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?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
#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.
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.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
#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.
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.
Monday, February 14, 2011
#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.
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.
Friday, February 11, 2011
#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.
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
Saturday, February 5, 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.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
#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.
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.
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.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
#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.
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.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
#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!
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!
Friday, December 31, 2010
#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!
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!
Friday, December 24, 2010
#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!
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!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
#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!
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!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
#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.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
#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.
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.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
#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.
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.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
#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.
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.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
#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?
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?
Friday, September 10, 2010
#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.
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.
Monday, August 30, 2010
#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.
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.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
#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.
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.
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