#103 - Another Year Older

"Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go. I owe my soul to the company store." - Tennessee Ernie Ford, "Sixteen Tons"

I'm not deeper in debt, not yet, although I have yet to see the latest repair bill on our truck. And while I am another day older, I'm actually thinking about another member of our family.

Our son's cake - red velvet with chocolate
chips, sprinkles, and Peepsters on it.

Our son celebrated his 15th birthday Friday. Or, as I like to sometimes put it, he's 15, going on five, going on 40.

As an example: Friday, we went out to dinner to celebrate our son's birthday. Then we went to Toys 'R Us to let him use a gift card he had received. He gravitated immediately to the Pokemon section. While older kids may play with Pokemon, all of the children pictured on the packages looked to be seven or eight, which made me think perhaps our son had outgrown them. (He ended up buying something else.) This could be considered to be part of the five-year old phase (give or take a couple of years).

A few days ago, our son was sitting in our family room, looking at a catalog. He was gazing intently at a page filled with women in bathing suits. A week or two earlier, he was apparently doing a Google search on nudist camps. (By the way, there is one within an hour's drive of Boise we can take him to if he's serious.) I would term these behaviors as relatively typical teenage actions in the age of the internet.

On other occasions, he's asked serious questions of us, such as whether we think he'll ever get married. It's a prospect that both scares me and gives me hope for his future. I haven't always handled being a husband that well, so I have no idea how someone who is autistic will do. But I am certainly not one to predict.

This wide range of behaviors and actions is, I think, fairly typical of someone considered to be a high-functioning autistic. One minute, our son is talking about becoming a film director one day; the next, he's making yet another creature out of a piece of paper.

We don't know what his future holds. We recently completely our estate planning process, so we have hopefully put things in place to help care for him when we are no longer around to do so. Perhaps before then we'll have a better idea of what he will be able to do for himself.

There are days when I think our son will fully be able to live independently. There are other days when I think he will need someone to do everything for him. Our son can be unpredictable at times. That unpredictability has taught us that, where he is concerned, anything is possible and perhaps probable.

#102 - Wine for the Active Lifestyle?

Single-serve alcoholic beverages have been around for some time, but you always needed a glass to pour them into. Until now.

Three of the six available varieties, it also comes in
Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Grigio, and Riesling.

Copa Di Vino, a company based in Oregon, has come out with a line of single-serve wines bottled and served in their own recyclable plastic glass. 

The wines have a patented foil seal that, according to the website, keep the wines fresh for up to one year. The container is capped off with a plastic lid that snaps of tightly to keep any leftover wine from spilling whilst you are on the move.

As judged by the comments of some co-workers, these 187ml or 6.3 ounce containers would be perfect for picnics, a trip to the park, perhaps an outdoor concert or other performance.

But what about the wines themselves? I'm not a oenophile or any kind of wine expert, but to my uneducated palate, these wines are okay, but not great. While drinking the merlot, I kept getting hints of a smell that seemed slightly chemical in nature, perhaps to do with the foil seal.

I'm not a big fan of chardonnay to begin with, and the Copa Di Vino chardonnay did nothing to change that, although I did find that the wine took on more of a citrusy note as it warmed a bit. The white zinfandel was sweet, as you would expect, and perhaps a slight cut above Sutter Home and the like.

Part of the presentation of these wines on the company's website touts the idea of bottling premium wines right in the glass, in this case, a recyclable one. But is that enough to recommend any of these wines as more than a convenient novelty?

The answer may depend on the price point. If these are priced at $1.99 or perhaps even less, I could see these becoming quite popular with people who lead active lifestyles - hikers, bikers, and such. Imagine hiking to the top of a hill and once there enjoying a glass of wine while also enjoying a panoramic view or perhaps a beautiful sunset.

I can also see these as a popular choice when the urge hits to have a picnic in the park. As long as people remember that they are buying lifestyle and convenience and not great wine, these have the potential to do very well indeed.

#101 - Some Stuff About Stuff

"I want an iPod. What's an iPod?"

Those words were uttered recently by our son. Yes, we were proud. While humorous, these words also point out what is one of the problems with the mass consumerism mentality some have warned about for years.

We are bombarded by commercials for the latest and greatest this and the new and improved that. The commercials sometimes convince us to buy things because they sound really great and not because we need them. I would not be at all surprised to find that some people buy things not having a clue as to what to do with them.

This 2004 article from National Geographic suggests that consumerism may actually be doing more harm than good in terms of the overall health of our planet. I can't speak globally, but I don't think it does all that much good from an individual perspective.

Jocelyn K. Glei asks "Is Consumerism Killing Our Creativity?" It's an interesting hypothesis that, whether true or not, should make us stop shopping online for a moment to think. I certainly think an argument can be made that stuff is not good for our physical or mental well-being.

Think about it, You buy a house. You buy a car, maybe two cars. Then you buy a bunch of stuff to put in the house. Pretty soon, you've got a lifestyle to maintain, one that might be pretty expensive. So you work. Long hours. Maybe a second job. All to maintain this lifestyle you've "stuffed" yourself into. Long hours lead to increased stress. Perhaps an ulcer. Or worse. Now, you have medical "stuff" to take care of in addition to the stuff you bought.

I'm not saying stuff is inherently bad. I have stuff, lots of stuff. However, I seldom aspire to the latest and greatest stuff, and I almost never aspire to the most expensive stuff. Case in point: I recently bought a new laptop. Did I buy the most expensive one I could find? No, I bought perhaps the cheapest one I could find that would do what I wanted and felt right when I used it. The other thing I seldom do is get caught up in the stuff that other people have.

When I was younger, I tried to fill the many holes in my life with stuff. I never went for expensive clothes or fancy cars or anything like that. Instead, I bought lots of books and records (later, CDs and DVDs). I had plenty of great music and movies, but the holes in my life were still there.

These days, we are working to rid ourselves of some of the stuff we've accumulated over the years. We are finding it is easier to get rid of stuff if you don't have it to begin with. We may be worrying more about what we have than what we don't have.

There is an old saying that money can't buy happiness. It can buy lots of stuff, but stuff will not make you happy. Unless, of course, you approach it with the right attitude.

What is that attitude? If I were defining it, I think it would go something like this: enjoy the stuff you have, don't worry about the stuff you don't have, define your stuff but don't be defined by your stuff. When the stuff gets to be too much, sell it, donate it or, if necessary, throw it away. Think of it as freeing yourself from another chain.

#100 - Working vs. Living

"I'm taking what they're giving 'cause I'm working for a livin'." - Huey Lewis and the News
"Work, work, work. Work, work, work." Mel Brooks as Gov. William J. Le Petomane in Blazing Saddles

Some time over the last month or so, I seem to have crossed the line from someone with a job to someone bordering on being a workaholic. And I'm not all that happy about it.

Last week, I worked a little over 60 hours. Three of the previous four work weeks were over 50 hours, and the remaining week was almost 50 hours.

There are those who say that in this economy I should be thankful to have a job. However, I suspect many employers count on people having exactly that mentality and keeping quiet as more work is piled on them. I know I've kept quiet. Employers rely on our distorted sense of responsibility with the end result that many of us put our employers ahead of our families or our own well-being.

My developing theory about this is that workload is the individual equivalent of the theory regarding highway expansion. That theory basically states that as highway capacity increases (additional lanes, new roads, etc.) the level of traffic or traffic load will increase to fill the additional new capacity.

In terms of the workplace, the way this plays out is that, as you increase the number of hours you work (presumably in order to catch up or even get ahead), the workload increases to fill that additional capacity. As a result, I end up no further along than when I was working 40 hours a week.

That's why I cringe whenever I hear the latest report on productivity in this country. Yes, we all are doing more with our hours at work, but at what cost? In an age where workers are disposable parts, we all try to make ourselves seem more valuable by putting in 60, 70, 80 hours a week, thereby hastening the pace at which we, too, must be disposed of because we've burned out like a light bulb.

There are those who tell me "think of the paycheck you'll get" which contains a tacit assumption that money is the most important thing in life. It's not. It can't buy you love; it can only rent you lust. It can't buy you happiness; it can only buy you stuff to fill the empty spaces and create the illusion of happiness. I know, I've tried that approach.

A former colleague once uttered what remains one of the best pieces of wisdom I have ever picked up. As he was leaving, he told me "I work to live. I don't live to work." I've always thought of those as words to live by. Lately, it seems the balance has shifted in the opposite direction, It's time for me to reverse course and soon.

On a side note: This is my 100th post on this blog. I never thought I'd get this far. At some point, I thought I would become more focused in my posts in terms of topics, but this blog has remained somewhat random, thereby living up to its name. It has in turns been therapy, rant, attempt at humor, heartfelt, but hopefully not boring.

#99 - Where There's a Will, There's a Way - Into Madness

". . . nothing can be said to be certain except death and taxes." - Benjamin Franklin
"And when I die, and when I'm gone / There'll be one child born in this world to carry on, to carry on." - Laura Nyro (sung by Blood, Sweat and Tears)

For several years now we've talked about writing our wills and getting our estate in order so as to provide for our son when we're gone. For most of that time, talk is all it's been. Until recently, that is.

A little over a month ago, we finally met with a lawyer to get the ball rolling on getting a will in place along with powers of attorney, living wills, and so on. We completed the first phase of that process and have draft documents in hand. Now the real fun begins,

The draft documents we have have several areas where more specific information is needed. Burial or cremation? Open or closed casket? Where should your obituary be published? It's a slow death just getting the paperwork ready so that you are prepared when you actually do die.

And the need for specific information goes on. Who should be your trustee should your original choice resign, die, or otherwise not be able to carry out the duties assigned? What music do you want played at any service? (For the record, I want Elvis Costello's "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" to begin things, and I want to close with Barber's "Adagio for Strings".) Who do you want as your pallbearers? I don't know; who wants to carry an urn.

If there are specific bequests I want to make aside from the disposal of my estate (at least I sound well-to-do), I need to list them. If there are specific things I want to buried with, I must list those as well.

You get the idea. It's an important task, but it seems like minutiae on top of minutiae. No wonder we put it off for so long. I no longer feel guilty about that, if I ever did. It's important, but it's painful in much the same way having bamboo shoots placed under your fingernails is painful. Perhaps wills and such documents are the revenge of lawyers for having to go to school for so long.

But I suppose we can't turn back now. After all, we have a special needs child to plan for, which I guess makes it all worthwhile. So, this weekend, I guess I'll be doing a little heavy lifting and some less than light reading. As they say, no pain, no gain.

#98 - Vacation and It's Aftermath

"Vacation, all I ever wanted." - The Go-Gos
"Is that all there is" - Peggy Lee

I'm now through two days in my first week back at work since vacation, a glorious eight-day getaway from it all along the banks of Brownlee Reservoir near Hells Canyon.

It was a wonderful, do-nothing affair, the weather saw to that. It was cold, wet, and windy, and it was great. We read, drank wine, ate well, and listened to music in the comfort of our fifth-wheel trailer.

In other words, we sat on our butts. The couch and recliner became like human battery chargers that we plugged ourselves into in hopes that eight days away from work would rejuvenate us enough to power us through the dozens of workdays ahead.

And it worked, at least for the first Monday back. But after eleven hours at work yesterday, ten and a half more today, and the prospective of many more long days over the next two months, I have to say eight days was simply not enough.

Not that I'm complaining. Okay, maybe I am a little. I came back to work to find myself already behind and ready to get away again as soon as humanly possible. If I can dig out from everything on my desk at work.

The eight days away were not without their own difficulties; the power supply on my wife's laptop died, which led to the purchase of a new machine. Today, her portable hard drive apparently decided to join her old laptop's power supply in technology heaven.

Then, of course, there are all the little day to day things that don't go away just because you've gone on vacation: laundry, housework, dishes, etc. It's kind of like that unpaid balance on your credit card, it just continues to grow and becomes harder to deal with. At some point, the creditors want their money.

That's where we are now. We had our fun away, and now it's time to pay the check. Was it worth price of built-up housework and laundry and falling behind at work? In the immortal words of Sarah Palin, you betcha!

#97 - All Things Christopher

Today, Teresa and I met with teachers and support staff to discuss Christopher's Individualized Education Plan (IEP) for next year and his transition from junior high to high school. I think we were both a bit apprehensive going in because we were afraid there would be an attempt to lock him into a path that would eliminate any possibility of pursuing a career in something he might be interested in.

For the first few minutes of the meeting, I felt my fears were going to be realized. There was a good deal of talk about socialization skills and the like, things the junior high program has worked with Christopher on for several years with little success. There has been little attempt, from our perspective, to see what he is capable of academically, and we were both afraid his entire life was going to be mapped out for him in this meeting. The roadmap we were envisioning eliminated any possibility of college and career.

Thankfully, the meeting went better than I initially though it would. I felt we were listened to and heard and that we were all in agreement that getting Christopher where he needs to go - socially and academically - will require some thinking outside the box. I thought some of the same things last year only to be a bit disappointed in the way things worked out, so the jury is still out.

However, I was encouraged to hear that Christopher has made some academic strides this year. The news on that front sounded much more positive this year. And when I mentioned that I still had hopes Christopher might one day be able to go to college, the idea was not dismissed or even downplayed. it was left out there as one of many possibilities for him.

What that tells me is that there is growing recognition and awareness on the part of all parties that no one yet knows what Christopher is or will be truly capable of. Personally, I still think deep down that the sky's the limit for him - as long as we don't place so many limits on him now that he can't even see the sky let alone reach for it. I came away from today's meeting with a sliver of hope that won't happen, and I'm going to hang onto it for all it's worth.

#96 - The Darnedest Things

This morning, Teresa was in her office, working away to solve some crisis developing out of the latest systems conversion at work. Christopher and I were left to have breakfast on our own.

While we were enjoying a bowl of oatmeal, we happened to look out through our sliding glass door into the back yard, where we saw a cat in the neighbor's tree. While we watched, the cat gingerly made its way down through the branches to the top of the tree trunk. As it was looking around for a way out of the tree or perhaps looking for a place to jump, Christopher says to me, "Cats are such drama queens." Darnedest thing #1.

A few minutes later, I hear the following question: "Dad, do you know about sperm?" I suddenly got a little nervous thinking the time has come for "The Talk," the one I never got growing up, the one my single year as a Boy Scout left me unprepared to give. Darnedest thing #2.

I answered, "Yes," and was about to try to formulate an explanation, when he told me what he knew. "There's the sperm whale." "Yes." I said. He quickly added, "Then, there's the other sperm. They're like little balls with tails." Oddly enough, the fact that he already knew that much made it a little easier to try and explain their function to him.

Then he asked me if Oliver, our beagle, had sperm. I told him no, and he asked me why. I told Christopher that Oliver had been neutered so that he would not father lots of puppies because there were already so many dogs in the world that no one wanted.

At this point, I might have expected to have to explain to Christopher what it means to be neutered. However, he astounded me by asking if Oliver's reproductive organs had been removed so he wouldn't get even crazier around other dogs. (Our beagle does not play well with other dogs, the ad on Craigslist not withstanding.) Darnedest thing #3.

After that, there was no more talk of sperm or cats or drama queens. We finished our breakfast, Christopher cleared the table, and then he went off to do some drawing or reading.

Christopher never saw the television show because it was on the air long before he was born, but Art Linkletter had it right when he stated that kids say the darnedest things. At least Christopher sure does.

#95 - Just a Lazy Day

 I sit here at my desk looking out at overcast skies that threaten rain but have yet to deliver much, and I think of how unmotivated I am today. Some who know me might ask how today is any different, but that is something for a future post, perhaps. If I can make myself write it.

Today, the weather is uninspiring, which fits in with how I feel - uninspired. I started out to clean up my office, a job which remains undone, as it has since we put in closet organizers several weeks ago and even before that.

I've succeeded in charging up a pair of wireless headphones only to find they don't work. I got an old inkjet printer working on my Linux-powered laptop, only to find it needs ink. And I moved a few piles of stuff around only to realize I still don't know what to with them. Not exactly legendary in the annuls of productivity.

The highlight of the day so far has been delivery of our Girl Scout cookie order by our neighbor's daughter. After I took delivery and closed the door, I immediately started to feel old. I remembered her as a five or six-year old when her family moved in across the street probably six years ago. The time suddenly felt as if it had flown by in a flash.

I blame such thoughts on the weather. It's been gloomy enough lately to remind Teresa of her time living in Syracuse, an experience, to hear her tell it, akin to having teeth pulled without anesthetic. I think she internally translates the phrase "when Hell freezes over" as "when I go to Syracuse." Apparently, it was gray there nearly half the year. The weather here is almost never like that, but winter grabbed on hard this year and is still fighting not to let go.

Oliver came in to cheer me up. His arrival reminds me that winter will soon let go of its hold and give way to spring. I just wish it would hurry up already!

#94 - The Communal Side of Food

It's late Saturday evening, and Teresa has just gone to bed. A few hours earlier, the last of the dinner guests left after several hours of catching up, laughter, and yes, good food if I do say so myself.

It was great to catch up with people I once worked with and hung out with, people I haven't seen in several months. The conversation flowed freely, the laughter perhaps even more freely.

That, to me, is one of the great aspects of food. It always seems to taste better when it is shared with friends. I don't know if that is because, as a cook, you try a little harder and the extra effort comes through in the food. Perhaps it is because cooking for friends adds an extra element of enjoyment to the act itself. I think it may be some combination of the two.

After everyone left, Teresa and I watched Julie & Julia, about author Julie Powell's year-long journey through Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Interspersed with that story is Julia Child's years long struggle to finish the cookbook and find someone to publish it. At the heart of the movie though, at least to me, is the food and our relationship with it.

In the film, food is the means by which Julie Powell is finally able to start and complete something, in the case cooking all 500-plus recipes from Julia Child's cookbook over the course of a single year. Food is also the means by which Julia Child finds purpose and meaning in life, perhaps even finds life itself.

When I have the chance to cook for friends, I don't know that I find purpose and meaning, but I do find myself feeling a little more alive, a little more connected with others. Cooking becomes my gift to them, my way of showing them how glad I am that they are a part of my life.

Cooking is mere ritual and eating merely a necessity of living when you have no one to share it with. Cooking during the week often feels the same way, coming home after a full day of work, faced with the prospect of what to cook or, as it is sometimes put, what to throw together for dinner.

Cooking for friends, though, becomes more of an act of love, a special occasion. I may be wrong, but I suspect many of the world's disagreements and misunderstandings could be cleared up or overcome if we could just cook for one another and break bread together. Who'll serve up the first course?

#93 - The Facebook Effect

Today, I took what was for me the unpleasant and somewhat painful task of removing one of my Facebook friends, someone I had worked with for several years during my past life as a television news producer.

A recent political discussion begun by said former friend on Facebook had turned a little too ugly for my tastes, ugly to the point where it was suggested I hate America and told I should leave. So I did leave - the friendship, that is. Not the country.

The exchange is, I think, indicative of something I'll call the Facebook Effect. While we become what Facebook calls friends, we are often nothing more than connections.

There is little true intimacy and often little in the way of civility. The way many of us were taught to talk to and to treat others goes out the window on Facebook. We each sit behind our computer keyboards and talk at each other rather to each other, assuming from a few words written here or there that we know all there is to know about the other person. That false familiarity and the safety of hiding behind our keyboards gives us the license we seek to speak to one another in ways we likely would not if face to face.

Of course, not all interactions on Facebook are as I describe here. But there are enough such interactions to make me wonder sometimes whether I am really cut out for "social networking."

The aforementioned exchange left me with a sour taste and a feeling similar to the one which led me to get out of television news. I could feel myself beginning to sink to the level of those who were spewing their hatred at me. So I got out.

Since he has 4,800-plus other friends, I doubt I'll be missed by my former Facebook friend. It's sad in a way, though. Facebook has the potential to bring people from various places and various viewpoints together for meaningful discussion. I've seen it happen.

However, that potential is a double-edged sword as it also allows people of similar views to insulate themselves from different people or different views. In such an insular environment, progress can never occur, understanding is doomed, and cooperation is prevented.

I've experienced too much of that side of the Facebook effect lately. Now I'm ready to rediscover some of the best of what the Facebook effect has to offer.

#92 - Rainy Day Reflections

"Rainy days and Mondays always get me down." - The Carpenters


I sit here on a Sunday afternoon, looking out at an overcast and gloomy sky. It snowed a little last night, and a few flakes continue to fall here and there.

Teresa is busy working on another of the myriad of household projects that always seem to need doing; I have a load of laundry working; and Christopher is busy making a clay monster instead of beginning to review for a test he has Wednesdays.

When I was younger - in my teens - I actually used to like drizzly, overcast days. Living in Seattle, such days were frequent visitors, and I would go for walks in the light drizzle. The drizzle no doubt suited my emotional state in those days. I often felt lonely and misunderstood, a common state for many teens I would imagine.

In my case, that was compounded somewhat by my difficulty in making many friends or in getting close to people. I lived in a single-parent family that subsisted on welfare. That combination cemented a feeling that I didn't fit in and wasn't like other kids. The fact that our closest neighbors were a gas station, a warehouse, and an abandoned field didn't help much. So rainy days seemed perfect, and I enjoyed them like one enjoys a visit from an old friend.

These days, I'm not so much into rainy days. I look forward to longer and sunnier days so we can get the trailer our and go somewhere. Of course, nicer weather will bring with it another list of projects that need doing.

Teresa is a list person. I suspect that somewhere she even has a spreadsheet listing the various lists she has. From my limited perspective, it seems to me that so many lists might make it harder to ever relax or even enjoy life. On the other hand, I can't deny that she keeps us organized and makes it possible for us to do a number of the things we like to do when we have the time.

I guess you could say that I am like a river, meandering here and there, flowing sometimes haphazardly but getting there in the end. Teresa is more like a road going from Point A to Point B. Each approach has something to recommend it. Together, the combination makes for a scenic drive along the way - as long as we remember to enjoy the view once in a while.

#91 - Conversation With My Son

I was sitting at the computer this morning, reading a few news headlines while I waited for my son, Christopher, to get ready for school.

While I was sitting there, he came in to talk to me. Here is the entire conversation:

Christopher: "Dad, can I ask you a question?"
Me: "Sure."
Christopher: "Will I ever find love."
Me: "Anything's possible."

My half-smart aleck, half serious answer seemed to be enough, as he then proceeded to get ready for school with nothing more said on the subject. Afterward, though, I got to thinking more about the subject.

First thought: This was an entirely appropriate question for Christopher to ask given that today is Valentine's Day, and as he put it, the day is about love, although he first indicated that by making kissing noises.

Second thought: Christopher's question has no easy answer, especially where he is concerned, given his autism. While he is capable of displaying emotion, I don't know whether he is capable of developing deep feeling for another person. It is a question I have occasionally asked even of myself.

There are times that I have great belief in Christopher's ability to lead and live a "normal" life, one that includes things like college, career, and even love, marriage, and family. At other times, I wonder to what extent he will be capable of such a life and to what degree he might be allowed to have such a life.

One thing I have learned as Christopher's dad is that nothing in life is certain and that there are no easy answers. Another thing I learned is that the answer I gave Christopher this morning, while intended somewhat flippantly at the time may, in fact, have been the best answer after all. Because when nothing is certain, anything truly is possible.

#90 - Old Friends

"Photographs and memories / Christmas cards you sent to me / All that I have are these / To remember you"

I've always liked that old Jim Croce song; it speaks to the melancholy side of me and to the thought of all the people I've let slip out of my life for one reason or another.

Lately, though, I've been struck again by the way in which Facebook has allowed me to get some of these people back into my life, albeit in a smaller and virtual way. It has been wonderful to rediscover people I knew and was close to years ago. I don't know if we'll be as close again, but in some ways that doesn't matter. Reconnecting with them has brought the memories of those earlier times alive again.

Through the years, I used writing - primarily song lyrics - to help me work through and deal with my emotions - joy, sorrow, anger - as well as my doubts and fears. In thinking back to the past shared with some of my new Facebook friends, I find myself so inclined again. I don't claim to be another Cole Porter or even Paul McCartney, but I think the message gets across.

Old Friends

Remember when we were as thick as thieves?
One for all, like Musketeers
But time went by, we went our separate ways
And lost touch with the passing years

My vision may not quite be what it was
But you still seem the same to me
I think of you and time just melts away
As I relive each memory

Old friends
Never really disappear
They live on in head and heart -
We're never far apart -
Their memories I hold dear
Old friends
Just a thought or dream away
When I get to feeling down -
Those old friends gather 'round -
To keep the blues at bay

In a quiet hour, I close my eyes
And travel back to yesterday
I think of those who walked into my life
And walked with me along the way

We only get a moment on this earth
And all too soon the moment's passed
But when I take that trip down Memory Lane
I can make the moment last

Old friends
Never really disappear
They live on in head and heart -
We're never far apart -
Their memories I hold dear
Old friends
Just a thought or dream away
When I get to feeling down -
Those old friends gather 'round -
To keep the blues at bay

February 11, 2011

#89 - To Fob or Not to Fob - What Was the Question?

Saturday morning - I'm preparing to do a load of Christopher's jeans, and I ask him to check his pockets for anything left behind. He says he needs to check his fob, and we get into an energetic discussion of what a fob is. He says a classmate at school told him it was the small pocket above the right front pocket on a pair of jeans.

I always knew a fob had to do with a pocket watch, so I didn't think he could be right, especially since I never see anyone wear a pocket watch with a pair of jeans. I countered by telling Christopher that a fob was something attached to a pocket watch, like a chain or strap.

We go back and forth like this for a few minutes until I go and get a dictionary. While I'm walking to the bookshelf, I hear in the background "I'm not listening to you . . . la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la."

I get the dictionary, look up the word fob and find, lo and behold, Christopher is right. As am I. A fob, it turns out, is a small pocket on the front of a pair of trousers or a vest used primarily for carrying a pocket watch. It is also a small chain or leather strap attached to a pocket watch or something attached to a chain or strap, like a medallion. I guess even an English major can learn something. I'm not as sure about teenagers.

Right below those definitions was another entry for the word fob. This one had to do with cheating other people and also shifting jobs or responsibility onto another, as in "to fob off onto another." I mentioned to Christopher that "fobbing off" was something he was good at.

Christopher has a tendency, when we ask him to do something, to walk off and disappear for a while, until we either forget that we asked him to do something or we get tired of waiting and do it for him. I told him he could put that on a resume'. In fact, I told him that qualified him for a position in management. He didn't understand, but Teresa and I got a good laugh out of it. And isn't that part of what children are for? To make you laugh? After all, laughter is an aspect of joy. Perhaps I'm just easily amused. That's not such a bad place to be.

#88 - The Joy of Cooking . . . Made Easier

I love to cook. In fact, I like cooking so much that for my birthday one year Teresa gave me a cookbook. I've made some wonderful recipes from it, including chicken marsala and pumpkin cheesecake.

As much as I like to cook, though, there are times when I'm tired or just want to do something fast and easy. In our home, that also usually translated into something just this side of bland and boring. I have a feeling that has changed.

A week ago, we bought an electric pressure cooker from Costco, the Cuisinart CPC-600. Tonight, I had my maiden voyage with this new culinary toy and made barbecue beef.

The Cuisinart comes with a recipe booklet that includes a recipe for barbecue pork. Well, we'd had pork the night before, so no problem, I substituted beef.

The substitution worked so well that we nearly sat there until we had eaten three pounds of barbecue, just the three of us. Even Christopher liked it, and he always says he doesn't like barbecue sauce.

We finally succeeded in pushing ourselves away, but it was not easy. The only thing that made it possible was knowing there was still enough for dinner tomorrow night. It's a recipe I'll be making again, with beef or pork. I may also try making it with chicken. I predict this new kitchen toy will be getting some good use. We might even put it through its paces the next time we take the trailer out. Good stuff.

#87 - Yet More Random Thoughts

Why is it that I am more tired when I "wake up early" at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday than I am if I "sleep in" until 7:00 a.m. on a weekday?

Why is it that the amount of stuff I have seems to grow proportionately to the amount of stuff I am trying to get rid of?

Can something other than tinted contacts really make my brown eyes blue? (An allusion to an old Crystal Gayle song for those of you under 40 or not into country.) Can Singing in the Rain lead to Walking on Sunshine? If I Had a Hammer, would it turn out to be Maxwell's Silver Hammer? Or would MC Hammer come along to say You Can't Touch This?

If you can save 20% on a purchase of $75 or more, can't you save 100% by not spending anything? And if operators are standing by, why doesn't someone get them chairs?

Why do Deer Crossing signs look as if the deer is performing ballet and should be wearing a tutu? When I pass a Game Crossing sign, why do I never see a Monopoly box or a deck of cards or maybe an Xbox 360?

Can one ever see the end of the tunnel if it's dark? If something is "the gift that keeps on giving," won't everybody eventually have one?

Finally, if you see a fork in the road, pick it up before someone drives over it and gets a flat tire.

#86 - A Public Proclamation

Today is my wife Teresa's birthday. The cake is baked and frosted, and the presents are ready. Well, almost ready.

There is still one gift I want to give her: public recognition of just how important she is in my life. Even after 17 years, of marriage, I still have trouble saying what I think or how I feel without stumbling over my words or messing it up somehow. So I'll have to say it here.

For 17 years, Teresa has been my rudder, struggling to give me balance and to help me find direction. She has given me support and advice when I needed it and a swift kick in the rear when I deserved it.

I haven't made things easy for her. The way I grew up led me to close off from people around and taught me to fear feeling. I have struggled to overcome and let go of that past and finally feel I am gaining the upper hand in that battle. I am likely not yet where she would like me to be or where she deserves me to be, but I would not have come this far without her.

To Teresa, I say thank you for being behind me and for standing beside me, for pushing me when I've needed it, and for helping get back up whenever I stumble. Our life together has taken some twists and turns along the way, but I am glad we have shared this journey together. I love you. Happy Birthday!

#85 - Out With the Old, In With the New

As I write this, there are roughly three hours left in 2010. It has been an eventful year in a lot of ways. It was a good year for reuniting with old friends, making new friends, and getting together with family.

For me, the year was a continuation of the journey I began in 2008 to come to grips with my own past and finally begin to let go of the things that have kept me from living life to its fullest. I still have some distance to travel, but I can say I am happier than I have ever been. I am becoming more content with who I am, even as I work to become the person I can be.

In the past, I had a habit of making ten New Year's resolution every year. And every year, I was lucky if I kept a single resolution. This year, I'm keeping it simple and only making a single resolution. That resolution is to continue my journey of inner acceptance and growth. If I can do that, I can then make a greater effort to be a better friend, a better husband, a better father, and a better person.

I hope your journeys in 2011 take you to some wonderful places. With any luck, perhaps our paths will cross and we can visit some of those places together. Happy New Year!

#84 - A Brief Christmas Wish

Before we each get caught up in the million last-minute things that seem to need doing in the final hours before Christmas, I want to take a moment to wish each and everyone of you a very joyful Christmas.

My wish and my hope is that you find yourself in a happy, peaceful place this Christmas, even if it is only for the day. The last two years of my life have been a bit of a roller coaster ride as I have begun to wrestle with and perhaps finally get the upper hand on the demons which have plagued me since childhood. I have come from the edge of the abyss to a place where, if I am not exactly standing in the light, I can at least see it.

I also hope at Christmas that each of you can find or grab a moment to step back from the rush of activity we all get caught up in and simply breathe. Find the calm that will allow you to truly experience and enjoy the spirit of the season, one of joy and of peace. The challenge for each of us is to carry that spirit into the coming year. If we can do that, then 2011 will be a wonderful year, no matter what challenges it brings.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

#83 - Christmas Giffts, Big and Small

The clock is ticking. Christmas is almost here. Do you have all of your shopping done yet? Aside from perhaps a few stocking stuffers, I do. For the most part, I can now relax and watch the world go mad around me. Of course, it helps when you only have to buy for two people.

I don't know what surprises and mysteries await me under the tree this year. I think I've been pretty good, but you'd have to ask Santa (and Teresa) for a more unbiased assessment. However, even if there is nothing under the tree with my name on it, I have already received some wonderful gifts this Christmas season.

The most recent of these gifts was received yesterday. I had a friend at work tell me about her first time back on the ski slopes since suffering a knee injury last year. The joy and expression of pure glee on her face was almost child-like and is something I hope all of us can experience at least once in our adult lives.

A second gift received this week was the glimpse of a white-tailed deer crossing the road while I was driving into work. It helped remind me that there is great beauty in nature, even when it is cold outside.

The third gift came from my son, Christopher, who is trying this year to take a Christmas tradition in a slightly more healthy direction. He wanted to show his concern for Santa's health by making sure we have low-fat milk on hand to put out with Santa's cookies on Christmas Eve.

The fourth gift is one I have enjoyed off-and-on throughout 2010. It's the used fifth-wheel trailer we bought last year (took delivery on my birthday, so it has been two presents in one). It has allowed me and my family to get out to places near and far year-round and relax while also enjoying the sights and scenes around us. We didn't quite make a trip every month this year, but we came pretty close and will have something to shoot for in 2011.

The fifth gift I have received this year is my growing list of friends on Facebook. It has been great to connect with people from my past and stay in touch with people who have been a part of my life. It has also helped me to reconnect with my family, which has been a wonderful thing.

The final gift I have enjoyed this year and for 17 previous Christmases is the love and support of my extremely patient wife, Teresa. She has stood by me and walked with me as I have slowly tried to rid myself of baggage from my past and tried to learn to embrace the possibilities of the present and future. I'm not there yet, but it isn't for lack of support and encouragement.

It isn't quite enough gifts to fill the 12 days of Christmas, but it's a pretty nice haul just the same. I hope each of you have a wonderful Christmas, filled with joy and laughter and, most of all, with love. Merry Christmas!

#82 Looking In My Rear View Mirror

"You load sixteen tons, what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt."

Sixteen Tons - Tennessee Ernie Ford

"Glory days, well, they'll pass you by. Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye. Glory days, glory days."

Glory Days - Bruce Springsteen

I am, thankfully, not deeper in debt, and I'm not sure I ever really had any glory days, but I suppose these songs reflect a portion of the mindset I've sometimes had whenever another birthday comes around.

I am now another year older, and perhaps most of whatever promise I had when I was younger has now slipped past and is irretrievably lost. I am at a stage of my where I have more past than future.

As Paul Anka wrote and Frank Sinatra sang, "Regrets - I've had a few." There were many things I wanted to do in my life and likely never will. For instance, write a best-selling novel. The ideas are there; I think some writing ability is there. What is missing is the drive and the discipline. 

I suppose the same holds true with regard to writing a hit song. I've written lyrics most of my life, some of them pretty good, I think, but I never had the courage or the drive to put myself or to put them out there.

At the same time, there are things I've done that I never thought I would. I never thought I would be responsible for producing a local television station's coverage of a papal visit. After I left college the first time, I never though I'd finish my degree, let alone go on to graduate school. And, once I reached my late 20s, I never thought I would marry, let alone become a father.

Then there are things I still hope to do. Some of these revolve around travel. I've always had a desire to see Scotland and Ireland. Although not as strong as it once was, that desire still lives. That desire has been supplanted to a large degree by a desire to one day live full-time in a motor home or fifth-wheel trailer and travel around the country.

Two other things I still hope to do in my life: be a better husband and a better father. I did not have very good role models in either area, so both have been continuous on the job training. But I'll keep trying and keep dreaming.

As long as I have a dream to work toward, simple or elaborate, I won't mind continuing to get older. When I, when we no longer have dreams, that's when getting older no longer beats the alternative. So keep dreaming. I intend to.

#81 - Giving Thanks

I originally envisioned drafting this from our fifth-wheel  overlooking Brownlee Reservoir in the Hells Canyon area near the Idaho-Oregon border. Alas, winter picked Thanksgiving week to make an early appearance, shelving those plans.

Still, I have plenty to be thankful for this year. First and foremost, of course, are my wife, Teresa, and our son, Christopher. They give me roots when before I really had none.

Second are my friends, including all of the people I've reconnected with or stayed connected with through Facebook. Over the years, I have crossed paths with a great many people, and it still blows my mind to think that some of them want to stay in touch, even if only now and then.

I'm thankful to have a job and not to have a great deal of debt. From the news stories, that makes me more fortunate than many.

Tomorrow, we'll join millions of other Americans in sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner, in our case turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, homemade bread, and pie. Then, we'll probably join millions of other Americans in settling down to the traditional after Thanksgiving dinner nap.

I hope you find plenty to be thankful for this year, and I hope all of you have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

#80 - Seasonal Musings

It's been a while since I posted and thought I should, if only for my own satisfaction. I often don't know if anyone reads these posts, and at some level, I suppose it doesn't matter. I write as much for me as for anyone else.

With the elections come and gone, I am forced to finally admit that it is autumn. I've been trying to deny it as long as I can, but the signs are now everywhere.

The first sign came a few weekends ago when we winterized the fifth wheel, draining the hot water heater, blowing air through the water lines, a putting some RV antifreeze into the tanks. Not that big a job but a sure indicator that warmer weather has moved on.

The biggest indicator, of course, would be all of the leaves on the ground. Everywhere I look I see the signs of one life cycle giving way to the next. Spring and autumn are, I suppose, the most visual indicators of the circle of life. Spring rings in the new while autumn rings out the old.

As I get older, I think my feelings about the seasons are changing, Spring and summer are now my favorites, and not solely because of the warmer weather. Although that is a plus.

Spring brings new life, and for me represents a season for new hope, new opportunity, and new possibility. Summer seems like the prime of the year, the time when those new possibilities have their greatest chance for realization.

I do still enjoy autumn for the colors and the crispness of the air that comes without it being too cold. On the other hand, autumn feels like turning a corner and a sense that if those new possibilities of spring have not yet been realized, they won't be, at least not this year.

I think winter used to be my favorite season of the year. As child living in Mojave Desert, winter was the one time of year when you could count on temperatures being comfortable. Later, as a teen growing up in the Seattle area, winter seemed to bring with it the solitude I often craved.

Now, as I near another birthday, winter seems more a time of endings. As one ages, endings take on a more serious meaning, a greater sense of finality. Perhaps that is why I don't enjoy winter as much as I once did. Or perhaps it is simply that I am less able to deal with the cold. Either way, winter seems to me more stark than the other seasons, which is beautiful in its own way, but a month of it is enough for me.

Beyond that, however, I suspect one reason I don't enjoy winter as much as I used to has to do with the increased commercialization of the holidays and the massive sales pushes that begin to take place as soon as Labor Day has come and gone.

This is the time of year for doom and gloom stories about the retail sector, as so many businesses have come to rely on the holiday shopping season for the bulk of their yearly earnings. The phrase dealing with putting one's eggs all in one basket comes to mind.

The commercial aspect of the holidays has long overshadowed other aspects. For me, though, the holidays are more about getting together with friends and family. Perhaps if I can hold on to that aspect of things winter won't seem quite so gloomy.

#79 - Thoughts on Solitude and Loneliness

Over the last three days, I've had the chance to spend some time alone. Teresa and Christopher flew to Alabama to visit Teresa's family, and I took the dog, hitched up the fifth wheel, and headed to Anderson Ranch Reservoir, about a two-hour drive from Boise.

I parked the trailer roughly 50-feet from the water's edge. Thursday, I had the beach to myself. The sun was out, and I was able to enjoy the quiet. I pulled out a chair and sat by the water, reading. Oliver and I also got in a nice long walk along the shoreline. All in all, a very nice day spent relaxing and contemplating.

Friday, I gained some neighbors, who parked their rigs about 50-yards away. Without knowing it, I had apparently parked in the spot where the best fishing from the shore was to be had.

With their arrival also came a change in the weather. It got cloudier, breezier, and cooler. And the solitude became a little lonely. I started thinking about Teresa and Christopher and wishing they were with me. I actually began to think about cutting my stay short. Instead, I fired up the generator and watched a movie.

Saturday was even cooler and windier and more overcast than Friday, and I was seriously considering whether to pack up and head home. It felt a little like being stuck inside on a rainy day except there was no one to do anything with. Just as I was about to decide to head home, the skies cleared and with them, my mood. I decided to stay another night.

Sunday morning, I was still trying to decide whether to pull out or stay another night (since I also have Monday off). I started to do dishes and then realized I was actually packing stuff away. My decision was made.

It was a beautiful day for the drive - sunny but not too warm. Part of me considered staying, as I would have had my section of the beach all to myself again, but more practical concerns (waste water storage among them) convinced me I made the right decision.

Two years ago I would not have risked making this trip alone. I'm glad I did. Having Oliver along certainly helped, but I learned I am able to enjoy time alone.

I also learned how important weather can be to one's mood, especially when you are out on your own. When the sun was shining, I was able to enjoy the solitude, but when it was cloudy and windy or even raining and I had to stay inside, I felt isolated, which is, I suppose, the negative side of solitude.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I learned how much having Teresa and Christopher along means to me. Even when I crave some solitude or alone time, knowing they are there and available gives me an incredible security blanket and the knowledge that I am not alone, at least not in the sense of being lonely.

#78 - If a Blog Falls in the Forest . . .

I have found myself wondering lately with more frequency whether anyone "out there" reads the ramblings I post here from time to time. I would like to think so, but the image that comes to mind is of thoughts drifting aimlessly across the blogosphere, much like a seed drifting on the wind, only to end up on barren ground.

On the one hand, it is not important that anyone else read what I post here. After all, I write mainly for me, often as a form of self-therapy, always as a means of giving expression to that part of me that needs to attempt to be creative.

On the other hand, it would be nice to think that dozens of people read these posts and find themselves amused, engaged, challenged, or even angered by what they read. The realist in me (or pessimist, if you prefer) does not really allow for that possibility, but the more optimistic part of me, small though it is, thinks it could happen.

However, I probably would never know. The number of comments posted in the nearly three years I've been blogging still number in single digits. That tells me either that no one is reading or that no one is interested enough in what they read here to say anything about it.

Either way, I imagine I'll continue to blog as long as it continues to fulfill my need for self-expression in ways that my occasional attempts at writing song lyrics do not. The situation does, however, beg the question similar to that of the tree in the forest: if a blog is posted and no one reads it, is it truly a blog and was it ever really written?

#77 - Missing Old Friends

I find myself feeling a bit melancholy tonight. Teresa is sleeping, and Christopher is watching television, and I am alone with my thoughts. Checking out Facebook tonight, I am drawn to thoughts of old friends.

In a sense, I suppose I use the term friend a bit loosely. When I knew most of the people who crowd my thoughts, I didn't really know how to be a friend. I didn't know how to invite them into my life or how to be a part of theirs.

So I guess what I am really drawn to is thoughts of lost opportunities. I find myself thinking of people I once worked with, people I wish I had known better at the time. I also find myself thinking of people who slipped out of my life.

Of course, things change, and change is not always bad. If things had not changed, if I had not kept moving from place - running from something or in search of something - I would never have met Teresa, and we wouldn't have Christopher. But even good change can be tinged with a bit of pain.

Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a good many people I knew in my younger days. At the same time, it has shown me a glimpse of what might have been if I had been more approachable or better able to connect with those around me.

Connection is a big word with my therapist, both making connections and dealing with those connections that have been broken. Making connections is something I have struggled with my entire life. I'm sure she would suggest that connections broken early on have something to do with that.

I never got close or let others get close to me. In a way, it is a variation on the old Groucho Marx line, "I would never belong to any club that would have me as a member." In a way, I applied that to friendships.

In some sense, Facebook has allowed me to turn back time, but most of the friendships are filtered through distance in addition to time. In a way, I suppose that makes sense. When I was younger, my relationships were all filtered through emotional distance. Now the distance is physical. I'm not sure one feels any better than the other.

I hope in the coming days any of you reading this will let your friends know that you are thinking of them. I just did.

#76 - The Trouble With Labels

My wife, Teresa, is a fan of the late Jesuit priest and psychotherapist Anthony de Mello. Before his death in 1987, de Mello wrote a number of books and led a number of retreats around the world, one of which was videotaped in its entirety and available for viewing on the Internet.

One thing de Mello said which has resonated with me since I first heard it is the notion that labels are a dangerous thing. As de Mello argued, once you put a label on something all meaningful discussion about that thing ceases. Looking at the current state of affairs today around the world, I would argue he is right.

Labels do not allow us to find commonality with one another; they tend to put us at odds with one another. We have liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, capitalists and socialists, and so forth.

Labels these days tend to produce extremes. Once you are labeled as a liberal, everything you say is suspect in the minds of conservatives. And vice versa. Tell someone you are Muslim and you are immediately a potential terrorist. If you are a Republican, you are suddenly an obstructionist in the eyes of many.

None of these positions are conducive to meaningful dialogue about the problems and the opportunities facing our nation and our world. If we come from a position of antagonism, how can we ever hope to find those areas where we might actually agree?

We are more than the sum of the labels placed upon us. For instance, a conservative friend and I have discussed, even argued at times about the need for health care reform in America. We agreed that certain things could be improved, even if we did not agree on the best approach for doing so. We could not have found any common ground on such a contentious subject had we not been able to get beyond our labels.

The problem is that the labels are reinforced every day by those who would foster divisiveness and dissension and who profit from it. They have no desire to see meaningful discussion on any topic and resort to name-calling and innuendo in order to prevent serious discussion and debate.

The current political climate in America and the lack of meaningful action on many issues in Washington reflects the damage that is done when we allow ourselves to be labeled and we resort to labeling others. The only label that matters is human being. We all of us have that in common, and it is that common ground from which we should begin to approach, address, and debate the issues affecting us and our world.

#75 - Release the Hounds

About a month ago now, our son Christopher managed to somehow dislocate his knee while getting into bed. Since then, he has been on a regimen of strengthening exercises every other day and instructions to ride his bike every day.

Because of his autism and his tendency to avoid doing things if he doesn't have to, Teresa or I would accompany him on these 10-15 minute rides. Lately, we've both started going with him, and we bring along the fourth member of our family, our beagle Oliver.

The buildup is fun to watch. As soon as Oliver sees us changing or putting on tennis shoes, he knows something is up; the game is afoot, so to speak. Oliver does not act this way in the morning as we are getting ready for work. Somehow, he knows this is different.

Even before we head to the door, Oliver begins to get a little excited. He starts walking faster, almost like an expectant father pacing. The tail starts wagging a little faster. And as soon as we get near the leash, look out.

I take Oliver with me, and Teresa rides along with Christopher. My bike is a Bike E, in its day a sort of entry-level recumbent bike. I describe it to people as sort of an aluminum beam with handlebars, tires, and a seat with a back.

Because of its design, it sits a little lower to the ground than a traditional bike. This gives me a little extra reaction time and makes it a bit easier to get my feet down and prevent falling should Oliver suddenly decide to take off in a direction other than the one I'm trying to ride.

The way it works is that I wrap the handle end of the six-foot leash around my left hand several times - I find I have better control with a shorter amount of exposed leash - and hold my arm out to the side to keep Oliver away from the bike wheels while I steer the bike with my right hand. Not the best approach, perhaps, but it seems to work, and I have yet to think of a better approach.

Once I start the bike moving in the direction we plan to go, Oliver takes off. For a few blocks, my bike is Oliver-powered, I don't have to pedal at all. If I close my eyes (not a good idea on a moving bicycle), I can almost picture myself guiding a sled in Alaska's Iditarod race.

For some reason, Oliver's running - with his body slightly angled as if going around a curve - reminds me of the greyhounds I would occasionally watch race when I lived and worked in Rapid City, SD. But I also see a sheer enthusiasm as he goes all out, running down the street.

Eventually, I have to slow my pedaling down a little as Oliver starts to tire a little. But he gets a chance to get outside, something he loves, and he gets some badly needed exercise. Each time we go, it takes him less time to recover afterward. Plus, there is something really remarkable about the sheer joy and power I see when I glance to my left and watch him running. I see him come truly alive, and sometimes I start to feel that way a little bit, too.

#74 - Getting Off the Political Merry-Go-Round

When I was younger, I used to be very much into politics. As the Editorial Editor for my high school newspaper, I came out in support of the then very real possibility of gas rationing. This was easy for me as I did not have a car. I also wrote about censorship and book burning involving a school board in Kansas.

I would often play devil's advocate; it rarely mattered the subject. I enjoyed the exchange, the banter, the give and take. It made me feel alive.

I say all of this as prelude to discussion of some of my recent experiences on Facebook. I have one Facebook friend, a former colleague in another life and another career who often posts political items, items that to me seem incendiary and designed to arouse anger, passion, and debate. All too often, I take the bait and find myself arguing as one self-proclaimed progressive against a wall of conservative thought.

Every time I allow myself to get sucked into one of these debates, I tell myself it will be the last time. I find myself exasperated that they won't even listen to or consider an opposing view, and I am sure they feel the same way about me.

So why do I continue? I suppose it must be the remaining idealist in me, though these opposing and often intolerant voices are slowly beating that idealism out of me. They aren't changing my views merely helping me to realize that politics is ultimately all a game.

I am rapidly concluding that governments - Republican, Democrat, or even Communist or Socialist - don't really care about me. Governments are about two things, when it comes to it - power and control, and they cater to those who can help them get it and keep it. If it were different, the rich would not be getting richer while the poor get nowhere, and corporations would not be seen as having the same freedom of speech (backed by 1000s of times the money) as  individuals.

This realization is likely why many argue for term limits in government. Sadly, I think all that will do is increase the number of people who grab for more power in a shorter period of time by creating a bit of a revolving door effect.

None of this is helped by the fact that the two major political parties seem unable and certainly are unwilling to work together to accomplish anything of major benefit or importance. I believe this will only get worse after the November elections. Since the minority party typically gains seats in midterm elections, I think we can all look forward to two years of infighting, back-biting, and legislative stalemate.

So, I am going to try to give up what has long been an intellectual passion of mine: politics. For me, it may well prove to be as difficult as giving up smoking is for others. But I managed to do that once upon a time, so this may not be as hard as I think.

I have reached the conclusion that life is too short, and there are other things I'd much rather be doing that arguing with people I often don't know and usually don't agree with. Listening to music, for instance. Solving a challenging crossword puzzle. Reading a good novel.

Top of that list would be taking the trailer out for a weekend somewhere, anywhere. Besides, I feel much more alive sitting outside my trailer in a campground overlooking a river or a lake than I ever feel arguing political points on Facebook. I challenge anyone to prove otherwise.

#73 - Sensory Overload

I'm sitting here after an evening at Chuck E. Cheese, and the noises are beginning to recede from my head. On Facebook, I half-jokingly posited the question as to what a visit to Chuck E. Cheese would be like for someone who was ADHD. I can't imagine it would be good.

Everywhere you turn you are bombarded with lights and sounds. Upon our arrival tonight, the noise level was almost akin to being in the front row at a rock concert. Mercifully, someone turned down the sound about 15 minutes or so after we arrived.

But those 15 minutes were an experience for us with Christopher. Because of his autism, he is already somewhat susceptible to sensory overload. (Bright fluorescent lights in particular - like those we find at Costco - seem to have a powerful effect.) Couple that with having gone several hours without eating, and it isn't a pretty site. (At that point, Christopher gets what a bit squirrely, as Teresa has termed it, and he does remind one of a squirrel, scurrying here and there.) Christopher was holding tight, first to Teresa, then to me, hanging on for dear life, and it was touch and go whether we would stay.

However, once Christopher had a little pizza in him, things improved and we were able to somewhat enjoy the rest of our stay. The pizza was okay, but a bit lacking in the sauce department. At one point, I held up a piece with visible sauce and joked to Teresa that I had gotten the slice with all the sauce.

Chuck E. Cheese also seems to spare all expense when it comes to beer selection. The two, count 'em two, taps said "Beer" and "Beer". Turns out that Beer 1 is Bud Light and Beer 2 is Budweiser. I guess they don't want to overwhelm customers any more than they already are.

Obviously, children are Chuck E. Cheese's primary demographic, and they reel them in with all sorts of games - from simple games for the youngest to military strategy games for teens and beyond. Games, are also where I suspect the Chuckster makes most of his money.

You spend $5.00 or $10.00 or more for tokens in hopes of winning tickets that you then redeem for prizes that are worth less than the money you spent on tokens. No matter how good you are at the games, judging from the prize selection I saw, Chuck is in no danger of losing money on a single customer.

Still, I suppose it is a pleasant enough diversion for families, although I don't plan a return visit any time soon unless invited by someone else (which is how we came to be there in the first place). For some families, I suspect a trip to Chuck E. Cheese may be the only family interaction they have and then, perhaps, only long enough for their pleading son or daughter to beg then to buy more game tokens. As for me, I'll take a weekend with the family in our fifth wheel over a visit to Chuck E. Cheese every time.

#72 - Reunifying Heart, Mind, and Spirit

"Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above. Don't fence me in." - Cole Porter

Recently, I was catching up with a friend and former co-worker via e-mail. As friends who haven't spoken for a while often do, we talked about what we had been up to of late.

One of the things I have been up to is getting out with the family in our fifth-wheel trailer every weekend we can. So far this year, we have managed nearly 30 nights with at least 12 or 13 more planned.

In mentioning that, I reflected on the feeling that I am more outgoing and more social when we are in a campground with our trailer, than we are in our own neighborhood. I put forth the notion that at least part of that may be due to the fact that there are usually few if any fences inside a campground.

In a campground you and your neighbors are truly neighbors in a much more communal way than in any kind of residential development or neighborhood. On our last outing, we met a nice couple from nearby Nampa and ended up sitting and talking for an hour or two. I don't really see that happening in most neighborhoods.

There is, of course, a shared common bond of being outdoors, but people are outdoors in their back yards all the time, and I doubt if they talk to anyone but their spouse or children or pet. I think the fences have a lot to do with that.

Fences serve a number of functions. They help to keep your pets from invading the yard of another. They also help to delineate property lines. In other words, they keep others out. They also keep you in, to some extent.

Fences compartmentalize us and separate us and perhaps isolate us as well. They make it easier for shy people to keep to themselves. And of course, they protect our privacy.

In our homes behind our fenced yards, we are a very private people. I don't get to know you; you don't get to know me. We shut each other out and remain complete strangers. We become compartmentalized, in a way.

In a campground, the lack of fences removes one barrier to conversation and interaction. We are taken out of our fenced compartments and put into the mix with others who have been taken out of their compartments. The setting and the circumstances are more conducive to interaction, and as a result, we often find ourselves interacting with others, others we might never talk to if they were on the other side of the fence from us.

America, especially the West, espouses the notion of "rugged individualism." Privacy is an important piece of that concept. Yet we are also at some level a communal people. The Declaration of Independence, after all, begins with the phrase "We the people," not "I, one person."

Fences serve to remove a part of us from our inner being. When I am in a campground with my family and with no fences, I rediscover and reconnect with that missing piece. I find myself more at ease, more at peace, and more at one with my surroundings. I feel more whole.

I'm not necessarily suggesting we all tear down the fences around our yards. But it might be a good idea if we stepped out from behind those fences (physical, mental, and emotional) once in a while and looked at the world and the people beyond our fences. You might feel a little lighter if you do. I know I do.

#71 - Working Toward Simplicity in a Complex World, Pt. 2

In my last entry, I wrote of our desire to one day sell the house and move from 2,000 square feet to roughly 300-350 square feet. Accomplishing that will mean ridding ourselves of stuff: things we have accumulated over the years out of desire, perceived necessity, or perhaps because of some empty place inside that we want to fill.

So that means downsizing, which means ridding ourselves of most of our books (I'm keeping my America's Test Kitchen Best Recipes cookbook, though), figurines, furniture, large tools, even some of our clothing. Yet, if the last several months are any indication, I don't think we will feel deprived.

When we take the trailer out, we simply do not have room for everything we seem to need in order to live our lives at home. And I don't think we miss it. In the trailer, we have places to sleep, places to sit and read or watch movies, a kitchen, and a bathroom with a shower. Simple yet adequate.

We also have the capability to sit or cook outside. And when we do sit outside, we have the prospect of a different front (or back, depending on your perspective) yard every time we go on an outing. While not as landscaped, these yards usually surpass anything we would see at our own home, and we don't have to do yard work!

In addition, we usually eat better, sleep better, and get more physical activity when we take the RV out than we do when we stay home. Not only that, but I'm convinced we use fewer resources during a weekend in our fifth wheel than we do during a weekend at home.

Showers in particular use much less water, simply due to the fact that the hot water heater only has a six gallon capacity, requiring conservation and a little planning. We also use less water when we do dishes. And because our trailer is 30 amp, we use less electricity simply because we can't plug in and run everything at the same time.

The fact that Teresa and I both have a bit of a nomadic spirit helped us to gravitate toward the idea of the full-time RV life and made the idea of living in a fifth wheel or a motor home seem also a no-brainer for us. The fact that we have become a little less materialistic as we get older also helps.

Money (and caring for Christopher) may dictate when we can make this transition from a sticks-and-bricks (as full-time RVers refer to houses) life to RV living. I'm confident that no matter how much money we have or don't have, we will find a way to make the move. I've read too many stories about people from all income levels who have made such a move to doubt that we can do it, too. When the time comes, I know we'll be ready. now to start packing those boxes.

#70 - Working Toward Simplicity in a Complex World, Pt. 1

Teresa, Christopher, and I recently came back from one of the many weekends we hope to spend this year in our new to us fifth wheel trailer. Odd as it might sound to many in our super-sized, bigger is better world, Teresa and I seriously talk about and contemplate one day leaving our 2,000 square foot home (increasingly small by American standards) and moving into a 300-350 square foot fifth wheel or motor home.

One of the difficulties we will have to overcome is the problem of what to do with all that stuff. Like most Americans, I suspect, we have accumulated assorted treasures, necessities, creature comforts, tools, etc., most of which we will have to leave behind as they will not fit in the average or even the super-sized trailer or motor home.

That raises the question of where to start. When we look at the big picture and see all of the stuff we have (and we have less than many), it seems as if we could never get rid of enough to enable us to fulfill our dream of living in an RV, at least not without a bulldozer to come in and ruthlessly shovel most of the items away.

We are, I suppose, lucky in that we do not have a great deal of heirlooms or family keepsakes to have to store or find a place for in the RV. From my side of the equation, we have a set of flatware that was a wedding gift from my mother. That, we could use in the RV if we decided to keep it. I also have a few drawings and painting my mother did that I might like to keep. Those, we could rotate and use for decoration in the RV. Maybe.

Teresa has some family pictures, which we have talked about digitizing. She has also been worked to convert a number of songs from the many albums we still own to mp3 so that we can keep the music without the need to keep the albums.

That still leaves a great deal to weed out and rid ourselves of. When I was younger - especially after I went back to school - I became an avid book buyer, to the point where we had shelves full of books in several rooms of the house. I obtained them (some bought, some free) either with an eye toward graduate school or with the thought I would like to read them some day. In most cases, I never have.

Since we moved to Idaho seven years ago, I have managed to rid myself of four or five boxes of books, donating them to the local library. However, I have several hundred still to go through, knowing I cannot possibly keep them and pursue a full-time life in an RV. As any full-time RVer will tell you, books add a lot of weight to your RV and quickly eat up precious cargo carrying capacity. So, nearly all of the books must go, although I plan to keep a few. Deciding which few I will keep is what keeps me from getting rid of most of the collection at this point.

Then there is the garage, crammed full of stuff I'm not even sure we know we have. In that sense, we are much like any average American family. Here in Idaho, most new houses are built with three-car garages, two-thirds of which usually seems to be filled with anything but a car. That, I suppose, makes us a bit different from many. First, we get by with a two-car garage. Second, we can actually park one car in the garage.

Like most Americans, though, we have bought into the consumerism culture, hook, line, and sinker. We buy, I'm sure, things we don't need or things we think we need only to come across it on a shelf or in a drawer a few years later and wonder why we bought it and lamenting the fact that we spent money on it.

Unlike a house, though, even the biggest RV has a very limited amount of space for stuff. Yet we find we have plenty of stuff in the RV and we don't feel ourselves deprived. If anything, we feel like we have more of everything, something I'll explore more in another entry.

#69 - Questions From Out of Left Field

From time to time, odd things occur to me and obscure questions pop into my head. Hence the name of this blog. This is one of those times.

For instance, must a woman who rides a motorcycle have children in order to be a "motorcycle mama"?

If a motorcyclist is also known as a biker, what is a bicyclist also known as?

Why is it that I always seem to need to use the bathroom most right after I've gone to bed?

Now that we have so much choice on television, thanks to cable and satellite, why is it I can't never find anything I'm interested in watching?

If love is a battlefield, what's love got to do with it? And who did write the book of love anyway?

If Elvis Presley was the King of Rock and Roll, James Brown the Godfather of Soul, and Michael Jackson the Prince of Pop, what does that make Liberace? And where does that leave Prince in music's royal family?

How is possible that a country which put the first man on the moon also produced the Ford Pinto?

If common sense is so hard to find in people, what makes it common?

Why is it that a child who's grounded is in trouble while an adult who's grounded is generally respected?

If we actually paid people based on the value of their jobs to society, how much would the CEO of BP owe us?

Finally, if a person writes a blog and nobody reads it, is it still a blog? Or is it simply a diary? Okay, I'll stop. For now.

#68 - Something About Nothing

I realized tonight it has been three weeks since my last entry, so I thought I ought to write something. Like all great writers (so I'm told, not being one myself), I've perhaps been suffering of late from writer's block.

Or rather, I haven't been able to come up with a theme for an entry. So I have decided to write a little something about nothing. That is, I am going to write a bit of stream of consciousness about what has been going on in the last three weeks.

For a week or so, Spring teased us here in Idaho and acted as if it had finally decided to make its entrance, somewhat like a diva arriving fashionable late to her own party. Temperatures reached the upper 70s and low 80s, and we marked the occasion with a weekend at Bruneau Dunes State Park joining a local chapter of the Good Sams Club.

About a month and a half early, we had made the decision to join this chapter of the national RV group because we decided that sometimes it would be nice to go out with a group, and none of our friends seem all that much into camping or RVing.

We're kind of the youngsters in the group, but they all seem like nice people, and they seem for the most part more alive when we are out in a campground somewhere. Which is also how I feel a good deal of the time.

We've made two campouts with the group and plan to make at least three more. It's nice to have that variety of occasionally joining a group and sometimes going it alone. Variety does spice things up a bit, if you recall the old quote.

Since that outing to Bruneau Dunes, winter has tried to reclaim its position of control over Idaho's weather. We actually had snow on Saturday and a couple of days of rain before that. It may not be global warming, but it sure is not normal.

On the subject of not being normal, I continue to wage my battle with my childhood demons. I do feel like I am winning that war, but the only war making slower progress might be the war in Afghanistan. Still, progress is progress, and knowing how long the demons have ruled my life, I realize victory will not be achieved overnight. Getting out in the RV helps me in that fight, so I am glad every time we are able to get out, and we try to do that often.

Something we maybe don't do enough is bathe our beagle, Oliver. Tonight, though, it was decided that he had gone long enough. Bathing the dog is a two person job because, unlike most dogs I've ever seen, Oliver does not like water - except to drink - and does not like getting wet. If he has to go to the bathroom but it's wet outside, he will hold it.

So, I tried to hold Oliver steady while Teresa bathed him. Afterward, we dried him as best we could, then got out of the way. If you ever want to see a dog imitate a bat out of hell, come to our house and watch Oliver after he has had a bath. I swear, in that state, Oliver could possibly outrun the horses at Churchill Downs.

Before that, we had decided to hook up an old DVD player to see if it still worked and could be used in place of the one now somewhat inoperable after the recent break-in of our trailer.

We set it up on the kitchen table and put in a DVD to test in. Then we got absorbed in the movie. (I'll admit it, it was "Mamma Mia," and I am a big ABBA fan.)

So, there we are, sitting in the kitchen, watching a movie. Also not normal but perhaps definitely us.

In between, I've had a chance to visit with a friend and former co-worker during his visit from Arizona. I've taken our truck back to the shop for the third time in three months. And I've argued a little politics on Facebook and tried to learn to enjoy each and every day instead of saving it all up for "someday."

Perhaps my title, "Something About Nothing," was a misnomer. Each item, in and of itself, might seem like nothing or at least like not much. Taken together, however, they add up to nothing less than life itself. And that is nothing if not something.

#67 - If I Were King

I've been involved of late in a running Facebook debate generally about immigration reform and specifically about the Arizona immigration law. Facebook is probably not the ideal place for discussion matters of substance, but that is perhaps a debate for another time.

As part of that ongoing discussion, I was asked for my suggestions. I thought to myself, why stop at immigration reform. So, here are some of the things I would do if I were suddenly in charge. Not that anyone asked me about these other areas, of course.

1) Institute a tax credit for companies creating new jobs in America. The size of the credit would be based on the number of new, above minimum wage jobs the company creates, with extra credits going to those companies that create jobs in areas with unemployment rates above 10% and those companies creating new jobs in fields involving renewable resources.

Such a step would reward companies who step up to help the economy while leaving out those who seem intent merely on sending jobs overseas in order to boost profits.

2) Simplify America's income tax code. I would have two, maybe three tax rates, say 15 and 25% (or 10, 15, and 25%), with those having family incomes under $30,000 a year exempt and those with family incomes of $200,000 or more a year paying 25%. In addition, I would eliminate all tax deductions with the exception of allowing a deduction for charitable contributions for individuals of up to $5,000 or 5% of gross annual income, whichever is greater, without creating a negative tax balance. I would also leave the Earned Income Credit in place and perhaps expand it to include a scaled credit for child care for people earning up to $75,000 a year.

3) In line with that, I would create a tax credit for people who spend at least 100 hours a year in volunteer service.

4) Institute a 25% corporate income tax, again eliminating all deductions, with the exception of a deduction for charitable contributions of up to $1,000,000 or 2% of gross annual income, whichever is greater, again without creating a negative tax balance.

5) Institute a corporate tax credit for investment in infrastructure: new buildings, equipment, training programs, etc. of up to 25% of the cost. Companies would only be eligible to take such a credit once every five years.

6) Make all earned income subject to Social Security tax, with perhaps a sliding tax scale, say 2.5% on income up to $30,000 a year, 4.5% on income of $30,001 to $75,000 and the current 6.2% of income of $75,001 or more. Rich people collect Social Security regardless of their need; I think they can afford to help fund it a little better.

7) Speaking of Social Security, I would again make the Social Security fund off limits for all uses except the funding of Social Security payments.

8) Since the Facebook discussion had to do with immigration reform, here is what I would do in that area: Impose a fine on businesses caught and convicted of hiring illegal immigrants. A first offense would net a fine of $1,000,000 or 1% of gross revenues, whichever is less. A second offense would result in a fine of $5,000,000 or 5% of gross annual revenues, whichever is less. A third offense results in the seizure of the company's assets, a sort of corporate "three strikes and your out" program.

9) On the immigrant side of the equation, I would institute a temporary amnesty for any illegal immigrant, to last only for the extent of that person's application for citizenship. Under certain documented instances, such a person might be allowed to continue to work (if the person is the sole support for a family that includes one or more underage children, for instance) while the application process is underway.

Such people would not be denied citizenship solely on the basis of entering the country illegally. However, their fingerprints would be taken and, if they are caught re-entering the country after having an application for citizenship rejected for other reasons (previous criminal record or caught committing a crime in this country), they would be automatically deported with no right of appeal.

10) Finally, I would push to have a voting Representative for the District of Columbia. My reasoning is that, as things now stand, residents of Washington, D.C. are subject to "taxation without representation," one of the concepts that helped to galvanize the colonists prior to the American Revolution.

I'm sure I could come up with some other ideas if I were king, but that's a start.

#66 - Thoughts on Success

Not to get too political, but in reading any number of conservative blogs and comments on various news stories one gets the impression that hard work and drive are all it takes to be successful and that anyone can do it.

But we can't all be successful, can we? Don't there have to be unsuccessful people against whom the "successful" can measure themselves to know they are in fact successes?

What exactly does it mean to be successful? There are any number of answers to that question, the vast majority of which seem to involve money at some level.

Success seems to be measured by car you drive, the house you live in, the amount of money you make, the toys you have. By those standards, I guess I am moderately successful. But it wasn't always so.

By those yardsticks, most of my life could be written off as a failure. In my first career in broadcasting, my income never topped $25,000 a year. I made enough to pay rent, eat, and to eventually pay off my student loans from college. Not exactly a rags to riches story.

Thanks in large part to the financial prudence of my wife Teresa (the real brains of the outfit) I might be considered a little more successful these days. I live in a nice house (not a McMansion but big enough for us) and drive what I think is a pretty nice truck, used for pulling our one toy, our fifth wheel trailer.

Yet there are, I suspect, people with smaller bank accounts than many of us whom I would consider more successful than I. They have found the one thing I have struggled to obtain for most of my life - a real joy or passion for living.

Their success is measured in ways having little to do with dollar signs or the things money can buy (sorry Madison Avenue): working in a job or field they truly love regardless of what it pays. Still having a touch of the reckless abandon they possessed in childhood. The ability to laugh openly, cry freely, live and love simply. The ability to marvel in a sunset and in the artistic ability required to paint one. Being happy in their own skin and in the place where they are.

Those are the types of small successes I am working toward. I am not consistently there, but I have moments. Turning out a tasty loaf of fresh-baked bread or preparing a meal that others enjoy are two of the ways I measure success these days. Finding something to smile about is another.

And so, I find myself back at my earlier question. We can't all be successful, can we? Well, maybe we can, but only if we stop measuring success the way an accountant might measure a company's financial solvency. Here's to success.

#65 - Easter Reflections

It is Monday evening as I write this, the Monday after Easter. Many are thinking about the just concluded national championship game in college basketball. Me, I am thinking about our just concluded weekend at Bruneau Dunes State Park, about 90-minutes southeast of Boise.

The dunes are a unique geological formation in that the wind patterns work in such a matter that the sand dune formations remain virtually the same year in, year out.

The dunes are, in essence timeless, a characteristic I try to apply to our trips, whether they last a few days or a week or more. Although we may bring a watch or a clock, we don't spend much time watching them or counting down toward anything.

I initially was going to call our trip a camping excursion, but I know some say it isn't camping unless you pitch a tent and roll out a sleeping bag on the hard ground. So I won't call it camping.

What I will call it is getting into my comfort zone. I find I am generally more comfortable and more relaxed when I am parked in a campground, even as opposed to relaxing at home. There are many reasons for that, I'm sure, but I suspect one of them is that a state of calm and serenity exists, and is even imposed by my surroundings.

Any chance I have to get away from the demands of everyday life, I want to take it. Sure, some of the demands are the same when we are set up in some campground, but they seem to take on a more timeless aspect. Most things don't have to be done within a certain time frame. Time itself is measured in terms of today and tomorrow and not in terms of minutes and hours.

One of the things I like best about hitching up the trailer and going out of town is that I get to engage in one of my favorite activities, cooking. I don't mean the "it's 5:30, I just got home from work and need to fix dinner" kind of cooking. I mean the "I have as much time as I want to spend, so what would I like to make" kind of cooking.

So, our Easter weekend at Bruneau Dunes meant chicken and dumplings, home-baked bread, ribs, and dutch oven pizza. And, for Easter morning breakfast, a chance to work on presentation, with an arrangement of cottage cheese, sliced apple, and a hard boiled egg that I titled Venus Fly trap.

Every time we hitch up the trailer and head out somewhere, we manage to combine the best aspects of our home life with the splendor of creation. We read, watch movies, hike, take pictures, and basically spend a good deal more time together. This weekend was no exception.

It was yet another wonderful weekend away from the day to day. I've come to expect nothing less from our excursions, which is why I always look forward to them.