
I am not an atheist. – Albert Einstein
Enjoy every minute of it, Hon.
I honor the power within me.
I only harbor healthy thoughts.
Within us is the power of self-repair.
But the dreamers of day are dangerous men.
Thank you for M 'n' m.
Thank you for ....
Great multitudes came to him, and he healed them all.

"Deep within man dwell slumbering powers; powers that would astonish him, that he never dreamed of possessing; forces that would revolutionize his life if aroused and put into action."
      ― Orison Swett Marden

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-control."
     ― 2 Timothy 1:7

"Iron is full of impurities that weaken it, but, through forging, it becomes steel. It is the same with human beings."
     ― Morihei Ueshiba

"In the midst of winter I found within me an invincible summer."
      ― Albert Camus

"Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness, and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy, but they become legend."
     ― One Stab, Legends of the Fall

#346

Illinois law mandates that kids in our state are taught about the Holocaust and modern genocide. And so, on Monday, I found myself with Michael and his classmates at the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center. I offered to chaperone, as I was eager to return after donating artifacts to the museum from M 'n' m's great-grandfather only a few months ago. Our Grandpa Swede, as we called him, was in the 11th Armored Division (of Patton's 3rd Army) which liberated Mauthausen Concentration Camp. He brought home 15 photographs. As you can imagine, they are images of atrocity. Two pictures are of German guards beaten to death, the rest are of emaciated bodies, some living, most dead; all of it because of human-to-human cruelty and brutality. Obviously, this left a mark on my grandma; in his thinking; in his heart. He survived frontline combat also, shellings, minefields, infantry fighting. I donated the photos and a letter that provides context. The curators were grateful. My Grandpa's letters were kept by his mother and passed to me by his wife (my grandma), and there is little I would grab before them if my house was burning down. So I returned to the museum with Michael. It's somber, sobering, very sad, but there's a purposeful spirit also, a message: 'look straight at it, study, remember, don't let it happen again' and never forget that even in the worst human madness, there is triumph; there were 'upstanders' and people who risked or sacrificed everything to do what is right.

I forgot that school buses are built without shocks or suspensions. Holy shit that's a bumpy ride. It's been decades since I had the pleasure. Reminded me of turbulent flights that would've banged my head on the ceiling if I wasn't buckled. Also reminded me of an old puzzlement... "No Standees Permitted?" That just isn't common language. We know what it means, but why not "No Standing?" Wouldn't "while the bus is in motion" be implied, or would smartass kids mock it, argue, who knows, maybe they'd crawl down the aisle? I was nagged and sleepless over this in the '80s; here I go again.

Michael said, "Remember when we were little, and you had to do the hardest Angry Birds levels for me and Megan?" Yes, I remember, I remember fondly, but I hope my legacy as a father includes some uses and importances of, you know, a more significant variety; the lessons I taught, the love and support provided, teams coached, holidays celebrated, bills paid, lousy meals prepared, and so on...

Basket

by Carl Sandburg

Speak, sir, and be wise.
Speak choosing your words, sir,
like an old woman over a bushel of apples.

I gave Megan cornbread for dinner last night

That's it. Nothing else. No apples. No carrot sticks, Go-Gurt, baked beans, cottage cheese (with pears or pineapple rings plopped in; I know all the fillers). Just a cornbread square. Not even a muffin. My worst offering ever. But she ate three pieces, almost half the pan, and survived, and had a great basketball practice afterwards. And I made the cornbread myself, from a box, something like four ingredients, gotta mix it, bake it, not burn it, pad it with butter, pair it with a glass of milk... shit, that's a fine meal.

 

Maybe Michael is standoffish to Megan sometimes because...

... we made him pose for pictures like this. Cheek-to-cheek is excessive I suppose. His smile looks about 50% forced, not holding steady, enthusiasm in the red and still plummeting, skin crawling, cheek burning, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!

 

An old photo of an old note

Megan spells 'think' correctly now, thankfully. Michael, however, still isn't sure how to handle Meg's undying adoration. He's nice to her, but only if he acknowledges her existence, which is too infrequent and then emotionally dry, negative, insufficient to demands. But Meg still adores him. Even more. Is she dismissive of me because I'm too attentive and nice? Bingo.

#345

Talk of eccentricities in people is always interesting. Talk of a lack of eccentricities is also interesting. Because they're in there somewhere. Quirks and sillinesses, odd preferences, hobbies; they love trapeze artistry or Kung Fu (see the movie Office Space!) or rare orchids, Russian dolls, breakdancing, pipe cleaner art, collecting geodes, whatever. No one is average in every interest. When you're a parent, you see what your kids gravitate to, eccentric or otherwise; it's the 'private' version of a person (in the early stages of development, no less). We also see unguarded bits of our parents, siblings, and others we're close to, their facade-less and natural selves. Regarding 'public personas,' we see those too; but it feels tricky for me with M 'n' m now; is their real self more with me or with friends? I catch glimpses of them speaking, acting, posturing around friends, when they might presume they're unmonitored until I turn a corner, climb the stairs, run into them somehow. In those moments they seem to be the same M 'n' m I know, and that's good. I don't spy but I don't stay away either. My uncle Kirby used to tell his kids, "Don't forget who you are." I like that. Is it more difficult in teenagerhood to be authentic? Maybe it's easier. We're youthful, energetic, emotionally novicelike and not sewn up; we've yet to bury forever the interests that others – or we, ourselves – throw dirt on. I will tell M 'n' m: If you like to paint, paint. Sing? Sing. Dance the samba, the mamba, tango, salsa, cha-cha, rumba, merengue? Uh, I'm sure there's a studio or club somewhere. I wish I could do a latin number. And if you like to write... okay, I'll keep writing. Earning a living is important, and it takes money to do things, but always remember what One Republic tells us: No more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars. (And that sounds nice but you'll still need to fly the nest, launch, get a job.)

Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But baby, I've been, I've been praying hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Yeah we'll be counting stars
... Old, but I'm not that old
Young, but I'm not that bold
And I don't think the world is sold
On just doing what we're told

... Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.
I feel the love and I feel it burn
Down this river every turn
Hope is a four-letter word,
Make that money watch it burn
... Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly
... Said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars
     — One Republic, Counting Stars

You should write too, songs, stories, poems, lyrics, nonsense; it's all good. Thankfully, I've stirred up the habit in Papa Mike.

"We're comin' with the lyrics and we're comin' strong!"
     — Beastie Boys

"I had a short-lived but troublesome worry. What if writing comedy was a dead end because one day everything would have been done and we writers would just run out of stuff? I assuaged myself with my own homegrown homily: Comedy is a distortion of what is happening, and there will always be something happening. This problem solved, I grew more confident as a writer..."
     — Steve Martin

"I think it's terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfill other people's expectations. I think they generally produce their worst work when they do that. The other thing I would say is that if you feel safe in the area you're working in, you're not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel your capable of being in, go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don't feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you're just about in the right place to do something exciting.
     — David Bowie

Life is a Smith

Does iron wrought, in furnaces hot,

     In withering heat, complain?

In life we're ore, and forged before,

     The victories can explain.

#344

I mentioned Michael wears shorts outside even when it's colder than Everest, or, my favorite: colder than a well digger's ass. I mentioned that telling him to dress warm is like talking to a brick wall. I mentioned, "To be a parent is to bore your kids with unsolicited info." And then, because life is ironic, poetic, sympathetic, unsympathetic, and so many lovely and contrary things, the kids become parents and the cycle repeats. It's like in the inharmony we find harmony – now I sound like Alan Watts – in the human cycles that have repeated since the beginning of time. Or the beginning of humanity, at least, which is something like 200,000 years ago? Although, 'civilization' – whatever that means – is only a tenth that old or less? What our parents say chaffs, if only just a little (as in my case; my parents are pretty cool). And isn't this the genesis of progress? "No son, we use spears to kill mammoths," while the kids are thinking, wouldn't it be better to like shoot the arrow from a distance? Who imbued our children with the instinct to resist, change, sometimes do the opposite. Indeed, by definition, progress always comes from the next generation. Right? The following from the book I'm reading inspired me to riff on it:

"He recalled with perfect clarity the irrelevance of old men's maxims to him when he was young. Rain against an umbrella, a young man all but sworn to the task of keeping dry. Archy was not so young anymore, and Mr. Jones had been raining down the pointless counsel on him for a good long time. No more able to restrain himself than a heavy-bellied cloud."
     — Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue
 
The performing arts are awesome. Concerts, recitals, ballet and dance, musicals, anything on stage. They're important. I'm always impressed and entertained. When I was Megan's age, my parents took me to Camelot at the Chicago Theater. Richard Harris was King Arthur. Not bad for a first Broadway show. My mom wanted the experience for me, and I'm grateful. I saw Cats in London, Les Miserables twice, a few others; Book of Mormon most recently until last night... Jeanette took me to Saturday Night Fever. Disco, baby, disco! It was fantastic. The energy, music, dance; I walked out high as a kite. Yeah, it's not just fun, it's important. I need to get M 'n' m to more shows.

I complained about the media...

... and labeled it a bit of a monster I fear more – as negatively impactful to M 'n' m and our collective future – than even politics. In doing so, it felt like saying I feared the mouse more than the elephant. And then the prescience of that analogy hit me – I don't mean to sound arrogant, by the way, as I think and write very simply, I'm afraid, and only stumble onto anything meaningful by accident – but isn't it the mouse that causes the elephant to stampede and crush everything? In four decades of living, I've sensed and observed political swings, seemingly calamitous, irreparable, scary at the time (to one side or the other), and in fairly short order they lose energy and stall, and then we have a counter-swing. It's a comforting pendulum to me. Maybe someday the pivot point will break, and our so-called pendulum will devastatingly fly away and not come back ... but I have yet to see it. The media, on the other hand, has metamorphosed into something unable to check its own over-tentacled power – as, theoretically, the different branches of government do for each other. (An ingenious construction, by the way; many thanks to our founding fathers.) In a discussion between Tim Ferriss and Krista Tippett, two minds I've learned much from, this was said, and it highlights a primary problem:

When (interviewers) are going for revelation, it's often in the form of making their questions sound tough; it's about how they sound and how they present, and we actually reward and laud interviewers who push their subjects into corners and embarrass them, who put people on the defensive, and then they strike out, and then that creates the conversation we talk about. I think that rarely accomplishes anything aside from something entertaining, something that demeans both sides of the conversation and demeans us by enjoying it. — Krista Tippett

Brilliantly explained, but true and sad. What is the media, the press, if not a kind of official interviewer and fact-gatherer for society, whose work we rapaciously consume and believe? Or we used to believe it anyway; polls show fewer people than ever – less than a third – trust the media "to report the news fully, accurately and fairly." I wish network news was news again, not entertainment, and certainly not a self-important 24-hour pursuit of further divisiveness, intolerance, and conflict in a world that has enough of those things already. 'Bad news' has its place and importance. But creating it crosses the line for me. The news itself is now the news, and it's not useful, meaningful, or truthful; it's just bad bullshit.

"Well you better get up to speed, dude."

A boy called Nick joined Megan for ice cream. Then the boy called Nick invited Megan to jump on a trampoline, at the boy called Nick's house. Then the boy called Nick joined Megan for a walk with Tyrion (Megan's dog at her Mom's who, thankfully, is enormous but, unthankfully, couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, and therefore, we'll assume, isn't adequately trained to ensure space and appropriateness and to exact viciousness in response to any violation thereof. I asked Michael about it. He said, "Nick who?" I said, "The boy called Nick who is hanging out with your sister." Michael said, "Why do you keep calling him 'the boy called Nick.'" I said, "Answer the question." He said, "Sorry, I don't know any boy-called-Nicks. I don't know anything about it." I said, "Well you better get up to speed, dude."

"Love blinds even the clearest eye." — The Huntsman: Winter's War

"Wise men say, only fools rush in..." — Elvis Presley

"'Oh, I wasn't thinking,' Stranahan said. 'Love isn't about thinking. You should know that.'" — Skinny Dip by Carl Hiaasen

It's fun to joke about, but I don't plan on worrying too much about Megan and boys, or enlisting Michael as a spy.

"From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and so few." — John Updike

Although, maybe I should worry? I suppose I do and always will. I read the following quote and knew instantly John le Carre doesn't have a daughter. Seconds later, Wikipedia confirmed it for me. He has four sons. "Most people like to read about intrigue and spies. I hope to provide a metaphor for the average reader's daily life. Most of us are in a slightly conspiratorial relationship with our employer and perhaps in our marriage." Employer, spouse, but no mention of kids/daughters? Dead giveaway.

I've heard some brilliant people claim...

... Rainer Maria Rilke is one of their favorite poets. His work is especially powerful, lyrical, luminous, they say.

I really love this one, from his Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

“God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.”

#343

Would I be Captain Obvious to say that people seem peevish lately about politics, the President, the media, conservatives / liberals, Republicans / Democrats, accusations, lies, the horror! IT'S WORSE THAN EVER! Or is it? What would people from Kent State in 1970 say? Or people who marched with Dr. King in 1963. Are things worse? The same? My hunch is they're better, but I've been embarrassingly naive before. I don't live in Aleppo either. I'll admit humanity isn't running low on flaws. I'm afraid we'll always, in some circumstances, treat and govern ourselves poorly. And we keep growing. Over seven billion people now, maybe 10 billion by 2050. What does that do to the world? We'll see. I predict progress, but setbacks too, swings and shiftings; it's never as bad as we think, or as good. The apocalypse will suck, but.... Ah, kidding. In fact, here's a simplification or distillation of how I truly feel, pure, untwistable, ultimately optimistic: I feel lucky to be alive now versus any era previously. I say this considering the safety, well-being, and experiences of M 'n' m and everyone I've shared life with.

So I'm optimistic, even though people and institutions can still be grossly and destructively possessive, greedy, negligent, e.g. ongoing wars, North Korea, starving children, the financial crisis of 2008. Humanity isn't running low on flaws. Will history repeat itself? All the bad things? I hope not, and in the meantime, I root for the good guys, and there are a lot of 'em. We know, in our hearts, who they are; we know what's right; we're just slow or back-and-forth arriving at it. There are good people everywhere; it's always been this way and always will be. That is inspiring.

So what's left to complain about? Lately, for me, it's one of institutions mentioned above, one that has modernized and spread, but also splintered and veered toward a ridiculousness that might, ironically, save us from it, save us from taking it seriously. The media. More Captain Obvious: Humans like to be entertained, informed, and warned. It's evolutionary. We assume the worst and almost crave it in shocking headlines. And news outlets are happy to provide and profit. When I was M 'n' m's age, I thpught the media was a tone-setter and truth-keeper for society. It's never been that exactly, but it isn't now for sure. It's entertainment, propaganda, overdriven by emotion and opinion, incendiary, defamatory, divisive, scary, heavy on commentary, light on facts. I'm afraid they're all paparazzi now, even the anchors; break the story, get the shot, no matter who you trample, tarnish, violate; truth is an afterthought. I hope M 'n' m are wary of how they consume news. These days it feels like 'pick your poison.' They'll probably 'pick' Instagram instead of the networks I'm referring to.

"Thank God the cable-news punditry and the online peanut gallery were on the job 25 hours a day to put vital developments, no matter how trivial, into warped perspective and make matters worse." 
     – James Wolcott

"If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you do read the newspaper, you're misinformed.... We live in a society now where it's just first, who cares, just get (the news) out there, we don't care who it hurts, we don't care who it destroys, we don't care if it's true, just say it, sell it. Anything you practice, you'll get good at, including BS." 
    – Denzel Washington

To me, happiness. And storytelling, profundity, history, human nature, love, wit, art, books.

#342

Michael wore my jeans today. They're snug on his legs, loose at the waist; he doesn't have bird legs like me, popsicle sticks, wine glass stems. The first time he does a squat lift, he'll do more than I ever could. My max, sadly, was something around body weight. This is embarrassing if you've ever been in a gym and seen a barbell, packed with 45 lb plates, bending over a guy's shoulders, as he sinks into a full seated squat, then rises, shakily, grunting and driving until he's standing again. The squat is an exercise for real men (and women). I was more of a 'curls for the girls' kinda guy.

Michael's pants are all at his mother's. It's a challenge for M 'n' m I've mentioned before: children of divorced, custody-sharing parents have two homes, two closets, two dressers; it applies to desks, books, school supplies, shoe and coat racks, sports stuff, music stuff, devices and chargers, you get it. It's a pain in the ass I never had to deal with as a kid, and I'm grateful. Whenever I pick up Michael in the evening, he's in shorts, even in Siberia weather. Whiteout snow, you spit and it freezes before it hits the ground, he doesn't care. I explain to him, sure, the car is warm, but what if we're in an accident? What if we have to exit the vehicle, and stand and wait for authorities, or help other people? My words mean nothing because he's never had a 'surprise' like this. But life is full of surprises. I'll never forget the times I've been unexpectedly scared and freezing. Michael hasn't had any moments like this apparently. I'm afraid we all do, eventually, and we learn. My grandfather was wise; he said, "Those who won't listen, must feel."

As for jokes about 'who wears the pants' when it comes to M 'n' m and me, that's easy: Megan.

Megan runs the show. She tries to anyway. Michael and I are alternately scornful, instructive, or dismissive when she is surly and bossy. I just made it sound like we're all horrible. Well, Megan loves her brother dearly, and I love Megan, and I love Michael too, and the sun still rises and sets and I think we're doing okay. For now.

"If—"

by Nobel Prize winner Rudyard Kipling, written in 1895, my favorite recitation – you can find it on YouTube – was performed by Dennis Hopper on The Johnny Cash show

If you can keep your head when all about you

 Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make a heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
  And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

These images don't apply anymore...

... They don't fit. Michael's days of being little are over. Megan is the tallest girl on her basketball team. And yet, pics like this will always work in my mind and memory – cheesily, granted – and I hope they do for my parents, and all parents, forever.

#341

A word on religion. Which feels okay since politics is the real jukebox-kicker right now. Don't mention politics, don't mention politics, don't mention.... I'm warning myself, even though I have no desire. But religion, by comparison, seems very tame right now. Religion? Pffft, borrr-ing. And this is for M 'n' m anyway; to be a parent is to bore your kids with unsolicited info, even your views on religion and spirituality. I think spirituality is important. And fascinating. And healthy; why shouldn't we think about the big picture, the possibilities, the reasons, structures, rituals, feelings? I'm a believer, usually. Usually? Yeah, like Liam Neeson who inspired me today; I just read about him; I have doubtful days (although fewer than he does). Neeson is Irish; he witnessed the 'Troubles,' an ethno-nationalist conflict, they say, not a religious war, although one side was Catholic and the other Protestant. Wars are often religious. And so I struggle, I'm conflicted, when I hear 'God is love' and 'turn the other cheek.' And yet, I'm not afraid of ambiguity, and I do believe that God's ways are not man's ways (paraphrasing the Bible, Isaiah 55) and the fact that Jesus is known for this statement of facing violence with nonviolence... I suppose it's one of many reasons I'm attracted to him and his teaching; it is so radical and not typically human, inclusion and compassion for strangers, outcasts, even enemies. I find Buddhism interesting and inspiring, and Native American belief systems. They are 'religions' inspired by people who wanted to heal, teach, advocate gratitude and personal peace, and alleviate suffering. Sounds good to me. I don't know enough about Hinduism and Islam to comment, but they are certainly big; I've never lived in their cultures and geographies, although I have friends who practice them and I ask questions (respectfully, rarely). Back to Neeson and doubt: he lost his wife suddenly and tragically in a skiing accident. "These days he's not sure he believes in God," an interviewer says of him in Men's Journal. But, from Neeson himself: "I admire people with true faith, like my mother, who's 90 and gets annoyed if she can't walk to Mass Sunday morning. 'Mom, you're 90! It's OK! God will forgive you.'" I agree. I admire the deeply devoted also, the seemingly doubt-impervious; they become faithful and strong people. Several folks in my family never miss weekly services (although who really knows the depth of their faith and reasons for adherence). Regarding doubt and its causes, my grandfather comes to mind. He was a draftee in WWII, where he witnessed – his words now, from a letter – "my buddies getting killed everyday right alongside of me." His unit also liberated Mauthausen-Gusen concentration camp. I can't imagine what he saw, heard, smelled, felt, experienced. Pictures are only pictures. So he lost his appetite for church after the war and I think this is utterly understandable. And yet he was a philosopher, according to his oldest son. Did he still believe in a higher power, a greater force that created and moves the universe; and only found lacking man's attempt to interpret and institutionalize faith, and man's ugly propensity to proselytize and judge? Who knows. And if God is, is God loving or indifferent? I hope M 'n' m have an open, discerning mind, and a faithful, loving heart. And if those things aren't in constant harmony and agreement, and instead M 'n' m have moments of discomfort, doubt, and confusion about spirituality, I guess they'll be like me. I tell myself it's okay if the creator of something like our universe is beyond my comprehension. I don't fully understand physics either, black holes and space-time and shit. I got a B- in Physics 221 at Iowa State. It was effing hard.

Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair. 
     ― G.K. Chesterton

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. 
     ― Dalai Lama

When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That's my religion. Abraham Lincoln
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/abrahamlin106095.html

When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That's my religion.
     ― Abraham Lincoln

Thomas, one of the twelve, wasn't with them when Jesus came. The others kept telling him, "We've seen the Lord!" But Thomas said, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, and put my finger in the wounds, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe." 
     ― John 20:24-25

I still say a church steeple with a lightning rod on top shows a lack of confidence. 
     ― Doug McLeod 

If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses. 
     ― Lenny Bruce

In reality, there are as many religions as there are individuals.
     ― Gandhi

And the peace of God, which transcends/surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.  
     ― Philippians 4:7

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples.
     ― John 13:34-35

I like to wonder: What if God loves us as much as we love our children? As much as I love M 'n' m? This is a very, very powerful thought, idea, proposition to me, and it makes me think of the lyrics below. Love songs, I get it, but I think of M 'n' m, and others I love:

I'm so in love with you
You'll never take that away
And if I said it a hundred times before
Expect a thousand more
You'll never take that away
     ―Blue October, Calling You

My song is love
My song is love, unknown
But I'm on fire for you, clearly
You don't have to be alone
You don't have to be on your own
     ― Coldplay, A Message