Storm Drain

Last night Josiah had a class presentation up at their school. It was really cool. Each second grade class had their own musical presentation based on a book. So it taught reinforced the need for reading, while also teaching music. Josiah's class did Alexander's Terrible Awful No Good Very Bad Day. The school the kids go to is also an Arts Magnet School. So they have more music and art stuff than the average school. Good for us. At the performance, the school also received a $2000 check from Target to help cover the costs of new instruments and other stuff for this particular event. (They do it each year.) It was really cool to see how the kids are doing at the school - they had little friends who came up to them and said hey. The teachers and administrators waved at the kids and were really pleasant.

But that's not what I wanted to write about. During the performance, Gabe was getting very upset that Josiah was not sitting with us. Then he saw Josiah up on stage. Then he got very upset that he was not allowed to go sit with Josiah. He would go and stand in the aisle and then slowly creep down the aisle. Finally one time he just kept right on walking. Heather caught him about two rows before the front. It was at that point that I got to assume my standard position with Gabe at a performance, movie, church service -- standing outside.

We went out of the cafeteria and Gabe started walking around. There is this gigantor grassy area outside of the cafeteria. It has benches and a monstrous tree in the middle. If I was a kid, this would be very cool. Run run run, little man. You are trapped in a little crappy apartment all day. Here's your chance to just go nuts and run to your heart's content. Nope. Not part of Gabers' plan. He went walking right towards the storm drain area that is up against the driveway. Not only is there a driveway that had cars pulling through it. But there is also this really scary drop that slopes into the storm area. I can just see myself stepping into that crevice and snapping my leg. (Please remember how bad of a klutz I am.)

Gabe has no idea that this is down there. He just sees the street and wants to walk into it. I keep stopping him and moving him back on to the grassy area. I try to distract him. He would run back to the sidewalk and then would slowly walk back towards the street - trying to trick me. All told, he probably ventured up to the edge a dozen times. Each time I would have to literally stand in front of him and redirect him back away from danger. This is pretty normal behavior for me and Gabe. All day as we sit around the apartment, he does stupid things to try to maim himself and I have to try to stop him. He jumps off the couch. He slides down my computer bag. He bangs his head on the entertainment center doors. He tries to climb up Josiah's bunk bed ladder. Any time a door opens he races outside. He doesn't want you to hold his hand through the parking lot - he just wants to run unabated to the car.

It seems like he has a death wish. If I had to pick which kid is "most likely to break a limb," Gabe would win. If I had to pick which kid is "most likely to tick someone off with their shenanigans and get popped in the mouth," Gabe would win. He is nuts. I am soooo much more patient with him than with the older two. Experience and growth as a person has helped with that. But I am constantly amazed at how often he just walks right up to the edge and try to get away with it. He will bang on stuff and not stop until I get up to grab the item. He pushes and pushes. It is frustrating. But it is because he's two and testing every boundary he has - including the boundaries of gravity and vehicle acceleration/braking.

So what's my excuse? I think about the number of times that I have done the exact same thing. I go right up to the edge and try to get away with it. Actually, I think all of us do that. We all want to know how fast we can drive before we get a ticket. How much can we fudge on our taxes before we get an audit? How much pizza can we jam in our gut before we get sick? How little work can I do before my boss gets mad and fires me? People always are testing their limits. Sometimes it doesn't even make sense. Sometimes I ask myself, "What the heck am I doing? Why am I even testing this limit?" I push right up to the edge to see how far I can go without getting hurt, getting in trouble, getting shunned in a Klingon ceremony where everyone spins away from me and makes strange guttural sounds.

What I don't realize - much like Gabe last night - is that there is this enormous field right behind me that I could run around and have a ton of safe fun. He was so absorbed with trying to jump off the curb into the street that he missed out on a football field of grass and a huge tree. He could have had so much fun running around, messing with mulch, kicking the tree. But he just kept wanting to jump off the curb. We are just like that as adults. People are just like that. They are so obsessed with knowing where "the line" is. They want to know how far they can go without catching a disease or ending up on someone's hit list. If they would just turn around, there is a whole world of excitement right there waiting. Why do we need to get so close to that line? Why do we have to dance on the precipice of danger? Sure, it is exciting due to that danger. But the risks are enormous. You would think that a lifetime of 90% fun with no risk of disaster would outweigh a moment of 100% fun with a high risk of wiping out. That would make sense.

But, man, that storm drain sure looks fun . . .

Veteran's Day

I did not think that I had ever written about this topic on ye olde blogge. But to be sure, I strapped on my lighted helmet and went digging through the dusty, cobweb laden archives of Blogville. Alas, I realized that really had - shockingly - never written at all about Veteran's Day or Memorial Day. I know I did once back at First Baptist Temple Terrace in a piece that ran on the back of the bulletin. Hmm. Well, I guess I should remedy that.

Today is Veteran's Day. It is the day when we are supposed to express our gratitude for those men and women who helped defend our country over the decades. Or, as most American children call it, that day that we get off from school right before Thanksgiving. Veteran's Day almost was a lost holiday a few years ago - until the current efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq began. I remember it coming and going without much of a peep. That's why I wrote that article at FBCTT for Memorial Day one year. No one else was doing it and I thought it needed to be done.

Veteran's Day and Memorial Day are very important to me. As some of you know, my father served as a Marine. He fought in the Korean War and was wounded. He carried those wounds every day of his life after that. Now he is buried in a beautiful Veteran's Cemetery in Vermont. I think of all the things my father did in his life, the thing I was the most proud of was his service to his country. He was always a good worker and made his way up the ladder at the Post Office. But none of that compared to the fact that he was a soldier. He had a Purple Heart.

He never talked much about the war. He would sometimes tell stories about things - usually with the enhancements that made him such an amazing storyteller. But it was hard to get information about Korea out of him. I remember doing a paper in ninth grade on the War, hoping to use him as a source. He didn't want to do it. I think it was too much. My father had that tough streak, refusing to admit fear. And I think that Korea was just months of pure fear. I can see why. I have David Halberstam's amazing Korean War book - The Coldest Winter. Halberstam is one of my favorite writers, but I can only read small chunks at a time. The reality of that horrific war comes through so clearly that it is hard to stomach - knowing my dad was there makes it even harder.

Sometimes it was hard to match the image of my father as I knew him with the picture of him as a young Marine. Sure, the temper part I could picture. But he didn't seem a soldier type. He didn't run his home like some former military guys - where they treat their kids like little soldiers. In fact, the mental picture I had of a soldier seemed almost opposite of my dad. But, the facts don't lie. His Marine picture sat on our shelf. The Marine Corps memorabilia was all over the house. There was the Purple Heart pins, the old patches and awards. The newspaper clippings. And there was his hand.

Any time I doubted, I just had to look at his hand. When he landed in Korea, he got there in the summer. As he said, "When I got there, it was so hot that the jeeps wouldn't run right because they overheated. When I left, it was so cold the jeeps wouldn't run right because they froze up." He landed at the Pusan Perimeter, when the South Korean forces were about to be run into the ocean. As the US assisted Korean forces, they marched further and further North, finally crossing into China. At the battle for the Chosin Reservoir, the Marines found themselves fighting both North Korean and Chinese forces. They were outnumbered at least 8 to 1. This is where my father was wounded. In the extreme cold, he was shot in the hand. The below freezing temperatures quickly affected his fingers. By the time he got to a surgeon, he had to have the top joint of each finger amputated.

So he had this hand without fingernails, just nubs on the top. There were some things that he had trouble doing - like opening some bottles and packages. But there was a constant testimony of just how great his sacrifice was. I was proud of that hand. I was proud of what he had done. My father had answered the call and put himself on the line for others. I'm not sure why that was such a big deal to me. Maybe it was because that valiant quality was not very obvious by the time I came along. He wasn't a man who defended the weak or protected others. In fact, there were many times when he took advantage of the weak and failed to protect those very people he should have. He wasn't a hero - but he had been once upon a time.

That is the thing about soldiers. They are just ordinary people. And they are asked to perform in a way that is the exact opposite of how a normal person lives. Instead of fleeing danger, they are supposed to go towards it and neutralize it. Instead of putting their own interests and survival first, they are supposed to defend nameless faces at their own risk. We are told not to allow violence to run our lives, but they have to live a violent life. We are told not to fight, but they have to fight every day. We are told not to kill, but they must accept that killing is a fact of their mission. They have to put their own lives on hold so we don't have to.

I have friends that are serving right now. A man that was a student at USF when I worked there is now a chaplain overseas. His wife is expecting their second child next week. He won't be home until the baby is a month old. A woman that was a student at USF when I worked there is now serving in the Army in the Middle East. Her husband, another former student, is living alone down in Melbourne, FL while she serves. Another former student has watched his father pulled into Reserve Duty as a logistics officer. What was once a "one weekend a month" position is now a "going on eight years" job.

I couldn't do it. I know I couldn't. That is why I admire them so. They do what I can't and won't - and they do it so I don't have to. They fight for me, protecting what I hold so dear. Whether or not you agree with the US presence anywhere in the world, you have to appreciate what our soldiers do each day. And as we found out in Fort Hood last week, being a soldier doesn't mean you are only in danger when deployed. Being a soldier means you are always a target - a representative of our country. You take a risk every day.

So what do we do on Veteran's Day and Memorial Day and July 4? I think that we need to make a special effort on those days to go out of our way to make those who served feel special. I wrote emails and Facebook posts this morning, thanking those serving. Make sure your kids understand exactly what today means. My kids know that today we pray for those who are fighting. They know about our friends overseas and ask about them. They draw pictures for them and pray for them. But we do that all the time. I point out soldiers (and police officers) to the kids and tell them we should thank them. I remember when I worked at Apple and we had a military person come in. I would always thank them - and make sure they got the military discount even if they didn't ask for it. They were always kind of surprised. But I did it every time, because they deserve it.

It is kind of like how we should be thankful every day, but on Thanksgiving make a very visible and vocal demonstration of our thanks. I think that is how we should be with our fighting men and women. Every day we should be appreciative. But on those few special days, go out of your way. Pay for their dinner if you see them in a restaurant. Applaud them when you see them. Send them a card or an email. How would you treat a person who saved your life, especially on the anniversary of the day it happened? Maybe that would be a good start. Because they did, you know. They saved your life and are saving it every day.

John Scanlon. Heather Schmidt. Glen Kitzman. Matthew Creviston. Buddy Joca. Stephen Orf. Cobie Lee. Jack Stultz. Mark Flach. Sherri Flach. Kevin Sheridan. Larry Cortez. Steve Vaughan. Sam Glenn. Scott Evans. Stanley Puckett. Dad. And any other that I don't remember or know right now. Thank you so much for all you have done and are doing. One day doesn't seem like enough to say that.

Vicious

You know how sometimes something just sits there in the base of your brain for months? And out of nowhere a minor event just kind of triggers it to become a big issue? That's kind of what I'm dealing with right now with the "New Media." I'm not sure if all of you know what I'm talking about. Over the last few years, the Old Media (newspapers, television news) has slowly been giving way to New Media (bloggers, social networking, YouTube, live news updates via twitter). We have seen major news outlets just shut down, due to their eroding readership and income.

What has stepped into that void is the New Media. They have become the de facto news source for many people. For a large number, this is an upgrade since this new source is more "honest" and less restrained by corporate influence or political bias. It is more relatable since it is not written by stuffy academics who don't live in the real world. On the flip side, this New Media also has virtually no accountability at all. You can say whatever you want in a blog or on a facebook post and no one can do anything about it. If you pulled that stuff in a newspaper or on a news broadcast, you would get sued for libel.

So, now TMZ is considered a legitimate news source, frequently quoted by mainstream news outlets. It, in reality, is a gossip site. But they have tons of contributors, so they can get places that ABC can't. They also can accuse people of all kinds of stuff that isn't verified, since they aren't "mainstream media." Take the Carrie Prejean case - the former Miss California whose personal religious beliefs came under fire by Perez Hilton (another New Media maven). She has gone rounds with the Miss USA group, swapping lawsuits. Last week, all the lawsuits were mysteriously settled. No one knew what exactly caused the quick settlement, until TMZ announced it was the appearance of a sex tape of Prejean. Everyone went, "Oh, okay. Now we understand." Every single story I saw mentioned how TMZ verified the tape's existence. When did TMZ become a legitimate source? They also played the same role when Erin Andrews of ESPN was victim of a peeping tom this summer - verifying the tape.

So there is now this parasitic relationship between Old Media and New Media. The traditional sources of news are relying on the newer ones frequently for news and verification of stories. They also know that many younger people actually trust TMZ more than CBS - or believe Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert over Brian Williams of NBC. [Most young people have no clue that the larger players in "New Media" are owned by "Old Media" companies, anyway. Fox owns MySpace. Google owns YouTube. NBC owns Hulu.]

Here's my problem. Bias is always going to exist in media. You cannot report a story without your perspective playing a part. And all news outlets play the "yellow journalism" game every day - playing up shocking stories over boring stories. Take a look at CNN.com some time. They always push the more scintillating stories up the chart. Why? Money. They get paid by advertisers for clicks. And there is more money in clicks on pages further into a website. CNN may get 5 cents for an ad view on page one, but get 20 cents for an ad view three levels in. So they want to drive people further into their site. So they push the crazy stories. All websites do this. It's how newspapers ran for decades - push the big nutty story because people want to read it.

Well, in New Media, there is a different bias also prevalent. It is viciousness. There is an ugly edge to these sites. Some of it is that they writers and editors are people who were shunned by mainstream media sources. Maybe they weren't good enough or popular enough. Maybe the didn't get hired, or they didn't get the degree they needed. Now they are going to take it out on the big dogs. They are relentless in their criticism of people in leadership or in the public eye. But it isn't just criticism trying to make change. It is just vicious attacks - lashing out to hurt or to make the attacker feel better. And it even happens when one of these New Media types reaches a level of success - they become targets as well. Every movie, book, television show, comic book, album that comes out faces acerbic commentary. Entertainers have to deal with dozens of sites ripping into them in a mean-spirited fashion. If I had to come up with one word for the tone of the Internet, it would be sardonic -- bitterly and mockingly sarcastic.

One example is Deadspin.com. This is a site that is supposed to "cover sports coverage." It was created to talk about the sports coverage out there - like ESPN, CBS, etc. The site, first of all, is owned by Gawker Media - which also owns a lot of very unsavory sites. But it has a very nasty edge to it. A couple weeks ago, ESPN personality Steve Phillips found himself in a big problem where his mistress went psycho and told his wife that they were together. When Deadspin confronted ESPN to validate the rumor, the Worldwide Leader denied everything. Then it hit the newspapers everywhere. Deadspin got furious at ESPN for withholding info. So they went into attack mode - and they started airing unsubstantiated rumors about multiple ESPN personalities and executives. They outed affairs and behaviors. All because they got scooped on a story.

How is that responsible? How can that level of viciousness be okay for a "news outlet." Deadspin hides behind the fact that they are a glorified blog. But shouldn't there be some responsibility? Another example is with Bill Simmons - ESPN's most popular writer. Simmons himself circumvented the usual process of getting hired. He started his own sports blog in Boston. Finally, he got to be so popular that ESPN hired him. Now he is a massively successful writer and media person. His articles get more hits than any other sportswriter. His podcast is the most listened to sports podcast in America. He just wrote a second book - The Book of Basketball - that hit #1 on the New York Times Nonfiction chart. He has reached a level of huge success. Instead of being happy for him - a regular guy who made good - he has become a major target of places like Deadspin and bloggers everywhere. They relentlessly ridicule him. They slam his characteristic writing style. They rip into his love for Boston sports. Personally, I think it is because they are all jealous.

I like Simmons. He is one of my writers that I read all the time. I bought his book the week it came out and I love it. It is a very thorough and entertaining look at basketball. But he gets ripped constantly about his book signings or his "selling out" or his opinions. I don't like everything he writes - his morals and mine are light years apart. And, sure, I think he is a little hung up on himself. But this is a guy who worked hard and made his dream come true. He's doing well and creating very enjoyable stuff. So, naturally, he deserves to be tormented and hated.

I write a blog (actually I have three). I use Facebook and Twitter. You could say I am a "New Media" member, since I don't have a journalism degree but still write my opinions out there. I write books for Defender Ministries, even though they are not put out by a mainstream publisher. I hope to circumvent some of the traditional methods for a writer - especially a religious writer. But I hope I never reduce myself to the level where I would be so vicious and hateful. I try hard to make sure I don't go over the top. Yes, I have written things in my blogs that I would never say to someone's face - like Michael Vick, Alex Rodriguez, Billy Donovan, Ronald McDonald. I just don't think I have ever been vicious out of jealousy or spite. And, quite frankly, I can't stand reading things with that bent. I fear that this mentality is only going to get worse. The more popular these sites become, the more they are validated. Unfortunately, that means the mindset becomes acceptable as well. It doesn't make for a pleasant or beneficial experience for anyone.

Nearly as Good as I Hoped, Much Greater Than I Feared

As parents, we want to protect our little chickadees. We want to shelter them from danger and harm. We calm their fears of darkness and monsters and vegetables - all while being terrified of the unknown and the boogie man and the bank. One one hand, we know the horrible things that are out there. Things like the tragic story of Somer Thompson near Jacksonville, FL. Some random psycho strikes and she's gone. (That story hit close to home, not just because of her age. It happened in Heather's hometown and her home church was deeply involved in the recovery process.) We are all too aware of those real monsters. But we also don't know a lot. I think that may be what is even more scary. We want everything to be laid out before us, with our little brood safe and secure. But remember, when Marlin asked Dory, "How do you know nothing bad will happen?" - she classically responded, "I DON'T!"

We don't know that. But we have to move on anyway. The education of our children is one of these "Unknown Terrors" for our family. On one hand, there are some amazing experiences that a child can have going through public school. I went to public school grade 5 and 7 through 12. Heather went to public school her whole life. We made it through. BUT..... There is that but, the fear, the doubt, the unknown. There are some really rotten things that happen in public schools, too. Josiah's first experience last year was terrible - potentially damaging enough that we pulled him out and enrolled him where I was teaching. We hear rumors of all kinds of things happening in the cafeteria or the playground or library. How do we know the experience will be great? That nothing bad will happen? We Don't.

Today, our kids made it to school - after a false start thanks to the plague affecting our house. I wanted everything to go perfect. We got there and met the kids' teachers. They were both very sweet women and we felt like we were placing our kids in good hands. The school is very well run and organized at least (as far as we can tell). The woman working the cafeteria line was very helpful, explaining the process to us. Then she also took care of the kids when they came through. After debriefing the children when they got home, they both had lots of fun things to report. Josiah had a fun art class that sounded like he really enjoyed. They both had recess on the big playground. Both kids met a lot of kids. Natalie made a point to tell me that there were very few with "light skin." (I had tried to gently prepare them for this because every school they have been at have been the exact opposite. It wasn't because this is a bad situation - just very different and a new opportunity.)

Natalie went to the library and got a Curious George book, but she thought she had forgotten it at school. (It was in her bag.) Both of them got to use the computer. They had a great time buying lunch. Things were going great! Then the phone rang...

Yeah, my phone rang. "FLORIDA STATE O" There is no way THAT is good. I assumed it was something regarding Heather. Maybe she had to call from a school phone for something simple. I answered. "Hello, this is David." Quiet. "Hello?" Maybe it was a salesperson or survey monkey. Finally a softer lady's voice came through. "Mr Staples? This is Mrs. Williams. Josiah's teacher." What . . . the . . . what. Getting phone calls from school is never good. What could have happened on his first day?

It turns out that they give new students evaluation assessments to see which reading and math group they belong in. Mrs. Williams had told us this. As he was taking the math exam he just lost it. She said he started crying and saying he hated school and hated math. He wanted to go home and didn't want to be there. She was blindsided. She tried comforting him and explaining about the test and that he didn't have to get them all right. Didn't help. So, being the brilliant and wonderful teacher she is, she called me to see if there was something going on. I was stunned. I had seen the meltdown during math before. But I was more surprised by the teacher's response. She said, "There is no way I'm going to let him have a bad first day."

I briefed her on the death plague experience. The kids had just gotten their fevers down for 24 hours last night. They still had a cough and I know they were tired. (They both complained about how long the day way.) I also told her a bit about Josiah. He's a very smart kid. He is a perfectionist and hates missing questions. He HATES timed tests. (This one wasn't.) And, at times, he can be flummoxed by easy math questions while acing ones above his grade level. I asked if maybe I could talk to him. "Sure." Wow.

I talked to him and tried to reassure him. Just do your best, leave ones empty if you don't know them, this isn't graded or timed. He said that some of the questions were so hard. I said it was okay and that he didn't have to get them if they were too hard. He lost it again. [When he got home, he also told me that it had been a long day and he missed me. Tears.] She had other students come and help get him tissues and help him to his seat. I can tell the kind of classroom she runs - it is a place of love and support. I was embarrassed, of course. She assured me not to worry and said he could take the tests Monday. That would give him time to get a little more acclimated and healthier. I thanked her profusely. I explained that in Josiah's first experience, there was no way that would have happened. Josiah even told me that when he got home. What a wonderful gift for a teacher to give her children - a safe and caring learning environment where even on their worst day they don't get shunned or ridiculed or mistreated.

So, even while I wanted to race down the street and grab my baby boy and hug him until his eyes got all googly like in a cartoon, I knew he was in good hands. Sure, I would have liked the day to go perfectly. I wanted Day One to be something glorious and golden to point to as we said, "IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!!" (I saw us prancing around wearing togas and laurels in a coliseum as I wrote that.) But there was that issue. Josiah didn't want to be outside during recess because it was hot. So he just sat at the end of the slide by himself. And Nat's shoes got untied and she can't tie them yet - and her teacher didn't help. And Nat inadvertently got tired of a girl who was desperately trying to be friends. "I couldn't take it any more. So I had to go away." (We explained that the girl was trying to be friends. Nat responded, "Oh. I'll tell her I'm sorry tomorrow.") Nat said that the teacher at one point said if anyone said anything they would get sent out. A little boy said "something little, not even a word" and got the promised consequence. We asked if the class was being naughty at this point. "Yes. But I wasn't following them." GO NAT!

So there were some minor glitches. But for the most part, it was a good day. In one class, I learned my son had a protector and educator who had his best interests at heart. And in the other, I learned again just how tough my little girl is - and how she is going to do just fine. Now if we can just get rid of the death plague around here....

Gabe In a New Light

First of all, for those of you waiting with great anticipation for my report on how Overeater's Anonymous went, you probably will have to wait another week. I"m not bailing. I got sick the other day and it still has me knocked for a loop. This morning I was feeling some better, so I went and did some basic upkeep. I fed the kids, got them juice, took the trash out, minor stuff like that. That about did it. So I'm back in my chair, where I've spent the majority of the last two days. I alternate between sweating and freezing.

But, I'm not alone. All the kids are sick too. You have to understand, this is really strange for us. We are very blessed that our kids do not get sick very often. In fact, with the exception of the food poisoning incident at Woody's this summer, the kids have not been ill since early Spring. They have really good immune systems, I guess. But this one has gotten everyone in the house. (Heather had it last week - even had to miss a quiz at school.)

The really interesting thing that I have seen through this illness is just how sweet Gabe is. I'm sure some people may think he is a little high maintenance. Until our current church, he has never liked church nursery. He co-sleeps. He wants his television shows on whenever he wants them. He's two. But, through this little bout of illness, I have seen a different side to Gabe. He's sick too. He had a fever yesterday and he has a cough just like everyone else - maybe not as bad. But he really hasn't been acting that different. I said yesterday, "He's the happiest most active sick two year old I've ever seen." But then I realized he is acting different.

This morning the older kids were both laying on the couch, watching television. They are both still pretty wiped out and not up to doing much. Gabe slept until 8:45, which is very rare for him. And when he woke up, he didn't demand Blues Clues or Yo Gabba Gabba like usual. He came out and just sat in the chair and chilled out. He drank his drink, ate his waffle sandwich, played with his blocks. Finally, he wanted to watch shows. Instead of coming with the remote and begging like normal, he pointed back to my room (the only other room with a TV) and asked to watch it back there. I was kind of surprised. He never asks for that. We sometimes make him, when other people are already using the main TV. But it was almost like he knew that the kids needed to be out here.

It all clicked in place. He's been really easy going for two days. He didn't crawl all over me yesterday. He didn't pitch a fit to take his nap. He just did his thing and was surprisingly accommodating. (It was a little different story once Heather got home, of course.) All the kids adore each other. They cry when another one gets hurt or cries. They help each other and share very well. Just look at how happy they were to share the illness with each other! It is neat to see those qualities develop as they grow up. Sometimes you aren't really aware of some of your kids' qualities until a trying time brings it to the surface.