2 + 2 = It Was the Worst of Times

    I want you all to look something that I think came from a grade school (first grade?) text book of some sort...

    You know I am no educator.  That would be hilarious and horrifying. 

    I call your attention to two items.  "Math drawings" and "make true number sentences."  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!  Sorry...saw a bright light there for a second.

    Has it come to this?  Have we abandoned all semblance of common sense?  Have our children become so unable to absorb information that we need to twist and contort and massage all data that is presented to them so that little Johnny doesn't get overwhelmed?  

    I'm an old head, there's no denying it these days.  And I don't like going to the "back in my day" well too often.  But in this instance it's completely on point.  If I would have suggested anything even akin to a true number sentence to Mr. Adams back at BCS, I would have been laughed out of the classroom, by him and my classmates.  I can't even believe I've written the phrase "number sentence" twice now.  I need to wash my hands.

    I understand this is probably part of some holistic teaching structure that is better for the children's psyche.  Or a branch of the whole new math craze that my boys had to deal with through their time in school.  And I'm sure on some level it could, possibly, with the perfect curriculum, on a breezy afternoon, work better than good ole fashion "here is math...learn."  But it just feels pandering to the kids.  Hell, it feels pandering to me and I only had to copy and paste the picture.

    You know that I feel like the world is bowing down all too much to the precious little tykes these days.  Not enough life lessons being learned in any way that'll stick.  And feels like this is just another in a long line.  What's wrong with ;just presenting the info we have and having little Sally absorb it directly?  God forbid she gets confused and have to ask a question or two.  Or maybe even have to work a bit harder to understand a lesson.  

    I don't necessarily want it to be harder than needed for our kids to learn.  But this is just on small part of an overall whole that contribute to the wussification of America.  But I suppose if it's going to happen, might as well start them on the road to weakness as early as possible. 

Tired of the Lesser of Two Evils

When did the change happen?  When did the men we have chosen to lead this great nation (and I do think it’s still great) become guys just looking to have the most powerful job in the world?  I want to have a president that I truly feel is in that spot because of a passion to move America forward, or a selfless calling to better the nation and its people.

Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt

Johnson, Bush, Bush, Trump

If you see no difference in the two lists above, please stop reading.  I can’t relate to you and you won’t want to hear what I have to say.

When the men in the first list were in power they used their position with an eye toward the future.  Not just their future, but of time they would never see.  Because there is a higher purpose to what they asked to be a part of.  Hell, wasn’t it Washington’s idea that the president shouldn’t have as much power that the position assumed?  Didn’t he put forth the idea that the president have limited time in office?  Ask yourself...Does Donald Trump think he has too much power? Did George Bush think he deserved more than two terms?

Even the people who we did NOT choose for public service over the last so many decades have not made voting a good experience.  Mitt Romney and Hilary Clinton?  Come on.

I’m sick of going into the voting booth with a heavy sigh.  It just doesn’t feel good.  I miss being able to actually feel some energy about the ascendency of a new president.  Has it become that difficult for someone to be in politics without seeing it as merely a powerful, high paying gig?  Have we become a people so devoid of selflessness, that anyone that would truly fit the bill is relegated to charity work or fundraising?  Don’t judge that last thought...I’m not denigrating those vocations at all, just making a point.

I suppose it’s just a pipe dream.  I suppose it’s merely a sign of the times.  But that doesn’t mean I have to accept it.  Call me an old soul...or maybe just straight up old.  But more and more I am just sick of voting for the lesser of two evils.  I want to look forward to the first Tuesday in November.  I want our leader to truly have the soul of the country at the heart of his public service motivation.

You want to Make America Great Again? Try putting someone who gives a damn on the ballot.

Only As Old As You Let Yourself Feel

 

Why would anyone want to act your age?  I’m 50.  Who the hell wants to act 50? 

I’ve been asking myself this question a lot lately.

I have t-shirts referencing Star Blazers, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, etc.  You don’t see a lot of old heads rocking that look.  

A good dick joke is still hilarious. 

I am still into Dungeons & Dragons.  And have been playing without a significant hiatus since I was about twelve.

I spend more time on my Playstation than I should…and less than I want.  One of the coolest things I got this year was a statue of Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn.  You old guys will need to look that up.

I’m currently listening to a podcast of Wolverine: The Long Night, from Marvel.

Occasionally I consider all this stuff and wonder if it makes sense.  And a good bit of it does not.  But that is, I think, what keeps me coming back to it all.  All those things above keeps the twelve-year-old inside me alive and kicking.  Some things just won’t allow the over serious adult in you to take charge.  Try sitting around a table with friends you’ve known for years and NOT laugh when one of them farts.  Of course it’s stupid but damn is it funny.  Because it was funny when I was twelve, and twenty, and thirty-seven.

When we get together to play D&D, the trappings are more adult these days.  We sit around a large table, eat a well-cooked meal, and have a cup of coffee or two throughout the evening, and may chat about kids or work.  That is instead of huddling over a small chest, eating nothing but red hots and caramel cremes, and drinking liter upon liter of Coke while chatting about how stupid school was that day.  But my inner self time travels to 1981, every time, regardless of where or when we play.

If I’m wearing my Yamato t-shirt and walk by a mirror, I may momentarily think it looks odd on so old a dude.  But that is immediately replaced by, “Fuck it, I like that ship.”  What would I rather be wearing, a plaid short sleeved button down with a white shirt?  Kill me.

I hold on to this list of childish things because they’re silly, and fun.  You know I also enjoy a good Ashton and some Bombay.  They are a whole different kind of fun, but life would not be nearly as interesting with just that part.  There is a time and place, but don’t act your age all the time.  Don’t be that fifty-year-old that my teenage self looks at with just a bit of disdain.  Do not go quietly….nope.

 

Parents Know Best?

 

I have learned a very long list of things by raising two kids.  I can't say it was unexpected, but some of them came as a surprise.  One that I've come to realize recently is that it's OK to stray from accepted preconceived paths or ideas.  

 As I grew up the accepted norm was school, college, white collar.  Pretty straight forward.  I always enjoyed being at school, but not so much the actual schooling.  But since I never really considered a different path, I soldiered forth as needed...to a point.

My two, now teenage, boys as so similar in many ways and SO, SO unique as well.  That was weird to get used to at first, but I grew to relish it.  The older is following what I'd consider the more traditional path that I assumed to be on at his age.  He was very studious in high school, is now attending college, studying engineering, and knows that is what he'd like to move into after getting his degree.

The curve ball here is my younger son.  He is very creative and intelligent, which is to be expected...cause, let's face it, look at his dad.  However, he is not a lover of school, doesn't necessarily want to attend college, and is still scanning the horizon for that inspiration of what to do "when he grows up."  It took some getting used to, but I have found that I'm completely OK with all that. 

It was a very hard thing to step back and let one of my kids choose the path that I feel like I would never have considered for myself or for him.  But I think the lesson is very well learned.  He has taken a bit of control of where he wants to go, and I feel like he'll be happier and more prosperous in the end for doing it.

As parents, as flexible and cool as we all think we are, the urge to get the kids on a familiar path is nearly overwhelming.  It's been drilled into all of us that there is a safe, effective, and normal way to grow up and into and career.  At fifty, I am finally and truly comfortable with the fact that that does not need to be the case. 

And maybe more importantly, I am proud that he has had the courage to not toe the line.  I know it's not scaling Everest, but to a teenager it is a daunting task to not follow the herd.  The herd is comfortable but not always right.  Take the path less travelled (yep) if it calls to you, and do what will lay out your best future. That could make all the difference.

 

 

Just Enough Rope

Today as I enjoy a particularly spicy Monte Cristo on the deck my thoughts have once again turned to my boys.  My oldest is now in high school.  He is very involved...soccer, track, French club, science league...you get the picture.  I couldn't be more proud that he is taking on so many things; becoming such a well rounded young man.  He is having some level of success in each of his endeavors and enjoying himself.

However, and there's always a however, there is growing contention about the flow of information. He seems to either be only getting half of all the information he needs, or forgets half of it when it's time to relay it to us.  Either way, it is increasingly frustrating.

When we notice that this is happening, we press for more details. He doesn't have them or seems put off by our "nagging".  Of course, we want him to be as prepared for whatever as possible, and to be as successful as possible.  I'm sure he appreciates this, but he is that age where he perceives it as meddlesome.  He can do it on his own and thinks he feels the weight of our parental blanket.  Ah, teenagers.

Well, we've come to a conclusion.  There will be no more nagging from mom and dad.  He is growing up and until asked, we will let him chart his own course.  No more reminders about workouts, project preparation, or team requirements.  Ok kid, you're on your own.

As you know, we will not let him get too deep under the coming tide, but wants some room.  He gets it.   Oh sure, we will keep an eye on things.  But I am getting more enjoyment than I should watching him wonder what is next, what is due, what is needed.

It actually feels pretty good.  He's growing up and genuinely wants to tend more to his own garden.  Hs mom and I will be there when the weeds get too thick, but it's an exciting season when as he drives the tractor more on his own.   OK, I admit I took that farming metaphor a step too far.

One of the hardest things we parents can do is give the young ones the requested rope.  But it makes me feel good to have a saving stool at the ready...if requested.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

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

Pete Plus Too Damned Many

You think you know haw many kids I have?  Wrong.  I have 16.  Two that I love and 14 that I have volunteered (silly, silly, Peter) to coach several times a week.  I actually enjoy coaching my son's soccer team, but I do NOT enjoy having other parents failing thrust upon me for 3 hours at a time 2-3 days a week.

I'd like to propose a whacky idea.  Make sure your child is at least house broken before sending him off to the care of his coach.  I pride myself on the fact that both my boys are very well behaved young men.  More than that, they are socially conscious of whatever situation they find themselves.  Before a game, I will not find them tossing dirt at another player.  I will not find them sitting on their mothers lap having a drink of water.  I will not find them rolling down the grassy hill behind the goal.  I will find them, along with several other players with even the slightest iota of motivation, maturity and (let's face it) brains, warming up by dribbling and juggling a ball and trying to get their teammates to join in.

It's a harder task than it should be to get a group of eleven year old's to grasp some of the concepts of playing a game like soccer.  Striker, halfback, defense, left, right, center.  Seems pretty simple, but to learn it as part of a big squad takes some teaching.  Doing it while simultaneously having to expend energy making up for the failings of many parents just makes me want to start clunking heads together...both kids and parents.

Taking a look a little Johnny and seeing that he isn't ready to be part of a team game takes a bit of soul searching, but it's a necessary evil.  I realize that part of the reason we have our kids play sports is to develop the very part of them that I'm railing against, but only to a certain degree.  I can equate it to having a player on my team that is just physically dreadful at whatever sport.  As long as he is at least putting in the effort, listening to my coaching and doing his best to implement my Lombardi-esque teachings, I'm OK.  But when a kid is more interested in the size of the bug that just flew past WHILE I'M TALKING TO HIM BETWEEN QUARTERS, then I have not time for that person.

I once published an article (link below) about being a a good volunteer, about time not being enough, that there needs to be at least a little effort for the good of the team and the kids.  This is the other half of that.  Please make sure  your little cherub knows what is to be expected as part of a team, and how that he may need to focus just a bit more than expected at home.  Because just as it's not fair to be a slacker coach just putting in your time, it's just as unfair to expect to be part of a group but then not hold up your small slice of the pie.  Not fair to the team, the game, and most of all, me

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

http://ralstonhasspoken.blogspot.com/2011/08/dont-suck-its-not-fair-to-kids.html

A Calmer Head Prevailed

On one hand, I love when my kids surprise me.  On the other hand, I think that my boys are well centered enough that I should expect whatever behavior that might surprise me.  How’s that for an opening?

Let me tell you a quick tale.  In a fit of what some might call irresponsible parenting, I recently found myself traveling about 50 mph on a jet ski.  The possibly irresponsible part is that at the time I had my 11 year old some clinging to me on the back of the jet ski.  We were zipping along in the bay, following my dad and older son who were on a second jet ski.

The sea was a little rough, but nothing about which to be really concerned.  We rounded a corner near some marshes where the water flattened out enticingly.  My son yelled into my ear, “Catch them, dad. Drown them in water and foam!”  Now that’s quite a statement.  Drown them in water and foam.  I swear sometimes that kid is meant to be a pirate.

Taking his cue, I punched it and blasted by our partner skiers; drenching them, of course, in water and foam.  My memory is a little foggy after that.  I think we turned too hard, maybe I slowed too fast, maybe a wave hit us broadside.  Regardless, the jet ski went right and we went left.

I’ve never fallen into the water going so fast.  It hurt.  I can only equate it to being hit in the chest with a bat.  The only thoughts I remember having as I hurdled through the air are, “Oh, god” and “Holy Shit, my son!”  Thankfully I popped up right next to him.  As I grabbed his life jacket to pull him toward me, he asked in a completely calm voice, “Dad, are you OK.”  My pain was immediately forgotten.  My eleven year old son, who just hit the bay at fifty miles per hour, was so composed that he was able to be concerned about me instead of the pain he must have felt.

My dad drove over to us and drug us through the water to our now idle machine.  I climbed aboard and yanked my son up behind me.  It was only then that he let himself feel some nerves.  He asked that we head in, and so I obliged.  We made our way through the choppy seas back to the house.  Only after we docked the small craft did he let himself cry.  I thought it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, but as it happened he had broken a toe on his left foot.

We went to the ER and found his toe was badly broken and displaced, having to be set twice.  Poor kid.  Throughout it all, I could only think about how calm and cool he was through it all; about how his concern was for me after the crash; about my pride in what a great young man he is becoming.  This has added yet another filter through which I look, judge, experience.  It is a filter I am all too happy to apply.  It lets me know that my boys have gained yet another plateau in their maturity.  Lets me feel good about how they will handle situations when I may not be there with them.  Feels pretty darn good.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

William Blake Said It Best?

What goal is lofty enough?  Is being part of a team, sharing in the successes and failures, reveling as part of the group what is best, even though the contribution may be limited?  Or is it to be an integral part, being the focus of the squad and knowing that you are held to the higher standard and expectations?

In general, we all know what is best in life.  It is to crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and hear....sorry, I couldn't resist.

But to the point at hand.  The answer, even for me, is really not clear.  We all must choose our own level of satisfaction and come to grips with the memory of what that created.  I was a decent athlete in my youth, teetering on being something better.  Whether through lack of drive, complacency or just well developed sense of self, I found my self always in the upper middle class of sports teams.  I excelled, but never really took the next step to the higher level of whatever sport in which I was involved.  I wonder sometimes if I could have been good enough to get to the upper echelons of my sporting endeavors.  But I also know that I always had a tremendous amount of satisfaction from any that I tried.

I always found myself a counted on member of the team.  Someone that may not be the absolute best, but always to be turned to in a tough spot in order to push the team ahead.  I thrived in that role.  I enjoy that position in life in general.  So that is what my perspective is as I watch my sons develop on their athletic careers.  Win, lose or draw; good or bad; you're part of a team and you need to do what's best for the whole.  There's a Star Trek reference in there, but I don't want to upstage Conan above.

I see both in my boys.  One is happily climbing the ladder, getting better and having coaches take note.  The other is a good play, but lacks the instinct (or desire, I think) to really go for it.  They are both very happy to be a member of a team, but their approach to get what each want out of it differs significantly.  And that is what makes me wonder sometimes if there is a better path.

We all know there really is no better way.  We all know that as long as they are happy and thriving young adults in general, what they accomplish in youth sports is all but worthless.  It's the approach to it that I wonder about.  Will the lack of drive carry over into other/all areas of life?  Will the focus to succeed leave one without a well rounded outlook?  Not sure either way.  Perhaps I had a little too much of one and not enough of the other as I grew up.  Maybe this is one of the many things we see in our kids that we want to correct in ourselves.  Maybe this is one of the times where I need to step back just a little and watch what I can learn from how my kids handle something even though my memory of the same situation still leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.  With any luck an old dog can learn a new trick.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

Two Paths Diverge In My Head

Guilt and responsibility.  That is the tug of war du jour.  Have you ever found yourself stranded between two ways to approach a situation?  I have.  And currently I am torn between guilt and responsibility.  

There is a line from the movie Parenthood that Steve Martin delivers after he is confronted with something he can’t get away from.  “My whole life is ‘have to’.”  Way back in 1989 it seemed a pithy little line.  It seems to have genuine meaning these days.  I don’t want to sound like I’m swirling in an emotional morass; torn and dejected, having only two options to rudder me through.  No, dear readers.  It’s not quite that bad yet.  But I’d be less than honest if I told you that this hasn’t been in the foreground of my mind lately.

As a parent, husband, son and brother, I tend to feel a certain path is dictated depending on which of those hats I’m wearing at a given time.  No sense in going into the specifics of each path, because I assume you get the idea.  Whether it is by expectations of those around me or some internal mechanism, there is a clear avenue to me when choosing how to navigate any situation as it pertains to my kids, wife, dad or sister.  Thankfully, the way is generally similar for each.  True is true.  If my reactions come honestly from inside, then I believe they can’t be too wrong.  Please don’t call me on this…we both know I’ve gotten some horrifically incorrect.  But you know what I mean.

Where the above mentioned tug of war rears its head is when I want to react differently but my sense of responsibility dictates to shut the hell up and do what’s needed.  I’m not saying I would deceive in my advice or empathy.  But when all you want to do is rail against the world or retreat completely from it, it feels somehow wrong to put on a different face.   Therein lays the quandary.  Is it better to be what those close to you need or serve yourself in times of stress?  I choose the former.  However, that does not mean it doesn’t leave something incomplete.

I suppose there’s a lesson in this.  There’s at least one, but they don’t seem to go hand in hand.  I truly believe that the more selfless act is better in times of crisis.  It furthers the good of the many over the good of the one (hehe), but at a cost.  There is always that nagging in the back of my head...”You’re doing a good job, but you don’t feel right.”  Or, “You realize this will catch up to you at some point and your head will explode when it does.”  I try to dismiss that second one, since I think it’s just my brain being hyperbolic, but you never know.

I really hope I’m doing the responsible thing for those that (whether real or imagined) lean on me.  I like to think I’m rather good at stowing all the crap away in my brain, sticking next to the lonely mouse gnawing on his cheese.  I have to believe that because the guilt of not feeling the way I want to feel, not feeling the way I think I’m supposed to feel, is weighty to say the least.  Not sure if writing that makes me cavalier, humble, arrogant or just plain melodramatic.  Maybe all of it.  I’ll let you judge.

Guilt and Responsibility.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

There Are No Words...

It's been a long time away from your favorite blog.  Hope I haven't lost too many of you.  It's been a hell of a Winter so far...it can only get better....

So, now that I’ve experienced the full gambit that stage four cancer has to offer (short of actually contracting the disease) I think I have the familiarity to say that it pretty much sucks.  No crap, you’re thinking.  But it’s been a while since I’ve written anything….been able to write anything….and thought it would be nice to start off with something easy.

I contend that no one who has gone through this can say with any honesty that some good can come of it.  There is nothing on the planet good enough to make me think that.  Anyone who tells you that is about to try to sell you something.  But I have learned a thing or two, mostly about myself.

One lesson learned is that when you lose someone close, you almost never react the way you think you will, or think you should.  We all have a sense of ourselves and can normally predict what reaction a given situation will elicit.  However, I was surprised to find that, at least in this instance, the circumstances are so profound that my internal order was (is) in chaos.  Those of you out there that are lucky enough to know me well will agree that I’m not exactly an enigma.  I’m almost proud to be an open book.  I have no need to keep too much hidden and am happy to allow friends access to my true feelings.  Last week has shown me that I can be mysterious even to myself.

There are a myriad of ways we are taught or ways we glean from all manner of influences.  They shape how we respond to nearly anything.  They always seem reasonable because we’ve seen others show us the way.  Then something happens that no imagining can truly prepare you for.  There is a reigning philosophy that with enough time and knowledge you can prepare yourself for anything.  Guess what.  You can’t.  Well, I couldn’t.  And since I consider myself on the far high end of any bell curve, I assume it’s the same for darn near anyone else.

You can tell yourself a thousand times that you know what’s coming.  You know it will be sad.  You know it will hurt.  You know, you know, you know.  You just don’t know.  The psychological wallop is too much to process.  It’s so big you’re left wondering, “Hmm, I guess that’s, that.”  All the while your insides are turned to jelly but your brain is running so far behind the chasm won’t allow what you expect is a normal reaction.

I don’t know how long this will last.  Part of me actually hopes it will linger for a very long time, not wanting to forget.  I suspect the ebb and flow will be pretty tumultuous for some time before settling back to “normal”.

So, dear readers, I apologize if this is a bit more maudlin than you are used to getting from me, but every once in a while the exercise needs doing.  I hope it made sense.  See you again soon.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

Stay Vigilant, My Friends

I realized something this week.  Kids are weasels.  I mean that in the most loving way possible, but make no mistake; they can be sneaky little rodents.  After haranguing my sons into spending more than 10 seconds brushing their teeth it finally dawned on me that even great kids like my boys will get away with whatever they can, whenever they can.  They know teeth need to be brushed, they know it’s part of their daily routine since they started having a daily routine many years ago.  And yet there is slacking off whenever a watchful eye is focused elsewhere.

It doesn’t stop at chores, either.  I see it even when they are doing something they like.  There’s always a shortcut to be found, a corner to be cut.  Recently, while coaching a soccer game I noticed some of the team walking during a pre-game lap around the field.  Not all kids like running laps, but since it’s been part of our warm up since day one you’d think they would stay part of the team and hoof it.  Nope.  When I questioned them about why they walked the last half one of the boys actually said, “It looked like you were just talking to the other coach.”  WHAT!?!  That kid sat the first quarter.

The point is that as parents, there is an ever watchful attention that need be paid whenever the kiddies are given a task.  I don’t like it.  And I strive to teach my guys the independence and responsibility so that I feel comfortable not having to be the all seeing eye.  Thankfully they are learning the lesson well, but still have some lapses.

There is a saying, “Give them and inch and they’ll take a mile.”  This could not apply more to our young ones.  And I think it ties in a bit to a previous article of mine (Hammer Away, My Friends, 03/18/2011) about not being afraid to stay on top of the kids.  There are many reasons that I expect a lot from my kids.  Just one of them is that I have come to know that if I don’t, then the bar will continually slip.  Not just from my perspective, but from there’s as well.  As the parent, if I don’t establish lofty goals while teaching them why and how to do it themselves, who will?  The kids?  Hardly.  We hammer away at chores, goals, whatever, to an extent that may (to the hammeries) seem unattainable.  But in doing so we nudge them into getting to levels that we expect and that we know they can achieve.

Thankfully I am starting to see the fruits of my pestering labor.  The frequency of prodding and reminding does seem to be diminishing.  There are still plenty of areas in which I find that is a constant tug of war between how much is enough and how much they can get away with, but the light at the end of the tunnel is expanding.

So the moral of this tale is to keep up your pestering.  The kids will roll their eyes, and they will push back.  But in the long run, they’ll be better for it.  You will have the satisfaction that they know what it takes to get a job done, what it takes to do more than just expected, and what it takes to truly excel.

Coming Into Their Own

There comes a point in every kid’s life when they stop wanting to be a superhero for a living and start to really figure out what career path they may eventually want to pursue.  Personally, I still have my fingers crossed for that freak accident that will give me telekinetic powers.  For those rooted in the real world, interests will start to form and an actual life path will take shape.

My boys are only 10 and 12, but I’m already starting to see that they are developing interests that may very well stick with them for a long time.  I’m not delusional enough to think that what they say they want to do now will always be, but it’s interesting to watch them formulate such long term plans.

I know perspective is everything, so considering that I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up it’s no secret that I find this fascinating.  If you are one of those people that have always known what you wanted and what career you wanted and actually have that, then you may want to come back next week for my next rant.  However, as I watch my sons develop interests and become their own young men I sit back and smile sometimes.  I wonder if they will really be a scientist (nothing specific yet) or a game designer.  There are a lot of years between now and decision time, but you never know.

It’s a fantastic and scary thing to experience your child growing away from you.  I am absolutely riveted by their interests, and involve myself in my kid’s hobbies, but I’d be blink to think they aren’t already starting to expand from beneath my parental umbrella.  They are better than I am…and you know I can’t say that about too many.  They are considering things that I know I did not when I was 12.  They are level headed, caring and intelligent.  I assume they get most of that from their mom.

Let’s take my 10 year old.  He’s decided to be a game designer.  I know every kid wants to make video games at some point, but he seems pretty serious about it so far.  Last night he gave me the resume of Todd Howard.  Don’t know Todd Howard?  I didn’t either.  Mr. Howard is a Producer and Senior Game Designer for Bethesda Game Studios.  Todd even made it onto Shaun’s (that my 10 year old) school project as someone who inspires him.  Bethesda has some games coming out soon that intrigue him, to say the least, and he has made it his mission to know how they make them.  From the art to programming to storytelling, he’s been all-in for months.  I know that the chances are slim that this will stick, but I truly hope it does.  I want that creative part of his brain to win.  It would be a pleasure to see him spend his life doing what he loves – not what he winds up with.

By this time, you may be asking, “Pete, that’s all very interesting.  But really, what are you trying to say here?  What’s the point?”  HA!  You were expecting a point to this?  Well, I suppose just that it's wonderful to see my children begin to mature enough to know there is a real world out there and that they may have a part in it.  More so, that they have a choice in how to be part of the world.  PPS; that it’s something that they will be able to decide, free of external bias and pressures.  And when the day comes that they will start down a more concrete path, they will be well equipped.

Is It Really Worth The Trip?

Every summer thousands of people flock to the shore.  Every Memorial Day, Fourth of July and Labor Day they load up the family truckster and head to the beach.  All through the heat of May – Sept, there is a steady stream of vacationers, day trippers and sun worshippers.  They go to brush sand from their feet, eat expensive substandard boardwalk pizza, smack at attacking greenheads and sit in traffic.

I don’t get it.  Although I have spent time on the beach throughout my life, I’ve never really gotten the allure.  I actually think I’m in the minority on this one, but that doesn’t make me scratch my head any less.  It’s been almost two years since I’ve been on a beach for more than an hour, and I’m just fine with that.

Everything like this is tainted by perspective or maybe tolerance, and I think I’m lucky enough to not really need an escape (most of the time).  However, that doesn’t lessen my wonderment about the draw of lying on a crowded patch of dirt while salt from the water and blowing sand borrows into all possible crevices.  Depending on the town you visit, this salty dirt is actually so closely packed with blankets, towels and giant umbrellas that it’s virtually impossible to walk through.  Really?  I don’t like people enough to walk through a mall for a half hour.  Why in Hell would I want to spend my day sweating in the sun two feet from strangers on all sides?

“But Pete, we love to frolic in the surf.  It’s so refreshing and fun.”  Bite me.  Refreshing…maybe.  The average water temp in Atlantic City this past summer was under 70 deg.  Folks, that’s just plain cold.  I don’t shy away from chilly water too often, but that doesn’t sound too enjoyable.  And the surf, come on.  Being in the water shouldn’t need to be so much work.  Isn’t being constantly bludgeoned by unstoppable walls of water just one sign that Mother Nature doesn’t want you in her water?  How about sharks, jellyfish, rip tides?  I can’t believe you can even go near the ocean without signing a waiver of liability.  And on top of all that, at least in New Jersey, you have to PAY for the privilege.  I know that falls under a different heading of complaint, but it’s just one more reason for my disdain.

It seems the growing bane of my existence is traffic.  Living in the most densely populated state comes with the caveat of having to sit in traffic now and then.  However, I don’t think it needs to be a prerequisite for spending leisure time.  I fight the river of cars enough commuting to work.  There is generally some traffic backup at any time and place when I’m heading out of the house, but there’s always the chance I could get lucky and reach my destination without it.  Unfortunately, going to the shore at virtually any time ensures a stint in automotive hell.  Nothing like starting a “relaxing” day by sitting still on the Expressway for an hour.  And I like only 40 miles from the ocean.  Anyone making the trip from beyond that is just insane…my opinion, of course.

So you’ve decided not to heed my advice.  You made the arduous trek and find yourself in one of the shore towns.  Now you only have to contend with hundreds of yards of scalding hot dirt.  You heard right.  Time to broil your feet on sand that had been baking in the sun all day while you find that perfect spot on which to lay your blanket (so you don’t have to touch the dirt), put up your massive umbrella (so you don’t have to have the sun beat on you), get your cooler situated (so you don’t have to go far for a drink) and maybe unfold your beach chair (see above about touching the dirt).  Sounds like you just did your best to set up your living room, but at an inconvenient spot miles from home. 

Enjoy your summer going to and from the beach.  I’m sure you will.  I shall opt to stay at home, hanging on my deck with some gin and a Cohiba.  If it gets hot, I’ll walk the ten feet to my fridge and get a drink and a freeze pop and hang out in the AC for a few minutes.

Don't Suck! It's Not Fair to the Kids.

Currently I’m the head coach of my ten year old son’s soccer team.  We’re having a great time so far, and I think the boys are learning a lot.  Yeah, I’m a good coach.  One of the team moms is my assistant, and she is great as well.  The league has been practicing for about two weeks in preparation for the upcoming season.  Before that was the league draft, where all the coaches got together and picked our teams for the year.  There is a lot of time and energy being spent by the parents to get the season rolling and manage the teams and league.  This happens all over, every season for every sport.  Hundreds of people volunteer their time so the kids can have sports/clubs/activities in which to participate.

Throughout my time as a volunteer coach I’ve encountered a complete gambit of adults who also are putting in their time.  Most are good people, with good intentions.  Some are great.  Some just plain suck. 

I wonder sometimes about the (mostly) men that are either obviously in over their heads, are just not good at coaching, or are outright abrasive and disruptive to the kids.  I used to think there needs to be someone who can step in and stop these dolts from being in charge of a team of young kids.  But then I’d think, we’ll at least they had the heart to say yes when asked to coach.  They agreed to give up their time when most others said no.  That held a lot of water for me for a long time.  But no longer.

It’s NOT enough to give of your time.  If you’re not good at it, please stay away.  Volunteerism is a wonderful thing, and I applaud someone who wants to give of themselves in some capacity.  But you need to know in what capacity that should be. 

I’ll use my son’s lacrosse coach from last season as an example.  It’s my understanding, and confirmed by several others that are closer to him, that this man has been banned from coaching two other sports in our town.  WHAT!?!  Then who is the puckered ass who put this man in charge of a youth lacrosse team??  As I, and other parents watched the team “progress” through the season more and more of asked each other if we knew much about the coach.  It turned out that most of us did not.  Suffice it to say that the coach was an unmitigated dickhead.  On the first day of practice, I introduced myself and offered to help the team in any way needed.  He said “Great,” and walked away.  That was the only word he spoke to me for sixteen weeks.  Dickhead.  This was a team of 10-11 year old boys, most of which had never played the sport before.  We watched as he yelled, stomped, demanded and generally taught the boys…well, I’m not sure what he taught them.  I think the only reason we didn’t speak up is that we were all new to the sport as well and thought maybe that’s how you coach lacrosse.  It was bad enough that my son, and several other boys, said they would play again next season if he was planning to coach the team.  Oh well, we’re done with him now.

I hope that illustrates my point that just because you are “generous” enough to accept a volunteer position doesn’t mean that you’re good enough.  Don’t get caught up in smelling your own shit.  Nobody thinks they are bad at coaching a youth team.  But guess what, SOME OF YOU SUCK!!  It doesn’t take too much of a genius to look around at others in comparison to yourself and realize, “Wow, those guys are WAY better at this than I am.  Maybe I should rethink this position.”  Now, that’s a terribly hard pill to swallow.  I’m not sure I could do it.  Of course, the point is moot since I’m generally pretty great at stuff.

So, fair readers, especially you with children…when you look around town at the folks involved in your children’s activities, don’t let them off the hook too easily.  I know it’s nice that they want to help, but that shouldn’t be the end all.  Always remember, just because someone can do something (or says they want to) does not always mean that they should do that thing.  If you are going to volunteer to be involved, then BE involved.  Take some time to learn about what you will be doing, and do it well…better than well…because the youngsters (and their parents) you will be in charge of are looking to you for guidance and support.  Your time is not enough.  A little bit of your soul should get in involved as well.