I've realized that whenever I am in a writing slump, I can use my blog as a refrigerator door and post brilliant things my kids have done. I was cleaning up some old files last night and I found this poem that Noah wrote when he was 13. Like I've already said...I think it's brilliant!
The Shadow
As I slept in dark last night
A shadow approached my cot
And though I awoke upon a fright
The shadow hurt me not
I asked the shadow, “How do you do?”
The shadow thought for a while
And he replied, “I am you, I do how you do.”
Though the words he spoke were true, I was in denial
“If I am me, then you must lie.”
He chuckled as if he had just commit a crime
“You see…each man is like a die,
He has many faces, but only one shows at a time.”
And then my shadow disappeared and I became like lumber
And once again I returned to my silenced slumber
Noah Crocker
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Greensleeves
I've always wished I'd been more musical, but the talent was just never introduced into my DNA. When I had kids, I did what many parents do and tried to encourage them to take music lessons with the hope that something would stick. It would be a shame for the world to lose out on the next Mozart because his parents never put him in front of a piano.
So when Samantha was 8 or 9 we decided to give her piano lessons. She was mildly enthusiastic about it at first but lost interest after awhile and it was difficult to force her to practice. Finally I told her she could quit as soon as she learned to play Greensleeves for me. The song has always moved me ever since I was a child and heard it in a movie. She said she'd do it, but eventually the lessons stopped without her fulfilling her end of the bargain.
This year she warned us all that she had no money and her Christmas gifts would be extremely inexpensive which I thought was a good idea. On Christmas morning after all of the gifts were exchanged she went out to her car and brought in a guitar and sat beside me on the sofa and played Greensleeves for me. I had tears in my eyes as I hugged her for the beautiful gift.
Thank-you honey, I love it!
So when Samantha was 8 or 9 we decided to give her piano lessons. She was mildly enthusiastic about it at first but lost interest after awhile and it was difficult to force her to practice. Finally I told her she could quit as soon as she learned to play Greensleeves for me. The song has always moved me ever since I was a child and heard it in a movie. She said she'd do it, but eventually the lessons stopped without her fulfilling her end of the bargain.
This year she warned us all that she had no money and her Christmas gifts would be extremely inexpensive which I thought was a good idea. On Christmas morning after all of the gifts were exchanged she went out to her car and brought in a guitar and sat beside me on the sofa and played Greensleeves for me. I had tears in my eyes as I hugged her for the beautiful gift.
Thank-you honey, I love it!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Really Very Stupid Things
The following incidents may or may not have happened but I will not admit to doing any of them.
tubing with no life jacket in a flood swollen river, contest to see who could hold a lit firecracker the longest, playing chicken head-on on bikes to see who would swerve first, tying brother backwards to a tricycle and pushing him down a hill, poking jailed drunks with a sharp stick, rolling bowling balls down the highway at 60 miles an hour, walking across steel beams 8 stories high, tubing down hill with barbed wire fence at the bottom, tying brother upside down in a tree, waking up at 70 miles an hour and 70 feet off the freeway, trying to knock each other off speeding snowmobiles, teach brother to yell "jack ass" at the mean neighbor lady, cementing the neighbors doors and windows shut, spending two hours at the top of a tree while the girl that someone called a cow tries to knock you down with rocks, folding my brother into a sleeper sofa, launching bottle rockets from the car, streaking, contest to see who could hold onto electric fence the longest, throwing knives at brothers feet, reasoning that the lakes thin ice will hold if you just drive snowmobile fast enough, getting into a car with drunk hillbillies, bb gun wars, jumping bikes over friends laying lengthwise, jousting from bikes, riding on the hood of a car, riding on the highway on the top of a tall stack of hay bails in the back of a truck, training to be a stuntman by jumping out of a moving car, laughing while drill sergeant screams in your face, breaking into vacant apartments to sleep and shower, slowing down but not stopping the car when dropping brother off, contest to see who can pass the most motorhomes on bike going down mountain switchbacks, pushing fully clothed bully into swimming pool, stopping fan blade with tongue, rock fights, running through pitch black mile long tunnel with just a stick to guide you, competing in triathlons without learning to swim, car races, sleeping in cemetary, blindfolded boxing, shooting arrow straight up and dodging its return, trying to outrun a cop, blowing things up in a variety of ways, sleeping under a hedge in downtown Los Angeles, making drill sergeant remember your name by pissing him off on the 1st day of boot camp, hitchhiking at 14, wandering through a bronx ghetto at midnight, getting a ride to California with crazy man who claims to be a hit man on assignment, sleeping under freeway over passes, misreading arrival time as departure time for family trip, packing remote control instead of camera for birth of child, publishing list of really very stupid things that I may or may not have done.
tubing with no life jacket in a flood swollen river, contest to see who could hold a lit firecracker the longest, playing chicken head-on on bikes to see who would swerve first, tying brother backwards to a tricycle and pushing him down a hill, poking jailed drunks with a sharp stick, rolling bowling balls down the highway at 60 miles an hour, walking across steel beams 8 stories high, tubing down hill with barbed wire fence at the bottom, tying brother upside down in a tree, waking up at 70 miles an hour and 70 feet off the freeway, trying to knock each other off speeding snowmobiles, teach brother to yell "jack ass" at the mean neighbor lady, cementing the neighbors doors and windows shut, spending two hours at the top of a tree while the girl that someone called a cow tries to knock you down with rocks, folding my brother into a sleeper sofa, launching bottle rockets from the car, streaking, contest to see who could hold onto electric fence the longest, throwing knives at brothers feet, reasoning that the lakes thin ice will hold if you just drive snowmobile fast enough, getting into a car with drunk hillbillies, bb gun wars, jumping bikes over friends laying lengthwise, jousting from bikes, riding on the hood of a car, riding on the highway on the top of a tall stack of hay bails in the back of a truck, training to be a stuntman by jumping out of a moving car, laughing while drill sergeant screams in your face, breaking into vacant apartments to sleep and shower, slowing down but not stopping the car when dropping brother off, contest to see who can pass the most motorhomes on bike going down mountain switchbacks, pushing fully clothed bully into swimming pool, stopping fan blade with tongue, rock fights, running through pitch black mile long tunnel with just a stick to guide you, competing in triathlons without learning to swim, car races, sleeping in cemetary, blindfolded boxing, shooting arrow straight up and dodging its return, trying to outrun a cop, blowing things up in a variety of ways, sleeping under a hedge in downtown Los Angeles, making drill sergeant remember your name by pissing him off on the 1st day of boot camp, hitchhiking at 14, wandering through a bronx ghetto at midnight, getting a ride to California with crazy man who claims to be a hit man on assignment, sleeping under freeway over passes, misreading arrival time as departure time for family trip, packing remote control instead of camera for birth of child, publishing list of really very stupid things that I may or may not have done.
Friday, December 10, 2010
You are on Welfare
You are Angry.
You saw the woman in front of you buying junk food with food stamps and now you are on a rant about the welfare parasites ruining your country. You claim the solution to all of our deficit problems is to just stop the welfare.
Now please...take a breath and the mood altering pill of your choice (legally prescribed by your doctor of course) and take a look in the mirror.
Can we all agree that the definition of welfare is receiving financial assistance that you haven't earned? Are you 100% certain that you pay your own way without help from a socialist goverment? Let's take a look. I'm going to pick on Utah for one example because I know the state well, have many friends there and believe that you have one of the more fiscally prudent states in the country. But even as efficient as you are it still costs about $7,500 per pupil per year to educate your kids. So 2 kids for 13 years means that taxpayers (including you ) have spent about $180,000 to educate those two kids. Double that for four kids and triple it for six. So before I believe that the government isn't taking from others to redistribute to you, I'll need you to show me proof that you will ever pay that back in your life time. If you aren't going to pay that back then you have received financial assistance from others to educate your kids.
Your house is the same value as your neighbors, but you are paying a mortgage to a bank and your neighbor is paying rent to a landlord. You get a big interest deduction worth a couple thousand that he doesn't get. You may not consider it welfare but your neighbor probably does.
You live in a state that gets more money back from the federal government than you pay. My friends in Utah get back $1.07 for every dollar they pay. If they feel bad that in Colorado we only get $0.83 back for every dollar collected, I'll let you send me a check for the difference.
If you are 60 something, you are likely collecting some sort of welfare.
If the fire department ever responded to a fire on your property, then you have probably collected more from safer taxpayers than you will ever pay back. Your church provides you with a social safety net and they use roads and infrastructure but they don't have to pay taxes for them. If you have a college degree from a state college then you were subsidized by the taxes of the hard working masses who didn't go to school.
If you have a mortgage, if you have children, if you collect social security, unemployment, belong to a church, have gone to college, work for the government (including schools) then you are benefiting from some sort of redistribution of wealth.
So please stop whining that the single mother in the check out line in front of you bought cheetos and coke with "your money"!
You saw the woman in front of you buying junk food with food stamps and now you are on a rant about the welfare parasites ruining your country. You claim the solution to all of our deficit problems is to just stop the welfare.
Now please...take a breath and the mood altering pill of your choice (legally prescribed by your doctor of course) and take a look in the mirror.
Can we all agree that the definition of welfare is receiving financial assistance that you haven't earned? Are you 100% certain that you pay your own way without help from a socialist goverment? Let's take a look. I'm going to pick on Utah for one example because I know the state well, have many friends there and believe that you have one of the more fiscally prudent states in the country. But even as efficient as you are it still costs about $7,500 per pupil per year to educate your kids. So 2 kids for 13 years means that taxpayers (including you ) have spent about $180,000 to educate those two kids. Double that for four kids and triple it for six. So before I believe that the government isn't taking from others to redistribute to you, I'll need you to show me proof that you will ever pay that back in your life time. If you aren't going to pay that back then you have received financial assistance from others to educate your kids.
Your house is the same value as your neighbors, but you are paying a mortgage to a bank and your neighbor is paying rent to a landlord. You get a big interest deduction worth a couple thousand that he doesn't get. You may not consider it welfare but your neighbor probably does.
You live in a state that gets more money back from the federal government than you pay. My friends in Utah get back $1.07 for every dollar they pay. If they feel bad that in Colorado we only get $0.83 back for every dollar collected, I'll let you send me a check for the difference.
If you are 60 something, you are likely collecting some sort of welfare.
If the fire department ever responded to a fire on your property, then you have probably collected more from safer taxpayers than you will ever pay back. Your church provides you with a social safety net and they use roads and infrastructure but they don't have to pay taxes for them. If you have a college degree from a state college then you were subsidized by the taxes of the hard working masses who didn't go to school.
If you have a mortgage, if you have children, if you collect social security, unemployment, belong to a church, have gone to college, work for the government (including schools) then you are benefiting from some sort of redistribution of wealth.
So please stop whining that the single mother in the check out line in front of you bought cheetos and coke with "your money"!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Tasty Severance
I believe I've already blogged about the stress of firing people. No matter how much it's deserved it's never pleasant. There was one time that was almost fun though. I'd forgotten all about it until my friend Donna reminded me of it last week. She was a witness and said she still laughs about it.
Jodi was the receptionist at Twin Peaks Mall. She'd only been there a few months, but I already knew I'd made a mistake in hiring her. Her skills were fine but she was a whiner and whiners are my least favorite species. She loved being a victim and her feelings were always getting hurt and she was always pouting. The only thing I ever remember her talking about was how unfairly her husband, kids, mother, coworkers, neighbors, weatherman, and God was treating her.
Every year we would let the Girl Scouts sell cookies in the mall. Every year they would thank us with about 2 dozen boxes of cookies that I would divide up among the staff. This year Jodi handled the arrangements and was the only one in the office when the girls brought in the cookies. As the rest of the staff arrived, they reacted with excitement that it was cookie time!
Should have been a happy time for all, right? Not exactly.
I got an emergency call from my bookkeeper that morning. "Jim! She's keeping the cookies and not sharing!" Apparently Jodi had all of the cookies under her desk and was insisting that the girl scouts had given them to her and she was going to take them all home to her family. Keep in mind that this an office staff, not a 3rd grade classroom. I canceled my plans and came into the office and explained to the Cookie Monster that this was an annual tradition and the gift was for the whole staff and not just her and demanded that she turn over the thin mints. Instead of handing them over and apologizing for the misunderstanding, she stomped out of the office in tears. All terribly awkward and embarrassing but she did leave the cookies behind so we decided to console ourselves with a cookie party and I sent a security guard to the store for some milk.
Two hours went by and we were getting excited with the prospect that she might never come back when the door flew open. She was back and she brought an angry, loud, little man with her. I thought he might be some sort of hired cookie enforcer but he turned out to just be her husband. He was yelling about theft and about taking food out of the mouths of his children. I'm serious... I remember that because for a few years afterwards, whenever anyone on the staff had a disagreement with me they would joke that I was taking food out of the mouths of their children.
I demanded that he get out of my office and I had a "full of cookies and milk" security guard escort him out. I told Jodi to take the rest of the day off and be in my office at 8:00 the next morning. When she came in she started to apologize when she noticed about 20 boxes of girl scout cookies in bags that I'd bought the night before. She asked "what are they for?"
I said, "It's your severance pay. Don't come back." Some firings are easier than others!
Jodi was the receptionist at Twin Peaks Mall. She'd only been there a few months, but I already knew I'd made a mistake in hiring her. Her skills were fine but she was a whiner and whiners are my least favorite species. She loved being a victim and her feelings were always getting hurt and she was always pouting. The only thing I ever remember her talking about was how unfairly her husband, kids, mother, coworkers, neighbors, weatherman, and God was treating her.
Every year we would let the Girl Scouts sell cookies in the mall. Every year they would thank us with about 2 dozen boxes of cookies that I would divide up among the staff. This year Jodi handled the arrangements and was the only one in the office when the girls brought in the cookies. As the rest of the staff arrived, they reacted with excitement that it was cookie time!
Should have been a happy time for all, right? Not exactly.
I got an emergency call from my bookkeeper that morning. "Jim! She's keeping the cookies and not sharing!" Apparently Jodi had all of the cookies under her desk and was insisting that the girl scouts had given them to her and she was going to take them all home to her family. Keep in mind that this an office staff, not a 3rd grade classroom. I canceled my plans and came into the office and explained to the Cookie Monster that this was an annual tradition and the gift was for the whole staff and not just her and demanded that she turn over the thin mints. Instead of handing them over and apologizing for the misunderstanding, she stomped out of the office in tears. All terribly awkward and embarrassing but she did leave the cookies behind so we decided to console ourselves with a cookie party and I sent a security guard to the store for some milk.
Two hours went by and we were getting excited with the prospect that she might never come back when the door flew open. She was back and she brought an angry, loud, little man with her. I thought he might be some sort of hired cookie enforcer but he turned out to just be her husband. He was yelling about theft and about taking food out of the mouths of his children. I'm serious... I remember that because for a few years afterwards, whenever anyone on the staff had a disagreement with me they would joke that I was taking food out of the mouths of their children.
I demanded that he get out of my office and I had a "full of cookies and milk" security guard escort him out. I told Jodi to take the rest of the day off and be in my office at 8:00 the next morning. When she came in she started to apologize when she noticed about 20 boxes of girl scout cookies in bags that I'd bought the night before. She asked "what are they for?"
I said, "It's your severance pay. Don't come back." Some firings are easier than others!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
"New" Car
I just got a new car. OK...I just got a used car. I typically will run a car into the ground before I get a new one and after 7 years and 235,000 miles I almost did that with my Honda mini-van. Good car. Good, good car. I'm a sensible guy and it was a sensible vehicle. I know you only get a mini-van if you have a family but I loved my red Odyssey. I could haul bikes and skis and furniture and 6 passengers in it. I drove it through the very worst conditions and beat the crap out of it but it never let me down.
But it was time.
The catalyst was when Jonah turned 16 and I decided that it would be the perfect vehicle for him. Believe it or not, he's pretty excited about driving a mini van. Lots of room for his friends I suppose.
So now I drive a 2008 Prius. I'm a little bit of a tree hugger but mostly it was a financial decision. I commute 500 miles a week and the Prius will save me about $150/mo in gas. All of the really cool technology is just a bonus. It's got a microphone in the mirror and I can get all of my calls through the speakers. It is keyless and unlocks when I walk up to it. It tells me when it needs an oil change or when the tires are low. I know that a Prius has that tree hugger reputation but it actually makes me feel a little like James Bond. (didn't he drive a Prius?)
I'll see if I can get another 200,000 miles out of it!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
You Have To Fight Back
I had a conversation with an old friend recently and she reminded of the time I punched a guy in the face who had attempted to grope her. It was over 30 years ago and I had nearly forgotten about it but it stuck with her because it was the only time someone had ever used violence to defend her. I typically think of myself as more of a "live and let live" pacifist who sees the wisdom in walking away from a fight, but I have to admit that there is something gratifying in being remembered as a sort of Clint Eastwood defender of women!
That got me remembering even further back when fist fights were a normal part of my life when I was 12 years old. We lived on the Ft. Hall Indian Reservation in Idaho at that time. I don't know if fights were a normal part of the culture or if the Indian kids always beat up the white kids or if I was just there during a bad year but I was getting my butt kicked at least weekly. The first time it happens to you is shocking and terrifying. I didn't know what I had done to piss this guy off and when I realized that an adult wasn't going to step in and save me, I basically just tried to cover my face and begged him to stop as I got pummeled. I also wasn't aware of the playground code of no tattling and went straight to a teacher with my story. The bully was punished but the next day on the playground, so was I. I still didn't fight back and the best strategy I could come up with was to stay in the classroom during recess, but this just meant they waited for me after school. I started faking sick to avoid school and my parents got involved and we had a meeting with the principal.
Mr. Broadhead heard my story and he sympathized but at some point he looked at me and said, "You have to fight back, Jim. They'll stop coming after you if they know you can hurt them." I can't imagine an elementary school principal telling a student that today but this was 1972 and it was some of the best advice I ever received. I started taking a few swings and would connect once in awhile, but it was a month or so before I got an official "win". Robert Blackfoot punched me right in the nose and I was losing blood through both nostrils. I managed to take the fight to the ground and get on top of him but I had to hang on with both arms so I couldn't really hit him. I did manage to get in a few head butts that didn't do any real damage but the whole time I had him down, I was bleeding all over him. A lot. His face and shirt were covered in blood...my blood. When a teacher finally pulled us both up by our collars, the crowd saw a little bit of blood under my nose, but Robert was a red gooey mess! I heard the impressed gasps from everyone as we were hauled into Mr. Broadhead's office. He chewed us both out but then held me back and smiled and congratualted me. He predicted that they would start leaving me alone now.
That wasn't entirely true, but the rumor did circulate that I had nearly killed Robby Blackfoot and I did get picked on a lot less. I still had to fight occasionally and I learned that if you were fighting fair then you weren't trying very hard. My specialties were the throat punch, the eye gouge, and using my elbows as weapons. Not exactly heroic type of fighting but the object was to hurt him as quickly as possible to stop the fight before getting hurt yourself.
Fortunately, my new skills were seldom used in the past 37 years and I hope I never find myself in a situation again where a head butt is necessary. But I hope I always remember Mr. Broadhead's very good advice. Sometimes "You have to fight back."
That got me remembering even further back when fist fights were a normal part of my life when I was 12 years old. We lived on the Ft. Hall Indian Reservation in Idaho at that time. I don't know if fights were a normal part of the culture or if the Indian kids always beat up the white kids or if I was just there during a bad year but I was getting my butt kicked at least weekly. The first time it happens to you is shocking and terrifying. I didn't know what I had done to piss this guy off and when I realized that an adult wasn't going to step in and save me, I basically just tried to cover my face and begged him to stop as I got pummeled. I also wasn't aware of the playground code of no tattling and went straight to a teacher with my story. The bully was punished but the next day on the playground, so was I. I still didn't fight back and the best strategy I could come up with was to stay in the classroom during recess, but this just meant they waited for me after school. I started faking sick to avoid school and my parents got involved and we had a meeting with the principal.
Mr. Broadhead heard my story and he sympathized but at some point he looked at me and said, "You have to fight back, Jim. They'll stop coming after you if they know you can hurt them." I can't imagine an elementary school principal telling a student that today but this was 1972 and it was some of the best advice I ever received. I started taking a few swings and would connect once in awhile, but it was a month or so before I got an official "win". Robert Blackfoot punched me right in the nose and I was losing blood through both nostrils. I managed to take the fight to the ground and get on top of him but I had to hang on with both arms so I couldn't really hit him. I did manage to get in a few head butts that didn't do any real damage but the whole time I had him down, I was bleeding all over him. A lot. His face and shirt were covered in blood...my blood. When a teacher finally pulled us both up by our collars, the crowd saw a little bit of blood under my nose, but Robert was a red gooey mess! I heard the impressed gasps from everyone as we were hauled into Mr. Broadhead's office. He chewed us both out but then held me back and smiled and congratualted me. He predicted that they would start leaving me alone now.
That wasn't entirely true, but the rumor did circulate that I had nearly killed Robby Blackfoot and I did get picked on a lot less. I still had to fight occasionally and I learned that if you were fighting fair then you weren't trying very hard. My specialties were the throat punch, the eye gouge, and using my elbows as weapons. Not exactly heroic type of fighting but the object was to hurt him as quickly as possible to stop the fight before getting hurt yourself.
Fortunately, my new skills were seldom used in the past 37 years and I hope I never find myself in a situation again where a head butt is necessary. But I hope I always remember Mr. Broadhead's very good advice. Sometimes "You have to fight back."
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