They Remember

This week a dear family friend lost his grandmother.  My oldest son's longest tenured friend had to go through something that Maxwell experienced nearly two years ago.  A horrific sudden illness took our friends grandmother.  The family, and the massive community that she touched daily, was rightfully devastated.

Through the few weeks that Maxwell's friend went through this,  I know they talked, but never really came up about what...normal teen boy stuff, I would assume.  However, when she did pass, Maxwell sent his buddy a rather lengthy note.  I haven't read it and probably never will...it is theirs to share alone...but he did tell me that he needed to make sure his friend knew that he was not alone.  That he had an empathetic ear if needed.

Then, surprisingly, he asked us if he could go to the viewing.  I was shocked.  But, I was also very proud of him.  I don't know many kids his age that would even want to go to a thing like that, let alone make the request before being asked.

We went.  When he greeted his friend's grandfather in front of his wife's casket, he wept.  Until then he had been stoic as I think he learned from his entirely too compassionate father (wink, wink).  He broke down even more when he shook the hand of his friend's dad, who he has known for years as a friend, coach, and all around good guy.  And yet even more when he made it down the line to his friend.  They greeted each other, and even though not much at all was said...could be said...I think that the substance of the note Maxwell had sent issued forth in emotion only.

They say time heals all wounds.  I guess there is truth in that.  But I think it's more true that time only covers some of them very, very well.  Sometimes it takes just a nudge to snatch off the bandage and let the blood flow a bit.

In a way I was proud of my son to let his wound come bare a little.   I think his friend may have an easier time getting through this because of it.  Our kids remember, and the memory is deeper feelings than we, er I, would have thought.

Just when I think they may be growing up just like their pop, my boys go and show something that proves otherwise.  I couldn't be happier.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

Spreading Digital Wings

It's finally happened.  My boys have reached the point that social media has entered their lives.  Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, etc.  It is an interesting idea to know that my boys are reaching out in ways that I did not construct for them.  No more calling other parents to get the kids together.  They have matured enough to build those bridges on their own.  It's really pretty cool.

That brings me to my point.  Are those bridges solid enough, safe enough and do they carry the correct information back and forth?  I have always raised my sons with the philosophy that I will trust them completely.  Do a good enough job as a parent and you shouldn't need to oversee every bit of their lives...right?  I know it looks good on paper, but I'm not naive enough to think that it always works.  There are just too many outside influences.

Last night my older son reached out to some of his friends via Twitter.  The meat of the communication was unimportant.  I immediately had the urge to get on Twitter and make sure he and I are following each other.  Otherwise, how could I be certain that his activity was appropriate?  But then the voice in my head, that irritating ever present voice, spoke up and reminded me that I shouldn't need to do that.  He is a very level headed young man and I need to let him stretch out alone.  He needs to learn to create solid and increasingly adult paths of communication on his own.

 To connect or not to connect, that is the question.  Whether 'tis nobler on the internet to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous tweets, or take up keyboards against a sea of stalkers and by re-posting their statuses end them.

In the end, I suppose I will have online connections with my boys, but more so because of the wretchedness that could intrude.  I optimistically think/hope that I will never have cause to worry about what they are broadcasting.  But you just never know who may come knocking....and with what message.

In the end it will be an internal battle that all we parents will face.  Have I raised my kids well enough that they have sturdy enough grasp on right and wrong?  Have I instilled in them the code that will carry them through life's new pathways without me hovering?  Have they earned the freedom I do really want them to have?  I think I will say yes to these, while keeping an ear open for sounds of distress.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

Step Back and Watch

My sons and a group of their friends are gamers.  They play PC games, Xbox, PS3, you name it.  They get together or play online, depending on the day.  Recently they decided to start playing Dungeons & Dragons.  Not the MMO, but the old school paper and pencil version.  I suppose they finally caught the bug from their old man, who's been hooked on the game since giving the original blue box to my best friend for his birthday in 1979.

The boys come together in my basement every Saturday night.  They joke, eat all our food, play a few hours of D&D, and generally have a great time.  After every session, I get the run down from my boys about what happened in the game and how things are going.  It's at this point that I find myself chomping at the bit to "fix" all the things that they are doing wrong....or more to the point, that they are doing differently than me and my friends would do.  Really, my way must be the correct  way, and therefore better, right?

It's hard having to step back without interjecting but still offer advice when asked.  The parental urge is to dive in, direct, lead.  But my kids and their friends are old enough and smart enough to take care of all this on their own at this point.  And even better, it's really pretty cool watching them work out the dynamics of a complex game system as well as the even more complex social situation that many hours around a gaming table present.

They have their own set of house rules, their own set of interactions, their own pecking order.  I love it.  I love it because I had nothing to do with it and it's working.  I love it because I've done nothing but teach my boys the bare bones of the game and they ran with it.  Their group has communally purchased books, miniatures and other supplies.  They've started bringing their own snacks...something I'm most grateful for...and are generally self sufficient.

It's at the same time very near what me and my friends did way back when, but also seems strange.  Just when I think they're going about it all wrong, they smooth it out and continue to chug happily along.  I'm proud of them for it, but also proud of the group in general.  It shows me that that our teenagers are not the stereotypical slackers we think they are; well, not all of them.

This has been a great "get out of the way" parental situation for me.  I look forward to many more.  We all think our kids are amazing, but it seems that really comes through when they develop their own systems, processes, and networks.

Hold Back The Tide With A Broom

The following will make me seem like a real bastard...

I've just heard, for the one millionth time (seems like that anyway), the radio commercial for NJ tourism with the song "Stronger Than The Storm."  If you live in the area, you've certainly heard this, or seen the TV spots, or the print ads all with the same stronger than the storm message.  All to get the message out that New Jersey is back open for business after the wreck that Sandy made of the area.  Back open almost a year later in some parts.

Surprise, surprise...I'm sick of it.  These kinds of messages and base outpourings of "up with us" kind of bleating really gets my goat.  Guess what New Jersey?  You were NOT stronger than the storm.  The storm soundly kicked your ass.  Whole communities were washed away.  Millions, if not billions, of dollars lost and now being spent on rebuilding residences, businesses and vacation homes.  RE-building a year later, RE-building that will still be happening months from now because nature bent us over and had her way with us IN ONE DAY.  It will be well over a year before things are truly back to normal in some places, if ever.

I understand that you want the rest of the country know that were tough and resilient, and that were not going to let Mother Nature keep up down.  Whatever.  I know the state needs the tourism dollars to support many shore businesses.  Whatever.  I get that we like to think we can overcome anything (admirable).  Whatthefuckever.  But the blatant fist pumping and rally around the flag pole stuff just gets really old really fast.

Is it not realized that a significant number of people's lives are irrevocably altered for the worst because of last years big storm?  Do we not know that this could happen again during the upcoming storm season and there's not one damn thing we can do to prevent the damage again?

I'm not saying we shouldn't rebuild after such tragedies.  I think it's great we can bounce back and rebuild the destroyed communities.  But I hate the unrealistic rose-colored memories that the current propaganda would have us adopt.

"cause we're stronger than the storm...."  Tell it to the average Joe Six Pack that's been living with a distant relative because he lost everything, FEMA screwed him on the recovery money, his insurance company considered it an "act of god", lost his job when the business was washed away, and has been living on the savings he was hoping to retire on.  Think he believes that song?

I know I'm in the minority on this one, but just had to get that rant off my chest.  Thanks for listening.

                                                             

Man Cave = Caveman?

I've been thinking lately about the "Man Cave" and why the whole concept terribly overrated.  I will admit that the idea of having a fortress of solitude adorned with all manner of sports and movie paraphernalia and posters of scantily clad women does indeed have a certain appeal.  But the more I consider the thinking that goes into a man cave, the more I think I would not want one.

On it's face, the man cave is a fun guy-centric place for the man of the house and his man friends.  No real harm in it, I suppose.  But I can't help shake the nagging feeling that just a little deeper is something not so perfect.  It's an exclusionary feeling that I think I wouldn't want in my home.  Is there any place I wouldn't want my wife or kids to feel comfortable in there own home?  Am I to be that inaccessible because me and fella's are watching the game?  Even asking those questions makes me squirm a little.

I know men who have rooms like this and I've been in many of them that look and fell great.  They are usually very comfortable, are adorned with all manner of sports/movie memorabilia, and generally include a massive TV.  I can't say I haven't enjoyed my time there.  There's always a thought, however, "I wonder if the wife has a spot all to herself, or the kids?"  Sometimes they do. And when a family is "lucky" enough to have enough space for dad to have his cave, mom her sitting room and kids their game room, each can treat their area as they wish without intruding on the others.  Anyone can retreat into their corner of the world and immerse themselves in their own considerations.

But this seems to raise more issues than it solves.  How does this family spend time together?  Do the kids really want to hang with mom while she lounges on her day bed with a good book? (yes, that is a ridiculous stereotype, but I'm trying to make a point)  Does mom want to watch ESPN classic while slugging down a cold one?  It just doesn't feel right, does it?

I can't say that there are not times that I want to be alone.  But for the most part, I like hanging out with my wife and kids.  Whether I find myself playing Xbox, watching a game or just reading I like having them around.

Now, stop.  If you have a "man cave", stop rolling your eyes at me.  It's all a matter of choice, of lifestyle...and hell, maybe on a level I'm a little jealous.  But it does make you think, doesn't it?  If your home really is your castle (or kingdom for this reference) why would you want it divided into smaller internal duchies?

                                                

The Powerful Play Goes On

As I sat on my covered porch puffing a Padron torpedo, something occurred to me.  We are pimples on Mother Nature's firm shapely ass.  I love to watch weather as it happens, and the latest raging storm has put on a good show.  I have no real interest in the actual damage a big storm can cause, but more in the majesty of it, in the raw power and enormity.

The freight train that rushes thought the trees passes right beside me.  The endless water flowing down the sidewalk and into the street portents of Noah preparing his couples.  Almost makes one believe that the seas will boil and frogs will fall from the skies any moment...almost.

It's inspiring, really.  We like to think we have a handle on our world, that we're prepared.  And maybe we are as much as we can conceive.  But is the ant really ever prepared for the boot?  Mother Nature continues her cycles around us without the slightest regard, and I think I like that.  It's humbling.  And at times we humans can use a dose of that.  We build monstrosities and fling ourselves into space and try to shape the world to fit our needs; and I think that's really very cool.  I would not for a second want us to stop any exploration.  But once in a while I feel a little tap on our collective shoulders to say, "You know, you're just tenets here," can be a good thing.  I'm sure the dinosaurs would agree...if they could.

There just isn't anything we can do about it in the long run.  Sure we can build levies, shutter windows and put our houses on stilts.  But we all know in the back of our minds that it's all just a band aid on a gun shot wound.  Eventually it will give way.

So next time Mother Nature gets her ire up and decides to put on a windy, watery, wild show, stop for a few minutes and watch.  She is as good a performer as you will find.  And you just might be a bit more introspective for the exercise.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN