Postcards from the Funny Farm

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I was out watching my two girls play by the pool and an interesting thing happened. My youngest reached for an inflatable ring next to some car covers that was being blown away from her by the desert winds. I told her to hold on and daddy would get it. She persisted in reaching for it as if it was the most amazing item in the world. I couldn’t help but wonder why such a vanilla, plain and unexciting object would be so important to her. There were three others like it by her and a life jacket as well. Then I got to thinking: she has gotten used to that faded plastic ring that probably cost us less than a dollar. To her, it has become an object of fun. I started remembering all the bikes I had as a kid and some of the stuff I really loved but wasn’t worth much.

A lot of times in my life I think along the lines of “They just don’t make them like they used to.” This is because I am naturally nostalgic about the things of my past, namely: of my youth.

We’d do well to remember two things based on this ring:

1. Things have no “value” to our lives apart from the meaning we assign and pour into them. This is especially true for kids. -and-
2. Instead of drawing close to things we should open our minds to all things. If you like IBM computers, try MACS and vice versa. Etc.

My daughter showed me with her ring today that what I do is just as good as what my parents did for me and life is simple to a child. She may remember that ring for years as a simple of playing in the pool with dad based on the meaning she assigned to it. I think probably this afternoon I would have expired it to the recycle bin had she not shown me it was special.

Do you have an object or a memory of one that you assign(ed) meaning to?

This morning on my way to teach summer school for day one, I heard news on the radio that Tim Russert had suffered a thrombosis and succumbed to a massive heart attack. The news shocked me, he was only 58. The radio host explained he had an enlarged heart which usually means high blood pressure was present and could have been prevented through medication. In the past I have been open about my own struggle with hypertension and you may recall that I take hypertensive medications to keep my numbers below the normal 120/80. So far, so good. My blog is here 100% for the inspiration of my reader but …

It doesn’t matter how inspired your work is if you are not healthy.

That goes for my teaching and any other work I do. So, in this post today I’m killing the buzz a bit, for a good cause.

I’m 39 as of the 9th this month and I recognize that the treadmill and medication have to be part of my routine if I want to have longevity. Your thing might be diabetic lancets or who knows what. Are you working your program? As you get caught up on your computer and the CAT6 cables around your workspace, how do you feel?

It’s easy to think we can live to be 100 but it’s another thing to do what we can to ensure that. It takes inspiration to live and creativity to incorporating health into our dream. In my life as a dad, I owe it to my wife and kids to be around as long as I can. Tim Russert’s premature passing should be a wake up call, broadcast as far as “Meet the Press” ever did. Are you thinking about your health? Maybe you should be. What does the topic of health make you feel like? Sorry if it bugs ya. not.

Was out at Huck Finn tonight. What a truly amazing event that is. I captured some amazing pictures of the river just after sunset. This was taken on my Walkman camera phone. I hope you find the scene as inspiring as I do:

Events are special because they come and go. I like special stuff. What’s more valuable, a plastic rose or a rose that fades? To be, things that are fleeting are the most beautiful. The live bluegrass music, the funnel cake, my daughter riding a pony, … all these things worked together to make an amazing event for me and mine tonight. I spent the day with my dad as well, because it’s father’s day. My kids got me a cute card and spent the day with me yesterday.  I feel so blessed with the three kids I have.  Back to the event … I think we all need to make time for events in our lives because the end is always catching up with us. We need those moments that take our breath away. Maybe your event involves a motorcycle, or a very well panned date.  When was the last time you went to an inspiring event?

Our parents occupy a space in our psyches that determines so many of our thought patterns. It starts when we are very young babies and continues on until even after they pass away and we ourselves become the unique parents and grandparents. If we are fortunate, our parents are people we can and should trust as children and into adulthood. For me, and many I hope, our parents give us unconditional love that enables us to do the great things we dream of. You see that kind of love in church and on religious jewelry, but rarely do we run across it in life.

When we are kids, mom and dad’s discipline is usually dreaded. It makes us angry. They tell us to not run across wet tile and to make sure we wear a coat outside when it’s cold. We of course resent these demands as children and automatically assume our parents are ordering out out of spite, envy, or just plain meanness. The craziest thing is that when we slip on the floor after disobeying or when we catch a nasty could and cough for not heeding our parents’ commands, we still resent them. It flies in the face of reason but I see it often in my own son and I remember the same pattern happening when I was young. Now, at age 39, I find myself hungering for advice from my parents. They give it when I ask but it is not the same. It’s like an unwritten rule that when you do become an adult, you have to find your own way. DOH! Reality bites sometimes.

I think for years I have heard that it’s better to not hang on to material things, or anger, or resentment, or a lot of things.  I think that is a Judeo-Christian ethic and like many Americans, that’s how I was raised.  The funny thing is, I am not good at it.  When someone runs me off the road I want to take their bumper out … when my wife tells me I am wrong, I want to get out charts and prove to her and anyone watching (ie; the chairs) that I am indeed right!  This is toxic thinking.  Through the past couple years being a dad, husband, teacher, dreamer, I have been venturing out into this new realm of letting things go.  As I said in a previous announcement, I am limited in my time to blog for the next couple weeks.  I am sure in the next week I’ll get a mocha and really relate some of the amazing stuff that is happening to me, but for today I give you simply this direction to dream about and make your own connection with.  I have my own methods I have developed and will discuss in a future post, but for now what are some ways you can actively let things go?

The following is a guest blog post by katelynjane from katelynjanes notebook. She has written another guestblog on Postcards and I really enjoy her upbeat, thoughtful style.

When I think of “inspiration”, I automatically think of what inspiration is. To be inspired. To see something that motivates me to achieve something. So I decided to ask the girls around the office what the first thing that they thought about when given the word “inspiration”.

“I think of my Dad,” one girl answered. “He’s super hard working, he loves his kids and he treats us really really well. He really inspires me to be a better person.”

“I always think of it as being spiritual,” another girl told me.

I can relate to both of these. My Dad is a huge part of my life and although we don’t talk a lot, we share a close connection. He’s worked his butt off his entire life, even when he should have been taking it easy. His love and understanding for his kids is amazing and I hope I can be that good of a parent to my children.

My dad always had a way to set down the law but still show us he loved us. We automatically knew to never cross that line with him, he didn’t even have to lift a finger.

The way he most inspires me is by just listening and encouraging. “Yep, Katie, you’re doing alright” he says when I describe my latest career idea or plan for improving the house. Whatever I do, I know that he’ll see why I’m doing it and help me as much as he can.

The spiritual side of inspiration is more complicated. I think for everyone, spirituality is there to challenge who you are at the moment and lead you towards greatness. It motivates you to become a better you, to constantly striving towards a higher place. I see it as a big thing that I face, with relief, every day. It’s big, it’s complicated and there’s no end to it’s description. But I’m so glad that it’s there.

Q: Have you been inspired lately?

I got that title from an old Alarm song. It’s a great tune with an even greater message for the visionaries among us in 2008.

Instead of waiting for others to be our inspiration, we have to be the inspiration to others AND to ourselves.

As you may have gathered from this series’ title, I grew up in Orange County. 45 minutes from Disneyland and 2 hours from the Mexico border. Nice living! When I moved up here to the high desert of California in August of 2002 I had nothing more than 300 bucks in my pocket and what seemed like a mystical job contract to teach public school. I left behind a rental apartment and everything else that had been “home.” I had decided some months earlier that a return to teaching was what my life and soul needed at age 33. You can read more about my transition back into teaching in my article entitled: Success and Relativity. Anyway, I didn’t mind the details of the move, I just knew this was my return to teaching and return to joy. It was as if I was in the story Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and the teaching job was my “golden ticket.”

The people I met up here, from the interview onward were magical. They saw the light in me and in turn I saw theirs. People offered to let me sleep on their couches, rent their condos, go out to dinner with them, set me up with women … note: I was single then … it was like out of a dream. The dream wasn’t so much about what they offered me though, it was about the light they shined into my heart. I remember thinking of the high desert as a magical place that no one in Orange County, where I grew up, could ever touch. Well, of course, I see now after nearly six years that wasn’t the case, it was merely my perception brought on by simple things people did.

The people were and still are magical but many have left the desert. One woman in particular who was instrumental in hiring me sufferred unspeakable loss when her son and his wife lost a baby in delivery. This world can be so harsh. She left the district and I don’t see her anymore. Others have retired and some have just moved on. I find myself sometimes asking: “Was the magic real? Where has it gone?” There you have the place to put my title: We are the Light.

In life we are lucky at times to be touched by the magic of others. We must never forget however that we have that same power to touch others. We see the light in people they often don’t see themselves. Let your words and actions pour light like water into the “vases” of people. Let them be better for knowing you. I’ll never forget the time my Grandpa had such an impact on me when he bought me a set of Callaway irons as a kid. I used to polish them nightly. Golf was a better game for me because of his generosity. That’s the kind of impact we should all have.

Remember also that the world is not always a mystical place. It is most the time, at its most complex level, just people walking on sand getting to their next destination. It takes people of vision, like you and I my friend, to to create the perception of magic.

The things that are eternal are actions and words you dream. Only you can start them. Only you can bring them back. Only you can keep them going. There really isn’t much to say on this except: GO AND DO!

An aside here at closing: Below are 4 of my family pictures. Each person in them “happened” post-desert … post-magic. Looking at them reminds me that home is where I probably need to shine the brightest, before I take on the world. Wouldn’t you agree?

Walking through CVS today I saw this book on display and had to buy it. The title absolutely flowed through me. I have no clue what the plot is about but ever since I picked it up I have wanted to post a memory of my running here on my blog: I have many.

My dad told me in my freshman year of high school that I had to either pick a sport and compete or get a part time job. I see the wisdom in that so much now that I have a son of my own. I weighed around 100 lbs. at 5′8″ so football was out. I suppose I could have been a wrestler like my friend Kevin Petrisko, he was 5′5″ and about 95 lbs. Before meets he would fast and run in plastic to sweat it off. I wouldn’t have had to do that because I never ate and I was a bag of bones. Literally you could see my ribs. I was healthy, just very gaunt. Thank goodness I finally filled out in college. I’m about 170 now, and needing to lose a spare tire. My how age changes your worries.

But back to the memory of running. I chose running X-country and track instead of getting a job. It was a wise decision. I have 4 years worth of remarkable memories stored away in my mind forever and anon. If you’ve run, you know that running is ethereal … other-worldly. One practice for X-country, we were running a 10 mile workout. Can you imagine that? It was from Mission Viejo to San Juan Capistrano and back again. The coaches ran with us but one took a car halfway and parked it beforehand so he could ride alongside us driving like horses to the destination. I would do those workouts without a thought. It was like riding on my legs. I do my treadmill now all these years later and remember how I was back then … so much endurance. I miss that, but I know it would take far more discipline than I have to get there again. In fact, it might not even be possible anymore. Back to the memory: It was almost prom and I had no date. My mom had been pressuring me like moms do to ask someone ANYONE. based on my slight frame and my somewhat immature disposition back then, I wasn’t the BMOC in the eyes of the girls. Nonetheless, I found myself staring during that workout at a freshman female. She was a friend, I was a senior … her Dolphin shorts translated to lingerie to that 17 year old post-adolescent testosterone laden runner. I ran up alongside her and after a few words regarding the prom, she agreed to go. I remember running faster than I ever had to finish that 10 miles.

Nothing ever came of the friendship between she and I. We had a great prom night of dancing and walking on the beach with our friends in our formalwear. I’ll leave her name out because too many people have found me through things I’ve posted and I’d rather just keep her mysterious anyway! My wife has seen the prom picture. My mom has it or I would post it. My hair was like a pompadour and her hair was like an exploding lion’s mane. Don’t you love the 80’s?

I have memories of running in so many situations now as a 38 year old dad, teacher, blogger. It’s like I wouldn’t feel as much if I hadn’t pushed back then. All I had was what I gave and as long as I did my “personal best” the coaches were happy. Great paradigm for life I think. It certainly is mine.

Oh yeah, and I will review this book when I get around to finishing it. It probably has nothing to do with this post, but you never know ’til you pop the cover.

Sometimes, the Mr. Mom day goes great! I was home sick playing Mr. Mom today and though the job is usually more than I can handle, it wasn’t half bad! Somehow I found what one blog I read calls Dad Balance. My son had an orthodontist appointment so dragging the 2 girls in diapers in the car and into the waiting room was probably the hardest part. After that, I simply dropped my son off at school and the rest of the day was pretty easy. I did learn that my 3 year old can never be left in the car, even when I am simply running up a driveway to sign my son in. She let out a wail that still has my ears ringing. Poor thing. Oh well, it was a learn as you go daddy day!

When we got home my 2 babies were playful and cute. I enjoyed their company and did the horsie ride thing for a while. When the 8 month old started screaming and eating her fist, I knew it was time for a ba ba and nap. For once, I was 100% correct! She took her baba and went down where she stayed for several hours (ahhh that is so nice!). My other daughter on the other hand was not ready to go down without a fight. I had some reading and writing to do that was somewhat important so I knew her hanging on me was not going to prove productive. I made a deal with her that if I gave her a fun bath with toys and then dressed her up warmy-warm (a term here, yes I know it sounds quite effeminate, don’t tell anyone) then she would go to a little nappy-bye (another term). She said NO! LOL I knew I was in for trouble. Anyway after a bath and dressing time that seemed to last over an hour, I finally got her into bed. Hearning the door click behind me as I left her room I felt a rush of accomplishment as Mr. Mom.

A little back-story: I was so fortunate today to have the best sub for my work kids today, as you know I am a 4th grade teacher.  Sarah, my wife subbed in my absence today.  I got my first “check-in” call about noon and was happy to report that things were going smoothly.  I was also pleased to say most my duties were done.

I know this success isn’t always the case for dads who try Mr. Mom, but I am very proud of myself. Now, if I can just convince my hard-working wife to take us all out to dinner! Making a meal just doesn’t sound like my idea of fun right now. Moms … I salute you!