Sunday, January 30, 2005
Normal
Sunday afternoon
It's been a week since my last post and my Dad's funeral and life is returning to normal again, whatever that means.
Of course, 'normal' in my life has now totally been redefined. Normal used to mean that I would call my Dad on Sunday evenings (precisely at 9 pm) and we would chat about the weather (he gave the most incisive reports about weather rivaling anyone in the Denver media) and then moan about Broncos and CU football. He would catch me up on the family for a minute and he would end the conversation, allowing it to last a mere 5 minutes (10 if he felt talkative).
Now on Sundays at 9 pm I'll have to look on the Weather Channel for Denver weather and ESPN for sports updates. Somehow, even though the timeframe will be similar, it will not be nearly so satisfying.
I am in danger of plodding my way to work in the morning the lesser for not having personal and familial insight into regional weather patterns or hometown sports loyalties.
I have become resolute, therefore, in my determination to take up that particular generational gauntlet. So for those who do not yet know, the current (2:30 pm) temperature in Greensboro is 49 degrees and Carolina was stupendous against Virginia as reported at ACC Hoops .
Now I feel normal.
It's been a week since my last post and my Dad's funeral and life is returning to normal again, whatever that means.
Of course, 'normal' in my life has now totally been redefined. Normal used to mean that I would call my Dad on Sunday evenings (precisely at 9 pm) and we would chat about the weather (he gave the most incisive reports about weather rivaling anyone in the Denver media) and then moan about Broncos and CU football. He would catch me up on the family for a minute and he would end the conversation, allowing it to last a mere 5 minutes (10 if he felt talkative).
Now on Sundays at 9 pm I'll have to look on the Weather Channel for Denver weather and ESPN for sports updates. Somehow, even though the timeframe will be similar, it will not be nearly so satisfying.
I am in danger of plodding my way to work in the morning the lesser for not having personal and familial insight into regional weather patterns or hometown sports loyalties.
I have become resolute, therefore, in my determination to take up that particular generational gauntlet. So for those who do not yet know, the current (2:30 pm) temperature in Greensboro is 49 degrees and Carolina was stupendous against Virginia as reported at ACC Hoops .
Now I feel normal.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
That Last Squeeze
350 people came today to celebrate with us a life that has meant so many different things to so many people.
"Well, he wasn't a saint," proclaimed the Bishop, "and the first row(the sons and their family) can certainly attest to that!" Yes, we can.
He had a temper and he used it frequently when we were growing up. He was the classic example of the "bark worse than the bite" theory. No Rotweiler ever could stand up to him when he got going, especially if he had ample evidence of our wrongdoing. He traveled frequently and Mom would do the usual: "wait until your father comes home!" We would and he always did. He was a child of his generation and found it very difficult to express any kind of direct affection. Hugs were rare.
Our favorite times with him were when he was at the office. He was relaxed then and often bragged about us to the people he knew. That's when we would find out how proud he was of us. It was always very reassuring to hear those moments of bravado on his part. At home I think he felt like he had to be someone else, more strict, more remote. After all, that's the way his father was.
Where Dad and I found a bond was through music. I was gifted with a pretty good voice and he was an outstanding singer. We both loved singing and he was really proud of the times that I would sing solos at school or church or stand in church and sing a hymn with him. Although nervous that I would never make a living at it, he was very excited when I decided to go to school as a musician. In his dresser the other day I found the composition I wrote for my Master's Thesis along with the recording of it which I completed over 30 years ago. This was so like him. He never told me how important that was to him, he just kept it close to himself for 30 years.
Surrounding me today were overwhelming feelings of loss and joy coming from the people who knew him in his later years. They described a rascally curmudgeon filled with the Holy Spirit who gave much and took little, whose professional and personal contributions to the life of the Episcopal Church of Colorado will not soon be forgotten. A man who could stand up to all and who loved and was loved by many.
Who was that man? Was that my Dad? Is that the man I mourn?
No, I think that service, as overwhelmingly beautiful as it was, was really for those who knew him in his later life. My memorial service is in my heart. It's in the reconciliation of the conflicting feelings I have about how fathers should behave toward their children. It's in the understanding and forgiveness of my father's anger. It's in the grieving for the loss of affection in the early part of my life and in the joy of regaining it in later years.
And, it's in the memory of that last hard squeeze of his hand that night which said everything he left unsaid his entire life.
"Well, he wasn't a saint," proclaimed the Bishop, "and the first row(the sons and their family) can certainly attest to that!" Yes, we can.
He had a temper and he used it frequently when we were growing up. He was the classic example of the "bark worse than the bite" theory. No Rotweiler ever could stand up to him when he got going, especially if he had ample evidence of our wrongdoing. He traveled frequently and Mom would do the usual: "wait until your father comes home!" We would and he always did. He was a child of his generation and found it very difficult to express any kind of direct affection. Hugs were rare.
Our favorite times with him were when he was at the office. He was relaxed then and often bragged about us to the people he knew. That's when we would find out how proud he was of us. It was always very reassuring to hear those moments of bravado on his part. At home I think he felt like he had to be someone else, more strict, more remote. After all, that's the way his father was.
Where Dad and I found a bond was through music. I was gifted with a pretty good voice and he was an outstanding singer. We both loved singing and he was really proud of the times that I would sing solos at school or church or stand in church and sing a hymn with him. Although nervous that I would never make a living at it, he was very excited when I decided to go to school as a musician. In his dresser the other day I found the composition I wrote for my Master's Thesis along with the recording of it which I completed over 30 years ago. This was so like him. He never told me how important that was to him, he just kept it close to himself for 30 years.
Surrounding me today were overwhelming feelings of loss and joy coming from the people who knew him in his later years. They described a rascally curmudgeon filled with the Holy Spirit who gave much and took little, whose professional and personal contributions to the life of the Episcopal Church of Colorado will not soon be forgotten. A man who could stand up to all and who loved and was loved by many.
Who was that man? Was that my Dad? Is that the man I mourn?
No, I think that service, as overwhelmingly beautiful as it was, was really for those who knew him in his later life. My memorial service is in my heart. It's in the reconciliation of the conflicting feelings I have about how fathers should behave toward their children. It's in the understanding and forgiveness of my father's anger. It's in the grieving for the loss of affection in the early part of my life and in the joy of regaining it in later years.
And, it's in the memory of that last hard squeeze of his hand that night which said everything he left unsaid his entire life.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Blogged
Same conference and the conversations turned, surprisingly to blogs (first time I've talked about them in a professional setting). David Thornburg is the head of the Thornburg Center which " is the premiere source of presenters and staff developers in the field of emerging technologies and their impact on learning at all ages". He is advocating, among other things, the establishment of blogs in schools so that learning 'swarms' can occur. This can facilitate self acquisition of knowledge in a very exciting way rather than the current passive reception (which, incidently, has its roots in the Middle Ages).
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Procrastination Part II
"Why didn't you do your homework?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"That's right, I don't know."
"Did you know about it?"
"Yes."
"So, why didn't you do it?"
"I don't know."
"If there was no reason, perhaps it was caused by magic?"
"Maybe..."
"Or perhaps you were secretly transported by extraterrestrials to the mother ship for subliminal instructions on the next clandestine operation . . ."
"That could be a real possibility!"
"Well, in that case, you and ET are grounded."
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"That's right, I don't know."
"Did you know about it?"
"Yes."
"So, why didn't you do it?"
"I don't know."
"If there was no reason, perhaps it was caused by magic?"
"Maybe..."
"Or perhaps you were secretly transported by extraterrestrials to the mother ship for subliminal instructions on the next clandestine operation . . ."
"That could be a real possibility!"
"Well, in that case, you and ET are grounded."
Out from hiding
As the readers of this blog have figured out, I am NOT 25. Not that I am obsessed with that fact (just ask my therapist, HE'll tell you).
OK, the truth. Turning 55 has hit me a little hard this year. Maybe it's because of all of the other milestones: my 25th anniversary, my Dad's illness, my older son's 18th birthday, my dogs' 10th. Or maybe it's because something hurts every time I get out of bed.
It's one of the reasons I've started this blog. When too many thoughts turn inward they can begin to become selfish and self-destructive. I decided that it was time to turn them outward in a way that I could no longer protect them.
Ed Cone asked me the other day why I chose to put my name and my picture up on my blog. Sorry Ed, what I told you that day turns out not to be the whole truth. The real reason is very simple: if I am out there for the world to see, then I can no longer hide my real self.
Posting my picture and my real name is a symbol for the real meaning of turning 55. By this point in my life I can no longer deny who I am nor regret the loss of the dreams I had when was 25.
My dreams now are based on the reality of who I am and the comfort that it's all downhill from here.
OK, the truth. Turning 55 has hit me a little hard this year. Maybe it's because of all of the other milestones: my 25th anniversary, my Dad's illness, my older son's 18th birthday, my dogs' 10th. Or maybe it's because something hurts every time I get out of bed.
It's one of the reasons I've started this blog. When too many thoughts turn inward they can begin to become selfish and self-destructive. I decided that it was time to turn them outward in a way that I could no longer protect them.
Ed Cone asked me the other day why I chose to put my name and my picture up on my blog. Sorry Ed, what I told you that day turns out not to be the whole truth. The real reason is very simple: if I am out there for the world to see, then I can no longer hide my real self.
Posting my picture and my real name is a symbol for the real meaning of turning 55. By this point in my life I can no longer deny who I am nor regret the loss of the dreams I had when was 25.
My dreams now are based on the reality of who I am and the comfort that it's all downhill from here.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
And here I thought it was an earthquake
There are varying opinions about the origin of the tsunamis. Our seismologists had better check their facts before they get too confident!
Monday, January 03, 2005
Update on Dad
He fooled the doctors again.
After sinking to a point that his medical friends had, for about the third time, gotten ready to exchange green scrubs for black suits, Dad pulled a fast one and rebounded.
"You're a tough old bastard," I told him tonight. "Well, I'm tough, and I'm old and I am certainly a bastard," he replied.
He's complaining about going to a "skilled nursing facility" (nursing home). In other posts I'll talk about nursing homes. My wife works in those and there is a lot to be said about them, both good and bad.
He's stilll very ill and his prognosis remains doubtful, but I can be selfish enough now to be sure that I will see him in a couple of weeks.
That's made my day.
After sinking to a point that his medical friends had, for about the third time, gotten ready to exchange green scrubs for black suits, Dad pulled a fast one and rebounded.
"You're a tough old bastard," I told him tonight. "Well, I'm tough, and I'm old and I am certainly a bastard," he replied.
He's complaining about going to a "skilled nursing facility" (nursing home). In other posts I'll talk about nursing homes. My wife works in those and there is a lot to be said about them, both good and bad.
He's stilll very ill and his prognosis remains doubtful, but I can be selfish enough now to be sure that I will see him in a couple of weeks.
That's made my day.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Values, Again
It is sometimes so embarrassing to be an American. The recrowning ceremony of George the 2nd will cost more than $30-$40 million according to some reports, more than our original offer of aid to the tsunami victims.
I am grateful for one thing, however. The Bush callousness has provided a discussion point for our sons around which we have been able to come to a consensus about our values, in this case, the use of government and private money for charitable purposes.
Bush has provided many opportunities for "value-think" this year. After all, the polls reassured us of that point right after the election. I'm pretty sure that many of those folks who cited values as their number one vote motivator were people like me - - people who feel that George's values were bred in the lions' dens in Rome, not in the ring where the Christians were.
I am grateful for one thing, however. The Bush callousness has provided a discussion point for our sons around which we have been able to come to a consensus about our values, in this case, the use of government and private money for charitable purposes.
Bush has provided many opportunities for "value-think" this year. After all, the polls reassured us of that point right after the election. I'm pretty sure that many of those folks who cited values as their number one vote motivator were people like me - - people who feel that George's values were bred in the lions' dens in Rome, not in the ring where the Christians were.
Furl It
