The Digital Father

Moving Day

2006-11-22T08:33:00.000-05:00

I'm moving Digital Father blog over to Wordpress. As such, I have turned off comments here. The subscriber button and the player on the left remain active.

Please do change the link, if you have me blogrolled or linked, to http://digitalfather.wordpress.com.

My other blogs will remain here, at least for now. For those of you who haven't visited them, they are:

Bernies World
Podcast for Educators
Hudson Valley Technology Leadership Institute (not really launched, but set up for, as you might imagine, Hudson Valley Technology Leaders.)

WordPress

2006-11-21T15:18:00.000-05:00

In the interest of learning new things, and to try out the feature set, I set up a parallel of this blog over at WordPress to see if I like it.

So far, the pros:

Easy Team Blogging
TrackBacks
Categories
Static Pages as well as Blog Entries
Ability to load a static page
Domain Management
~~Easier CSS management~~ only in the paid version
Easy comment tracking and feeds
Easy video embedding
A widget for adding links to your page from your browser (like blogrolling)

The cons:

no javascript or flash implementation

I've been at it for an hour or so, and I may be hooked! Check it out and let me know what you think.

Ouch! My quads!

2006-11-20T16:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the last meeting of my son's rec soccer team.

You see, he's been playing on the team for 8 years, and the guys age out this year. They completed their last season undefeated,. To celebrate (which we would have done whether they had won or not) we had a pizza party, preceded by a Fathers vs Sons exhibition game. OK- we had a Mom, which was great! As a matter of fact, I believe she was the high scorer! But I jump ahead...

The teams were unbalanced at the outset. We had 7 men against 11 boys. We were not too worried, because the men have learned one thing since we started doing this- they can run faster and longer than us, so we have to play zone and pass very smartly. I played midfield center, with 2 defensemen behind me. We had 3 men on offense, who were supplemented by the one woman, who arrived late.

At the outset, the boys were confident. It didn't take long, however, for them to realize that they had to worry somewhat. As we put a few shots on net, and made some fairly long and patient passes, they brought their game a little harder. Well, they actually started cheating. Then yelling at us for cheating. Then sending everyone up on offense to put more pressure on the net.

This is when you discover the difference between 13 and 40 years old. 40 year olds are more patient. 40 year olds can lose without embarrassment. 40 year olds don't sweat giving up a goal in an hour-long game. However, 13 year olds begin disputing all of the calls. They begin to play very physically. They hang on the opposing goalie. They run intentionally into their fathers.

All that being said, we had a good time, and besides, we expect that kind of thing in a family soccer game. In the end, we had a 3-3 tie when the pizza arrived. The boys were very disappointed, and would have played for as long as it took to get ahead by one goal. We set the end at the next goal or the arrival of the pizza, and the tired adults gladly walked off with an honorable ending for all.

There were some touching goodbyes among the parents, since the boys will see one another in school, but we will not see the parents as much as we did before. This was a social occasion as much as a sporting event. I'll miss it, in some small way. I will enjoy having my Saturdays back, but the cold snap on the fall will always remind me of that great rec soccer team. The one in which we all said we would come back, but only if the coaches came back too. The one where the adults played the kids, and called out plays for them in the early days so they could score. We left, stating that we would be back next year to play a rematch.

It may take me that long just to recover. My quads and hamstrings are killing me!

Thanks to all you soccer coaches out there. You are greatly appreciated by those of us without the time and talent to do what you do. (This means you, Rich!)

Don't have your baby in the UK!

2006-11-16T12:17:00.000-05:00

UPDATED- I've downloaded a copy of the report that created this furor. At 276 pages in length, it will take me some time to review. However, I have found some items within it I can agree with, and some where we shall not agree. When I have reviewed it fully, I will report again here. Please feel free to read it and join me in discussing it.

Original post:

After AdventureDad of The Blogfathers brought me this tragic news about a group of physicians debating the right to allow 'severely handicapped' newborns to die, a bishop in the UK comes forward and states that his church may agree with this practice.

I can't believe this discussion is being entertained. Then to find out that a church, any church, isn't strenuously objecting, is unfathomable.

I can't possibly speak to this again today, but I will be watching it closely. I'm not a religious zealot, I'm not a pro-lifer, and I'm not a Republican. However, as a human being I am offended.

I'll spoke on this issue in my podcasts (Digital Father 3 and Bernies World 24) if you are interested. Tell your friends.

Digital Father Episode 3- Protecting Your Children

2006-11-16T01:45:00.000-05:00

Direct link to mp3 file

Show Notes

3 Difficult topics this week

How do you protect your children from predators in today’s society?
How do you protect them from media in todays society?
What would you do if you had a severely disabled infant?

My first writing on this subject
Now this!- I respond in the comments

Music: “Byrons Got The Time” by Family Groove Company, on the Podsafe Music Network

email me

Call the voice comment line at 206-350-KIDS

Other podcasts and blogs at World of Bernie

Fun with Daughter

2006-11-10T08:53:00.000-05:00

Daughter loves to sing. Loves. It.

Last night, I picked her up from French Class (she takes an evening class at the local rec center) and we headed off to the mall to get birthday gifts. She has two birthday parties coming up. One friend is a Beatles fan, the other an aspiring Broadway diva.

So we headed off to the record store to see what they had. We found Beatles 1, which is a great bang for the buck. 27 hit songs, 1 CD. We also found a compilation in the Show Tunes section of hits from original productions. Mary Martin's "Sound of Music", Betty Buckley's "Memory", that kind of thing. The best part of the entire trip- both CD's under $10. That is apparently the threshold for classmate birthday gifts. Another unwritten rule in the the "Fathers Guide to not looking Stupid."

Anywho, we headed down to Staples to pick up a printer for Son, who has been:

writing work on his own computer
changing the text to red to print it out on his broken printer
proofing and editing
printing it out on his broken printer
proofing and editing again
changing the text to black
putting it on a flash drive and printing it out on my printer.

Homework should not be that hard. We found a Lexmark for $40, so I snagged it.

Back home, after being chastised because "I can't send you to the store without buying something extra!" I started goofing with Son, who mentioned "Man of La Mancha", one of the shows on the CD. As I ran about the house, tilting at windmills and singing of 'my quest to follow that star', Daughter began naming songs off the CD. I sang each one for her (except "Mame", which I don't know) while she sat in the kitchen at the counter. Then she ran and got the Beatles CD, and began naming the 27 songs on that CD. I knew most of those as well, and with help from Wife, we got through.

Then out came the music books. Now Daughter wanted to sing all the music from "The Sound of Music." Off we went to the Music Room (yes, we have a Music Room) so I could sit at the piano, and we could all sing "Edelweiss", "The Lonely Goatherd" and "Sound of Music." Son kept himself upstairs blowing up something on the computer, so it was just a night with the girls. What was unusual was the idea of me making music in the house. I do it professionally on the outside, but not as much as I did 4 years ago. I suppose I kind of miss it a bit, but I love even more seeing the children do it.

I guess it will be my legacy, to see my children pick up where I left off. I don't wish it on them, but it is certainly likely that they will, in some way, be just like me.

"Active Euthanasia" is not Taiwanese Chilhood Fitness Education

2006-11-06T10:09:00.000-05:00

I commented on The Blogfathers to a post on the active euthanasia debate in the UK. I'm not a huge fan of cross-posting, but I haven't blogged here ina while, and I cried writing it, so I thought we could all use a little catharsis today. After all- it's Monday! (PS- please go and see the original post- I know the comments will fly!)

At the same time my mother was pregnant with me, my grandmother (at the time in her forties) became pregnant with my aunt. At her birth, she was mongoloid, mentally retarded, and had a hole between two of the chambers of her heart. She was not expected to live past the age of five, and at a time where institutionalization of the retarded was still a very real option for most families.

She and my grandparents endured surgeries to repair her heart. Her fifth birthday came and went, and she survived. Some in the family believe that what kept my grandfather alive into his seventies was the fact that he felt the need to stay on as long as his heart would allow.

She attended a local school for mentally retarded children. She completed school at age 21 and worked in a workshop designed for adults of her skills and abilities. Eventually, her program was able to place her with Pavion, the cosmetics manufacturer. There she attended company picnics, received many of the gifts and perks that other employees receive, and was a welcome member of the family.

When Pavion closed up manufacturing locally, she moved over to Lederle Laboratories, which has since become American Home Products. They manufacture pharmaceuticals. Her division, which employs many individuals of similar ability, has a supervisor who treats her like a person. He is a firm supervisor who is attentive both to her ability and attention level. She is challenged each day. AHP employs these workers to package introductory kits for your physician, so when they get a promotional box with pens, pads, and samples of the newest meds, there is a good chance my aunt had a hand in putting it together.

She lives in a group home with 13 other individuals. They receive round the clock supervision. She takes her medications and manages much of her own schedule. She exercises each and every day (do you? I don’t!) and helps in the kitchen when it’s her turn. She takes vacations with her house mates, meets pro baseball players, and tomorrow she is taking my family and I to a musical on Broadway.

She is 41 years old, 6 months my senior, and we worry these days whether I will live long enough to continue to look out for her, as she is the youngest of her siblings.

To her, life is productive, meaningful, and worthy of living. How can educated medical professionals even think that ‘active euthanasia’ of infants is worthy of discussion? My local paper featured an article on a pediatric practice that is adding an adult care specialist to their practice because victims of what we call ‘childhood diseases’ such as Cystic Fibrosis are living long past their expected lifespans.

Being a guardian is hard. I know I don’t visit enough, and I’m sure she is lonely at times because her family cannot attend to her needs as well as the experts who care for her. But her home is beautiful and not sterile, and I would guess that if you asked her and she understood the implications, she would not have chosen ‘active euthanasia’.

She is not suffering. She is living. I am not against euthanasia, but it is for those who are no longer living but their body hangs on. There are an extraordinary number of ways to live. It’s not like it was 50 years ago. The iron lung and Willowbrook are not the options available anymore. Who will be the next Stephen Hawking? The next Michael J. Fox? The next Marlee Matlin?

Every person who comes to this world changes it in ways that we can never know. Even if my aunt had lived the 5 years she was promised, she would have changed our lives in a way that would have been invaluable. How else can you explain that my family has been and still are, in some cases: physical therapists(2), occupational therapist, special education teacher, rehabilitation counselor for the deaf, and directors of camps for disabled children(2)?

Every stone tossed in a pond creates a ripple with the potential to become a tide. Who would stand at the shore and catch the stones, deciding which should be cast? I’ll fight that person until I draw my last breath.

Digital Father Episode 2

2006-11-01T09:49:00.000-05:00

Direct Link to Audio File

Show Notes:

Music: Byrons Got The Time by Family Groove Company
Some adult time is always welcome
Halloween- When it's OK to be a slut?
The Dove Real Beauty Workshop via YouTube
When Middle School kids are home sick
About being selfish
Keep in touch with your network

Music can be found on the Podsafe Music Network
leave a voice comment at 206-666-3998 (206-money 98)
email digitalfather AT worldofbernie.com

Perfect Post Award for October

2006-11-01T01:25:00.000-05:00

Each month, a group of bloggers pour over the "starred" items in their Google Reader, the "Keep as New" items in their Bloglines, or the remnants of a months worth of blog posts they printed out because they just had to be shared.

This month, I have nominated Philip Arthur Moore of theThink. Mr. Moore struggles, as men often do, with the still changing world of gender equity. As a father of a daughter, I wonder where we are heading. I know I'm dismayed at the direction, and I wonder, along with Mr. Moore., "how much in this world really keeps the oppressed oppressed?"

Check out the other Perfect Posts at Suburban Turmoil and Petroville. Thanks also to Lindsay and MommaK for doing the leg work. I get to do the cool part- search for next months Perfect Post!

Difficult Phone Calls

2006-10-29T08:15:00.000-05:00

I got up early this morning (as I would imagine many did, considering the "fall back" of the clocks, and found Sunday Worries and :Whoops in my Bloglines.What struck me was this quote:

This is one of those times I wish my Dad and I spoke. As it stands, I don't have anyone in my life who I feel I can talk to about business things... whose opinion I would value nearly as much as I would my father's.

How many of us have said the same thing? Just last week, while working on renovating my basement, I stopped to call Dad. Dad is a carpenter, and built half my house. I trust his opinion, but felt guilty calling. It seems the only reason I call is to pick his brain about something construction-related. I can't help thinking he's seen the parallel, and may resent it.

As I stand in my kitchen blogging, I wonder if that's enough. Should that be the basis for a call? Is it worth it for us to get together, swallow our pride, and say "I love you/ I hate you, and my call today is strictly selfish." What is the worst outcome of that phone call? A click on the other end? A tirade that ends with you clicking off on this end? A half-hearted reconciliation that doesn't take?

I was given an opportunity a few years ago by my uncle. He found me after 20 years and invited me to visit with him across the country. I told him that if I was to come, I didn't want to see my Dad, because we hadn't spoken in years. He responded "that's OK- we don't talk to him either." That visit was the beginning of a healing process by which the entire family began reconnecting and speaking. There is still much history, and we don't all agree, but the consensus is we are all better for being connected, and we're growing, changing, and working to be a better family.

It's none of my business, Rich, but what have you got to lose? Swallow your pride, for the good of your kids and their college, and make the call. "If the response you get is 'sure, you call when you need me' then tell him 'screw you' and hang up. But consider opening with the fact that, as you said, "I don't have anyone in my life who['s] ... opinion I would value nearly as much as I would my father's."

I know it's not simple. I know that crow tastes terrible. I also know that, if I had to, I would do anything for my kids. This is a big decision, and it involves your life's work, your family, and their future security. If the person you trusted was any other person, you would call.

Love to you.

The homework be kicking my booty! *

2006-10-23T22:53:00.000-04:00

Every night, we go through the same thing.

I have a fourth grade daughter, who has reached the point where proper names need to be capitalized, book reviews have to be thorough, and math problems need to be right. This requires a lot of support on our part. My wife and I are constantly over her shoulder, because otherwise she spends hours writing it incoreectly, and then hours revising it all. We need to head it off quickly just for our own sanity.

My eighth grade son is so horribly disorganized it is nearly impossible to help him. He comes home without half of what he left with in the morning. Today it was a brand new down vest, worn today for the first time. Anyway, he rarely has the right paperwork, homework sheets, or class notes. The content he is studying (Earth Science, Polynomials, etc) frequently requires me to do a lot of review and research just to be able to assist him. He is being tutored in math and science to make sure he keeps up, but that also complicates the schedule. What may be the worst part is the sheer volume of work, which usually takes us well past 10pm.

We could easily work all day Saturday just to keep our heads above water. 2 soccer teams further complicate matters, as do piano lessons, church and alter serving on Sunday.

How are you handling these issues?

* I'm paraphrasing Wynton Marsalis, who said that about the music while he was touring with the Eastman Wind Ensemble. He said this, by the way, live on "The Today Show".

Halloween is coming...

2006-10-22T20:26:00.000-04:00

Here's a costume I feel sure you will not be ordering.

via caffeinemarketing

The Digital Father Episode 1- Fathers Conference

2006-10-22T01:36:00.000-04:00

Direct Link to the mp3 file

Show Notes:

Dads and Daughters

Community Awareness Network for a Drug-free Life and Environment (CANDLE)

Child Care Resources of Rockland

Every Person Influences Children

All Pro Dad

Campaign for Commercial Free Childhood

leave a voice comment at 206-666-3998 (206-money 98)
email digdad AT worldofbernie.com

Wow! Star Wars meets Late-Night Wars!

2006-10-12T21:31:00.000-04:00

I've been watching The Colbert Report on and off, and the Green Screen Challenge was a funny idea.

Some of the entries were neat. Some were dorky. But the landscape changed when Industrial Light and Magic actually got into the act. Check out video by George and the gang!

via Crunchgear

A Daddy Diaper Story

2006-10-05T08:51:00.000-04:00

I was reading a post over at Whit's blog (after he commented here) and it reminded me of one of my favorite diaper stories. All dads have diaper stories, don't they?

I was at a local Big Box store with Son 12+ years ago. He and I were shopping for something for Wife, but I can't remember what. We were moving about the store when I noted that a cloud appeared to be following us. Not a rain cloud like you might see in a Winnie The Pooh cartoon, but an odiferous cloud. Son had a gift to offer me, and while I didn't believe I deserved a gift at this point, he was very insistent that I take it.

So, off to the rest room to change Son. Now back in the day, I remembered that Sears had a sign by the rest room that said "Changing Room" or "Changing Station" or something like that. I asked the clerk where the "Changing Area" was. Her eyes got very wide. I looked around, thinking that a large alien had just appeared, or I had said something demeaning about someone and they had just appeared behind me, having overheard my insensitive comment. Then her slack jawed expression struck a chord in my brain.

"It's in the Ladies Room, isn't it?" I asked. She nodded silently.

What to do in a situation like this? I have a few choices-

Use the counter in the Men’s Room, which is assuredly wet and filthy, even though most guys don't wash afterward. (Yeah, I said it- don't lie!)
Discreetly use a corner of the store, while countless disapproving eyes bore silently into the back of my head.
Leave the store, tell Wife they didn't have whatever I had gone for, and change him in the car.

Intrepidly, however, I chose the fourth option. With great determination (and a little aggravation at the reverse discrimination Son and I were victims of) I strode proudly into the Ladies Room.

A little aside here- have you been in a Ladies Room, gentlemen? This place is decked out! I didn't survey the entire place, being somewhat embarrassed to do so, but what I saw at the entrance was WAY better than any old wet floored hovel they pass off as rest rooms for men. They had a loveseat, hand care products, dispensers, extra mirrors. My bedroom wasn't as well appointed as this joint. But I digress...

I was relieved to discover that the changing space (a dedicated counter) was located near the door. I brought Son (now at arms length, as he was quite aromatic) to the spot and carefully (no padding) placed him upon the counter. A few ladies came and went during the process, and some looked askance, but understood when I said over my shoulder 'they have no changing area in the Men's Room'.

Son and I left, our dignity intact but our ire increased. We jetted off a letter to the Big Box store telling them of our embarrassing situation and explaining to them that, in these modern times (12 years ago) there were appliances that allowed stores to create a changing area in ANY restroom, and at a minimal cost with tremendous benefits. We have not been back to that changing area, since at 13, he manages on his own... mostly. However, I'll long remember that slack-jawed saleswoman, my Ladies Room foray, and the dismay I felt at having been a victim of discrimination*.

*I do NOT believe that this is in any way comparable to glass ceilings, racial profiling, gay bashing, or any other egregious forms of discrimination. I'm being (hopefully) funny. As a hetero middle-class white guy, this will most likely be the closest I get to real discrimination in my life.

First Annual New York Fathers Conference

2006-10-03T00:58:00.000-04:00

My wife brought home a brochure for The First Annual New York Fathers Conference.

It sounds like a lot of fun. There are 3 sessions, with 7 workshops available for each session. It includes breakfast (continental) and lunch. There are about 15 organizations sponsoring the conference, and the keynote is by Joe Kelly, President of Dads and Daughters.

I'm hoping to get my portable gear together and do a podcast from there. I'd also love to get another blogger (Rich?) to come along, and maybe we could blog it! With 7 workshops each session, but accounting for duplication, we could cover it well if we work it out. I'm also hoping that the organizers might give me a little 'journalistic freedom'.

If you're a local, drop me a line at vincenzo AT worldofbernie.com if you are interested in joining me to cover this exiting event.

Extracurriculars and overachievers

2006-10-02T14:40:00.000-04:00

I was over at Profgrrrrl's blog and she was speaking to her underclasspersons about extracurriculars. I was thinking about the things I did as an undergrad. Did your schedule look like this?

Resident Assistant- 1 1/2 years
Resident Director- 1 year
Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia Fraternity (2 years- Music Committee Chair, Audit Chair)
Student Government- 3 years
Music Educators National Conference- 4 years, 3 years as an officer
New York State Student Music Educators Association (3 years, 1 as Magazine Editor, 1 as President)
Pep Band (2 years)
College President Search Committee (1 semester)
Orientation Leader (3 summers)
Stage Hand for Concert Office (4 years)
Public Safety Dispatcher (1 year)

Am I a dork with a capital "D", an overachiever, or am I normal?

Of course, that would be normal for a blogger. Aren't we by definition all overachievers?

Perfect Post Award for September

2006-10-02T08:00:00.000-04:00

Last month, while over at Suburban Turmoil, I read of The Perfect Post Awards. A group of bloggers get together and select what they think are the perfect posts for the last month, and place them in a single repository. There are enough blog entries there to get you through an entire month, waiting for the next awards.

This month, I have nominated Sarah, of Sarah and the Goon Squad. She was guest blogging Goomah on The Blogfathers on how It's Cool to be a Dad. What I liked most about the post is it's sense of humor about traditional 'Dad things' while still respecting the role that we play in the lives of our children. Moms will cringe, Dads will cheer, and everyone will laugh.

Check out the other Perfect Posts at Suburban Turmoil and Petroville. Thanks also to Lindsay and MommaK for doing the leg work. I get to do the cool part- search for next months Perfect Post!

Writers Funk

2006-09-28T22:25:00.000-04:00

It's been one of those times. You know them. Those times when the blank screen is so ominous, so frightening, so overwhelming that it cannot be contemplated. And yet, it cannot be ignored. It must be faced.

Wait. I think there's ~~avoidance behavior~~ apple crisp in the fridge.

An end to Writers Block

2006-09-22T23:25:00.000-04:00

O.K. I'm not really writing anything. However, I was reading Dave Barry and found the best headline I've seen in a while!

Thanks Dave, and Russell Blair.

Photo Friday saves me from Writers Block

2006-09-22T22:18:00.001-04:00

Folks who write for their livelihood have ways to get it done. They set goals.

Today I'll type 5,000 words. 10,000 words. 1 chapter.

I wanted to do that tonight. Set a goal. I cracked open Newsgator, my online feed catcher, to see what was up.

Endearing posts. Touching words. Fun stuff. Stuff with cool pictures. Screamingly funny posts. Words of wisdom.

Today I'm exhausted. Not endearing, touching, funny, photogenic, or wise. Here, however, is a picture of me in my jammie-doodles squishing Son. He was pissed!

OK- he giggled too.

Glamour Babies

2006-09-20T23:11:00.000-04:00

If you haven't been keeping up with Suburban Turmoil and her entries on Toddler Beauty Pageants, you MUST! It's getting heated up over there, and it's fun to watch!

Her descriptions of the mothers berating their children, the makeup and false eyelashes, the fake tans. The discomfort you can't help but feel as you hear of a frustrated mother taking the stage to remove a child who is not performing.

These types of pageants are horrible. We talk about women being objectified. This is where it starts. If we are worried about our children being kidnapped from the streets, we need to take a moment and consider how many times we as a people have gone out of our way to make them seem older than they are, and to foist adult secondary sexual characteristics upon them.

False eyelashes? Makeup? I've seen that makeup. That ain't stage makeup! (30+ years of stage performing says I know!) That's glamour makeup, and you folks are out of your mind! Keep an eye on this, and the marvelous blog. She makes me laugh whenever I read it!

A fitting tribute to 9/11 victims and heroes

2006-09-11T08:24:00.000-04:00

At 2,996, you can read tributes written by 3,412 bloggers to those who fell on 9/11. I am not among the bloggers, but I am glad to see that local Stacey S. McGowan will be honored by Mandi at Holdin' Down the Fort, and that Welles R. Crowther is being remembered by Smooth at Smooth Stone. If you knew someone who perished, the list of all the blogs and their subjects can be found here. If you didn't, stop by and read a few anyway. To quote Abraham Lincoln:

[W]e can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men [and women], living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.- Lincoln's Address at Gettysburg (November 19,1863)

Son and I lowered the flag outside the house today. He had not even remembered what the date was. I am torn between the idea that children should not have to grieve so young, and that we must never forget the potential darkness of the human heart. What I should have remembered is what keeps me going- the incredible light of the human spirit and the heroism we see each day from average folks.

We'll have a talk tonight. There is so much to say.

God Bless you all on this difficult day.

First the hospital, then a party

2006-09-08T18:07:00.000-04:00

Before you have a nutty, everyone is fine.

It's been nearly a week since I've posted, and with good reason. Grossmutter (my mother-in-law) was hospitalized. She fell unconscious at the Rectory on Monday (Labor Day here in the US, a bank holiday). She goes each week to count the collection from Sunday. As a former banker, she's pretty good at it, and has been doing it for probably 30+ years.

The folks at the Rectory helped her up from the floor (first aid training, ANYONE?) and helped her to a chair. They called Grossvater (you figure it out) but he was getting a haircut and didn't answer the phone.

Whose phone rings next, do you suppose? Wife answered the phone upstairs, as I was sleeping on the couch downstairs (I completed 3 podcasts the previous overnight, and decided not to wake everyone). She shouted for me, told me the circumstances, and bolted, leaving me with Son, who had not awakened yet. Daughter was at a sleepover, to be followed by a birthday party.

Son woke shortly afterward, almost as Wife called to ask me to meet Grossvater, who had yet to respond to a call. I quickly filled in Son, called the house where Daughter was and begged for help, and took off. Grossvater was fixing something in the garage and was a little shaken when I picked him up to go to the E.R. We arrived to find Grossmutter with Wife waiting to be seen by a doc. A very strange but efficient man eventually came along for a history, which Grossmutter biffed.

Every professional who attended to this woman asked her medical history. When asked if she had any prior medical issues, she responded "not really" to each of them. This is fine, except it overlooks hypertension, high cholesterol, broken ribs last year in a CAR WRECK, surgery on her carotid artery to remove plaque... this women could populate her own textbook! But to her? "Not really." As a result, she cannot be left unattended until she is settled into a room, because she clearly cannot advise in her own care.

This is not because she is addled. This is not because she can't remember (although there is a little of this). It's because she is a royal PITA! She is one of those women who will tell you that everything is fine, and then you find out 3 months later that there was an issue, but she chose to suffer rather than tell you. I would say it was brave, but you get to hear about it. A lot.

In any case, Grossmutter was eventually admitted, and a CAT scan showed what could have been a bleed on the brain. A two day hospital stay and repeat tests revealed it was simply calcification, and not too serious. In the meantime, everyone was worried, but she is home and recovering, although each episode like this makes her a little the worse for wear.

The incident caused Hippie-In-Law, her daughter (my sister-in-law), to come home a month early from Oregon. She's staying in my family room. The timing is good, because it is GroÃmutter's birthday, and we are having a party. At my house. With Psycho-In-Law, my other sister-in-law, and her 3 kids staying over tomorrow evening. I still haven't gotten over the eight 9 year old girlsm and we are having 2 adults and 3 children added to our roster tomorrow.

This is o.k., because it will allow everyone to settle down a little after the week from hell. With school starting and visits to the hospital, it's been a little crazy.

It's not easy having family in their 80's. These kinds of things are to be expected, but Grossmutter and Grossvater do not appear to be in their 80's. Of course, I look at it as an inevitability, but Wife, Son, and Daughter look on this as a much more serious occurence. I have resolved myself, however reluctantly, to the fact that they will not be here for much longer. I don't know if I will be able to do the same when it's my blood.

I had a long discussion with Daughter about some of these issues. She was offended, because in the beginning we didn't inform her, so as not to ruin her social events, and because we simply couldn't be there to tell her personally. She was hurt, as any mature young person might be. A discussion of why we do what we do in emergencies came up. Daughter was curious about the need to go get GroÃvater before he got that frantic phone message. We eventually came around to roles in the family, and Daughter has come to understand that my role is to be the emergency guy. When someone is hurt, I give first aid. When there is a fire at school, I'm the guy who runs there, When the ambulance arrives, I am the one who meets the medics.

It's funny how there can be great comfort in those roles, the traditional, "don't you hate stereotypes" roles. Knowing that Mom will be there to support you, kiss the boo-boos, and feed you. To know that Dad will help with the homework, pick you up at that party in the middle of the night, and fight off threats great and small. Coming from a single-parent household, I never really reflected on that. Now that I am that guy, it's kind of strange to have your children look at you like that.

I wonder if I have the strength and drive to be that guy when the chips are down. On the days when they DO look to me for that strength, I remember where it comes from. It's right there, in the look. You can't let them down, and you can't disappoint them, because they look so helpless. You must be successful, for them.

How do they do that?

Female Friends

2006-09-02T22:50:00.000-04:00

I have some female friends.

O.K. I have many female friends. As a matter of fact, if I were to enumerate my friends, they would be almost exclusively female. With the exception of one guy who was Wife's friend first, one who I met at work, and another I've had forever, the rest are all women.

I don't have a problem with it, but Wife is not too thrilled. She jokes about it, but I always wonder how she really feels. When she started reading my blog, one of the first questions she asked about the folks I 'blog with' was if any of them were cute women. She asked the same of the folks in my new office.

What's interesting is the fact that I prefer to read blogs by women. My blogroll here is almost exclusively women. Championable, Quarter Life and Blogfathers are the only exceptions. Men seem to write about tech a lot (as I do on my other blog) but they don't get into family, life, and themselves.

I enjoy that. I like to get inside of others, and I like to show what I have going on inside. That may be why I enjoy being with women. I like the deep conversations. I enjoy the emotional aspect. The candor with which they speak.

The women I am friendly with tend to have male friends themselves. Many of them. They don't have many female friends. They seem to get along better with men. Is that a thing with women?

I sometimes wonder if it's because of my background. I spent a lot of time in the arts when I was growing up. I was involved in theater, dance, and music. I'm not gay, but I suppose many of the things I did are the kinds of things that guys who ended up gay did as they were growing up. It sounds kind of weird. I'm not Frank from "Trading Spaces", but I am kind of artsy.

I worry that Son goes through the same things. He has a group of female friends that he clicks with. They are not classmates, because he has yet to fall in with a group of girls at school, but he has plenty of male friends at school. I worry that he is sensitive, he is into the arts, and he will suffer as a result.

I spent a lot of time as I was growing up being called "gay" and "fag." What was funny was that I was... active at the time. I knew I wasn't. Guys will be guys, though, and I was gay in their eyes. We didn't call them "beards" then, but I guess that was their thought. It wasn't true.

I know Son gets a lot of crap about who he is. He's not yet comfortable with the dating scene (he's 13!) and he doesn't have a girlfriend. Some of his friends do, but his best friend doesn't yet. I worry that they will leave him behind, and he will begin to endure the stuff I had to endure.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if THAT is the reason I do not get along with a lot of men. I'm not into organized sports, I'm not competitive, and I don't give a damn who you spend the night with. If you score, I'm happy for you. I don't care which goal you're shooting for.

Sorry for the rambling post, but I was in touch with 2 of my college friends, and both are female. I probably would not have spent the time if Wife were home. She's working, and I didn't have to feel guilty.

Maybe I do anyway.

Glad my Solar System no longer includes Pluto...

2006-09-01T09:01:00.000-04:00

...because my world appears to revolve around something other Sol.

I saw this first at crouching mommy... and couldn't resist.

37.5 %

My weblog owns 37.5 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?

Scary numbers. Are yours the same?

Little Girls are Loud!

2006-08-29T17:23:00.000-04:00

Wife is a saint! Daughter's party is ended, and Wife is going to heaven as a result. The reason for this beatification? The National Weather Service accurately predicted rain for the duration of the party. (Sure, NOW they're right!)

The party began at 6pm on Saturday. 8 girls arrived, all but one on time, loudly banging up the stairs with sleeping bags and pillow in hand. Pizza arrived at 6:30pm punctually. With the thunder of a thousand hooves, the bevy headed downstairs for dinner. Soda was poured, salad was declined, pizza was ignored, and chips were hoarded. The level of noise was tolerable, but could have made an OSHA inspector cringe.

When dinner was completed (although that was more based on time at the table rather than pizza ingested) the ladies were invited to have their nails done. Son had a female friend from next door come over to assist, and the girls were all giggles. (Note to self- for his own safety, send Son away when having a girl party. Hugs from girls 4 years younger is not appreciated until a man turns 22.)

They were invited back a short while later for cake, after which they adjourned to the family room for the first video of the weekend, which was "Aquamarine." The ladies remained hungry, although I cannot imagine how. We made popcorn (2 bags) and there was nary a kernel remaining. I begged my wife to withhold further food until it was requested, because now they were eating for something to do rather than out of hunger. They settled down and watched the movie, eating the next round of popcorn about 45 minutes later.

When the movie concluded, we leapt aside as the stampede up the stairs to the bedroom passed. It is important to note that Wife and I gave up our room to the party(512 sq ft) and moved to the family room (160 sq ft). This left the teeming hordes directly over our head, which allowed for easy supervision, but which we were soon to regret. The ladies eventually dressed and settled in for the night, but not to sleep. The first request for slumber came at approximately 11:30 p.m. At 2:15, Wife got hot. By this time, I was 20 winks into my 40, but wife was loaded for bear. It was the last time I heard from them, but I don't know if that was owing to their sleep or mine.

Sunday brought a shift at work for me (YAY) so the ladies were with Wife for the first few hours. She awoke at 7:30 a.m. to give medication to one of the attendees, and that began the onslaught. No matter how she encouraged them to stay asleep, they came, in twos and threes, until all but one had come down for breakfast. The one who remained, by the way, was the one she had awakened to take the medication! She slept until 10:30 a.m.

The girls had a variety of breakfast choices, and watched another movie. I can't speak to the chaos in my absence, but when I arrived home, they had lunch and played a game of "Harry Potter Scene-It" until their parents arrived to pick them up at 3:00 p.m.

Length of the party- 21 hours. Amount of food consumed- 3 pizzas, 6 bags of chips, 12 liters of soda, assorted juices, 1/2 dozen bagels, a few eggs, a cookie cake, 2 dozen cookies, 4 bags of microwave popcorn, 8 party bags of candy.

Son, who had disappeared in the morning, returned at 3:30 p.m. with a friend who stayed until 9:30 p.m. Wife left for work at 6:30 p.m. Daughter and Dad crashed out for the day.

They left for the Cape on Monday morning. I miss them, but the quiet is wondrous!

Daughter's Birthday Party

2006-08-26T19:49:00.000-04:00

Daughter celebrated her 9th birthday a few weeks ago, but because we were away, we are holding the party today.

It's a sleep-over, and there are currently eight screaming 9-year old girls in my bedroom having a pillow fight.

If I don't survive, I wish for my blogs to be preserved as a monument to all those fathers who may have endured such horrors.

I'll report the results tommorow, should fate be kind to me.

How important is blogging to you?

2006-08-23T10:10:00.000-04:00

I ask myself this question regularly. I ask because blogging:

consumes significant amounts of time, in the following ways;

planning what to blog;
blogging;
editing blogs;
maintaining the blog;
responding to comments and feedback;
reading other blogs (which is necessary research for the conscientious);

puts my privacy, and that of my family at risk;
requires an introspection that is at times interesting and at other times painful.

That said, why continue?

I suppose most of it is ego. I enjoy writing, and have been told recently that I do it well. It may be that I am a 'big fish in a small pond', where those around me do not write well, so I am comparatively superior. This is what I think when I read others in the blogosphere. There are so many good writers about that I won't consider including myself in their sphere. I can take credit for even bringing a few along, like the teacher whose students quickly outgrow his tutelage owing to their innate talents.

The need for catharsis is another driving force. I can say things on the internet that might not be said aloud. There is comfort in the anonymity (whether real or perceived) of a blog, and we cherish and protect it. I have many identities on the internet. I am all of those people. Each of them is unique and independent. Here I am a father trying to be a loving and caring member of his family. In other circumstances, I am a man striving to be an expert in a field crowded with brilliant individuals. In another, I am an expert, for I must be. The 'logic of confidence' dictates that for me to be successful, I must be trusted implicitly. Therefore, each morning I remind myself (aloud, by the way) that 'I am a leader. I must lead.'

I suppose the final reason is that these are secrets we share, secrets are burdensome. Each of us holds secrets within. They are secrets from co-workers, from spouses, from friends. Some are insignificant, others are monumental. Each weighs heavily on the bearer. Unhappy customers berate call center employees because they are secretly dissatisfied with a product, and wish to share their secret. They begin to tell their friends. Their secret disdain becomes a cry from the village square.

How many of us revel in sharing stories of disaster? We all do. They are the best stories. A skilled storyteller can take a $20 product failure and turn it into a 20 minute diatribe on the state of manufacturing, customer service, and the world in general. That story will be told and retold until all have heard it, or at least heard of it. Eternally Depressed Grandmother (EDG) is a terrific storyteller. If she were Eternally Happy Grandmother, would the stories be nearly as entertaining.

So I speculate, dear reader, that I write to unburden myself of secrets. Of course, now that you have read them, are you not similarly burdened? Stay with me, and the burden is communal.

Lone Wolf Syndrome

2006-08-19T21:55:00.000-04:00

I am an only child. No big deal, but it definitely has an impact on how you live your life, especially if you have to share a house.

I suppose the issue is compounded by the fact that I was an only child in a divorced family. Eternally Depressed Grandmother and I lived alone but together from the time I was 5 until I left for college at age 22. It was a small apartment we shared, but we were pretty good about giving one another space. The living room was common area, but bed rooms were pretty much off limits. Bathroom and kitchen were shared. A variety of differing schedules through the years made the place seem much larger, and allowed for solitary moments every now and again. When EDG was out, the television was my constant companion, especially on the nights when she worked late and didn't get in until after bedtime.

Before leaving for college (at the late age of 22) I met a lady eventually to become my wife. She and I began to share a place that final summer at home. It was a tiny place as well, but we were so happy to be in each others company that sharing the place was a joy. We discovered one another's rhythms, and even enjoyed crunching ourselves into the tiny bed in the hot loft apartment.

My first year in college found me sharing a room with my first ever same-sex roommate. He was a hosehead who stole my car and wrecked it. After that, my dorm director allowed me to keep a single for the rest of the year. After that, I got a job as a Resident Assistant, which meant I was given a single as part of the job. That made my fiance (same woman) my only roommate besides EDG.

When I was younger, and again while I was away at school, I got used to eating alone. I had no trouble with it, and actually enjoyed the solitude. I would bring a book, magazine, or newspaper and catch up on world and local events. Many of the campus eateries had televisions, so my constant companion and I would spend a few minutes sharing a plate of pasta or a plate of wings. I was happy, but my friends were offended. Their thought was that no one at college should eat alone. They didn't understand that I didn't do it because I couldn't find someone to eat with, but to get the solitude to which I had become accustomed. I learned to spend more time with others, and even joined a fraternity, but still relished my time alone.

Wife and I bought a small house after we were married and I settled in for the long haul. It was probably the first time in a while that I started to feel the need for more room. After 4 years of sleeping alone, making my own hours, and eating on my own schedule and terms, it was tough getting used to sharing your time, life, and space. She's an extraordinary sport about it, and we have a chuckle about it from time to time, but I guess it still bothers her to some extent.

Wife is now Mother. Having kids has made it even more complicated. We have expanded our dream house to have enough space for the children as they grow. They are growing fast, though, and we have plenty of stuff filling the space as well. The house isn't small by any standard, but we are in a constant state of trying to maximize the space for our comfort.

I still, even with the extra space, try to find solitude. The family, always wonderful, understands even though we never really discuss it. When I go off into another room, they usually don't come in. I feel bad for the 'don't bother your father' kind of feeling, but I really enjoy the times I get to revel in my own thoughts. I plan for work, consider financial futures, blog, podcast, and generally get my head clear for the next thing to come along.

I've been trying lately to spend a little less time in solitude and more in company, but it's hit-or-miss. Certain days I just can't do it. Others I have an overwhelming need to be with them all day. I try to budget the times so they coincide with events of import, like the upcoming birthday celebration for Son. Other times it's a planned walk with Mother. These times are terrific, and yet sometimes I forget and fall into my own solitary world, forgetting how cool they all are to be around.

I'm doing it right now, aren't I? Sitting on a bench in the kitchen with my laptop, sequestered. Separate from Son, who watches TV in the next room. I think I will go in and spend some time with my cool Son.

I though about this while over at Minor Revisions, a blog I love reading. Thanks Katie.

Violence in Video Games

2006-08-19T17:10:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is Son's birthday.

What he wants is video games. He always wants video games. The problem is, I can't find video games that meet my standards.

The most popular video games are all 'melee' games, in which you shoot everything that comes your way. The most vivid demonstrations are games like Doom and Halo, but it's also in most of the Star Wars games as well. I like a good shoot-em-up, but it is just not right for me to be the one who brings all this violence into Son's life.

So I stood today, dumbstruck, before the PC game rack at the computer store, trying to puzzle out what game to purchase. In between the offensive game could be found the occasional SimWhatever game, some Nickolodeon sponsored goof-fests, and the occasional children's-level fantasy game. In short, a disappointing collection when looked at through the eyes of a soon-to-be thirteen year-old boy.

What is a father to do? I worked hard to avoid the games I believed he would find boring, childish, or easy. Then I skipped over games I thought too violent. The I was in the web development tools. Essentially, I had created requirements that had excluded the entire rack.

I went back through, limiting the search now to the least boring or least violent games. I stumbled upon a 1942 warfare game, which I hope will require a bit more though and a bit less shooting. It includes a Vietnam War follow-up, but that will be removed from the pack as soon as it is opened. I guess that I can accept 1942 as a war of honor, but Vietnam was simply a war of death and destruction.

I hope I'm not wrong about this. I just can't help being reticent about supplying violent media to my kids. They get so much in my absence, I don't want to send the message that I believe it's appropriate. The biggest problem is my hypocrisy.

You see, I love war movies, sniper-style video games, crime dramas, and filthy comedy. I explain it away as 'adult fare'. There are times where I draw the line, and there are some movies I won't see. I'm particular to make sure the kids know it, so they have an idea that there is a line, and that we should ALL be respectful of it.

Two-tiered values systems exist in most families. I'm always concerned that there will be a time where someone in the house is going to say it's time to "walk the walk."

P.S.- He's also getting his cell phone back, and his grandparents and I replaced his old video card last week. Just so you don't think it's a lean giving year.

Grandpa Hick

2006-08-18T08:27:00.000-04:00

My dad came for a visit this weekend.

A visit from him is always interesting, because he built the addition on our house, and actually lived there part time for a year and a half. It makes you feel as if he's evaluating the way you maintain the house when he arrives. I was excited for his arrival because the basement is filled with his tools and supplies. There are also a number of unfinished jobs, and there is always the possibility he might get some of them done.

He didn't.

To be honest, that wasn't the purpose of the visit. His brother from Oregon was visiting, and we were all going to visit on Sunday. Grandpa Hick came on Saturday (not the most convenient day, since we were arriving home from vacation at the very same time!) and spent the afternoon.

Well, not all of the afternoon. I got called into work at 5:30 for an hour.

Since we had not seen him for Father's Day,we took him out to dinner at a local chain restaurant. It's a favorite of ours, but he had never been.

We had a good time. The portions are titanic, and they specialize in desserts. We sat and gorged ourselves, while Son and Daughter vied for his attention and a chance to impress him. I bide my time, because usually we spend time hanging out on the porch catching up after everyone goes to bed.

We didn't.

To be clear, it was me who begged off, since I was whipped from my trip. (Why do you come back tired from vacation?) I adjourned to the bedroom and crashed out until the morning, when I got up for work.

It wasn't the end of the visit, but the end of the part where we had Grandpa Hick exclusively our own. We joined up with visiting family soon after, but that's a blog for a different day.

Tell backs

2006-08-15T19:21:00.000-04:00

Son and Daughter have both been enrolled in a reading program this summer.

They are not struggling readers, but they do have trouble with notes and following directions. It was our thought, since the vendor claims to have a special way of teaching children to take notes, that they may benefit from this program. It means they continue to do homework throughout the summer.

Anyone who has children knows that they do not do homework alone. Someone must be avaialable for them, to review what they have done, to offer constructive feedback, and to make certain they remain on task. That is my job now. How has it become my job? Because Mother does not wish to do it.

You see, I made the mistake of reading the directions for the homework, and it states that the children are to read for 30 minutes, stopping every five minutes for a 'tell back.' At this point, they are to explain to you what they have just finished reading. I pointed this out to Mother, and she explained to me that since she had done all the planning for the program, and had taken on the lion's share of the work, that if I thought it should be done, I could do it.

I thought it should be done. Son hates it the most, since he feels he is a strong reader. Unfortunately, he is. I mean that because he is great at understanding the grander aspects of the books he reads. He is terrible at reading and executing directions. This understanding of greater literature gives him an arrogance that allows him to gloss over the most important aspect of the assignment- the directions.

The tell backs are a start. If we can get them to focus on the smaller details, then perhaps they can begin to recognize the smaller, more noteworthy aspects of the text. If not, at least I'm getting a page-by-page description of "Kidnapped" (Son) and "The Chronicles of Narnia" (Daughter) in between blog entries.

Will Daddy Come Too?

2006-08-14T13:21:00.000-04:00

I've been writing about family on my other blog, and I though I might like to keep a separate place for the family-related things. A place where I could extol the virtues of fatherhood. A place where I could talk about ancient history. A place to be myself, instead of my tech-geek alter ego.