Politics could use a dose of reality (television)

image Aside from watching something on “The Dust Channel,” I can’t think of anything less interesting than the upcoming political debates and conventions.

Watch, I’ll show you….

See?
Nothing.

And the worst part is, they’ll be on every major network, with commentary offered by shell-shocked correspondents picking confetti from their hair and wincing between air horn blasts that are supposed to make us all wish we were part of that kind of fun! In actuality, news anchors David Muir, Lester Holt and Scott Pelley don’t want to be there either, but they will be; and by God, if they’ve got to be stuck in a skybox for a week, we’re going to watch!

Now, this isn’t to say making the debates and conventions even remotely interesting isn’t possible. In fact, if the campaign gurus would study the ratings, there are plenty of examples of what could be done to make things more exciting by following a few, simple rules. Continue reading Politics could use a dose of reality (television)

Seven more minutes of childhood; a father’s wish for his daughter the morning of 9-11

I’ll never forget how I felt this day 14 years ago as an American, a firefighter and as a father — and how each held its own kind of hurt that has never completely healed. But of the three, being a father watching the sparkle in my then six-year-old daughter’s eyes noticeably fade just a bit continues to be the memory that lingers most…

image My alarm clock went off the same as it always did back then, coming to life with the morning news — my preference over the annoying, high-pitched alternative of chatter. Instinctively, I swatted the snooze button and bought myself another seven minutes of sleep.

In the years since, I’ve thought a lot about those seven minutes, and how the simple push of a button postponed a bitter reality for just a little longer. When the news came on again, word of the first airliner crashing into the World Trade Center stopped my hand just short of another seven minutes of blissful ignorance — a time span that now seems like an eternity.

Lying there, listening to the details, I regretted not pushing the button one more time.

A hundred more times.

A thousand.

In that same moment, I also understood that the impassive gaze of terrorism could only be averted for so long, and that, eventually, I’d have to meet it — along with the questioning gaze of my daughter. Continue reading Seven more minutes of childhood; a father’s wish for his daughter the morning of 9-11

Birthday or not, any year of Samara is worth celebrating

image The blog-o-sphere is like a train station, with hourly arrivals and departures we either connect with, make part of our routine or miss completely. When Samara pulled into my WordPress depot a few years ago, I knew hers was a crazy train offering stunning viewpoints as well as stretches of dangerous track. But I also knew no matter how close her stark honesty and razor-wire wit might come to causing a derailment, I could trust we’d always arrive safely at our destination because of her caring heart and adeptness as a writer.

So when I was invited to join other bloggers in wishing Samara a Happy Birthday today with a post — and a musical toast — I hopped aboard quickly. Although, to be honest, I would’ve been willing to steal a horse and gallop alongside in order to catch this train of well-wishers. That’s because I’m as much a fan and admirer of her blogger persona as I am of her person: devoted and kick-ass mother to equally kick-ass Little Dude; astute and introspective writer who can be simultaneously sarcasitc and warm, tough and vulnerable; and devoted friend to the coolest collection of “sisters” in the blog-o-sphere. Continue reading Birthday or not, any year of Samara is worth celebrating

Adding scorpions could improve some spectator sports

image On the rare occasion I’ve found myself sitting on the couch watching golf on TV, I’ve often thought, How do dragonflies mate in mid-air?

That’s just how EXCITING sports like golf, bowling and some other “spectator sports” are for people like me, who need to have at least some element of danger involved in order to keep our attention. Otherwise we might as well be watching competitive knitting.

Although, to be fair, Jamie Lee Curtis did use knitting needles to fend off Michael Meyers in Halloween, so at least there’s the potential for a psychopath to suddenly show up at a knitting competition and be mercilessly taken down in a flurry of knitting needles. And then thoughtfully covered in a beautiful handmade quilt. Continue reading Adding scorpions could improve some spectator sports

Outlook for the future of education? It looks just… Pee Chee

Education Secretary Arnie Duncan promises no child's will get left behind when it comes to getting a Pee Chee folder.
Education Secretary Arne Duncan promises no child will get left behind when it comes to getting a Pee Chee folder.
When I was a kid, our school supply list consisted of a Star Wars notebook and a Pee Chee folder. The notebook helped us organize our assignments; the Pee-Chee folder was used for entertaining ourselves during class by drawing thought balloons for the athletes on the cover.

Football Guy: (Getting tackled) “Oh sure — run the old L-42 play, THAT always works…”
Tennis Girl: “If my skirt gets any shorter, I’ll be playing Olympic volleyball…”

You get the idea.

Just about everyone remembers this folder because, like Al Sharpton’s hair gel, it has remained virtually unchanged since 1964. What has changed, however, is the growing list of items parents must provide throughout the school year. This comes in addition to rudimentary things, such as clothing, snacks and a recent urine sample. The reason is simple: The government is tired of wasteful spending, particularly in the educational system, where a special task force has discovered that schools routinely get bilked into spending thousands of dollars on paper alone.

“And, shockingly, most of this paper has turned out to be blank,” said Education Secretary Arne Duncan. Continue reading Outlook for the future of education? It looks just… Pee Chee

Camping with your teenagers is like one big (search) party!

image Our family loves to go camping. In fact, we make sure to get out and pitch our tent — without fail — once a year.

Traditionally, this takes place during the busy Labor Day Weekend so that as many people as possible can witness a 49-year-old man being attacked by his own tent. In my defense, I have to say our tent is very large; especially when it is laying flat on the ground.

If I hadn’t lost the step-by-step instructions that came with it, I’m sure the assembly process would be a lot easier because, as a man, I could use them to, step-by-step, blame everything on having lousy instructions.

What this means is that over the Labor Day Weekend my handiwork will again be mistaken for a hot air balloon that has crash-landed into our family’s camp site. Continue reading Camping with your teenagers is like one big (search) party!

A man’s guide to romantic cuisine — Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

image Men, by their very nature, are grillers of food. If you follow me on Facebook, then you know I love grilling everything from steak kabobs to bacon-wrapped bratwurst. This is because grilling, aside from providing men with a legitimate excuse to drink beer and play with fire, is actually a sign of romance and affection dating back to the discovery of fire itself.

We know this thanks to recently discovered cave paintings depicting what archeologists believe is a romantic meal prepared by a Neanderthal named Glork soon after the discovery of fire. According to archeologists, the sequence goes like this:

Painting one: Glork makes a small fire using a careful mixture of embers, dry leaves, and an assortment of twigs. He then douses it with liberal amounts of highly flammable liquid, creating a massive fireball that scorches the roof of his cave.

Painting two: Glork adds a marinated pterodactyl drumstick to the fire and begins drinking an unidentified beverage.

Paintings three through six: Glork continues drinking a lot more of his unidentified beverage.

Painting seven: Attempting to capture the attention of an attractive cavewoman, Glork uses the flaps of his animal skin to fan the aroma of dinner in her direction. In the process, he inadvertently exposes himself, leading to the creation of what archeologists believe is the very first “Kiss the Chef” apron. Continue reading A man’s guide to romantic cuisine — Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

When it comes to looking ahead, look no further than your behind

image You should be aware that the idea of promoting an important issue through a week of “National Awareness” has gotten… How can I put this tactfully..?

Really stupid.

There was a time when, in order to command the attention of our entire country for a whole week, you actually needed to have an issue that was important. It needed to be something that could save lives, improve society or, at the very least, boost the sale of Hallmark cards.

But not anymore.

I say this because, as you may or may not know, we’re in the middle of “National Psychic Week.” (For those of you who did not know this, I’m sorry — but there’s a good chance you are not psychic.) According to one website, the purpose of each week-long focus is to: “dispel skepticism [of psychics] through factual awareness.”

Thanks to an article that appeared in the Eugene Register-Guard, I have a better understanding of how it might take an entire week to dispel all that skepticism — especially after reading about Ulf Buck, a blind psychic from Meldorf, Germany, who claims he can read people’s futures by feeling their naked buttocks. Continue reading When it comes to looking ahead, look no further than your behind

True happiness began 7 years ago for me, when she became my wife

imageI remember standing at the altar, watching as she crossed the courtyard toward the church. I remember smiling so much my cheeks hurt; I remember the pride and appreciation I felt knowing I was about to be her husband; and I remember a momentary breeze lifting a stray strand of hair away from her face, like God’s finger gently brushing it aside as she entered the chapel. As with any rare occasion when we don’t enter a room together, our eyes found each other immediately. So much was said to each other during that long walk to the altar. Not in words, but spoken between our two hearts — in a language we had been fluent in from the moment we met…

Seven years ago today, I became the man I was meant to be by marrying the woman I was meant to be with. The moments we have shared since then are more than memories — they are carried within each pulse that beats from my heart; like a constant and steady flow of warmth and wonderment inspired by her presence. We came into each other’s lives as parts of a fractured whole, survivors with scraped knuckles from time spent trying to repair broken marriages with parts from ourselves. Perhaps because of this it was easier to recognize one another when our hearts met for the first time. And perhaps because of our past experiences we were able to appreciate even more the rarity of what we felt. Continue reading True happiness began 7 years ago for me, when she became my wife

Turning 49 doesn’t matter much when you don’t act your age anyway

image Last night, a good friend suddenly and without warning offered a pre-emptive toast to my turning 49 next week. I call him a “good” friend because, until as recently as last night, I considered him a “great” friend. But I honestly can’t remember his name now.

Haha! Just kidding!

We were actually never very close.

Ok, in all seriousness, until his good-natured ribbing about turning 49 (I still can’t stop laughing!), I hadn’t given it much thought. That’s because I don’t really think about myself relative to age.

Relative to the nearest strip of bacon, coffee shop and my wife, sure.

But age?

Not really. Continue reading Turning 49 doesn’t matter much when you don’t act your age anyway