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Bang Your Head

Went to a show last Saturday night.  The band was doing its thing.  The mosh pit started and then the crowd parted and there was Kiki Dee.   Weezer

I did go to a show last Saturday night.  I took four teenagers and a nine year old to the Weezer concert at the Del Mar Race Track.  I think the evening left as much an impression on me as it did the kids.  It all started when we arrived after race five and I was delighted to find out all the kids got in free.  Money for the ponies!  We didn’t win anything on that account, but oh well.

After the ninth race, we headed on over to the venue which was in the infield.  If you haven’t been to the track, the infield is the center of the racetrack.  We set up our blankets and lawn chairs and cooler.  My sixteen year old son and his buddy wanted to get as close as possible, so they meandered their way up with my friend’s 11 year old son and friend.  My fourteen year old daughter and her friend weaved their way up front also.  I figured they’re fourteen and I need to let them roam around a little.  Jacqueline and I hung out in the back.

The whole concert was enjoyable.  Jacqueline sat on my shoulders most of the time and sang out loud to the songs she knew.  I told my wife later on that she was a babe magnet.  All the women wanted to come up and meet her and give her a high five because she is so cute.

When the teens returned I was regaled by their stories of being up front and close to the band.  My son, his buddy and the 11 year olds entered the mosh pit and got punched in the face, kneed in the head and tossed all over.  They helped crowd surf a guy into the hands of security.  They watched a guy throw a turkey leg at Weezer and he dodged and then picked it up and took a bite out of it.  The two teen girls had popcorn dumped on them.  They were offered a joint repetitively and declined.  Thank the Lord.  They watched two chicks get into a cat fight and got to bop the giant beach balls that were bouncing around the crowd a couple of times.  Quite an earful for a dad standing just a couple hundred feet away but separated by a throng of thousands.

If that wasn’t enough, getting out of that place was skechy.  The only way out is an unlit underground tunnel about twenty feet wide for 10,000 people.  I told the kids to just relax for awhile and wait for the crowd to die down.  The crowd never seemed to die down.  I asked a security guard about another exit and he said they had just opened a gate where we could walk across the racetrack.  We headed that way but there was no open gate and hundreds of people just started jumping the fence and so did we.  I lifted Jacqueline over and then the cooler.  Jennifer hopped over and then came security yelling  at us to back away from the fence.  I wasn’t about to be separated from my daughters so I jumped the fence anyway and the rest of the kids followed.  We ran across the turf and we ran across the track.  It was during this that I noticed the rail the horses follow around the track was already toppled over in many sections and the bushes destroyed.  I yelled to the kids, “Run fast because the cops are going to be coming!”  The guy next to me said that was the funniest bit of parenting he had ever witnessed.  As soon as we got into the parking lot the squad cars were pulling in.

I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun with my kids and I don’t think they’ll ever forget the night we went to see Weezer.

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Thoughts on Independence Day

Everyone in America is from somewhere else.  Back in the day, it used to just be European colonists, but now we have people from China, Japan, India, Russia, South America and a host of other smaller nations.  From the 1600’s until now, people have been coming here to make a better life for themselves, to  find opportunities that didn’t exist at home, to escape political persecution, and to escape communism, tyranny and despotism. 

I really can’t blame all of the Mexican people that are trying to flee their country to come to the Disneyland of the world, the United States, especially when we’re within walking distance.  They are just trying to do what all Americans before them have done and that is to make a better life for themselves and their families.  There is a lot of talk about how to control the southern border which seems to be a gargantuan task if you ask my opinion.  What should be done about it?  It’s too big a question for me.  It’s definitely something that needs to be debated wisely and judiciously with the best of our best to come to some kind of decision through the political process.

Side bar.  I think of my wife’s grandfather.  He came here in the early 1960’s from Australia.  In conversations with him, it came down to the fact that he didn’t think he could make a good living in Australia due to lack of opportunity, the societal set up, or the existing business climate.  He felt England would be much the same, so he decided on the states.  There are interesting behaviors to all first generation immigrants.  I’ve noted with my wife’s family and with many Mexican families that I know that the first generation clings very strongly to their heritage.  I think of it as being the stranger in a strange land.  It is self evident in many of the big cities that used to and still do have strong Italian, Greek, Russian, Irish neighborhoods.  Complete assimilation of first generation immigrants is not impossible but definitely improbable.

From first hand experience, the children of immigrants are definitely Americanized due to the schooling process and the friendships they develop.  I always find it interesting with my wife, when I say a little anecdote or limerick that is truly American and she has never heard it.  How can that be?  It’s due to the disconnect between what is being learned during the day at school and the discussions at the family dinner table at night.  The assimilation is almost complete.  Now, when you get to my children, there is total assimilation.  They are as American as someone whose family has been here for generations.  The country their grandparenst are from is a distant country like Ireland or France is to me.

There is a lot of complaining amongst us and in the media about the U.S.-Mexico border and the illegal aliens walking into the states everyday.  All we can do is blame ourselves for our lack of effort, decisiveness and decision making in these matters.  Can we really control a thousand mile long border where most of it is in a desert wasteland?  and to what expense?  Is this really what we’re about?

Maybe we should be a little more welcoming, get these people Americanized and assimilated faster than the third generation.  We should promote citizenship.  Just think, once they’re signed up, you can take their fingerprints, get them a social security number and tax the crap out of them like the rest of us!

So next time you interact with an immigrant, tell them the story of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree or Abe Lincoln reading books by lantern light or an anecdote from Mark Twain.  The only way they can learn about us, is if we tell them.

Happy 4th of July!

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It Actually Works!

I liken parenting to running a marathon.  There is  nothing short, fast speedy, quick about being a mom or a dad.  Parenting is a long journey.  In a marathon, you may feel great at mile three, crappy at mile nine and great again at mile thirteen.  In a marathon, you may feel dehydrated, tired, pull a muscle and maybe collapse.

As a parent, all the business distracts you from the passage of time.  You live in a world of carpools, homework, science projects, essays, church activities, sports, piano lessons, tap dancing or whatever it maybe.  Time takes on the dimensions of do this and don’t do that.  Did you say please?  Did you say thank you?  Look the person in eye and say hello.  Sit up straight.  Eat your vegetables.  Stop crying.  No biting.  Time is moving at a much faster rate than you realize when you’re parenting.  All the business of parenting makes the years go by fast and pretty soon you look in the mirror and say what the hell happened to me?  You just hope and pray that everything you have tried to teach them will sink in and they will grow up to be good people.

Every Sunday morning, Karen and I go swim for an hour and a half.  We then race home, change clothes, eat something real quick and then race to church with the kids.  On Mother’s Day, before Karen and I left for the pool, I told the kids if they didn’t have anything for their mother, they had a good hour or so to make a card, eat some cereal and be ready for church.  We had a dinner party the night before and still had the banquet tables out and the kitchen was full  of dishes.

Lo and behold, when we got home, there was a present and cards on the table.  The banquet tables were packed  up and put away.  Decorations were put up on the walls.  The dishes were all cleaned.  Our bed was made and my son had bacon, eggs and toast all ready for everyone.  All three of them worked together in harmony to honor their mom who does so much for them.  We were surprised and tickled pink.  This was the best mother’s day they could have given their mom.  I am so impressed that I don’t expect anything for father’s day.

Feeling pretty good around mile fifteen right about now.

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My Oldest Daughter

The nature versus nurture argument is a great topic for conversation especially when it comes to family members.  It’s relatively easy to understand why your hair is black and your eyes are blue.  Developments in personality and mannerisms are a different story.  Am I that way because of the way I was brought up?

Karen and I have always agreed that our oldest and youngest seem to have my personality and our middle one Jennifer, the oldest daughter, has her personality.  I’m more of the goofball and liking to joke around.  My wife is more of the serious and determined nature.  Due to her shyness and guardedness, she comes off as aloof at times.  This is also how I would describe my daughter.  It’s hard to get them to laugh.  They can be a tough crowd, but when they do laugh, you know you were truly funny and it’s the most wonderful sound to my ears.

It hasn’t been that I’m disconnected from my oldest daughter.  At times, I haven’t felt as connected to her as the other kids.  Her interests and mine are at other ends of the spectrum, similar to her mom and I.  For husband and wife it is opposites attract.  For father and daughter, it can be challenging.  Jennifer is very feminine.  There is not an ounce of tom boy in her.  I really can’t have a conversation on scrapbooking, shopping or fashion and she can’t watch a minute of football or listen to a minute of Dane Cook.

However, I am pleased to say that right now I feel more connected to her than ever.  She recently turned fourteen years old and seemed to transform overnight.  That’s the way it seemed to me, but she’s probably just been changing incrementally and I’ve just noticed.  Maybe it’s the other way around and I’m the one that’s changing?  I don’t think so.  There’s a refreshing spunkiness about her right now.  She has a lot to say about a lot of things.  She’s funny and witty and has a lot of good comebacks.  I have really enjoyed our exchanges.  I enjoy watching her grow up.  I’m lucky to have her.

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A Real Whodunit

We had a scary occurrence in our neighborhood last weekend.  After midnight early Saturday morning, a house less than a block from us burned to the ground.  I knew something was up when red and blue and white lights kept flashing through our bedroom window like disco strobe lights.  Peeking through the window only, I witnessed about five squad cars, two fire trucks and an ambulance, but did not see a single flame.  Odd.  I went back to sleep thinking a party was broken up or maybe someone got into a fight?

I woke up late the next morning and checked my blackberry.  I had a message telling me that a house had burned down in our neighborhood.  Huh?   Walking out of my bedroom, I was greeted by my nine year old daughter Jacqueline.  I told her that I had a job for her to do and her brow furrowed.  I rephrased and told her I wanted her to an investigation.  I explained to her about all the police cars and fire trucks and that a house had burned down.  I told her to go check it out and report back to me.  Her face lit up and she ran down to the garage, got on  her bicycle and headed out.

An hour later, at the breakfast table, I asked Jacqueline what she had found out.  She told us that she was going to conduct an investigation and find out who started the fire.  The house that burned was a foreclosure that had been empty for several months.  The fire dept. had found a gas can in the middle of the living room.  Arson.  I explained to the kids that this was a felony and whoever started the fire would end up going to jail if caught.  My older daughter produced a book of matches she found on the street with a family name monogrammed on the cover.  The girls immediately said this was suspicious and that someone from this family must have started the fire.  Karen and I quickly turned into defense attorney mode and explained that you can’t make accusations like that.  You don’t have any proof.  I suggested that one of the moms in the neighborhood probably started the fire and the girls cried foul.  I explained to them that I was trying to make a point, but I’m not sure they got it.  Two days earlier, in the driveway across the street from us, a handful of middle schoolers started a fire with a bunch of twigs and leaves.  I had to go out and yell at them to put the fire out.  I explained to the girls that this was also suspicious but I don’t think any of them had anything to do with house fire.

We now had quite a large suspect list.  A certain family, all the moms in the neighborhood, a handful of middle shool children that lived in the neighborhood, the bank, the former owner, teenagers(they’re blamed for everything), and suspects to be named later.  Jacqueline was truly determined to get to the bottom of this.  She’s so cute!  Her and her friend explored around the house and had many findings and many suspicious things that they witnessed.  They were even bold enough to go into the backyard and get a real close look at the damage.

Several days have passed and I asked her yesterday about the progress of her investigation.  She said that she had concluded her investigation and knows who started the fire.  However, she said that she was going to keep it to herself.  Good girl.  You don’t have the proof, so keep it to yourself.

It’s a real whodunit!

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How Irish Are You?

There is definitely Irish blood on my mother’s side.  My mother’s maiden name is Reidy and my grandma’s maiden name was Flanagan.  My mom has it all traced back to the 1600’s.  My wife Karen received some great genealogy information from her aunt and uncle tracing her family back to Scotland to the 1400’s.  I think it’s all a great hobby if you have the time, but I don’t have the time.  I’ll let all the relatives do the dirty work and probably latch on sometime in my fifties or sixties to help the process along.

My grandmother on my father’s side always like to talk about our Irish blood.  She had all kinds of limericks and would even do an Irish jig every now and then.  My father always bristled at her so called Irish ancestry because her mother was from France and her father was Canadian making him English or French.  I don’t think my grandfather had any Irish blood in him even though he was born in New York.  My father always contested his mother’s claim to Irish heritage because he insisted there just wasn’t any evidence to the fact.  She was somehow orphaned as a child and was adopted by the McClain family of Chicago.  Who knows, maybe grandma did her research and it just never got to my dad.  I think she just liked to tease him.

The Irish are a proud bunch for all the negative stereotypes.  A lot of people don’t like catholics and most of them are catholic.  The Irish have been painted illiterate, bad tempered, heavy drinkers who like to fight a lot.  Wow.  Blacks and Jews thought they had it bad.  I’m sure there’s a lot of good that comes from being Irish also, but I don’t know what that is either.  I do know that St. Patrick’s Day could use a good makeover.  Corned beef, cabbage and green beer is just going to give you a lot of gas and it doesn’t taste any good either.  Leprechauns are like clowns.  They’re kinda scary.

May the wind be always at your back and a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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Talk To Your Daughters

My sister died when I was a teenager.  She had an inoperable brain tumor.  We watched for two years as the cancer slowly took control of her body, day by day, as her physical and mental capabilities incrementally diminished, until the cancer eventually took her life.  I don’t know what is worse, a slow death when you know its coming or the unexpected sudden heinous death that Chelsea King just suffered thirty minutes from my house at Lake Hodges.  I guess both routes to death’s door are equally perturbing in their own ways.  I can’t get out of my mind the fear the young woman experienced in her last minutes.  I also can’t get out of my mind the tremendous guilt and sadness her parents are going to experience for the rest of their lives.  They are going to go through that afternoon everyday for the rest of their lives.  They are going to question every place they went and why.  We should have done this.  Why didn’t we do that?  I pray for them that they can come through this someday.  Nobody or family deserves an end like this.

I know that my two daughters have been preoccupied with the news of Chelsea King’s death.  It’s time to have that conversation that we’ve had before, but need to reinforce from time to time.  Be Safe.  We have lots of open fields around our house.  It’s a great area to go biking, jogging and letting the dogs run free.  It is also an area my daughters are forbidden to go without me.  I have been out there on my own at times and felt uncomfortable.  I have run into many a jogger or dog walker out in the fields enjoying the fresh air and countryside.  I have also been tracked by coyote.  I have run into illegal aliens.  I have run into strange men.  I have also run into the lone woman jogging from time to time.  You can sense their discomfort when they usually don’t acknowledge you and get by you as fast as they can.  They shouldn’t be out there alone.  You should always be with a buddy.  A buddy can always run for help.  A buddy may notice something you don’t.  The old “two heads are better than one” works.  It will keep you safe and it will be a deterrent.  Just like lions and wolves, human predators go after those who have been separated from the herd.

Have you ever watched Chris Hansen’s “To Catch a Predator” on Dateline?  The scary thing is how many shapes and sizes the predators come in.  Sure some of them are creepy looking and you wouldn’t get within thirty feet of them, but too many of them are normal looking and mild mannered.  They are wolves in sheep’s clothing.  The one noticeable thing with most of these dirtbags is their complete lack of any sense of right or wrong.  They seem to think their evil compulsions are normal.  What’s a young woman to do?  Trust your senses.  Your senses are real and they work.  Be wary of strangers.  Am I telling you ladies anything you didn’t already know?  Women have survived for centuries on their instincts and senses.  Our daughters need to do the same.

Chelsea King has suffered and gone on to the other side.  Pray for her family and friends.  They are the ones that need it now.

 

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The Fishwrap is Dead

Driving around the block the other day, I saw three newspapers sitting in  someone’s driveway.  It was an unusual sight because you just don’t see newspapers delivered in the suburbs anymore.  Paper boys are extinct.  One of my favorite activities used to be sitting on the back deck with a big cup of coffee and reading the paper.  Now, I sit on the back deck with my laptop hoping my battery will last through one cup. 

I keep hearing in the media about the terrible economic state of the newspaper industry across the states.  Nationwide, newspapers have gone out of business, downsized and been put up for sale due to the drastic drop in circulation for these publications.  They cry foul over the internet and all of the bloggers and other media sites that have been created.  One of the biggest complaints you here is the lack of quality of the news on blogging and off brand sites.  These people aren’t trained journalists.  They are not verifying their facts.  Blah, blah, blah.

I see it as a complete lack of foresight by the newspapers.  Why pay to have the paper delivered when I can read it for free on my computer?  Not only can I read it for free, but I can read almost any newspaper in the world. I remember starting with email and internet usage in the early 90’s.  There weren’t a whole lot of news outlets online yet.  If my local paper had hit me up for a subscription to read online back then, I probably would have paid it.  Instead, everybody gave it away for the last twenty years and now they’re crying over it.

I can’t help but think that the competition is good.  Sure, there are the yellow journalists that will make false claims and misrepresentations, but they will naturally be ferreted out.  I don’t know about you, but when I find out a media outlet has been untruthful, I tend to never watch or read that publication again.  There are so many more viewpoints available to us with this plethora of news outlets on the web and on cable television.  Imagine MSNBC and FOX news being your only news outlets on television.  You get to choose between the communist channel and the totalitarian channel.  Something turns me off and I just go to another news outlet.

I see a day when newspapers don’t exist anymore.  I see a day when home phones don’t exist anymore(I want to cancel our home phone, but Karen thinks I’m crazy).  Remember when Dick Tracy would look into the television screen on his watchband?  That day is here.  Time to embrace the changes and use them to our advantage and not cling to the days wrapping your fried fish in a newspaper.

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Sweet 16!

First of all, I am amazed that I have helped create a human being and have gone through sixteen years with him.  His mom and I are excited for him and we truly hope he is enjoying his high school years since we don’t have much time left with him.  Before the blink of an eye he will be a man and off living his life.

It seems like a lot of parents and the government are completely paranoid about their teens getting a driver’s license.  Karen and I can’t wait.  I wish he could have gotten his license on his birthday, but with his broken leg and all, he’s a little behind schedule.  However, in a couple of weeks, we should have a new driver in the house.

I am looking forward to this for mainly selfish reasons.  When you have three children, a lot of your life is spent in the car.  Almost every night of the week, either Karen or I are driving around for dance, soccer, swim, surfing and whatever else you can think of.  We believe the kids need to work hard in school, but we also believe they should have an athletic endeavor to keep fit, so it is all brought upon ourselves.

About three years ago, I had a melt down in the car.  It was Labor Day weekend and there was a soccer tournament.  Why do these morons schedule games at seven in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays?  After a long week at work and spending the entire weekend at a soccer tournament in one hundred degree heat, I lost my temper in the car on the way home.  All this driving around was getting to me.  Something had to give.  We had to change our priorities and we had to actively look to carpool with other families. 

I got over my tizzy and life continued, but when you’re child is fifteen there is a constant tug of war going on.  They want to do more and go more places, but they are entirely dependent on you for transportation.  I don’t know about you, but getting up at 5:30 in the morning, working all day and then picking your son up at  11:30pm on Friday night at a party that is eight miles from your house just isn’t appealling.  I’m becoming a fuddy duddy.

Here we are on the brink of a new driver in the house and I can’t wait.  He can take himself to and from school.  He can help drive his sisters around.  He can drive himself to and from swim practice.  He can drive himself to and from the beach.  We cand send him to the grocery store.  We can make him go gas up the car.  It seems the possibilities are endless.

You’d think it’s my birthday as excited as I am.

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Fundraising From Hell

I want you to think back to when you were a kid.  Do you remember “No Soliciting” signs on the front doors of businesses and houses?  It was a different time before email and websites and eight hundred television stations.  There were actually door to door salesman that would walk around trying to sell you stuff because it was one of the ways available to get their product in front of you.  It actually was so prevalent that people would get pissed from having their front door bell rang all the time, they put these signs up giving you fair warning not to knock on their door.  I can still remember my father slamming the door in the face of some guy from Greenpeace way back when.

When we signed our son up for little league, you had to assist the league in fundraising.  This was done by having each family sell a box of about twenty candy bars.  You either take the time to sell the candy bars or you pay an additional forty dollars cash up front for the registration fee if you want your kid to play baseball.  We take the chocolate bars and walk around the neighborhood once and sell maybe one or two candy bars.  What are we gonna do with the rest of them?  You give it three or four weeks and they magically disappear into my mouth, my wife’s mouth and my kids’ mouths.  Now, we’ve eaten all the candy and have to pay for it.  Good grief! 

The door to door salesman still exists but in a different form and for a different purpose.  They are all cute little boys and girls walking around the neighborhoods in some kind  of uniform or another with freckles and ballcaps or ribbons in their hair.  The typical for sale items are magazines, wrapping paper, popcorn, candy and cookies.  It’s the perfect scam getting the children to do the dirty work for all of these organizations that supposedly need money and it’s high time it stopped.  It’s the same old sob story with the teacher’s, the schools, the pta, the girl scouts, the cub scouts and so on.  If we don’t fundraise, then programs and activities are going to be cut.  I’ve been hearing this same old tune for a long time and it never seems to change and the programs and activities always seem to grow and never diminish.

The ultimate question is where does all the money go?  Do you remember the director of the Red Cross here in San Diego whose salary was $400,000.00 per year?  You ever notice there is never an accounting made available of what the funds are for?  What’s the cost of the actual goods being sold?  Whose really benefiting from the proceeds?  How much of the proceeds actually ends up at the local level?  When did this become the children’s responsibility to do this?  How much free labor did these organizations just receive from us and our kids? 

I know a lot of you think I sound like a curmudgeon.  What put me over the top?  The schools sure do seem to send a lot of papers home with the children.  Usually, my wife reads all of these papers and I never looked at them until recently.  My eight year old daughter brings me a piece of paper saying I have to fill it out because she has to return it in the morning.  It’s an order form to buy books.  The schools’ and the teachers’ are now peddling books to the children through the classroom and I have to fill out a form saying yes or no.  Why can’t they read the books at the school?  Isn’t the library good enough?  Shouldn’t our taxes cover this?  Please don’t tell me some kid isn’t going to learn how to read if I don’t help out.

Do people question things anymore?  Are we all so busy in our own lives that we don’t notice the slow transformations that have taken place incrementally over time?  Are we all ever going to stand up and say no to some of this stuff or are we too afraid of conforming and keeping our mouths shut?  I sure have a lot more questions than answers.

I won’t slam the door in your face, but the answer will be a polite, “No.”

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