I know I eluded to a well written article that would incorporate facts and figures and be neat and concise. I know that is what I promised. This obviously isn't it. I am still gathering data and looking into the post I eluded to, but it may take longer than expected. It isn't that there isn't a wealth of data, in fact, quite the opposite, there is almost to much. But that is not the point of this post.
As I sat here doing research and surfing the internet (more of the latter than the former I am embarrassed to admit), my mind started wandering as it tends to do and I got to thinking about human successes and how they are achieved. I realized that worthwhile successes either come about through sheer luck (miracles if you lean that way) or hard work and perseverance. We have no control over the sheer luck aspect and, let's face it, if you are waiting for sheer luck to bring you success, then you will be waiting a while. In fact, I would wager that, usually, when sheer luck strikes, the success has been worked toward and was accomplished through the sheer luck. What do I mean? Simply put, while experimenting (the hard work) an inventor discovers something unrelated to what he was working on (the success).
So what am I getting at, you ask. Simply this, in order to succeed, you have to go against your human nature. Human nature is to find the easy way out. Human nature says, I want the reward, but don't make me ask for it. You have to go outside of what it is you want to do and go further. Think on it. Was there anything that you wanted, worked for and got? Wasn't that thing more cherished and celebrated than the thing you were given for free?
I admit, I am lazy and really don't want to go outside of myself. I don't like doing extra work and tend to wait until the last minute to do many things. The fact is, that my biggest achievements and the things I remember the most, are those things that I went after and clung to tenaciously to achieve. Those things that I was able to concentrate on and do to the best of my ability and hold up as what I could do. It was those successes that I like to look on. The stuff I got lucky with, I really don't remember (that may also be because I don't get lucky to often).
Ask yourself this, am I waiting on luck, or chasing success? The first does nothing, the second gets you there. The funny thing is, when you chase success, you may not end up where you thought you were headed. The great thing about that is that the new place may be better than where you thought you wanted to go.
I am not talking about monetary success alone. Whatever it is you want success at requires effort. If you want a long and successful marriage, you have to work at it. You can't just sit back and let it happen, you'll end up with a roommate instead of a spouse. If you want your kids to grow up right and happy, you have to work at it. You have to discipline them, teach them, and spend time with them. If you sit on the couch and ignore them, they become the kids you complain about at the store. You get the picture. If you are living life under the assumption that you deserve something because of who you are for no effort, then you need to reevaluate your life. People who believe that have a name, spoiled brats. If you define yourself by the success of others (Do you know who my daddy is?; I work for ___), then you are a nobody.
I may have ranted and gone off the dep end a bit here, but there is a worthwhile point. Your successes define you. I hope that people can recognize me as a good husband and father and that that is how they define me. I don't want who I am to be defined as a good sailor or a good inspector and nothing else. Don't get me wrong, I would appreciate those definitions, but the definition I strive for is great husband and father. How are you defined? How do you want to be defined? Do they match? If not, why not? What can you do to make it happen?
That's all for today. Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Another answer
I didn't post yesterday because I got sent to the other office at the last minute to fill in for coworkers who had appointments. That being said, I really don't have a topic for today so I will include another answer for my sons. Here it is.
Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.
1-1 What’s the most important lesson you learned from your dad?
To begin with, I learned a lot from my dad and not all of it was appreciated at the time. Some of the things I learned from my dad didn’t sink in until years after I left home and I realized where that particular bit of wisdom came from. The one that I deem the most important was one of these. Dad didn’t come right out and say you ought to do this or not do that. No, it was a lesson taught through living and by example. I don’t even know if dad realized he was teaching me a lesson, I believe he just lived that way. The lesson I am talking about? Treat others with respect and kindness at all times. Sounds simple enough until those others step on you and hurt you. I can’t remember dad ever getting angry and yelling at anyone. He always treated everyone he met with respect and honesty. Even when they weren’t around he treated them right. Sure, there were times when he may have said something negative, but it was always in a respectful manner, more of an observance than gossip or meanness. As I said, it wasn’t so much a lesson taught as a lesson observed. I hope it is a lesson I can pass on to you.
I couldn’t leave this at one lesson. There is a second lesson that comes on the heels of the first. It is to work hard at whatever it is that you do. This was a lesson I definitely didn’t appreciate growing up. Usually, it was because it was one I learned through doing. This is a lesson that is best taught through action. I learned it through chores and work on our four acres. There was always something that needed to be done. Usually it was enough to keep us kids working all week during the summer and all day Saturday during the school year. Looking back, I thank God that dad made us do that work and do it right. He gave us the understanding that spending a little extra time to do it right the first time is better than doing it right the second or third time. I hope that it is something I can teach you as well. The ability to do a job right the first time and to see it through to the finish is important. It is what sets you apart from your peers and allows you to find success in whatever you do.
As I look back I realize that lessons that struck home the strongest were the ones taught through actions. Those taught to me by word of mouth have tended to fade while those that my dad lived have endured. I hope that I can live those lessons for you and that you can live them for your sons and daughters.Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.
Friday, June 8, 2012
The games we play (and lose)
Apparently I am luckier than I thought. What brings this up? I beat my wife at Catan again yesterday (sorry dear, but I have to share). It wasn't the first time, in fact, my wife claims it has been ages since she won. Looking at how we play, the strategies we use, and all the nuances that go into it, we can't find any fault in how she played. In fact, we both agree that she couldn't have chosen a better lay out or done anything different. This means that it has to be down to how the dice rolls come up. In other words, I win because the dice roll in my favor more often. I can't control it, yet here I am with my wife upset at me because she I beat her again. Oh, and we can no longer play Catan one on one.
This brings to mind a few other things. You see, I grew up in a home that loved playing games. One of my earliest memories of my mother was sitting with her playing a board game. When I was able to add and multiply, my dad taught me cribbage (I lost for years before I finally beat him). As I grew up the games left the random chance heavy realm and went towards strategy. I still haven't beaten my dad at Monopoly.
This was highlighted when I went home for my grandmother's funeral. For the first time in almost 10 years, all my siblings and I sat down with my dad and played hearts. By the time my dad arrived, us kids had already played 2 warm up games to shake off any rust that may have accumulated and we thought we were ready to take on the old man. We were wrong. At the end of the game the it was obvious us kids were playing for second best. The scores? My younger brother lost with a score of 108, my older sister got 96, I got 89, and my younger sister got 78. Dad? He won with a score of 6. No, I didn't mistype it. That is supposed to be a single digit. Dad didn't just win, he schooled us. What made it worse was the fact that he said very little in regards to the game. Most of what we talked about with him was just catching up chit chat. He didn't talk about how badly he was beating us. He didn't tell us we couldn't make him take anything. He just quietly sat there and gave us kids every heart he could. Yup, I am glad I don't play poker with my dad.
How about you? Is there a family game that your mom or dad have always won? A game that is a must when you are together? Or maybe there is another tradition that, while not an official competition, has been elevated to the level of professional sports (I have seen a father and son compete at camping, it wasn't pretty, the winner had to sleep on the side of a mountain for a week in subzero temps). These competitions can be healthy if done right (the camping thing, maybe not so much). They are opportunities to connect with family and regain the awe you once had of your parents or to show them just how much you've grown. Engage with your parents in the old games you used to play and have a bit of conversation at the same time.
Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.
This brings to mind a few other things. You see, I grew up in a home that loved playing games. One of my earliest memories of my mother was sitting with her playing a board game. When I was able to add and multiply, my dad taught me cribbage (I lost for years before I finally beat him). As I grew up the games left the random chance heavy realm and went towards strategy. I still haven't beaten my dad at Monopoly.
This was highlighted when I went home for my grandmother's funeral. For the first time in almost 10 years, all my siblings and I sat down with my dad and played hearts. By the time my dad arrived, us kids had already played 2 warm up games to shake off any rust that may have accumulated and we thought we were ready to take on the old man. We were wrong. At the end of the game the it was obvious us kids were playing for second best. The scores? My younger brother lost with a score of 108, my older sister got 96, I got 89, and my younger sister got 78. Dad? He won with a score of 6. No, I didn't mistype it. That is supposed to be a single digit. Dad didn't just win, he schooled us. What made it worse was the fact that he said very little in regards to the game. Most of what we talked about with him was just catching up chit chat. He didn't talk about how badly he was beating us. He didn't tell us we couldn't make him take anything. He just quietly sat there and gave us kids every heart he could. Yup, I am glad I don't play poker with my dad.
How about you? Is there a family game that your mom or dad have always won? A game that is a must when you are together? Or maybe there is another tradition that, while not an official competition, has been elevated to the level of professional sports (I have seen a father and son compete at camping, it wasn't pretty, the winner had to sleep on the side of a mountain for a week in subzero temps). These competitions can be healthy if done right (the camping thing, maybe not so much). They are opportunities to connect with family and regain the awe you once had of your parents or to show them just how much you've grown. Engage with your parents in the old games you used to play and have a bit of conversation at the same time.
Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
My Dad: The unrecognized role model
This week keeps getting more expensive. Yesterday, I found out that it would cost more to fix the dryer than it would cost to buy a new one. The funny thing is, it is still usable, although annoying to the extreme. So we are going to save up and buy a new one when the newest models come out (we will by the previous years models on sale). Hopefully it will last that long.
With that in mind it is time to move on to today's topic. With everything that has been happening, I have realized just how much I learned from my dad. I have a decent understanding of how septic systems work. I understand home plumbing and can do a lot of the electrical without getting shocked to bad. I have a decent understanding of what it takes to run a garden and the list goes on. I saw a lot of different repairs and projects with my dad and he taught me about most of them. The funny thing is, I don't remember paying that much attention while they were going on, but I remember the lessons and what they meant.
These practical lessons are what has really stuck with me and shaped a lot of what makes my dad to me. Sure, I remember some of the games we played together, but most of my memories with my dad are centered around jobs I did with him. Watching him work and his interaction with those he worked for and with, shaped a lot of how I approach things today. I can't remember dad ever uttering a single cuss word or speaking badly of anyone. The closest he ever got to talking badly about someone was when he referred to people as characters. You know, "that guy sure is a character." You may not have known whether he meant it in a good or bad way, but you knew that whoever he was talking about wasn't playing with a full deck.
This isn't to say dad didn't have his opinions, he just kept them to himself unless he was able to make a change. I can't imagine that anyone could find anything disagreeable about dad if he ran for public office, other than the fact that I don't think he would want the job. I think the lessons I learned most about dad is, he has that innate ability to make you think about what it is you are going to do and say with out saying a thing.
Where does that lead me? It leads me to the conclusion that dad didn't just claim to be a Christian, he lived it. I can't think of another living person that has had such a quiet influence on my definition of Christian than my dad. I am not saying that I don't know any other good Christians, just that my dad has shown me that definition his entire life. Why do I say this now? Mainly because it has only recently come to my attention. That's right, I didn't recognize the role model I had growing up until I was trying to be one to my own kids. Somehow or another, I failed to see that there was the model of what I want to be today trying to pass it on to me as I grew up. So I guess, what I got to say is, dad, forgive me for ignoring you and thank you for living in God's ways and giving me that example to recognize today.
OK, I am getting all choked up. Thank you for reading and, as always, have a great day.
With that in mind it is time to move on to today's topic. With everything that has been happening, I have realized just how much I learned from my dad. I have a decent understanding of how septic systems work. I understand home plumbing and can do a lot of the electrical without getting shocked to bad. I have a decent understanding of what it takes to run a garden and the list goes on. I saw a lot of different repairs and projects with my dad and he taught me about most of them. The funny thing is, I don't remember paying that much attention while they were going on, but I remember the lessons and what they meant.
These practical lessons are what has really stuck with me and shaped a lot of what makes my dad to me. Sure, I remember some of the games we played together, but most of my memories with my dad are centered around jobs I did with him. Watching him work and his interaction with those he worked for and with, shaped a lot of how I approach things today. I can't remember dad ever uttering a single cuss word or speaking badly of anyone. The closest he ever got to talking badly about someone was when he referred to people as characters. You know, "that guy sure is a character." You may not have known whether he meant it in a good or bad way, but you knew that whoever he was talking about wasn't playing with a full deck.
This isn't to say dad didn't have his opinions, he just kept them to himself unless he was able to make a change. I can't imagine that anyone could find anything disagreeable about dad if he ran for public office, other than the fact that I don't think he would want the job. I think the lessons I learned most about dad is, he has that innate ability to make you think about what it is you are going to do and say with out saying a thing.
Where does that lead me? It leads me to the conclusion that dad didn't just claim to be a Christian, he lived it. I can't think of another living person that has had such a quiet influence on my definition of Christian than my dad. I am not saying that I don't know any other good Christians, just that my dad has shown me that definition his entire life. Why do I say this now? Mainly because it has only recently come to my attention. That's right, I didn't recognize the role model I had growing up until I was trying to be one to my own kids. Somehow or another, I failed to see that there was the model of what I want to be today trying to pass it on to me as I grew up. So I guess, what I got to say is, dad, forgive me for ignoring you and thank you for living in God's ways and giving me that example to recognize today.
OK, I am getting all choked up. Thank you for reading and, as always, have a great day.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
An answer for a post.
I have been agonizing over what to write on today and have had no luck in coming up with a subject. The fact is that I am a slightly out of it today. The sad thing is, I really don't know why. I slept decently last night and am fairly alert, but I just can't seem to concentrate. I guess that is why I am not doing to well today on this. That being said, I will simply paste in an excerpt from the answers to my sons.
These answers are in response to the book "Questions for My Father" by Vincent Staniforth. My boys have been choosing questions they want answers to and I have been writing those answers. The questions vary widely so I have chosen to share the answer to What happened on your favorite holiday? Please read below
Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day
These answers are in response to the book "Questions for My Father" by Vincent Staniforth. My boys have been choosing questions they want answers to and I have been writing those answers. The questions vary widely so I have chosen to share the answer to What happened on your favorite holiday? Please read below
I guess the first thing I have to answer here is, what is my favorite holiday? The answer to that would be thanksgiving. This leads us to ask, why? This is what I think this question is really asking. What happened on your favorite holiday to make it your favorite holiday? I can’t name a single event, more like a series of events.
In order for you to fully understand my answer, I am going to have to give you a bit of background. The first thing you need to know is that, while I grew up in Iowa, my mother was from Wyoming. Add to that, the fact that my mother’s side was from all over, but mainly Nebraska. The first meant that my mom didn’t get to see her mom all that often and the second meant that she got to see her cousins even less. My dad, on the other hand, had nearly all of his relatives within a radius of about 75 miles. This meant that we saw my dad’s side of the family quite often and spent every Sunday at my Grandma’s house.
Sure, my mom’s family had a reunion every other year and so we got to see our relatives then, but what did we do in between? This is where Thanksgiving comes in. In the years that we didn’t have a family reunion, we spent Thanksgiving week with my mom’s mom. We got to see our aunts and uncles and spend a holiday with grandma. Grandma Skinner was a very good cook and we always ate well. But it was the fact that we got to see her and our cousins that made it worth it.
That is really only part of the answer. What about the years we didn’t go and see Grandma Skinner? We went to see Grandma Ibbotson. We would get together with dad’s sister and our cousin and have a Thanksgiving meal that I envy to this day. My cousin and I would end up fighting over the last piece of lemon meringue pie. We would decorate Grandma’s house for Christmas. Then I would watch football with grandpa and we would nibble on pies and snacks and turkey and nearly everything the rest of the day. My dad and Uncle Larry would end up snoring in the living room driving everyone to the dining room or kitchen. Sometimes I would go out and play football with the neighbors. In all, I have really fond memories of it all.
While Christmas is always fun with the gifts and of course getting together with my cousins at Grandma’s house, Thanksgiving was the holiday I most looked forward to. I knew I was going to get to spend it with at least one of my grandmothers. But if I had to choose a single Thanksgiving to remember it would be the Thanksgiving the year after my mom died. I was only 14 at the time and my Grandpa had died that spring. In all it had been a rough year. To make it worse, it was also the year for us to go and see Grandma Skinner. Normally I looked forward to that trip. Between losing mom and Grandpa Ibbotson, I really wasn’t in much of a celebrating mood. I was also old enough to realize that Grandma really didn’t need to have her son somewhere else for Thanksgiving that year. I was prepared for the worst as I expected dad to tell us that we weren’t going to Wyoming that year. Instead, dad invited Grandma Ibbotson to join us. So we all went to Wyoming for Thanksgiving. Instead of having one grandma cooking Thanksgiving dinner, we had two. They got along so well, that we ended up doing it again 2 years later and Grandma Ibbotson got adopted by my mom’s family and was permanently invited to their family reunion. And the best part of that Thanksgiving? I got a lemon meringue pie all to myself.
So, when I think of Thanksgiving, I think of family coming together in good times and in bad and making things better. I think of good food and better friendships. I think of laughter and joy in dark times and sighs of stuffed contentment in lean times. It is said that Christmas brings out the best in everyone, but Thanksgiving brings out the strongest desire for family and, to me, family is one of the most important things in the world.
What event led to Thanksgiving being my favorite holiday? The gathering of my family. Thanksgiving wasn’t about the turkey and the food, but about a sharing of time and cares with family. That is what Thanksgiving is. That is what is supposed to happen on thanksgiving. Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thanksgiving Week: Thank God you guys read this stuff.
What are you reading this for?! It's Thanksgiving! Go spend some time with your family stuffing your face, watching TV and maybe playing a few games. Sheesh.
Since you are here, I may as well finish what I started with my final Thank you for this Thanksgiving week. But I think instead of saying thank you or telling you something I am thankful for, I am going to instead issue a challenge. As you go through this day, I want you to dig deep and think of a single defining event that you are thankful for. I could be good or bad, it just has to be something that is a defining moment. One of those moments that you look at and realize that without that event, nothing you have today could be.
Something you maybe needed to happen to set you up for today. Maybe it taught you an important lesson that lingers with you and shapes nearly every decision you make. Maybe it brought a person into your life that changed how you lived it and is still bringing about these changes. Maybe it is an event so simple that you are astounded in just how much it has influenced who and where you are. Maybe it was a moment of stupidity, or maybe a moment of genius. Just dwell on it and you may be surprised what your mind brings up.
I am not asking you to share it, although you may if you so choose. This is just something I think can be a real help to you in finding who you are. This shouldn't be easy. It shouldn't be something that is on the top of your head. This is something so deep in you that you have nearly forgotten it. Granted it may be something you think of often, but you probably won't recognize it as the life changer it became. I only say this because as I was typing this I had a dozen thoughts go through my head. I discarded each one as I found an event before it that led to that event.
First I jumped to my marriage, but I realized that without my early entrance to the military it would never have happened. Then I realized that my entrance into the military would never have happened had I not been where I was. As I traced back this thread, I found my defining moment to be something that occurred before I started school. Back to something I had little recollection of. You see, when I was born, my father was a dairy farmer in southern Iowa. I see the surprise in some of your eyes, since most of you only know him as a plumber and electrician. It's true. He owned a dairy farm in Ringgold county Iowa. He had a sawmill on this farm as well. My memories of the farm are very vague. I only really remember a white house and a big bulldozer. The defining moment came when I was about 3. That year, dad went bankrupt. As I said, this is all something I pieced together from conversations with dad and other things I have read. The bankruptcy lead dad to move to Nevinville, Iowa and take up plumbing and electrical work to pay the bills. Due to dad's business and the needs of the family, it lead him to move us 2 more times, the final move to Shannon City, Iowa and the East Union School District when I was in second grade.
Why do I call that my defining moment? My entire life hinges on it. Without that moment, I would have grown up a dairy farmer and sawmill operator, thus I never would have learned all I did about plumbing and electrical from my father. My wife would never have met my sister in junior high and thus would never have known me. I might never have been disillusioned by the church I grew up in and thus not had the experiences I did, not all of which were good, but all of which contributed to my understanding and have since strengthened my faith. I can't begin to list all the other things that hinge on this one event. I am sure it was painful to my father when it happened and I know it couldn't have been easy, but I am thankful for it as it is key to who I am and what I have become. Maybe I went back to far, but this is what I came up with over the past thirty minutes while I wrote this. I am not done thinking on it and maybe I will add to it later, or maybe not. But it does beg the question, how much of our lives is based on stuff we can't even comprehend when it occurs?
What about you? What is your event? Think on it and thank God for it. Maybe you'll find something you haven't thought of for years.
Have a happy Thanksgiving and let everyone around you know just how thankful you are for their influence in you life. Thank you all for reading this, knowing you read it is what allows me to keep writing.
Since you are here, I may as well finish what I started with my final Thank you for this Thanksgiving week. But I think instead of saying thank you or telling you something I am thankful for, I am going to instead issue a challenge. As you go through this day, I want you to dig deep and think of a single defining event that you are thankful for. I could be good or bad, it just has to be something that is a defining moment. One of those moments that you look at and realize that without that event, nothing you have today could be.
Something you maybe needed to happen to set you up for today. Maybe it taught you an important lesson that lingers with you and shapes nearly every decision you make. Maybe it brought a person into your life that changed how you lived it and is still bringing about these changes. Maybe it is an event so simple that you are astounded in just how much it has influenced who and where you are. Maybe it was a moment of stupidity, or maybe a moment of genius. Just dwell on it and you may be surprised what your mind brings up.
I am not asking you to share it, although you may if you so choose. This is just something I think can be a real help to you in finding who you are. This shouldn't be easy. It shouldn't be something that is on the top of your head. This is something so deep in you that you have nearly forgotten it. Granted it may be something you think of often, but you probably won't recognize it as the life changer it became. I only say this because as I was typing this I had a dozen thoughts go through my head. I discarded each one as I found an event before it that led to that event.
First I jumped to my marriage, but I realized that without my early entrance to the military it would never have happened. Then I realized that my entrance into the military would never have happened had I not been where I was. As I traced back this thread, I found my defining moment to be something that occurred before I started school. Back to something I had little recollection of. You see, when I was born, my father was a dairy farmer in southern Iowa. I see the surprise in some of your eyes, since most of you only know him as a plumber and electrician. It's true. He owned a dairy farm in Ringgold county Iowa. He had a sawmill on this farm as well. My memories of the farm are very vague. I only really remember a white house and a big bulldozer. The defining moment came when I was about 3. That year, dad went bankrupt. As I said, this is all something I pieced together from conversations with dad and other things I have read. The bankruptcy lead dad to move to Nevinville, Iowa and take up plumbing and electrical work to pay the bills. Due to dad's business and the needs of the family, it lead him to move us 2 more times, the final move to Shannon City, Iowa and the East Union School District when I was in second grade.
Why do I call that my defining moment? My entire life hinges on it. Without that moment, I would have grown up a dairy farmer and sawmill operator, thus I never would have learned all I did about plumbing and electrical from my father. My wife would never have met my sister in junior high and thus would never have known me. I might never have been disillusioned by the church I grew up in and thus not had the experiences I did, not all of which were good, but all of which contributed to my understanding and have since strengthened my faith. I can't begin to list all the other things that hinge on this one event. I am sure it was painful to my father when it happened and I know it couldn't have been easy, but I am thankful for it as it is key to who I am and what I have become. Maybe I went back to far, but this is what I came up with over the past thirty minutes while I wrote this. I am not done thinking on it and maybe I will add to it later, or maybe not. But it does beg the question, how much of our lives is based on stuff we can't even comprehend when it occurs?
What about you? What is your event? Think on it and thank God for it. Maybe you'll find something you haven't thought of for years.
Have a happy Thanksgiving and let everyone around you know just how thankful you are for their influence in you life. Thank you all for reading this, knowing you read it is what allows me to keep writing.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Happy Hump Day: The Joys of Parenthood?
Let me begin by letting everyone know that I passed the PFA. If you want more details, you have to comment. Now on to the meat of today's post.
Happy Hump Day! Today we are talking about the joys of parenthood. OK, who am I kidding. No matter how much we love our kids, or enjoy raising them, there is no such thing as "the joys of parenthood." Think about it. Make a list of all the activities you loved to do before you had kids. Now, start crossing off any items that you can't afford to do because of kids. Your list should be cut in half at this point. If it isn't, then either you were a really lame couple, or you were a really cheap date. Now cross off anything that you can't do with your kids either because it's illegal for them to do, or you would be a bad parent if you let them (skydiving comes to mind, but that probably went away in the first round). You should now be down to just a few activities. Now, scratch off anything that takes more than 2 hours. This is about the time you end up with after you figure out how long it will take you to get to your date location and back to the baby sitters so you don't go over that 3 hour time limit. If you are taking the kids on this event you are also limited to two hours because anything over that and you are no longer at the event, you are the event as you chase your kid in what ever direction(s) (s)he decides to go.
OK, so what you did as singles, is no longer possible with kids. That doesn't mean there is no joy, does it? I mean, you just change what activities you do. You go to age appropriate things now. All this means is that where ever you go, you end up watching the kids have fun in a sterile environment, talking to other adults without looking at them (this is mainly because you are all trying to pick out your child from the crowd to make sure they don't kill another kid), while being bored out of your mind. Oh, and the conversations all go something like the following:
"So, yeah, we found that...Bobby, you put that down!...anyway, we found that things are a bit cheaper at Walmart, but....No Bobby, you leave her alone....we prefer Target."
"I so understand....Suzy, you let go of her hair! I don't care who had it first.."
"Bobby, stop that, get over here and sit down. Go on, you were saying,"
"Yes, I really don't like Walmart either."
Not really what I would call quality conversation. It doesn't matter what you start talking about, you always end up discussing where things are cheaper, what place gives better deals, or which museum is more kid appropriate. When you do manage to have an adult discussion, you inevitably get the kid pulling on your leg and repeating, "daddy," in an ever louder voice until you scream, "WHAT?" at the poor kid. To which the inevitable reply is a "can I have, (you fill in the item)." And by the way, when you scream that at your poor kid, (s)he inevitably cries and that single lady that is "cares so much" for kids and has never had any starts giving you the look that says you are a bad parent.
The only "joy of parenthood" that I can see is when the rug rats are sleeping. Yeah, they're cute when they do that. Or, when they discover a new ability, like walking, I suppose that is pretty neat. Or how about, when they discover they can't do something by trying, like blowing on their own belly. I guess that's pretty funny. Or maybe when they snuggle up to you and tell you they love you. I suppose I might call that a joy.
Maybe it is a bit of a trade off. Sure, I can't go out with my friends every weekend. Maybe the wife and I don't get to go on long dates to fun and interesting new places. We just appreciate the quiet times together all the more. Maybe we don't go to the science museum and get to read all the exhibits and spend hours watching educational films, but watching the kids eyes light up when they get to figure out how a windmill works by blowing on it, is maybe just a little bit better. Yes, you have to find new ways to stretch the dollar, but now that every dollar counts, you find that you have a bit more to spend on what matters. Maybe you don't eat out every night, but you learned how to make awesome homemade mac & cheese.
Yup, parenting changes things. From the non-parent's point of view, it is a bad deal. From a parent's point of view, let's just say, I feel for those who don't ever want to have kids. They are a powerful influence. They are also a lot of fun to play with. If a single guy goes into a toy store and buys Nerf guns, he's a little weird. If a Dad does the same thing, he's fun. Yup, I love being a dad. I stand corrected, there are joys of parenthood, they are just different from (and I think better than) the joys of not having kids.
Hope you enjoyed today's post. Stay tuned next week for a new one. Have a great day.
Happy Hump Day! Today we are talking about the joys of parenthood. OK, who am I kidding. No matter how much we love our kids, or enjoy raising them, there is no such thing as "the joys of parenthood." Think about it. Make a list of all the activities you loved to do before you had kids. Now, start crossing off any items that you can't afford to do because of kids. Your list should be cut in half at this point. If it isn't, then either you were a really lame couple, or you were a really cheap date. Now cross off anything that you can't do with your kids either because it's illegal for them to do, or you would be a bad parent if you let them (skydiving comes to mind, but that probably went away in the first round). You should now be down to just a few activities. Now, scratch off anything that takes more than 2 hours. This is about the time you end up with after you figure out how long it will take you to get to your date location and back to the baby sitters so you don't go over that 3 hour time limit. If you are taking the kids on this event you are also limited to two hours because anything over that and you are no longer at the event, you are the event as you chase your kid in what ever direction(s) (s)he decides to go.
OK, so what you did as singles, is no longer possible with kids. That doesn't mean there is no joy, does it? I mean, you just change what activities you do. You go to age appropriate things now. All this means is that where ever you go, you end up watching the kids have fun in a sterile environment, talking to other adults without looking at them (this is mainly because you are all trying to pick out your child from the crowd to make sure they don't kill another kid), while being bored out of your mind. Oh, and the conversations all go something like the following:
"So, yeah, we found that...Bobby, you put that down!...anyway, we found that things are a bit cheaper at Walmart, but....No Bobby, you leave her alone....we prefer Target."
"I so understand....Suzy, you let go of her hair! I don't care who had it first.."
"Bobby, stop that, get over here and sit down. Go on, you were saying,"
"Yes, I really don't like Walmart either."
Not really what I would call quality conversation. It doesn't matter what you start talking about, you always end up discussing where things are cheaper, what place gives better deals, or which museum is more kid appropriate. When you do manage to have an adult discussion, you inevitably get the kid pulling on your leg and repeating, "daddy," in an ever louder voice until you scream, "WHAT?" at the poor kid. To which the inevitable reply is a "can I have, (you fill in the item)." And by the way, when you scream that at your poor kid, (s)he inevitably cries and that single lady that is "cares so much" for kids and has never had any starts giving you the look that says you are a bad parent.
The only "joy of parenthood" that I can see is when the rug rats are sleeping. Yeah, they're cute when they do that. Or, when they discover a new ability, like walking, I suppose that is pretty neat. Or how about, when they discover they can't do something by trying, like blowing on their own belly. I guess that's pretty funny. Or maybe when they snuggle up to you and tell you they love you. I suppose I might call that a joy.
Maybe it is a bit of a trade off. Sure, I can't go out with my friends every weekend. Maybe the wife and I don't get to go on long dates to fun and interesting new places. We just appreciate the quiet times together all the more. Maybe we don't go to the science museum and get to read all the exhibits and spend hours watching educational films, but watching the kids eyes light up when they get to figure out how a windmill works by blowing on it, is maybe just a little bit better. Yes, you have to find new ways to stretch the dollar, but now that every dollar counts, you find that you have a bit more to spend on what matters. Maybe you don't eat out every night, but you learned how to make awesome homemade mac & cheese.
Yup, parenting changes things. From the non-parent's point of view, it is a bad deal. From a parent's point of view, let's just say, I feel for those who don't ever want to have kids. They are a powerful influence. They are also a lot of fun to play with. If a single guy goes into a toy store and buys Nerf guns, he's a little weird. If a Dad does the same thing, he's fun. Yup, I love being a dad. I stand corrected, there are joys of parenthood, they are just different from (and I think better than) the joys of not having kids.
Hope you enjoyed today's post. Stay tuned next week for a new one. Have a great day.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Happy Hump Day: Scheduled to the max
I know it is Happy Hump Day, but I have some stuff I need to get out of the way first. As I informed you yesterday...I said hold your horses, I will try and be funny in a minute....anyway, as I was saying, yesterday I informed you I tried out for a part in my churches Christmas Musical, "Annie!", I find out today if I got the part I want or a different part. I didn't get a call back, but that doesn't mean I didn't get the part. Next, I want to let you know that the link over there ------> is a link to what was formally "Joe's Story Time." I decided to change the name to the title of the story and then I added a new post to it. Check it out if you want. I actually started writing that story years ago and have since updated it to match my developing style.
Now to the funny (I hope). There is only so much you can do when you discover that life has been planning something for you with out your consent or knowledge. This has happened to me on several occasions and continues to happen regularly. I think, "hey, Tuesday is clear, I think I will mow the lawn Tuesday and enjoy today (Saturday) with the family." Good plan, at least it was to me. Then life raises its head in the guise of my lovely wife and says, "Oh, by the way, your son has soccer practice and you need to help his brothers with homework, make dinner, and there are clothes in the wash that need put into the dryer. Thanks." Your welcome. The grass isn't up to my knees yet, so I guess it's OK. It wasn't until I look back at the previous week and realize I should have seen this coming. My boy has been going to practice for 3 weeks now, so I should know the schedule. The kids did just start school, so I should have guessed they might have homework. OK, I get it, I made a bad plan. Can we just move on?
It seems that no matter what I do, that period of time from September to June (also known as the "school year"), becomes a practice of what to do when. Or more accurately, what day isn't there something scheduled. For us, it is.....let me think about this for a minute.....Oh, yeah, Saturday....no wait, we have games Saturday....Friday!.....No, that's....wait, yeah, Friday....After 4pm.....when the kids get home from school....after dinner.....so, that doesn't really work then....Sunday?....afternoon....between football and....OK, I give. I think if we skip football on Sunday (sorry dear), we might be able to get an hour or two together as a family to go out and do something.
What is it with scheduling things these days. Growing up, I felt connected and had a great time and we only had things scheduled for Sunday's and Wednesday nights. It seems these days that unless you have things scheduled for every day of the week, you are depriving your kids. Really? Do they really need to remain that busy. What happened to doing chores, cleaning house, studying, and just spending time with family? I don't think most kids could tell you what Uno is, let alone what a family game night is.
Speaking of Uno, why is it that young kids are the cruelest players? Take my 6 year old for example. We try to avoid sitting next to him because he plays any mean card he can as soon as he can. I understand that it is part of the game and most of us do it, but does he really have to giggle maniacally and then look at you so innocently afterwards? At least my 10 year old has the decency to look evil when he plays mean. My ten year old is another story altogether. He actually actively plots out who and when he is going to attack. I have actually seen him go through three wild cards to play his single blue card because it was a draw two and he really needed to play it on his brother. It was just a little disturbing. Then my 8 year old just plays to get rid of cards. He may have the basic premise down, but he tends to lose sight of the fun. Then again, he does seem to win quite often. It is amazing just how much you can learn of your kids personalities over a game.
I guess I just got lucky that I grew up in a home that loved playing games. It is where I learned how to play by the rules and accept challenges. I think that this is what I am trying to teach my sons. My wife tells me to be nice and let them win sometimes. I just can't do that. I don't recall my dad ever letting me win. I had to earn my wins. Sometimes I think my dad had to have cheated as much as he won. But now I know that he just didn't take it easy on me or my siblings. I don't think I ever beat my dad at chess and he regularly beat me at Cribbage. Dad was and is a competitor at heart. We all love games and can't wait to play again. I try and teach my boys to play games all the time. Sometimes, we just can't find the time due to schedules and life in this day and age in general.
Well, This may not have been that funny, but I enjoyed writing it. Right now, life is calling and letting me know it is time to go. Thank you for reading and keep playing. Have a great day.
Now to the funny (I hope). There is only so much you can do when you discover that life has been planning something for you with out your consent or knowledge. This has happened to me on several occasions and continues to happen regularly. I think, "hey, Tuesday is clear, I think I will mow the lawn Tuesday and enjoy today (Saturday) with the family." Good plan, at least it was to me. Then life raises its head in the guise of my lovely wife and says, "Oh, by the way, your son has soccer practice and you need to help his brothers with homework, make dinner, and there are clothes in the wash that need put into the dryer. Thanks." Your welcome. The grass isn't up to my knees yet, so I guess it's OK. It wasn't until I look back at the previous week and realize I should have seen this coming. My boy has been going to practice for 3 weeks now, so I should know the schedule. The kids did just start school, so I should have guessed they might have homework. OK, I get it, I made a bad plan. Can we just move on?
It seems that no matter what I do, that period of time from September to June (also known as the "school year"), becomes a practice of what to do when. Or more accurately, what day isn't there something scheduled. For us, it is.....let me think about this for a minute.....Oh, yeah, Saturday....no wait, we have games Saturday....Friday!.....No, that's....wait, yeah, Friday....After 4pm.....when the kids get home from school....after dinner.....so, that doesn't really work then....Sunday?....afternoon....between football and....OK, I give. I think if we skip football on Sunday (sorry dear), we might be able to get an hour or two together as a family to go out and do something.
What is it with scheduling things these days. Growing up, I felt connected and had a great time and we only had things scheduled for Sunday's and Wednesday nights. It seems these days that unless you have things scheduled for every day of the week, you are depriving your kids. Really? Do they really need to remain that busy. What happened to doing chores, cleaning house, studying, and just spending time with family? I don't think most kids could tell you what Uno is, let alone what a family game night is.
Speaking of Uno, why is it that young kids are the cruelest players? Take my 6 year old for example. We try to avoid sitting next to him because he plays any mean card he can as soon as he can. I understand that it is part of the game and most of us do it, but does he really have to giggle maniacally and then look at you so innocently afterwards? At least my 10 year old has the decency to look evil when he plays mean. My ten year old is another story altogether. He actually actively plots out who and when he is going to attack. I have actually seen him go through three wild cards to play his single blue card because it was a draw two and he really needed to play it on his brother. It was just a little disturbing. Then my 8 year old just plays to get rid of cards. He may have the basic premise down, but he tends to lose sight of the fun. Then again, he does seem to win quite often. It is amazing just how much you can learn of your kids personalities over a game.
I guess I just got lucky that I grew up in a home that loved playing games. It is where I learned how to play by the rules and accept challenges. I think that this is what I am trying to teach my sons. My wife tells me to be nice and let them win sometimes. I just can't do that. I don't recall my dad ever letting me win. I had to earn my wins. Sometimes I think my dad had to have cheated as much as he won. But now I know that he just didn't take it easy on me or my siblings. I don't think I ever beat my dad at chess and he regularly beat me at Cribbage. Dad was and is a competitor at heart. We all love games and can't wait to play again. I try and teach my boys to play games all the time. Sometimes, we just can't find the time due to schedules and life in this day and age in general.
Well, This may not have been that funny, but I enjoyed writing it. Right now, life is calling and letting me know it is time to go. Thank you for reading and keep playing. Have a great day.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Happy Hump Day: Bad Jokes are Good?
It's Happy Hump Day. In this installment, I tell some jokes that may not make you laugh and a story that might. Here goes nothing (OK, hopefully not nothing, something, but nothing worth writing about, OK, obviously I think it's worth writing about, but.....oh never mind, just read on).
Growing up in a Christian home meant that the language and topics were always clean. This led to jokes that the rest of society usually found somewhat boring (explains a lot about my sense of humor). My dad always had a well of jokes that sometimes hurt, literally. They ranged from the head scratchers (What can go up a chimney down, but not down a chimney up? An umbrella!) to down right childish (what has 4 wheels and flies? A Garbage truck!). Dad always got a chuckle out of them. I think it was because he was watching our expressions. At least that's why I laugh half the time. Yes, I have taken to telling my dad's jokes to my coworkers and friends (they say I torture them by telling the jokes, but at least I get a laugh). In fact, I was banned from telling jokes during one underway as the Engineer said the jokes were so bad that he felt his IQ dropping just from hearing them. Sure they were dumb, but that was the point.
Admit it, you have all told jokes that were really dumb. Then you laughed afterwards. Why? Because you got to see the look of total disbelief and incomprehension cross the face(s) of the audience. That look is almost always worth a laugh. And laughter is infectious. I found the best way to ensure a laugh is to give a genuine chuckle yourself. It has to be genuine, people can tell. If you fake a laugh, you just look silly and dumber than....for lack of a better comparison, my dad's bad jokes. We still laughed at them, but looking back (and, yes telling them myself) they were (are) dumb.
I also found that my dad liked telling his jokes with themes. For instance, he might tell a series of jokes one day that were all about rabbits. Yes, he had a dozen rabbit jokes. Think of all the puns for hare and you can get a picture of what it might sound like. I hear you groaning. It was worse. Themes let you trap the unwary listener....never mind, keep reading, nothing to worry about. The only requirement for themes is that the jokes are loosely tied together in some way and there has to be at least three jokes for it to be a theme. I usually used the bad joke theme, it was the easiest one to use.
Conveniently, I forgot a lot of dad's jokes, but then again, some of them were so bad they were good. You know the ones. The ones you hear and groan immediately after the punch line and then the groan becomes a deep laugh that you just can't stop. Those of you that have had the pleasure (misfortune?) of hearing my (my dad's really) jokes, know what I am talking about.
Which makes me ask, why do people stick around and actually show interest in jokes when you tell them you have a bad joke? Seriously, I say, "want to hear a bad joke?" and the usual response is, "not really, but go ahead." Why? If you don't want to hear it, say no and leave. I'm not lying, it usually is bad. Groan and feel dumb bad. Better to bang your head against the wall bad. And yet, you listen patiently and are amazed that I actually told a bad joke. Even those of you that have been around me enough. Why? Guess they are as addictive (and sometimes as dangerous as) illicit drugs. I know I can't wait to expand my cache of bad jokes.
Thank you for reading. Let me leave you with a bad joke. Just kidding, I want to see your face when I tell it. Have a great day.
One last thing. If you look over there ------> you see a link to my other blog Joe's Story time. It is a serial story I am writing. Enjoy.
Growing up in a Christian home meant that the language and topics were always clean. This led to jokes that the rest of society usually found somewhat boring (explains a lot about my sense of humor). My dad always had a well of jokes that sometimes hurt, literally. They ranged from the head scratchers (What can go up a chimney down, but not down a chimney up? An umbrella!) to down right childish (what has 4 wheels and flies? A Garbage truck!). Dad always got a chuckle out of them. I think it was because he was watching our expressions. At least that's why I laugh half the time. Yes, I have taken to telling my dad's jokes to my coworkers and friends (they say I torture them by telling the jokes, but at least I get a laugh). In fact, I was banned from telling jokes during one underway as the Engineer said the jokes were so bad that he felt his IQ dropping just from hearing them. Sure they were dumb, but that was the point.
Admit it, you have all told jokes that were really dumb. Then you laughed afterwards. Why? Because you got to see the look of total disbelief and incomprehension cross the face(s) of the audience. That look is almost always worth a laugh. And laughter is infectious. I found the best way to ensure a laugh is to give a genuine chuckle yourself. It has to be genuine, people can tell. If you fake a laugh, you just look silly and dumber than....for lack of a better comparison, my dad's bad jokes. We still laughed at them, but looking back (and, yes telling them myself) they were (are) dumb.
I also found that my dad liked telling his jokes with themes. For instance, he might tell a series of jokes one day that were all about rabbits. Yes, he had a dozen rabbit jokes. Think of all the puns for hare and you can get a picture of what it might sound like. I hear you groaning. It was worse. Themes let you trap the unwary listener....never mind, keep reading, nothing to worry about. The only requirement for themes is that the jokes are loosely tied together in some way and there has to be at least three jokes for it to be a theme. I usually used the bad joke theme, it was the easiest one to use.
Conveniently, I forgot a lot of dad's jokes, but then again, some of them were so bad they were good. You know the ones. The ones you hear and groan immediately after the punch line and then the groan becomes a deep laugh that you just can't stop. Those of you that have had the pleasure (misfortune?) of hearing my (my dad's really) jokes, know what I am talking about.
Which makes me ask, why do people stick around and actually show interest in jokes when you tell them you have a bad joke? Seriously, I say, "want to hear a bad joke?" and the usual response is, "not really, but go ahead." Why? If you don't want to hear it, say no and leave. I'm not lying, it usually is bad. Groan and feel dumb bad. Better to bang your head against the wall bad. And yet, you listen patiently and are amazed that I actually told a bad joke. Even those of you that have been around me enough. Why? Guess they are as addictive (and sometimes as dangerous as) illicit drugs. I know I can't wait to expand my cache of bad jokes.
Thank you for reading. Let me leave you with a bad joke. Just kidding, I want to see your face when I tell it. Have a great day.
One last thing. If you look over there ------> you see a link to my other blog Joe's Story time. It is a serial story I am writing. Enjoy.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Summary of the week.
So, I got switched to swing shift which is why this is late today. Now that that bit of business is done, on with the tribute.
As I close out the week long Honoring of my father, I can only hope that this week has given you some food for thought. I know it has for me. It has brought up a lot of memories, good and bad. It has also helped me to realize just how much my father means to me, a said in yesterday's post. I really can't add much more to what I have already written over the past week. I remember sitting and listening to dad's tales of hunting, camping, and fishing growing up and wanting so much to be as adventurous and wild as he was. I realize now that it shaped my life such that I want to do those things with my boys. I look forward to camping with them. I remember the pride I felt when my boys brought in their first fish. I look forward to many more. While being a father is a tough job, I find that the joy outweighs any pain or suffering that is associated with it. Raising children is also one of the greatest learning experiences you'll ever have. It teaches you patience, how to clean and dress a moving target, what foods stain the worst, and most importantly, what your breaking point is. At some point in every parents life, your kids will find the button that gets you the most angry and then beat on it until you snap, just to see what happens. They usually do it at a young enough age that they can use their cuteness to calm you before any permanent damage is done.
Thanks again, dad, for all you taught me and instilled in me. Thanks for all you do. Oh, and Happy Father's day.
As I close out the week long Honoring of my father, I can only hope that this week has given you some food for thought. I know it has for me. It has brought up a lot of memories, good and bad. It has also helped me to realize just how much my father means to me, a said in yesterday's post. I really can't add much more to what I have already written over the past week. I remember sitting and listening to dad's tales of hunting, camping, and fishing growing up and wanting so much to be as adventurous and wild as he was. I realize now that it shaped my life such that I want to do those things with my boys. I look forward to camping with them. I remember the pride I felt when my boys brought in their first fish. I look forward to many more. While being a father is a tough job, I find that the joy outweighs any pain or suffering that is associated with it. Raising children is also one of the greatest learning experiences you'll ever have. It teaches you patience, how to clean and dress a moving target, what foods stain the worst, and most importantly, what your breaking point is. At some point in every parents life, your kids will find the button that gets you the most angry and then beat on it until you snap, just to see what happens. They usually do it at a young enough age that they can use their cuteness to calm you before any permanent damage is done.
Thanks again, dad, for all you taught me and instilled in me. Thanks for all you do. Oh, and Happy Father's day.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Lessons from Dad.
You can say what you want, but I can think of a million reasons why my dad is great. OK, maybe not an actual million, but I can think of a lot of them. I think the main reason is what he gave us that we never realized he gave. As a dad I now realize just how much it takes to raise a family (at least the preteen years, I am dreading the teens).
To start it off he gave patience. He gave us more than we could ever deserve. As I look at my boys, I realize just how much they try my patience. Take meals for instance. I love cooking for my family. The boys however have decided that if they can't immediately figure out what it is, it must taste horrible. Add on to this my oldest's fear of anything new and you get for some very interesting meal times. I try so hard to to get angry at them when they refuse to try something or call it "yucky" after a single nibble. Then I reflect back and realize I did the same thing. At this point I must apologize to my father. I now understand that look, the clenched jaw and laser eyes. I also realize what it took for you to remain as calm as you did for as long as you did.
Next, through in the lessons in work ethics. Man did I hate all the work you made me do at home. Mowing the yard (hey it was an acre and we only had a push mower), cleaning out the barns (hog, goat, chicken, and rabbit), and taking care of the garden (sure the food was fresh, but isn't a quarter acre a bit excessive?) Now I realize just what it gave me. I have an appreciation for hard work and a nice lawn. I understand what it takes to care for animals and a bit more of how nature works (I can also stand smells that would make most people puke). I know how to grow a garden and what it takes so I can feed my family as I get older. It took me years to learn that the sooner I got started the sooner it was done. It also took me years to learn that once you start, don't stop till you're done, momentum is hard to get back. I may forget your lessons sometimes dad, but thank you for teaching them to me.
I also have to thank dad for what he gave up for me. As most of you know, my mother died when I was 13. Dad never gave up on us and remained as a single parent until after I had left home and was in the Navy. He never complained about being lonely or wanting to go out on dates. I realize now that dad gave up adult companionship to raise us kids. I can't imagine what it would be like to have nothing but teenagers and grade schoolers to talk to night after night. thanks again dad.
If I were to sum up my dad in a single phrase it would be generous to a fault. Eve today, he continues to give of himself. He currently has at his house, a lot of kids, many of whom he adopted. Did I mention he is in his late 60's. When he should be out enjoying his retirement and relaxing, he is giving of himself to raise a bunch of kids that aren't his by blood, but are his through love and caring. The only word I can think of to describe this is selfless. My admiration and awe of my dad only continues to grow. I wish that I could be half as selfless as he.
As you can probably tell, I have the deepest love and respect for my dad. Even if I haven't told him, I do. I know I don't call him as often as I should. He was always hard to talk to for me. I am only beginning to realize now why that is. He is my idol, the one human I wish to be most like as I grow older. I fear his rebuttal so much, and yet I only feel encouraged after I talk to him.
I hope that someday dad can read these words and understand just what it is he means to me. Thanks dad. Thanks for caring enough to raise me and teach what it means to not just be a man, but to be a dad. Thanks for not just telling me how to get along with other, but being a shining example of it. Thanks for showing me what it means to care for and help others. Thanks for being my dad. Just thank you.
To start it off he gave patience. He gave us more than we could ever deserve. As I look at my boys, I realize just how much they try my patience. Take meals for instance. I love cooking for my family. The boys however have decided that if they can't immediately figure out what it is, it must taste horrible. Add on to this my oldest's fear of anything new and you get for some very interesting meal times. I try so hard to to get angry at them when they refuse to try something or call it "yucky" after a single nibble. Then I reflect back and realize I did the same thing. At this point I must apologize to my father. I now understand that look, the clenched jaw and laser eyes. I also realize what it took for you to remain as calm as you did for as long as you did.
Next, through in the lessons in work ethics. Man did I hate all the work you made me do at home. Mowing the yard (hey it was an acre and we only had a push mower), cleaning out the barns (hog, goat, chicken, and rabbit), and taking care of the garden (sure the food was fresh, but isn't a quarter acre a bit excessive?) Now I realize just what it gave me. I have an appreciation for hard work and a nice lawn. I understand what it takes to care for animals and a bit more of how nature works (I can also stand smells that would make most people puke). I know how to grow a garden and what it takes so I can feed my family as I get older. It took me years to learn that the sooner I got started the sooner it was done. It also took me years to learn that once you start, don't stop till you're done, momentum is hard to get back. I may forget your lessons sometimes dad, but thank you for teaching them to me.
I also have to thank dad for what he gave up for me. As most of you know, my mother died when I was 13. Dad never gave up on us and remained as a single parent until after I had left home and was in the Navy. He never complained about being lonely or wanting to go out on dates. I realize now that dad gave up adult companionship to raise us kids. I can't imagine what it would be like to have nothing but teenagers and grade schoolers to talk to night after night. thanks again dad.
If I were to sum up my dad in a single phrase it would be generous to a fault. Eve today, he continues to give of himself. He currently has at his house, a lot of kids, many of whom he adopted. Did I mention he is in his late 60's. When he should be out enjoying his retirement and relaxing, he is giving of himself to raise a bunch of kids that aren't his by blood, but are his through love and caring. The only word I can think of to describe this is selfless. My admiration and awe of my dad only continues to grow. I wish that I could be half as selfless as he.
As you can probably tell, I have the deepest love and respect for my dad. Even if I haven't told him, I do. I know I don't call him as often as I should. He was always hard to talk to for me. I am only beginning to realize now why that is. He is my idol, the one human I wish to be most like as I grow older. I fear his rebuttal so much, and yet I only feel encouraged after I talk to him.
I hope that someday dad can read these words and understand just what it is he means to me. Thanks dad. Thanks for caring enough to raise me and teach what it means to not just be a man, but to be a dad. Thanks for not just telling me how to get along with other, but being a shining example of it. Thanks for showing me what it means to care for and help others. Thanks for being my dad. Just thank you.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Dad's 2 ton Gun
Happy Hump Day! Continuing with the theme this week, I will now regale you with more dad. The fact that my father is a plumber, electrician, and generally good guy has led to many interesting encounters. Dad has many acquaintances through this line of work and nearly all of them have the same opinion of him. This has led to a host of connections that has helped dad throughout his life. One of the most interesting to me, is his relationship with the district DNR agent.
For those of you unfamiliar with this term, the DNR agent is the person responsible for enforcing the fish and wildlife laws. In other words he makes sure hunters and fishermen don't do anything illegal (which is why most hunters and fishermen avoid the DNR agent at all costs). It's kind of like when you are driving a fast sports care, you tend to avoid the police even if you aren't doing anything wrong. Well, because dad does all of his plumbing and electrical, they know each other well.
The best example of this relationship occurred my freshman year in high school. At the time, dad had a 60 something ford truck. To say this truck was interesting, is to be kind. The previous owner had hand painted it with house paint a bright blue with a white cab. From a distance (a mile is about right) it looked OK, up close, the brush strokes really came out, which is fine on a work of art, not so much on a truck. Anyway, since the truck was built in the 60's, it was made with steel. Now-a-days safety is based on safety features (airbags, seat belts, crumple zones, etc.), but back then, it was generally believed that what made a car safe was how much damage it could drive away from. Trucks from the era could probably have taken on a bulldozer and won. Knowing this, and adding in the fact that we were usually scraping by, you can understand dad's philosophy when it came to what to do when a deer decided to step onto the road in front of him. Most people slam on the brakes and brace themselves. Not dad. When he was in that truck, he would down shift and step on the gas (if he wasn't already at top speed).
"More humane to hit 'em at high speed and go for the instant kill," was the reasoning. So it came as no surprise when dad came home with an 8 point buck in the back of the truck the night before deer season opened.
Any other day of the year, dad probably would not have informed the DNR. Since Deer season started the next day and his friend might decide to stop by and see what was being butchered, dad figured he ought to call. So he called his friend, the DNR agent. This is the only time I can ever remember him showing up at our place in an official capacity. He walked around the truck and looked over the deer on all sides. Did a lot of frowning and finally asked his first question.
"Any damage to the truck?"
Dad simply smiled and said, "Think I need to realign my head lights, but they may have been like that before I hit the darn thing."
"How fast were you going?"
"Don't really know, I was speeding up at the time."
"How many is that now?"
"I don't know, about one a year a suppose, say 5."
At this point, the DNR agent just shook his head and said, "Alright, I can tell you didn't shoot him, but I really ought to classify that truck as a hunting implement."
Dad just smiled and shook the agents hand as he left. From that day on, though, the Truck was called the 2 ton gun.
Enjoy your day and have a wonderful week.
For those of you unfamiliar with this term, the DNR agent is the person responsible for enforcing the fish and wildlife laws. In other words he makes sure hunters and fishermen don't do anything illegal (which is why most hunters and fishermen avoid the DNR agent at all costs). It's kind of like when you are driving a fast sports care, you tend to avoid the police even if you aren't doing anything wrong. Well, because dad does all of his plumbing and electrical, they know each other well.
The best example of this relationship occurred my freshman year in high school. At the time, dad had a 60 something ford truck. To say this truck was interesting, is to be kind. The previous owner had hand painted it with house paint a bright blue with a white cab. From a distance (a mile is about right) it looked OK, up close, the brush strokes really came out, which is fine on a work of art, not so much on a truck. Anyway, since the truck was built in the 60's, it was made with steel. Now-a-days safety is based on safety features (airbags, seat belts, crumple zones, etc.), but back then, it was generally believed that what made a car safe was how much damage it could drive away from. Trucks from the era could probably have taken on a bulldozer and won. Knowing this, and adding in the fact that we were usually scraping by, you can understand dad's philosophy when it came to what to do when a deer decided to step onto the road in front of him. Most people slam on the brakes and brace themselves. Not dad. When he was in that truck, he would down shift and step on the gas (if he wasn't already at top speed).
"More humane to hit 'em at high speed and go for the instant kill," was the reasoning. So it came as no surprise when dad came home with an 8 point buck in the back of the truck the night before deer season opened.
Any other day of the year, dad probably would not have informed the DNR. Since Deer season started the next day and his friend might decide to stop by and see what was being butchered, dad figured he ought to call. So he called his friend, the DNR agent. This is the only time I can ever remember him showing up at our place in an official capacity. He walked around the truck and looked over the deer on all sides. Did a lot of frowning and finally asked his first question.
"Any damage to the truck?"
Dad simply smiled and said, "Think I need to realign my head lights, but they may have been like that before I hit the darn thing."
"How fast were you going?"
"Don't really know, I was speeding up at the time."
"How many is that now?"
"I don't know, about one a year a suppose, say 5."
At this point, the DNR agent just shook his head and said, "Alright, I can tell you didn't shoot him, but I really ought to classify that truck as a hunting implement."
Dad just smiled and shook the agents hand as he left. From that day on, though, the Truck was called the 2 ton gun.
Enjoy your day and have a wonderful week.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
My dad was cool?
Day two of the Dad honorarium. Don't worry, He's still kicking and I hope he still is for years to come. Anyway, I was stuck for a bit on what to write today. I really haven't came up with anything substantial. I figure I'll just share a few of the things I slowly learned over the years. Stuff he never told me until I either discovered it and asked, or someone else mentioned it. For instance, it wasn't until I was almost 30 that I discovered that dad's first new car was a Hemi Cuda he bought while in the Air Force. I discovered this when we were going through a stack of old pictures we had while I was home on leave. I pull out this picture of dad in front of this shiny new car.
"Who's car is this?" I asked.
Dad simply looked at it and said, "Mine."
No elaboration, just the simple declaration that at one time, dad was cool. I already had an inkling of that from looking at his year books from High school that Grandma so nicely provided us kids. Turned out, that dad was a stud in high school. He may not have played sports, but he and his friends ran the school. The notes left in the aforementioned yearbooks ranged from the simple miss you, to the elaborate remembrances and nearly tear filled good byes. And nearly every single girl in his class had something to say beyond the compulsory nice miss you note. Needless to say, finding out dad was cool was one of the many things we found out. The few things he volunteered were innocuous and safe. Reflecting on what I tell my boys, I can only imagine just what kinds of things he got into.
Now I know some of you are wondering, "what about the Cuda? He obviously didn't have it when you were growing up. What happened to it?" In the same conversation that we discovered he owned it, he admitted that he had to sell it during the 70's fuel crisis since he couldn't afford gas for it. He admitted to missing it. and regretting selling it.
His response when I asked if he would have let me drive it in high school? "Are you serious?!" Thanks dad. I love you too.
Well, I think that about covers it. Just remember, every dad may have been cool at one time. Mine still is, it just took me 30 years to realize it. Have a wonderful day.
"Who's car is this?" I asked.
Dad simply looked at it and said, "Mine."
No elaboration, just the simple declaration that at one time, dad was cool. I already had an inkling of that from looking at his year books from High school that Grandma so nicely provided us kids. Turned out, that dad was a stud in high school. He may not have played sports, but he and his friends ran the school. The notes left in the aforementioned yearbooks ranged from the simple miss you, to the elaborate remembrances and nearly tear filled good byes. And nearly every single girl in his class had something to say beyond the compulsory nice miss you note. Needless to say, finding out dad was cool was one of the many things we found out. The few things he volunteered were innocuous and safe. Reflecting on what I tell my boys, I can only imagine just what kinds of things he got into.
Now I know some of you are wondering, "what about the Cuda? He obviously didn't have it when you were growing up. What happened to it?" In the same conversation that we discovered he owned it, he admitted that he had to sell it during the 70's fuel crisis since he couldn't afford gas for it. He admitted to missing it. and regretting selling it.
His response when I asked if he would have let me drive it in high school? "Are you serious?!" Thanks dad. I love you too.
Well, I think that about covers it. Just remember, every dad may have been cool at one time. Mine still is, it just took me 30 years to realize it. Have a wonderful day.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Dad's wisdom
So I missed posting on Saturday. It wasn't really that busy, I just never got around to it. Sorry. Anyway, I am now back at work and I have a bit to do so I will keep it short today. I got the camper in to the shop Friday and it looks like it will cast me in the neighborhood of $300 to get it up and running for the camping season. I should hear from the shop this afternoon. All in all, it wasn't a bad weekend.
Now to let you in on my theme for the week. With Father's Day coming up on Sunday (yes, it is that close), I have decided that this week will be dedicated to posts on my dad. Either I will tell a story about him, or share a lesson I learned from him. Today, I share a quick lesson.
The lesson is basic and can be summed up in one phrase. "It is better to have a little to much, than not enough." At the time, he was referring to cutting lengths of wire for rewiring a house, but I have found that this simple philosophy applies to many parts of our lives. Meals for example. Every time, I try to make the exact right amount so I don't over cook, I end up with to little. The only time I have enough for everyone consistently is when I throw in a little extra, just in case. It can also apply to your saving account and expense planning. Think about it, which is worse, over estimating how much something will cost, or convincing yourself that something is cheaper than it actually is.
There is a flip side to this. You can find yourself going beyond what is prudent, into the realm of excess. As my dad said, just a few inches extra is all you really need, otherwise it's just waste. In other words, use a little bit of self control when getting that little extra. Don't make a five course meal for 20 when you're expecting 10. Don't overestimate the cost by doubling it. Don't add an hour onto a 15 minute commute.
Now I know some of you are thinking that there are areas where to much is just to much like alcohol. I agree, but I wasn't referring to that. The whole premise behind the philosophy is planning. This isn't about consumption or implementation, it's about planning. If you try to apply this to the activity currently in progress, you may find yourself in hot water. As always, prudence is necessary when implementing a plan.
Well, that's it for today. I look forward to tomorrow. Thanks Dad for all your wisdom and lessons taught.
Now to let you in on my theme for the week. With Father's Day coming up on Sunday (yes, it is that close), I have decided that this week will be dedicated to posts on my dad. Either I will tell a story about him, or share a lesson I learned from him. Today, I share a quick lesson.
The lesson is basic and can be summed up in one phrase. "It is better to have a little to much, than not enough." At the time, he was referring to cutting lengths of wire for rewiring a house, but I have found that this simple philosophy applies to many parts of our lives. Meals for example. Every time, I try to make the exact right amount so I don't over cook, I end up with to little. The only time I have enough for everyone consistently is when I throw in a little extra, just in case. It can also apply to your saving account and expense planning. Think about it, which is worse, over estimating how much something will cost, or convincing yourself that something is cheaper than it actually is.
There is a flip side to this. You can find yourself going beyond what is prudent, into the realm of excess. As my dad said, just a few inches extra is all you really need, otherwise it's just waste. In other words, use a little bit of self control when getting that little extra. Don't make a five course meal for 20 when you're expecting 10. Don't overestimate the cost by doubling it. Don't add an hour onto a 15 minute commute.
Now I know some of you are thinking that there are areas where to much is just to much like alcohol. I agree, but I wasn't referring to that. The whole premise behind the philosophy is planning. This isn't about consumption or implementation, it's about planning. If you try to apply this to the activity currently in progress, you may find yourself in hot water. As always, prudence is necessary when implementing a plan.
Well, that's it for today. I look forward to tomorrow. Thanks Dad for all your wisdom and lessons taught.
Monday, April 25, 2011
This weekend, and a note about growing up.
So all in all, it wasn't to bad a weekend. Saturday, I started to help a friend remodel his bathroom. I say started because as we started working on removing the old tub and fixtures we discovered to outside wall had a slight carpenter ant infection. By slight I mean, we were able to keep from tearing down the entire house. The damage was limited to a 6' x 7' section of wall. Now when the weather is nice, I get to help him rebuild a wall. Yippee.
Sunday came and low and behold, my youngest was sick. Luckily I couldn't breathe due to my cold and thus didn't have to smell his dirty diapers (apparantly they were horrible). Between an upset 3 year old, a raging headache, an inability to breathe, and an overwhelming desire to sleep, I was unable to go to Easter services. I was a bit bummed. This also meant I was unable to go and help my friend with finishing his bathroom. Guess it was a good thing it rained. I felt slightly better that afternoon so I was able to finally color eggs with my boys. The eggs are currently sitting in the fridge waiting to be eaten or turned into something yummy. I doubt I will be able to taste them since I still can't breathe. So my weekend was pretty much a wash. I got to spend so little time with my family that it didn't seem like a weekend at all.
Today, I spent the first 10 minutes draining my nose. At least I don't have a headache today. I still can't breathe and want ot go to sleep, but I think I will survive. All in all it has been interesting. At least I had a good chance to work with a friend and maybe we can finish his bathroom before the end of the week. We'll see.
The converstations I had this weekend have really hit home on so many levels. I realized just how lucky I was to have a father who was willing to take me to work with him and teach me what it was he did. I also find that what I was given through his discipline and direction helped to shape who I became and influences me to this day. I have realized that I want nothing more than to return to that style of living. I used to think that my dad wasn't business savy and could have made his business a lot larger and maybe not lived with as little as we did. Looking back, I realize now that I was wrong. Dad could have easily increased his business to become some large business, but he would have lost the connection with his customers. I believe now that this was his main reason for having the business the way he did. That is why whenever the business started to really grow, he always managed to make it smaller again. He enjoyed connecting with people and still does. I have found I have a similar desire, just on a smaller scale. Due to many reasons, I am not as trusting or outgoing as my dad. I am happy to spend hours sitting by myself, but I will go out of my way for a friend. I may not make a ton of friends, but those I allow into that circle are there for life. As I have mentioned to my friends and family, I have many aquaintances and very few friends. I like to know that as my friend, I can count on you as much as you can count on me. My dad is much the same. His circle of friends may be larger, but that is due to how long he has had to make them and the community he lives in. Like many who have had a father that cares for them, I want to be like my dad. Maybe not a carbon copy, but enough of a facsimile that some can see my dad in me. Of all the compliments I can recieve, to hear that I am like my dad is the greatest one I think I could get. So, to end this, I guess I could just say, Thanks dad. And expect me to take this to the next level come Fathers Day.
Sunday came and low and behold, my youngest was sick. Luckily I couldn't breathe due to my cold and thus didn't have to smell his dirty diapers (apparantly they were horrible). Between an upset 3 year old, a raging headache, an inability to breathe, and an overwhelming desire to sleep, I was unable to go to Easter services. I was a bit bummed. This also meant I was unable to go and help my friend with finishing his bathroom. Guess it was a good thing it rained. I felt slightly better that afternoon so I was able to finally color eggs with my boys. The eggs are currently sitting in the fridge waiting to be eaten or turned into something yummy. I doubt I will be able to taste them since I still can't breathe. So my weekend was pretty much a wash. I got to spend so little time with my family that it didn't seem like a weekend at all.
Today, I spent the first 10 minutes draining my nose. At least I don't have a headache today. I still can't breathe and want ot go to sleep, but I think I will survive. All in all it has been interesting. At least I had a good chance to work with a friend and maybe we can finish his bathroom before the end of the week. We'll see.
The converstations I had this weekend have really hit home on so many levels. I realized just how lucky I was to have a father who was willing to take me to work with him and teach me what it was he did. I also find that what I was given through his discipline and direction helped to shape who I became and influences me to this day. I have realized that I want nothing more than to return to that style of living. I used to think that my dad wasn't business savy and could have made his business a lot larger and maybe not lived with as little as we did. Looking back, I realize now that I was wrong. Dad could have easily increased his business to become some large business, but he would have lost the connection with his customers. I believe now that this was his main reason for having the business the way he did. That is why whenever the business started to really grow, he always managed to make it smaller again. He enjoyed connecting with people and still does. I have found I have a similar desire, just on a smaller scale. Due to many reasons, I am not as trusting or outgoing as my dad. I am happy to spend hours sitting by myself, but I will go out of my way for a friend. I may not make a ton of friends, but those I allow into that circle are there for life. As I have mentioned to my friends and family, I have many aquaintances and very few friends. I like to know that as my friend, I can count on you as much as you can count on me. My dad is much the same. His circle of friends may be larger, but that is due to how long he has had to make them and the community he lives in. Like many who have had a father that cares for them, I want to be like my dad. Maybe not a carbon copy, but enough of a facsimile that some can see my dad in me. Of all the compliments I can recieve, to hear that I am like my dad is the greatest one I think I could get. So, to end this, I guess I could just say, Thanks dad. And expect me to take this to the next level come Fathers Day.
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