Top Ten List: Gabe's Tenth Birthday

In honor of our baby boy, Gabe, turning TEN years old today, here is the TOP TEN THINGS ABOUT GABE!!!  From our home office in Sioux City, Iowa.

1. HE IS SURPRISING
From when we first found out about his impending arrival, Gabe has been a surprise.  We thought we were done with our family. One boy, one girl. Everyone was potty trained.  It was time to get going on the next phase of life.  SURPRISE!  Here's Gabe! From that point, he has kept surprising us.  Kids one and two took after me: dark hair, dark eyes, tallish.  Gabe popped out with blond hair, green eyes, and a shorter stature.  SURPRISE! As he has gotten older, he hasn't ceased to surprise us.  The other day, he was playing Minecraft on his computer and wanted to install a texture pack. (I don't know what it is either; just follow me here) I was in the middle of something, so I told him he would have a to wait a few minutes.  "Oh I know how to do that."  SURPRISE! Sure enough, he came running back in a little later.  "It worked. Thanks." Yep. He downloaded and installed a texture pack into a folder that it took me a good half hour to locate when I was installing some stuff for him. The things he can do on an iPad would impress an Apple Store worker. He has a mechanical and technical mind.  Oh, and math? This kid has always just had a knack for math.  When he was SEVEN, he heard me talking to one of my Kaplan classes and said, "I've always wondered what X meant."  So I explained some rudimentary algebra.  He nods and says, "Ahh that makes sense." Then he punched out several examples. SURPRISE! It is like watching a flower bloom and then bloom again and again - creating something very surprising and intriguing.

2. HE HAS A SWEET TOOTH
Most kids love sweets. Gabe is not most kids.  Most kids are amateurs when it comes to competing with Gabe about sweets. He will weasel his way into a shake or a smoothie or slushie at any restaurant that has them. It used to be, "Well he probably won't even eat his dinner. So it is cheaper for him to just get a shake." Or, "Well he doesn't really like soda, so it should be okay." Now it is just that he wants the shake. He can consume a shocking amount of candy - and he always goes for the bag that has the most. There have been times when we are getting road trip candy where he will stand there for ten minutes, trying to decide what to get based on which bag is bigger. Then he will say, "I really want to get Skittles, but there is more in this Starburst bag. Dad, if I get the smaller Skittles, can I get two things?" Next thing I know, he has his own stash of candy in the car - which he WILL eat before we get where we are going.  AND then he will ask Josiah for some of his because "mine is all gone." Ice cream, popsicles, cookies, cake, pie, hot chocolate. Gabe loves all of them. It is a good thing he didn't get my metabolism, or he would be in bad shape. (A circle.  HAHA. Bad shape - circle? Get it? Never mind.) It is funny how different the kids are with their candy too. So Gabe will eat all of his Christmas/Easter/Halloween candy as fast as you'll let him. It may last a couple of days. Josiah is a candy hoarder. He eats a little of it, then figures he will stretch it out. The problem is that he forgets it is there and it ends up sitting around for months. Natalie will hide hers in her room like a squirrel and then it is just gone one day. I have no idea how long it takes her to eat it. So Gabe will wolf his down, and then go hunting for more. Where will he find it? In Josiah's stash. He isn't dumb, that Gabers.

3. HE HAS IMMENSE COMPASSION
Gabe is like every other ten year old. He still is understanding how he should relate to other people in this world and a lot of the time he has a very self-centric view of life. But, there are times when I am stunned at how much compassion he has for people. The flood here in Texas, the one in Florida, the one in Puerto Rico? They have been very hard on this little guy. He doesn't like the thought of people he knows (and doesn't know) suffering. He was extremely distraught when he thought his cousin Toby down in Florida was in danger from Hurricane Irma. This has been a characteristic of his from when he was young. When he sees someone on the side of the road asking for money, he wants us to help them. If he sees a dog outside that doesn't appear to have an owner, he is completely beside himself with worry that it will get hurt. If someone does get hurt or sick, he worries about them and wants to be near them. Perhaps this is even more apparent to me due to how he has handled my Rheumatoid Arthritis. When I am having a hard go of things, Gabe doesn't like it. He doesn't want me to have to do things that will "hurt" me. I've seen him crying when I'm in pain because he doesn't want me to be hurting. If I am disciplining one of the other kids (or the dogs), Gabe is very loudly interjecting himself into the situation trying to stop me. He gets angry when someone is perceived to have wronged Josiah or Natalie (or Heather and me). All of my kids have a strong sense of (what they interpret as) justice. It is truly one of Gabe's most noticeable qualities.

4. HE IS OUR AMERICAN NINJA WARRIOR
Gabe has always liked to flip, run, and jump around. Back after I had first started staying home with the kids, Gabe was a finky not-quite-two-year-old. He would bounce on the couch, and I would tell him to stop. One time, he bounced too far and smashed his mouth on the end table, slamming his teeth into his lip. AAAAAAGH!!!!! I freaked out. He was screaming and I was terrified. Heather was in Med School and unreachable by phone. In his young life, he has had more eggs on his head, cuts, bruises, and bumps than the other two combined.  It isn't klutziness as much as just playing hard.  But he doesn't shy from it. Instead, he keeps on going and trying new things. For a year now, Gabe has been taking karate.  He loves it and is really good at it.  He's up to green belt and loves going to class. I love seeing him in this completely foreign element and succeed. His teacher loves him and uses him for examples a lot because Gabe is so serious about learning it. "Let's have Mr Gabe come up here to help me demonstrate this." Then the teacher punches Gabe in the face a few times with a new move the kids are learning.  Then Gabe doesn't let him keep punching him. He just laughs and starts blocking the punches. The parents will be out in the lobby grimacing and going "oooohhhhhh" on some of the pops. Gabe just grins, adjusts his mask, and takes his stance again. As a hopelessly unathletic and klutzy lummox, I appreciate his willingness to be so active time and again.

5. HE DOESN'T OPEN UP EASILY...

People have always wanted Gabe to talk to them; Gabe has not always wanted to talk to them. They have gotten frustrated with him and thought he was being rude or was shy. They'll say, "He's a quiet kid." Heather and I look at each other and roll our eyes. Gabe is NOT quiet. He has NO problem talking and talking and talking. But you have to earn that. I remember when my mom first understood this. She was frustrated that he didn't click with her like his brother and cousin had. One time she was listening to him play. He kept coming over to my mom and saying things about toys or books, but usually it was lost in the noise all around him. She bent down and heard him and looked at me. "He talks, but he wants you to listen." Yup! You got it. She earned it that day and it changed their relationship. Gabe was always tough to leave in nursery. The first few weeks of school in the younger were nightmares. And if doesn't trust a teacher or an adult, he will NOT interact with them. I always want people to realize that if Gabe is wanting to interact with you, you must be pretty special. When he and his Uncle Mike first connected it was over video games (naturally). Gabe realized that they could speak the same language and from that point on became Mike's buddy. I see this as a positive trait. He doesn't give himself away easily. Too many people do - I know I did all the time, desperate to find love. Gabe isn't going to be the person who has tons of ex-girlfriends. He is careful and guarded.  BUT....

6. ...BUT WHEN HE DOES, HE LOVES DEEPLY AND INTENSELY

Once Gabe decides that you are worth his love and attention, you will get as much as you can take and more. He loves very deeply and intensely. I am so lucky to know what that feels like. Gabe adores me and it is such a great feeling, to know that he sees me as a safe person. I remember growing up and not having that feeling with my dad at all. We weren't safe and I couldn't just completely deflate around him and relax. So I'm glad Gabe and I have a different relationship. Sometimes this love will overwhelm a person - "love you to death...literally." His brother Josiah is often the recipient of this love. Gabe thinks Josiah is absolutely incredible and wants to spend every possible moment with him. For a sixteen year old who has never been a huge fan of physical contact, this can definitely be too much. But that intense love for his brother is a beautiful thing to watch - until it crosses to fighting. I was surprised just how hard it was for Gabe when my mom died. He STILL will start crying about her, saying he misses her. He has been this way with his friends at school and his cousin Toby. When Gabe loves someone or something, he LOVES it with all the effort he can generate. I don't like imagining my kids growing up because I don't want them to, but sometimes I think about how lucky his wife will be when that day comes. She will have someone who loves fiercely, passionately, deeply. He may not say it, but there is no doubt about it.

7. HE IS VERY FUNNY

My kids are all funny. They kind of are forced to become that just to survive in our house. I'm kind of a smart aleck (#ShockedFace) and I have encouraged them to be most light-hearted and not take themselves so seriously. Gabe has learned this lesson very well. He tells a great story - again, when he wants to. He does some good imitations and has some witty comments. One of our favorite videos of little Gabe is when he impersonates a eight year old Josiah's faces. (Josiah hates this video - but it is pretty dead on accurate.) He picked up on this thing that Donald Trump would do where he points with his hand and says, "Bing." Every so often, when someone is making a point, Gabe will just do it and say "Bing." He makes silly faces, silly voices, and silly songs. And he also is quite a fan of potty humor, much to his mom's chagrin. He is quick to laugh, which lights up his whole face. Being funny is important to our clan, and Gabe both brings humor to the table and appreciates what other people offer.

8. HE IS SMART ... AND DOESN'T LET IT DEFINE HIM

It took me until I was in my late thirties to understand how badly I had let my intelligence BE who I was. I saw myself as the smartest person in every room. If I didn't see that as the case, I would either have to tear down the other people in my head or find a way out of that situation. I banked so much of my worth on my intelligence. Gabe is smarter than me - I have no doubt of this. He has always had this look about him, where he is analyzing and sizing up the situation. He already is well on his way to be a successful litigator - at least I hope that all of the arguing he does is actually a work-study program. I mentioned how his math and computer skills are way above average. But the crazy thing is this has never been something that he uses to build his identity. It is almost like he doesn't care. It is more like, "Oh, I'm in gifted. Cool. So these are my friends, we went to recess, I built this on Minecraft." I want him to appreciate his gifts, but I don't want him to believe that is all that brings him value. I have wanted that for all of my kids. I'm glad that they have good solid brains, but I want them to use them to do worthwhile things. I want them to be defined by the impact they leave, not their IQ.  Gabe, fortunately, already has more of a handle on this than I ever did.

9. HE LOVES TO CUDDLE

Sometimes we will eat dinner in the living room and watch Psych on DVD. Or we could be watching a movie, or all playing on our devices. You never need to look far to find Gabe. He is probably tucked in as close as possible to someone. It could be me or Heather ... or Josiah (more often than the rest of us). It isn't Natalie as much because she stays in her room a lot more. Gabe always wants to be right there, as close as he can. He will lean up against me and eventually I'll feel his legs worming their way under my legs until he's woven himself all up against me.  He has always been a cuddler. He loves sitting with people and sharing their space. If there is a couch or loveseat with two people on it, there is enough room for Gabe in the middle. He wants to sit in the middle whenever we go to a movie or game. He wants to have someone sit near him in the car. He wants someone to sit in his bed with him at night. These desires aren't out of fear or immaturity - he just really wants to be around his people. It has not been hard to identify Gabe's love language. The nice side benefit of this is it that it has allowed me and Heather to enjoy the feeling of having a little boy longer, since he still will allow us to snuggle him and hug him.  Even today at lunch at school, I didn't want to embarrass him when I was leaving, so I half hugged him and started to go. He looked up at me and said, "You can hug me dad. It's okay." So I did. Now, the dogs are not always to happy to be hugged and cuddled by Gabe's intense nature. But we like it just fine.

10. EVERYBODY LOVES GABE

Even though Gabe is slow to open up to others, other people are quick to want to be around Gabe. We've taken to mimicking Robert Barone with "Everybody loves Gabe." The kids all will play with him on the playground. The cousins all want to see what he is doing. One time at one of Natalie's performances at school, if you looked in the back of the cafetorium, you would see Gabe sitting there with his iPad, surrounded by a gaggle of kids who didn't even know him. He has a magnetism about him. People are drawn to Gabe. It makes for a strange combination. Gabe is hesitant to open up to most people, but he is quickly surrounded by people. When he does find someone, he invests deeply in them - often to the exclusion of the other people. Yes, it will be interesting to see how Gabe navigates the minefield of relationships and friendships over the years. For now, though, it is sweet to see how want to be around him. He has grown so much. Even if it is not his comfort zone, he isn't aloof with people. When I saw him at school today, once again he was surrounded by a bunch of boys from class - a new set from last year who barely know each other yet. Girls would walk by and say hi. Kids not even in his class told him happy birthday. The really neat thing (and it is something I hope he continues with as he gets older) is that Gabe doesn't seem fazed by it.  He isn't strutting around like he's all that because he is smart or popular or cute or funny. He is just Gabe. The world swirls around him and he just does his own thing. Sometimes I'm envious of how comfortable he is in his own skin. But I also thank God that Gabe is made that way. He is a very special, surprising, wonderful kid.  And now he is double digits. A perfect 10!

Like Father, Like Son

It is 9:09pm.  I am just now sitting in my living room with no interruptions - except for the insane dog scratching on a blanket to find a resting place, before tearing off to presumably chew on something new that will cause a scolding once I find it.  Just a few minutes ago, the last of our offspring shuffled off to bed.  Josiah turned eleven today.  He wasn't up celebrating his birthday, though.  He wasn't eating cake and playing with his newest Lego product.  He was doing homework.

With a greater frequency, this is how the last few hours of my day goes.  The kids get home from school.  They want to play and hang out.  Around 4:30, I will earn my "Daddy is a Jerk" plaque by telling them to start their homework.  There was a time when thirty short minutes later one of their bright shiny faces would stroll into the living room.  "I'm done.  Can you sign my planner?"  No more.  Instead, the process spans several hours.  I have to get involved at multiple points to get them to leave each other alone, to put down their toys, to get to work.  It is a super fun way to end the evening.

I was a bit frustrated when I noticed the volume of homework.  "I can't believe they give the kids this much stuff," I mumbled to myself, like some old guy about to go feed some pigeons.  But then I found out that the volume was contributed to by the fact that they didn't finish their work in class.  Or it was a project that was assigned a month prior and put off until the night before.  Then my frustration turned like a precision automobile from teacher to student.  I got the classwork issue fixed.  But the delaying of projects and assignments?  That's a lost cause, I fear.

Josiah is brilliant.  And he knows it.  This is a dangerous combination for any gifted individual.  You hear how smart you are enough, you start to buy into your own hype.  This is bad for several reasons.  First of all, as I am discovering now, you begin to believer your only worth comes from that ultra-impressive brain.  You have to keep manufacturing more and more noteworthy academic accomplishment to gain favor from others.  Straight A's don't cut it after a while.  There needs to be academic tournaments and truckloads of awards.  You only have worth as long as you are flaunting your mind.  That is a bit of a problem when the grades stop, mind you.  At some point, where you finished in your class doesn't matter one little bit.  (You'll probably realize this as you, the valedictorian, are now a subordinate at work to some mouth breather that can't match their socks.)

The other problems are not quite so destined for therapy.  A brilliant student knows they don't need to exert as much energy on work as the average kid.  Their "mediocre" is often better than the majority's best.  That isn't arrogance talking.  (Actually, it probably is.)  It is a fact.  This lack of a need for diligence leads to laziness.  It almost becomes a game.  Just how long can you put off an assignment and still get the desired grade.  I'm not talking about just passing.  A kid like this only deals with one grade.  "What is the least I can do to get an A?"  That is the defining question.  When getting A's isn't a challenge any more, the only challenge is in how little you can do to produce that A.  I remember countless times when my friends and I would have an unwritten contest on just who could do the least possible.  (Want to guess who won?)  In Spanish 1, I don't think I ever did a single assignment at home.  I got to school twenty minutes early, sat at the door to the Spanish classroom, and punched out the work.  I didn't hide it or anything.  The teacher comes by.  "Hi, David.  You get the homework done?'  "No, ma'am.  Doing it right now."  I would study the vocab words for the test the same way - in the hallway before class.

This kind of risk-taking behavior just keeps escalating.  There is a thrill in knowing you got away with something.  It isn't like there were more important things to do which kept me from finishing my assignments.  I just wanted to watch more tv or play more. It had nothing to do with a shortage of time. It had to do with a sick desire to see just how far I could push it.  Crown jewel of this process.  UCF, junior year.  A friend of mine and I are taking an Honors Seminar called "Amazonia in the Age of Development."  Oh, yes, I know.  Absolutely riveting.  The class ruled for a few reasons.  One, the teachers actually took advantage of the fact that the honors department had budgets for their classes for refreshments.  So we had chips, cookies, sodas at every class.  And we had a killer end of the year party with the biggest bowl of shrimp I had ever seen.  The class had one assignment.  If you attended every class without an absence, the teachers would bump your grade up one letter grade.  So on that one assignment, I realized I just needed a B-. You had to pick a research paper or an annotated bibliography.  The paper had to be forty pages with twenty sources.  The bibliography was supposed to be an in depth synopsis of fifty books.  I opted for the paper.  I had never met a paper I couldn't BS my way through.  [In another honors class, I didn't read the book and wrote a paper on it.  The professor returned it and said, "You were dead wrong in your hypothesis.  The author didn't mean that at all.  However, you proved your point so well, I couldn't give you less than a B+.]

This Amazonia paper was going to be my magnum opus.  I didn't even open the textbook all semester.  The first time I opened it was to get the publishing information out for the paper's bibliography.  I started on the paper two days before it was due.  I finished it at 2am on the day it was due.  I printed it out at my friend's apartment (after he finished printing his annotated bibliography). We ran across campus to the professor's office and turned them in five minutes before the deadline.  I got my paper back a week later.  "B-" I was fit to be tied.  I went to see the professor and almost had a conniption.  I reminded her I hadn't missed a class.  "I know.  That takes that into account."  She gave me a C- on the paper.  What!??!???!  "You are planning to go to grad school.  That kind of junk won't cut it there. I'm grading you like a grad student."  But I wasn't IN grad school.  This is an undergrad class.  That paper in this class was a B paper (bumped to an A for perfect attendance).  The professor wouldn't budge.   I hated her.  To this day, I still get worked up about it.  I told that story to Josiah and Natalie's Gifted teacher.  She told me the professor was unfair.  I smirked because I already knew that.  [Yes, I graduated 16 years ago.]

So what was Josiah working on tonight?  Well, he had math and science.  And he had a gifted project that was assigned a month ago . . . that he knew was due tomorrow a month ago . . . that I had repeatedly reminded him about.  Did that stop him?  Nope.  He is my son.  I have tried time and again to warn him about this stuff.  I have told him it is going to bite him in his butt at some point.  But he still thinks he knows best.  I know I never listened to anyone, either.  Sure, once in a while I misjudged just how lazy I could be.  But it never really hurt me.  Tenth grade US History.  I played that fun game where you see just how low of a grade you need on the final to get an A.  I needed a 73.  I hadn't gotten anything lower than an 85 all year on anything.  So I didn't even study for a cumulative final exam in U S History.  I got a 72.  The teacher gave me the extra point.  See?  It didn't hurt me.  So why stop?

Josiah has been learning the states and capitals and abbreviations in school this year.  Every week, they have a batch assigned to memorize.  Every week, they have a test.  Every week, he waits until the last minute.  The first test, I was at a church event the night before.  Heather helped him study and come up with tricks to memorize things.  He got a 104.  The next week, she was gone and I helped him the night before - warning him not to do it again.  He got a 104.  The next week, he came and told me that he had "forgotten" to study.  The test was the next day.  I refused to help him.  I earned the "Daddy is a Jerk" plaque.  I forced him to study it himself.  After he had spent two hours straight looking at it, Heather came home and quizzed him on them.  He ended up getting a 104.  I told him we weren't helping him at all this last batch.  I told him to study them ten minutes a day every day.  The last batch is due on Friday.  Want to guess how many times I have seen him study?  Yup.  Zero.  What's going to happen?  He'll get a 104.

On one hand, I am amazed at his brilliance.  I'm not like Mr. Incredible, almost encouraging the negative behavior.  But it is impressive.  It is also maddening.  I know now how it must have been to be my parent.  I met with his gifted teacher and talked about this.  It is perfectly normal for a gifted student.  And she said no matter how hard she tries - or how hard we try - he is not going to change until HE decides to.  Some comfort.  Right now, he doesn't see the need.  I know I never really saw the need.  I still tried to get away with that junk in seminary - with Hebrew.  It worked on the first semester.  I hit a stone wall in the second semester, so I dropped the class and changed my degree program to one without Hebrew.  (I never finished seminary anyway, so it didn't matter.  Different story.)

Just about once a week, I sit there and shake my head about something Josiah does that just echoes something I did.  He is so much a copy of me in so many ways.  That can be good and bad.  He has many of the same struggles I had.  And he has many of the same gifts I had.  So it is easy to always assume he is doing the exact same thing that I would be if I were him.  But that isn't always true.  There are times when I am convinced he is up to something - because I would have been at his age.  But he isn't.  He is his own unique individual.  And just like it can be frustrating and maddening to be parenting someone so similar to myself, it is also rewarding to see him branch out and do things I never would do.  He doesn't like football.  By his age, I was a complete football nut.  He constructs amazing creations with his Legos.  I never used Legos - those were my brother's toys.  He saved up $140 to buy a big Lego set and then used it to help purchase our (his) dog.  I never in a million years would have saved $140 at his age OR wanted a dog.  He went away to church camp this summer and didn't even call us the first three nights.  He turned down Safety Patrol because he didn't want to get to school early.  He still thinks liking a girl is just ridiculous (or so he claims).  And he just signed up for a robotics class.  These are all things that are completely opposite of how I was.

In so many ways, we are similar.  But I also am intrigued to see how different we end up being.  Either way, Josiah certainly challenges me and pushes me in ways no one else can.  Many times, that is not something I care for too much.  However it is forcing me to examine my own behaviors, thoughts, and habits to make sure I am teaching him the best way to become a man.  I'm sure that isn't his goal.  He just wants to be able to put off his homework and play for another thirty minutes.  It is an interesting by product, though.  I am happy he's my kid - even though I'll have to help him remember Sacramento is the capital of California tomorrow night.

Dog Person

I am taking a break from my focusing on the Olympics and fawning over Oscar Pistorius.  Don't worry - there will probably be at least one more post (maybe two, if South Africa medals today with Pistorius running anchor in the 4x400).  I really think the first week of the Games is much better than the second week.  I watched every night of the first week, but I actually have been watching other stuff this week and just flipping back to see the important stuff (Usain Bolt, Beach Volleyball final, anything involving Pistorius).  So I have had time to post something different today.

I have developed a reputation over the years for hating dogs.  I would like to dispute this fact right here.  I do not HATE dogs.  I just don't LIKE most dogs.  First of all, I am a cat person.  Just like with other major showdowns in our world, you can only take one side.  Coke/Pepsi - I choose Pepsi.  Star Wars/Star Trek - I choose Trek.  UF/FSU - well, on that one I hate them both.  So when it comes to the dog/cat showdown, I land on the side of cats.  Why, you may ask?  Fair enough question.

1. Size - I don't like big dogs.  Cats are the perfect size to sit on your lap and get loved on.  When you have a big idiot dog wanting snuggled, it is annoying.  They lean all over you and knock you over.  Plus it is like having another person in the house.  Cats are small and don't take up a lot of space.  Advantage: Cats.
2. Bathroom Issue - Cats you send to the litter box IN the house.  You clean that out regularly.  Pretty easy.  Dogs you walk around OUT of the house.  They traipse all over the yard, sniffing every blade of grass and trying to eat whatever they find.  Lizards, bugs, mulch, plastic, turds.  They are disgusting.  If the cats eat turds, at least I'm not watching it while getting soaked by the afternoon storm that ALWAYS is happening RIGHT when the dog needs to go out.  You take a dog out and they start off sniffing, wander around the yard for ten minutes, end up right back where they started and go potty.  The cat just walks off into another room and is done.  Advantage: Cats.
3. Status - Cats are not people.  They don't think they are people.  They have no interest in being people because they believe in their hearts that they are far superior to people.  Why would they demean themselves?  Dogs, on the other hand, think they are people.  They want to sleep where people sleep, eat where and what people eat, sit where people sit.  They always feel like they need to be in the middle of everything.  They are like extremely insecure children.  "What's going on?  Are you talking about me?  Why wasn't I included?"  Unfortunately, dog people have no problem encouraging this behavior and treating their dogs like people.  Here is part of my problem.  We always had cats growing up and also always had dogs.  The dogs had jobs.  They were guard dogs.  They slept outside, ate outside, drank water out of buckets.  They were not even allowed into the house.  That was until we got one exceptionally stupid dog named Red.  He was a big dope - barked at plastic bags, got scared of airplanes.  He was a big baby.  My mom felt for this big lug, so he got special treatment.  He got to come in the house when it was cold or raining.  My mom used an old purple sweatshirt and made him a shirt for when it was cold.  What a dork (the dog, not my mom).  I'm used to dogs being outside and being, well, dogs.  Cats could care less about any of this.  Advantage: Cats.
4. Intelligence - Cats are smart.  They are conniving and plotting and planning.  They always look like they are thinking about how to kill you and assume your identity.  I am not threatened by this.  I appreciate it.  Dogs can be very dumb.  Not all dogs are dumb.  I'm sure your dog is a Mensa candidate.  But dogs do dumb things.  They eat their own puke.  They chase cars.  Golden retrievers have been known to hang themselves while tied up outside.  They sit there with their tongues hanging out, which doesn't help their cause.  Advantage: Cats.

So, I have always been partial to cats.  But there has been an exclusion to this - one loophole.  I like small dogs.  In some ways, small dogs are superior to cats.  They fit on your lap. They are sweet. You don't have to deal with the shedding thing most cats do.  You don't have to worry you will wake up chained up in a cellar while the cats eat your fine meats upstairs.  Sure you still have the bathroom issue and the less-than-stellar IQ tests.  But there are some real benefits to a small dog.  Even still, I am not a dog person.

My big problem is that I live with three dog people.  Heather, Josiah, and Natalie LOVE dogs.  They always are drawn to dogs and want to play with them.  They like it when dogs lick them, even their faces.  [Oh, I forgot that in my list.  The face licking.  AND the butt sniffing.  Repulsive.]  Heather grew up with dogs.  Josiah and Natalie have always loved them.  I have known for years we were destined to end up with a dog.  My saving grace came when Gabe came along.  For some reason, he has been terrified of dogs.  Not like me, where he didn't like them.  He was physically terrified of them. So, now I didn't have to ban the canines on my own.  I could just say, "Well Gabe is terrified of dogs." As much as the kids and Heather love dogs, they love Gabe more.  We would try to get him comfortable with them.  He has had a couple that he was okay with.  But he was still jittery.  So we continued to be dog-less.

So this is our dog, Katie Bell.  How did this happen?  Well, the deck was stacked against me, to be honest.  We were at the Oviedo "Mall" the other day and decided to get lunch at the Food Court.  Since everyone has to eat at different restaurants, I went to pull some cash out of the ATM by the Food Court, but it was broken.  (I know it is hard to believe something at the Oviedo "Mall" wouldn't be in perfect working order.)  So we ended up walking over to Dillard's to use their ATM.  On the way, we passed Pet Rescue by Judy, who uses a store front on weekends.  The kids begged to go in, so I kept going to Dillard's and Heather took them in to see the animals.  When I came back a few minutes later, they are all standing in front of the store.  Josiah and Natalie are pleading with Heather (which I expected), and Gabe was standing there crying.  When I got even with them, I asked Heather, "What happened?  Did he get bit or is he just scared?"  She looked at me and said, "No, actually he's upset that we can't bring that one dog in there home with us." 

Well, dang.  I knew the day would come when Gabe was okay with dogs.  But I didn't expect it so soon.  And I certainly didn't think he would be crying because we didn't get a particular dog.  I looked at Heather with a quizzical look on my face.  "Seriously," she said. "There's a little black dachshund mix in there and he loved it."  Now, that's not fair.  Everyone in the family knows that the one kind of dog that I have always been partial to was dachshunds.  I even have a magnet on the refrigerator of one.  I went in to the store with them to check out this miracle dog and see Gabe's reaction.  He was completely terrified of every dog in the store.  Except this one.  

We talked about things at lunch and came up with a plan that could work involving Josiah's birthday and the dog.  But I wanted to see Gabe interact with the dog.  We went back to the store for nearly an hour to let the kids play with the dog.  By the time we left, it was apparent this dog had some kind of special bond with our kids.  So we set the wheels in motion to see what we could do to get the dog.  There was a whole list of things that had to work right for this to happen - the landlord, the owners, the other people contributing to Josiah's birthday stuff.  Each step worked out perfectly.  So now we are dog owners.

Even though this is "Josiah's dog," you already know how this is going.  As I have been typing this post, where has Katie been sitting?  That's right - on my chest.  It is a hard thing to train a dog.  We also have to train kids on how to have a dog.  They don't think to take her out enough or give her enough time outside, so she has had some accidents.  They don't remember to feed her.  They don't get down on the floor to play with her enough.  So I have had to step in while they are learning.  Everyone wants a dog, but they don't always want the responsibility of it.  So they are learning, especially Josiah. He told me the other day, "I'm glad I have her, but I never knew she would be so much work."  I laughed, partly because I completely understood and had said the same thing once we had kids, partly because he has no idea just how much work it is because he isn't doing all of it.  

It has been stressful, to be sure.  Last night I was having a hard time.  I am a pretty big guy (shocker, I know).  The dog is very tiny - she is just six pounds.  When she makes a mess or does something wrong, I have to jump up to correct her and stop it.  That is probably terrifying to a very small dog.  Last night, she was quivering and trying to run away into the bushes after I caught her peeing on the floor and corrected her.  She just sat there, paralyzed in fear.  That makes you feel great.  I hate the fact that she gets scared of me, but she has to learn. From my own history, I have never wanted to have my kids or any small creature fear me.  Of course, as I told Heather last night, if I didn't care so much I wouldn't care.  That is the thing ... I love the dog.  I keep saying I don't, but everyone knows I'm a liar.  I love having a little animal love me and sit on me.  She is very sweet and fun.  She may be Josiah's dog, but she thinks I'm her person.  I can be her person, but I still am not a dog person.  

4 for 20: Changes

[I would have posted this yesterday, but one of the souvenirs I apparently brought back was some sort of Subtropical Death Flu.  I was fevered in a chair all day yesterday.  Wheeee!  Welcome Home!]

During the reunion, I heard someone talking about how some people looked a lot different and others did not.  I was in the "you haven't changed a bit" category.  Several people were like, "You look just the same."  I could have taken a bit of offense to that.  First of all, I didn't have a goatee then.  I had an awesome teen moustache.  Second, I have lost a lot of hair.  Third, I look like I ate my high school self.  (Admittedly, it used to look like I had eaten two of my high school self, but still...)  But I took it instead that I have kept my youthful looks and still have (mostly) black hair.  What's my beauty secret?  Donut glaze and pizza grease.  They really fill in the wrinkles.  People pay all that money for botox when they could just wolf an apple fritter.

No matter how much we want to avoid it, things change.  After the reunion, I stuck around town for another day so I could see how things looked now.  I was very surprised by how different things were. For one, it appeared that the city was becoming a modern day Venice.  Half the roads were underwater and there was a lot of flooding.  "Man, these are NOT good changes," I thought.  Then I realized it was due to a storm.  Seriously, though, things had changed a lot.  I know that when I drive through Orlando, I will find things have been altered since I came to school in 1992.  It is kind of expected in a city like ours.  But West Palm Beach seemed like it was kind of stuck in time for the whole time I lived there - at least the places I frequented were things I could count on.  As I went through and looked for the memorable places from my past, I don't think any of them were the same as they used to be.  It was kind of disconcerting.  I should know this place, after spending so much time there.  But I honestly couldn't recognize large sections of it.

I started with the neighborhood where I grew up.  I had heard about the changes there.  When my mom sold the house, things were undergoing a massive overhaul in the community.  People had told me how different things were.  I was really clued in when one of my friends at the reunion told me they had driven through, looking for my house and couldn't find it.  She said she knew it was the right road, but couldn't find the house.  Our house was very familiar.  It was the big blue house on the corner.  That was how we identified it.  Shoot, that was how everyone identified it.  It was a very old house - built in the 1920s.  The neighborhood itself was all that old.  As we were growing up, it wasn't the best neighborhood, either.  I joked the other day about the local crack houses.  One friend asked what I knew about that? Well, there were all over the place.  There was a prostitution house about a block west of us.  There were crack houses a couple blocks north of us.  So, imagine my surprise when I drove up and found out that now it was Flamingo Park Historic District.  Uh, what?!?  Historic?  Like this is a fancy neighborhood?

The house itself was completely different, also.  Instead of the blue paint is now an off white.  There is Spanish tile on the roof and wrought iron balconies.  WHAT?  Balconies?  The snow-on-the-mountain hedges that surrounded the house are gone.  In their place are different bushes.  The back fence is now a big stone wall with a wooden gate.  And our house isn't the only once that had changed.  The house next door is completely different.  It used to be white with a red chimney.  Now it is yellow with a white chimney.  They even decrease the angle of the driveway.  I remember loving the steep driveway because it helped me build speed on my bike.  Every house on the block has changed.  It is such a startling difference that if someone had just dropped me on that street and asked me where I was, I wouldn't have even known.  People seem surprised when I say that, but there are no distinguishing characteristics remaining for me.  Oh, that house picture with the street sign isn't my old house.  I just wanted the sign.

I visited each of my old schools.  Well, I tried.  The King's Academy, where I went for K-6 (except for 5th grade), has completely moved its facilities.  I actually don't know where it is now.  The old place now looks like it is co-owned by the Sheriff and the local government.  There are a bunch of buses for the school district.  I didn't see an official sign for the place.  Belvedere Elementary, where I went for fifth grade, doesn't even look the same at all.  They have built all new buildings.  The same goes for Conniston Middle School.  All new buildings, nothing recognizable.  I attended Twin Lakes High School in ninth grade - but it relocated during that year.  I had no desire to trek out to that site which is like thirty minutes away.  The old site is now an arts high school.

Forest Hill High School has also completely changed.  I knew they had built some new buildings, but it looked like the entire campus had been redone.  There were all new signs, new buildings, new traffic patterns.  It all was very strange.  I supposed this is commonplace.  Older communities, like the one I grew up in, have to renovate and alter things.  The church we attended for most of my life is still there - but has a different name and new building.  Our old pharmacy is now an antique store.  And my grandfather's fishing supply store is now a fire department.

One of the more shocking changes was next to Conniston.  When I attended that school, there were dozens and dozens of homes across the street.  Now, every last one of them has been leveled.  I knew they had bought up some to deal with airport noise.  But the sight of entire city blocks empty was shocking.  Palm Beach Atlantic is supposed to be building an athletic complex there, from what the signs said.  That kind of wholesale change is very strange to me.  I know this is natural.  I moved from an older area to a very new area in Orlando.  The UCF side of Orlando had only been in existence since the 1960s.  My mom graduated from Forest Hill High School about the same time UCF opened.  Orlando was planned out with great precision.  West Palm Beach just kind of happened.  I never really appreciated just how different those two cities were.

Appreciation is a good topic to move to, actually.  I found myself time and again thinking how I didn't appreciate what I had in West Palm Beach.  As a kid and a teen, I didn't understand some things very well.  I had no clue that our house was literally four blocks from the Intercoastal Waterway.  I didn't think about how rare it was that we were ten minutes from the ocean.  As I have said several times before, I hated Cuban food growing up.  I didn't start enjoying it until living in Tallahassee about three years ago.  I had lived in one of the meccas of Cuban food and didn't even care.

This recent trip, my brother and I went over to Flagler Avenue and walked along the waterway.  I could totally picture me taking my kids there.  They would love to walk the trails, explore the piers, play in the parks.  They all love the beach and would think it was great to be so close.  The old library I spend many hours in as a child is gone, replaced by a park.  I found that a bit troubling until Chris took me by the new gleaming library a few blocks away.  The pool I used to go visit as a child is now an opera house.  There is a beautiful performing arts center, a convention center, an outdoor shopping village.  There was nothing like that when I was a kid.  I think of kids growing up there now and the opportunities they have.  Of course, they probably won't appreciate it either.  That's kind of a hallmark of people.  We are never happy with what we have.

I have always said that I hated West Palm Beach.  I have never even considered moving back there.  But, as I saw there at Havana Cuban Cafe drinking an incredible cafe con leche, or as I walked along Flagler Avenue, I found myself missing this place.  I can honestly say that was a very foreign feeling to me.  I love Orlando and want to stay there.  It is home.  But, for the first time probably in my life, I felt like I wanted to come back to WPB.  That just doesn't happen.  That town has never had any draw for me.  But, in the last few years, things have changed in me.  I have worked hard to look at life differently.  I am not so angry.  I am less negative.  I am less judgmental. (For those of you who know me know and are laughing, trust me.  Whatever you see in me now, I was far worse.)  It isn't just that I like Cuban food and drink coffee now.  It is that I want to make right the poor decisions I have made.

That was one of the goals I had in going back for this trip.  I wanted to work to rebuild relationships with people.  That takes time, just like it takes time to rebuild a city.  I am committed to that.  I have gone through over the last few years and made efforts to fix things with people.  It is a project that will take a very long time, but it is something I need to do.  My old classmates were not the only people who I needed to reach out to on my trip.  I have a lot of family there that I have been neglectful of as well.  And during this weekend I got to see many of them.  I stayed with my brother and my Uncle George.  I had dinner with my Aunt Dee and Uncle Mike.  I played cards with my Uncle Bill and Aunt Kathy and my cousins Kristin and Bryan.  I wasn't able to see Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary Jane as time just ran out.  I loved reconnecting with them.  There was a certain amount of pain in the fact I have missed so many years.  For the most part, though, I chose to enjoy the time I was having.

Perhaps the most shocking thing was I began wondering when I could come back.  I was a bit surprised myself at the reality of that thought.  I have never had a desire to be down there, but now I do.  I actually have begun making plans on when that can happen.  I want my kids to see where I grew up.  I want them to meet the family they don't know and get closer to the ones they do know.  I want to be a better cousin and nephew and brother and friend.  I was so glad for the chance to go because it afforded me the opportunities to at least start that process.  The change in the area was indeed amazing and great in scope.  But I came to realize that the biggest change may have been in myself.

*** Editor's Note.  We apologize if you found this series of post too sappy or self indulgent.  We promise that very soon this blog will return to its normal routine of mediocre sports posts, movie reviews, and lengthy neglect.  Thank you.

20: Reunions

My daughter, Natalie, had this friend in PreK named Hannah.  They were very good buddies, played all the time, couldn't wait to see each other.  Hannah was one of the handful of girls that Natalie invited to her fifth birthday party at a local tea house.  It was a nice friendship.  When we moved to Tallahassee, it was hard on both of the girls.  Natalie would complain frequently about missing Hannah.  When she started at her elementary up there, she kept wishing she could find a friend like Hannah.  She never really did.  [This past year, Natalie finally did find a friend at school that was as close as Hannah had been.  Naturally, she moved to Washington, DC after the school year.]

Three years later, Natalie still will ask about Hannah.  Last year, when we moved back to Orlando, Nat wanted to know if she would ever see her friend again.  We live in a pretty big city and I had no idea where this girl lived.  The chances were pretty slim.  On Monday, Natalie and Josiah went to the Vacation Bible School at First Baptist Church of Oviedo.  The church houses the preschool that Josiah, Natalie, and now Gabe, have attended.  We don't attend that church anymore, but I thought the big kids would have fun at the event.  Beforehand, Natalie went through her typical nervousness of entering a new situation.  I told her that it would be fun and that she would be with other kids.  And I reminded her we used to go to that church and the preschool, so she may see someone she knows.  "Like Hannah?"  "Sure, honey, like Hannah."

I walked Natalie to her class on the first day.  She peeked in the door and then popped back out.  "Daddy!  That's Hannah!"  I looked inside and saw the girl.  I wasn't sure, so I stole a glance at the roster.  Sure enough, it was Hannah.   Natalie was thrilled and raced inside.  When I picked her up, I asked how it went.  "She doesn't even remember me!"  I could tell Natalie was disappointed, but she also is a very strong willed young lady.  She had spent most of Monday trying to remind Hannah.  Then she continued it on Tuesday.  She missed Wednesday with some weird cold thing.  On Thursday, she returned with the ultimate trump - a picture of Natalie and Hannah at the tea room party.  When I picked her up, I asked what Hannah said.  "I showed her the picture and said, 'So, do you remember me now?!?'  Hannah said, 'OOOOhhh yeah.'"  I figured that started a day of catching up and reminiscing.  Nope.  "She still wouldn't really talk to me."

I could tell Natalie was disappointed, but when Heather and I were talking with her about it, I said, "It is probably good, though.  It brings Nat closure.  She's been hoping to find this girl again and now that she has, she can realize that she doesn't need to be thinking about it.  She can make some new friends.  Right, Nat?"  Natalie looked at me, scowled, and shook her head.  "Nope.  None of that what you said.  It stinks because I want my friend back."

I could have gone into a big discussion on how things change and all that, but I knew it wouldn't do any good.  I understood her feelings.  It is hard to move on and lose people along the way.  Compared to me and Heather, our children have had a pretty tumultuous childhood.  We don't own a home, so we move from rental to rental.  We have had to move to Tallahassee and back.  They have switched schools more than I wish they had to.  Part of it is today's society is more nomadic than in decades past; part is that we seem especially mobile in our living scenarios.  That makes it tough to make friends and keep them long term.  I have encouraged the kids to try to find some friends at our church, since we plan on staying there for the duration.  But, it is a long process when you only see the other kids once a week at the MOST.

All of this has been on my mind because this weekend will be my twentieth high school reunion.  I held out until the very end to decide to go.  I had dozens of reasons why I wanted to and dozens of others why I did not.  But I decided to because I knew if I didn't, I would regret it.  In preparation, there has been a Facebook group with the people all talking about the event.  Some of these people have stayed very tight in the last two decades.  Others of them I cannot even remember.  For me, I know that I am a part of this whole group, but I feel very disconnected.

If you remove Facebook temporarily from the equation, I have not kept up with people from high school.  When I think of how many of my classmates I have physically seen since we walked across the stage at the Auditorium, it is pretty pathetic.  I visited one in prison, ran into one in a completely random meeting in college, saw one at Pizza Hut when I was back in town visiting my mom, and had one visit my church in Orlando.  That may be it - four.  Facebook has changed this somewhat.  I have been able to connect with some of them.  I actually have worked to re-establish a relationship with a few that I really regretted losing track of over the years.  But I still feel like there has been a huge gap.  It was like one of those sci-fi movies where eighteen years pass in a moment.  One second we are all tossing our hats in the air, then we are married with kids and I don't know how anyone got there.

For some reason, when I left Forest Hill High School, I never looked back.  I didn't go back for Homecoming.  I didn't keep in touch with anyone over the summer. I didn't catch up with people over Christmas.  Truth be told, I didn't like high school very much.  I had some good friends and some great times. But it wasn't an era I cherish.  I always invested more time and energy in church and the relationships there.  But I didn't even stay tight with that group once I moved to Orlando.  There are intermittent contacts with some of them.  Most of the time, there is just a big gap in my friend circle from West Palm Beach.

I remember these people.  One of my friends who is going said she doesn't remember half of them and hopes we have to wear name tags.  That isn't the problem for me.  A couple of them cause me to draw complete blanks.  The vast majority of them I remember.  I have always had a bizarre ability to recall people.  I will see someone shopping at Publix and know they look familiar.  I'll think about it and realize they work at Target.  I'll see a waitress and remember that she used to work at a different restaurant.  One of my weird quirks.  Also, some of my activities in high school contributed to this.  I was copy editor of the yearbook, so I had to literally proofread every single page of the book.  You start to recognize people after that.  I also was on class board and was Senior Class VP, which helped me to know some of the popular kids I never would have hung out with.  Then there was the brainiac classes, nerd clubs, chorus, stuff like that.  So I had a wide spectrum of interactions.

I always used to say the reason I didn't like high school was because I didn't like most of the people I went to school with.  I realize now that wasn't true.  True, I didn't like a lot of the activities that they did and didn't participate with them.  But more than anything, I didn't like MYSELF from high school.  When I think back now, with a more mature understanding of things, I realize that I was just a big jerk in high school.  I was arrogant and judgmental.  I looked down on others for so many reasons.  They weren't as smart as me, or as ethical as me, or as moral as me.  I've realized over the years that this was all because, in reality, I felt so insecure and lousy about myself that I grasped at anything that made me feel better.  I wasn't as popular, I didn't dress as nice, I wasn't athletic, I wasn't attractive, I wasn't thin, I wasn't rich.  All of that made me feel so bad that I would find areas I "won" and made those super important in my head.

I hated West Palm Beach.  The weather was hot and muggy.  There was family history that made things uncomfortable.  I had no desire to dwell in that era.  So I ran.  I wanted a fresh start, which I got at UCF.  When I moved to Orlando, one person knew me.  But the pattern didn't stay in WPB.  I have battled it time and again with every "fresh start."  It took me a long time to realize that I was the problem.  By then, I had burned so many bridges and scorched so much earth that I had almost cornered myself.  It really hasn't been except in the past four years that I have started to get some of this stuff right.

A lot of people see Facebook as the tool of Satan, the way all of us will eventually become owned by some great multinational corporation.  That may be true.  But I am very thankful for FB.  It has given me a chance to go back and try to repair some of the damage I incurred as I blazed out of town.  I have at least gotten back in contact with some of those people I regretted abandoning.  I can't replace the lost years, but I can at least try to rebuild something.  I now have friends online from every era of my life - elementary, middle school, high school, college, Tampa, Orange Park, Orlando, Tallahassee, church AND school AND family.  Now that I am going, I am excited about the reunion.  I am looking forward to seeing some people that meant a lot to me.  I have not been back in West Palm Beach for EIGHT YEARS.  My youngest two kids have no idea what the city is like.  It will be interesting to revisit the part of my past that I have so desperately tried to erase.  No matter where I have moved, I have always gone back from time to time.  Except South Florida.  I make an actual effort to avoid it.  So this will be an interesting experience.

What I plan on doing is writing a series of posts about this trip.  It may mean much to anyone else, but I think it will be good for me.  This was the first entry.  I plan on taking pictures and posting on a variety of things.  The reunion is Saturday night.  On Sunday morning, I get to hang out with my brother, Chris, which rarely happens.  Sunday afternoon I plan on driving around and visiting the places I remember - my old house, my schools, old jobs.  I want to post on that time of discovery.  I wish my family could come with me, but Heather's schedule won't allow it.  In some ways, though, I think this may be for the best.  I may need to walk through this alone before I want to take anyone else through it.  So keep your eyes peeled for the 20 series.

Microwave Thanksgiving

Lots of people have been doing a "30 Days of Thankfulness" on their Facebook page.  Each day, they post something they are thankful for (if they remember).  I have always thought this was very cool.  And this year I fully intended to do it.  But I forgot.  This is pretty normal for me.  I forget a lot of stuff.  I was very happy that the iPhone came out with their Reminders app.  I use that to remind me of things.  Unless I forget to put them into the app.  In which case I doubly forget.  I'm pretty helpless.  Anywho... This year I really wanted to express my thankfulness.  A lot has happened on a variety of fronts that has helped me to really appreciate all of what I have.  So, here goes 30 Days of Thankfulness in one day.  It's like a Microwave Thanksgiving.  (Oh, hey, that's where the title came from.  Heh heh.  Clever.)

1. I am thankful for my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  He is the reason I am who I am.  Everything I do, I do for Him.  And He is at the heart of my entire life.  I can't help this and don't apologize.  Without Him, the rest of these don't matter.
2. I am thankful for my beautiful, brilliant, awesome wife, Heather.  I don't deserve her.  From the very beginning, people told me I was "marrying up."  They think this is a revelation to me.  It is not.  I was aware of this from the very beginning.  I may be dumb, but I am not stupid.  She pushes me to be better and constantly impresses me with her amazing talents.  (You aren't going to get through this without crying.  Are you?)
3. Josiah.  He's my firstborn.  He is patient with me learning things as I go.  I get the joy of watching him develop his talent and expand his brain.  And he's just a darn cool kid.  
4. Natalie. She is sweet and beautiful and incredibly smart - my little princess.  She cuddles with me.  I am proud as I hear her sweet heart and watch her grow into a wonderful young lady.
5. Gabe. He's wild and crazy and funny.  But he also loves to snuggle and hang out with me.  He is just a fun little boy and brings so many smiles (yes, some frustration too).  I'm a lucky dad.
6. My mother.  Patricia Staples poured her life into my siblings and me.  She fought to help us to become good people, despite the challenges in our path.  And she has always been there for us, no matter how old we get.  She is the best mom I possibly could have had.
7. My in-laws.  Many people complain about their in-laws.  I don't because there isn't anything to complain about.  Sam and Lois Crissinger are the best in-laws in the world.  They support us and love me and set incredible examples.  I consider myself so lucky to have married into their family.
8. Holly.  She was my first best friend.  And I still deeply value her friendship.  She forced me to move out of my shell when I was younger and challenged me to be better when I was older.  She's forgiven my stupidity more times than I can count.  Plus she brought my nephew, Toby, into the world - and he's just awesome.  (Bonus Thanksgiving point!)
9. Chris.  I always looked up to Chris and wish I could have been more like him.  He had the work ethic, the athletic talent, and ethical commitment that I wish I had and was insanely jealous about.  I still look at him and wish that I could work as hard as him and be as diligent.  He pushes me, even when he doesn't know it.  (And, unlike when we were younger, this push isn't in a wagon down a hill.)
10. Andy and Shell.  - Heather's oldest brother and his wife (along with their two beautiful daughters, Beulah and Chayah) have been two of my biggest encouragements and cheerleaders.  I cherish the time and conversations I have with them.  I often look at them and see the kind of parents and people I want to be.
11. Mike and Ria.  Heather's youngest brother and his wife also have been incredible encouragements to me.  They also are a reminder to not get so worked up about things - to be patient and controlled.  I can get so high strung by life, but with them, it makes me realize things aren't worth getting so upset about.  (A very similar thing that Mike's grandfather used to do to me - gave me perspective.)
12. Dave and Lacy. Heather's cousin and his wife have grown to be more than just extended family to us.  They are as close as siblings, but also two of our best friends.  They have filled voids in our lives and allowed us to fill voids in theirs.  In addition, they let my kids smother them with love.  It is rare to have friends like them - or to have family like them.  It is unbelievably rare to have both in the same people.
13. Extended Family.  There are so many extended family that I could fill the rest of the spots with them.  From my half-sisters, Mary and Sue, to Heather's uncle Rich.  My nieces and nephew.  My sweet Aunt Dee.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Rosie.  Mark, Sherri, and their kids.  And so many more.  The encouraging words of Nila, Paul, and Diane.  Each of them holds a special place in my heart.  And my life wouldn't be the same without any of them.
14. Defender Ministries.   I am blessed and honored to be able to serve in a ministry where my own personal failures are able to help others.  To be able to write and teach and develop resources is a humbling thing.  Our lessons and materials have been used by thousands of people in over thirty states and over a dozen countries.  That is just incredible.  You can't help but be humbled by that.
15. Charles Wise.  My ministry partner and one of my best friends.  It is rare to be able to have both in one person.  He is like a big brother, a dad, an uncle - he's family.  He gives me guidance, calls me on my stupid behavior, and allows me to talk a lot.  We've been through lots of ups and downs through the last seven years.  But it seems a lot easier doing it together.
16. Live in America.  It may seem trite or cliched to say this.  But it is true.  We live in a land of plenty and opportunity.  Even at its worst, with things looking so grim, where else would you want to live?  We have so much.  We are given such an advantage over most of the world.  We are allowed to be free to worship and live how we want.  It's easy to take it for granted, which really is a testimony as to just how blessed we are.
17. Medical Professionals and Technology at Moffitt Cancer Center.  On Monday, my mother underwent extensive surgery to remove endometrial cancer.  In days past, she probably would not have survived that.  Instead, she is already home to celebrate Thanksgiving - walking around and getting back to her life.  The doctors, nurses, physician assistants, and other personnel there helped that to happen.  I can't express enough thanks for that.  I will also lump into this the people who have made Heather's medical school experience so wonderful - the professors, preceptors, and fellow students.  (Especially Austin and Ashley Henkel. - Bonus!)
18. Bananas.  I told Natalie today how I thanked God for bananas.  She looked at me weird.  But I do.  They are tasty.  They are a great way for me to stay on track with my food choices.  They aren't too expensive.  I just like them.
19. Apples.  You may call me an Apple Apologist.  But I really am thankful for their products.  I love my computer, my phone, my iPod.  My wife loves her iPad.  I love the fact that their stuff makes my life easier and richer.  And it allowed me to work with some great people like Veronica Fish and Chris Anenome and the other people at R143.  
20. Summit Church. We haven't been there long, but we are thankful for it.  I love watching my kids growing and having such a great experience.  I love having so many ways to serve for my wife and I.  It is a great church and we are thankful that we were led there.   And we get to see Erik and Tiffany Wieder a lot now.  And they are just awesome people.  (Another bonus point!)
21. UCF. I love my alma mater.  On one hand, it allowed me to meet some great friends and have some great experiences.  It also helped East Orlando to develop - which gave us a reason to live there and work there.  I enjoy watching UCF sports.  So many experiences in my life began with my time there.  I'm thankful it was my school.
22. College Ministry.  College Ministry changed my life.  And it changes so many other students' lives.  I am always broken hearted when I see a church think that college ministry isn't important enough.  Groups like BCM and Campus Crusade are invaluable.  In my own life, it change me forever - for the better.  In addition, it brought me into contact with people like Allen and Candy Turner, Matt and Sarah Sharp, Byron and Bern Kirkpatrick, and dozens of others that made me into who I am.  Having worked in that field for nearly a decade, I got to have so many wonderful experiences.  And I got to work with people like Connie Ricks, Brad Crawford, Rahul Agarwal, Lee Howell, Becky Crandall, Tony Olesky, and Loy Reed.  You can't help but get better in that crowd.  
23. Holidays.  I love the fact that there are holidays.  They give you a break and a rest - often when you need it most.  But it also gives a reason to be with family and friends.  It isn't practical to drive from Florida to South Carolina on a whim.  But a holiday gives a good reason.  So that means I get to hang out this weekend with numbers 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 11, 12, and 13 on this list.  Holidays are awesome.
24. First Years Preschool and Kindergarten.  All three of my children have now attended this school.  And it is, in my honest opinion, the best preschool in the world.  It equipped my kids to be prepared for school, developed their personalities, loved them, and taught them about God.  It has been such a blessing and built such a great foundation.  
25. Mentors.  I can never express enough thanks for people like Eddie Gilley, Byron Kirkpatrick, Jeff Kipi, Bob Bray, Charles Wise, John Blann, Tadziu Trotsky.  Those guys invested in my life and pushed me to be better than I was.  They didn't allow me to stay in my goofy state - living a mediocre life.  They saw something worth developing and went above and beyond to work with me.  I can never express enough thanks.
26. Memories. I'm glad that we can remember things.  That may sound stupid, but that is all I have left of people like my dad, my grandparents, and Heather's grandparents.  I may miss them, but at least I still can remember them.  So it isn't like they are completely gone.  
27. International Community School.  One class.  One year.  It shouldn't have made such an impact on me.  But that school burrowed under my skin.  And I can't help but be thankful for it.  It rewarded me richly.  It gave me friendships with some amazing students, as well as with some terrific adults (Carrie Baker, Robyn Terwilleger, the Kreidts, Greg Willson, the Egglestons).  I still hope that at some point I can officially be a part of that school.
28. Weight Loss.  I am glad that I no longer wheeze when I tie my shoes.  I'm not embarrassed to be in pictures.  I can play with my kids.  And I don't look like a shaved panda with a severe allergic reaction.  It's been nearly two years since I started the process, and have kept off the weight.  Unless you've been an enormous land dwelling mammal, you can't understand the freedom of being released from that.  
29. Entertainment.  I like movies, sports, music.  I enjoy playing Angry Birds, Word with Friends, and Jetpack Joyride.  I'm glad that there are things to waste time on.  And I'm glad we live in an era where that is accessible and acceptable.  I'm thankful my days aren't spent winnowing and my evening entertainment is watching crickets mate.  I admit it - I'm soft.  I like my fun time.
30. Hope.  I am thankful that we have hope.  It is a powerful thing.  It allows us to look to the future and dream of something better.  We can reach a different status.  We can grow a family.  We can think of something beyond this life.  To have no hope is a depressing thing.  I am thankful that is not where we have to be.  
31. MEGA HOLIDAY BONUS!!! Friends.  I often have avoided doing these lists for fear of leaving someone out.  If I did, I hope I haven't offended you.  I am so thankful for my friends.  They are such a great blessing.  I have tried to embed many of those people in other areas.  But as a way to catch some who fell through the nets, I offer up this point.  I thank God for people like David Tarkington, Benji and Amy Stultz, Toney and Anna Sauls, Randy and Susan Gillis, Tim DeMoor, Thomas Blevins, Greg Ramer, and so many others.  I may stumble along the path, but I never walk alone thanks to these people.  

Hurts Like Heaven

So much of our time, we are worried about such mundane stuff.  I think we like it that way.  We're able to distract our brains by getting caught up in minor and trivial concerns.  Which superhero is the best. (Batman, of course)  Chronic misuse of the words "literally" and "ironic."  Whether or not Steve Jobs actually died the day after the iPhone 4S was introduced or if the news was held until that day.  We love to get all wrapped up in those kind of debates.

If we aren't debating if Two and a Half Men is better or worse without Charlie Sheen, we are usually wrapped up in our serious and personal issues.  Financial woes.  Job concerns.  Car wrecks and repairs.  (At LEAST two weeks to fix our van?  Whaaaa?)  What church we should attend.  When to get involved in problems at our kids' schools.  These are definitely important issues and deserving of our attention.  But, for the most part, they affect just us.  People living in Duluth probably could care less about if we work out issues between our daughter and Katie.  (They are too busy avoiding frostbite in September.)  But we definitely care about these things and spend a ton of time worrying about them.

From time to time, we are forced to think about bigger picture items - things that actually have meaning and depth.  This seems to bug us.  We want to get back to the useless and trivial matters.  It is uncomfortable dwelling in this more important level of issues.  There is controversy there.  After 9/11, The Onion ran a classic headline that (edited by me) said, "A Shattered Nation Longs to Care About Stupid B.S. Again."  We try to get away from the more serious stuff as soon as possible.  Or, we manage to fixate on the minors of the major issues.  The whole "Occupy" movement brings with it debate and passionate opinions on both sides.  But when we joke about the fact that over 75% of the mass of the solar system is taken up by just one planet, so we should Occupy Jupiter, then we can ignore the bigger picture.  Once we decide to go Occupy Okahumpka, we then spend twenty minutes deciding on whether to wear our slouchy knit cap or our fisherman cap.  Marginalization complete!  (I kid, I kid.  Of course, wear the knit cap.)

Of course, beyond those two issues are those global ones that force us to all take a stand.  Things like horrific natural disasters (Japan's tsunami, Haiti's earthquake), political upheaval (Libya, Egypt), and royal weddings (William and Kate) are so large in scope that we can't ignore them forever.  We must pay them some level of attention.  They demand it.  The sheer scope of human suffering (or joy) associated with these draws our minds like a magnet.

So, on the average day, we all have this stuff swirling around in our heads.  Most of our attention is focused on the first two areas, with much smaller parts contemplating the last two.  Day in and day out, that is how our brains work.  But, there are events that can just pierce through that entire process like one of Rambo's exploding arrows.

"Hey, it's mom.  The doctor said that I have Grade 3 Endometrial Cancer."


Just that quickly, all of that other stuff just disappears.  We had suspicions something wasn't right.  There were unexplained medical issues, bleeding that definitely shouldn't happen.  The doctor had tried to push  up the results appointment by two days, so they could "get started on doing what needs done."  I've been around doctors enough to know that they never push appointments up by two days to give happy news.  But now it was final.  The big question was answered, with an avalanche of new ones now developing.  We don't know the severity, the progression, the treatment, the long term outlook.  Now it is just grappling with that earth-shattering revelation.

I think that the scariest thing in the world is cancer.  Seriously, every year Hollywood churns out movies trying to scare the snotballs out of people.  They could just nail it with having a doctor come up to the various people seated in the auditorium and saying, "Excuse me, could you come out to the lobby with me?  There was something abnormal in your test results."  No pea soup spitting infant will every rival the terror that grips a person when the physician starts dropping the C Word.  It used to be that cancer was seen as a death sentence.  But treatments have gotten so much better in recent years that we hear about people surviving all the time.  We all know people that have had cancer.  And the crazy thing is that we all know people who have beaten it.  But it still is scary because we know that there is still a worst case scenario.  And we know that often the treatment seems worse than the disease.  It isn't an easy thing to fight cancer.  It takes everything you have.  I think that's why you "get over" most other illnesses and "beat" cancer.  It is a fight.  Fighters don't "get over" their opponents.  They "beat" them.  And they never really get over them.

I think it is natural to imagine the worst case scenario when you get news like that.  You really can't help it.  In that first moment when the news clears out all the riff raff in your mind, your entire mental processing power is focused on that one piece of news.  And that means that your mind runs in a hundred different directions all at once.  You think of the people who have beaten cancer.  You think of the people who haven't.  You think of what it will take to actually win the fight.  And you think of what happens if you lose.  That last one is the part that makes you think of the worst.  What happens if she dies?  Ugh.  What a horrible thought.  I know that there are people who say, "Don't let your mind go there.  She is still alive and can still beat this."  I know that very well.  My mom is a fighter - she's already faced cancer, among numerous other terrifying things.  She has MS.  She has an arachnoid cyst in her spine.  She has suffered through abuse and life experiences that would have shattered most people.  And she did it with grace and dignity.  So I know she can win.  But that haunting question of "what if..." is still so potent.

I love my mom.  She is an incredible person.  I've written about her before on this blog.  I know that at some point that she will move on from this life.  I just don't think I'll ever be ready for it.  I've lost people I care about before.  One grandfather died when I was 11, one grandmother when I was 13.  The other grandfather died when I was 16.  My dad passed away when I was 25 and my other grandmother when I was 30.  Heather's maternal grandparents passed away this summer and in 2009.  I've experienced this before.  But my mom is a different story.  I remember when my dad died, the thing that just floored me was when I got to the house and he wasn't in his chair.  I was just used to seeing him in that chair.  With my mom, I think about the day when I won't be able to call her and know she's home and willing to talk.  Even if it is just twenty minutes of me venting - she's always there.  It is weird when she's out when I call.  I can't imagine how hard it will be when she isn't there at all.  That day, obviously, isn't today.  But it is awfully hard to keep my mind from veering in that direction from time to time.

The hardest thing was breaking the news to my kids.  I knew it would be hard for me.  But I couldn't imagine that pain could actually be worse.  When I looked at Josiah and Natalie and told them what was going on, my heart broken in a different place.  I told them that she can beat this.  I told them how many people we know have beaten cancer.  But their little minds did the same dance mine did.  I saw the fear in their eyes - the anger, the hurt, the questions.  It was horrible.  Again, my kids were close to Heather's grandparents and so they've seen death.  But this was a whole different level of pain.  It was awful.  There's only so much you can say.  Even when you're a kid, you know that word is terrifying.  My own heart hurt like I couldn't believe.  Having to hold Natalie hours later as she thought about not being able to go to Grammy's house to bake cookies was just too much to take.

For a couple of days, I had trouble really concentrating on thing like work and baseball.  I think I was just worn out by the end of the day.  I kept falling asleep in my chair before 10pm.  So, apparently I missed the greatest baseball game ever played, among other things.  And my heart hurt.  I would say it "hurt like heck," but that wasn't it.  The hurt was tempered, like it was with my dad and Heather's grandparents.  When Coldplay's new album, Mylo Xyloto, came out, their second song gave me what it felt like.  The title of the song is "Hurts Like Heaven."  The song has nothing to do with what is going on here, but the phrase stuck with me.  It perfectly described what I was feeling.  It hurt like Heaven.  There was a level of pain that came from the thought of my potential loss.  There was the fear and apprehension.  There was all of the normal human emotions and feelings.  But, there was also another element that brought a strange peace.  It was good to know what exactly we were facing.  It could answer many health problems that had surfaced lately with my mother.

But the biggest part is that I don't fear for my mother.  I know she is in God's hands.  I know what will happen to her when she does die - whenever that is.  She will be home in Heaven with the God she loves and has diligently and passionately served for 35 years.  She won't hurt any more.  She will be free of the crooked skeleton.  Her eyes will see clearly again.  It won't hurt her to walk around.  She will be whole and healthy and free.  How can that be a bad thing?  Yes, we will miss her horribly here. But she will finally have what she has lived for.  She'll get to be with Jesus.  And that means our pain is temporary.  It may be intense and crippling and awful.  But it will end.

It is impossible for me to think of this upcoming challenge without this mindset.  We will go through the treatments and surgeries and appointments.  We will try to tackle this illness and do whatever possible to win.  We will pray for healing and for wisdom.  But, even if the worst case scenario happens, my mother gets to experience wholeness and healing and happiness like it is impossible to know on Earth.  But that is a thought for another day.  We appreciate your prayers.  This isn't going to be easy.  It has a way of shaking up a normal routine - both physical and mental.  But God is still in control.  We still have time and hope.  And my mom is still answering her phone.

My Little House

This weekend, my blog came up in conversation a couple of times.  (Let's not get into what kind of boring conversations that I dabble in that my blog is a hot topic.)  It made me think about my writing and I took a look at my recent posts.  I couldn't find any.  I realized that I have hardly been posting at all.  I've only posted once on this blog since the beginning of August.  I haven't written anything on my Darth Fatso blog since July.  I haven't even been keeping up with my Fantasy Football League blog - and I usually don't give up on that until the middle of the season.  I know that every so often I do one of these examinations and, for a while, I'll get more motivated.  But this time, something is different.

Something has been going on with me for a while - and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it.  It isn't exactly the same as the depression that I battled back in Tallahassee.  But there are some elements of that. I have hesitated to write much about it.  It is kind of personal and hard to just put out that for all three of you to read.  I remember, though, that other people have benefitted from me exploring my mistakes and stupidity in years past.  As the Demotivators poster states so eloquently, "It may be your life is merely to serve as a warning sign to others."  Shoot, my entire Darth Fatso blog is basically a giant therapy session. In addition, from some things I have heard from friends lately, I'm not the only one feeling like this.

I have developed a theory.  Well, its more like an extended metaphor.  Each one of us is like a little house.  As we grow up, our house changes to reflect our personality.  We plant little flowers and paint the outside like our favorite teams.  We hang banners and put garden gnomes out front.  It isn't much, but it is kind of who we are.  As time goes along, the people in our lives visit the house.  Some of these people make our house a little nicer.  Maybe they bring a nice potted plant when they come over.  Those people also can hurt our house.  They can bust out a window or smash into the wall.  They can peel the paint and rip up the garden.  Unfortunately, it seems like there are more people who fall into this second category.  More people are in the demolition business than the home restoration industry.

Those hurts are very real and have wide ranging effects.  As a child, we may hear from a parent, "Pardon me, sir, but apparently you think you are talking to someone who gives a s---," when you tell them a story.  Or someone may tell our friends, "Just nod and smile and eventually he'll stop talking."  That begins to make us feel like no one wants to hear what we have to say.  We start to wonder if everyone feels that way, which makes us pull away and worry that when we try to talk to someone they won't really care.  We may be ridiculed for being fat and unathletic.  It is combined with the way society treats and views overweight people.  Mix in constant rejection by the opposite sex.  A person starts to feel worthless.

"You're wasting your talents doing something like that instead of earning big money."  That means that unless you earn enough you are a failure.  "Why did you get the B?"  That means that even bringing home A's for years and being valedictorian isn't enough.  Perfection is the only way to get approval.  When doctors tell you that you that it is all in your head, rather than find out what is wrong, you begin to lose faith in doctors.  You feel you have to prove your injury for anyone to believe it - or that it needs to be really severe to deserve attention.  We all have these things happen to us.  Words, actions, attitudes.  They pierce us and wreck havoc on our house.  Soon, we learn that the way to survive this damage is to protect ourselves.

We build false walls all around our little house.  We plant huge hedges.  We construct a corn maze around our property.  We add giant decorative topiary in the shapes of our favorite animated characters.  In my life, I built these all around me.  I developed a very sarcastic way of speaking.  I was able to be brutal and cutting and disguise it as jokes.  I because extremely judgmental.  I felt that I was better than other people because I was smarter or more spiritually discerning or whatever.  I was completely oblivious to the fact that it was because I felt so inferior.  I would walk into a room and look around.  I saw the guys who were better looking than me or more fit than me.  I saw the girls who were too good for me.  There would be people who were more outgoing and socially comfortable.  I felt like a loser.  Over time, I started to find what made me feel better - my smarts, my Bible knowledge, my sense of humor.  Eventually, I started walking into a room and assuming I was the smartest in there.  Worse still, I would judge the others for it.

I turned to food as a solace.  Some of that was because that was one of the few things my father and I could relate about.  But a lot of it was a comfort.  I would when I was sad.  I would eat when I was happy.  I would eat when I didn't know what I felt like.  I found foods that made me feel good and soon reduced my diet almost exclusively to those things.  McDonald's burgers, Miami Subs steak subs, mozzarella sticks, desserts, soda.  And lots of pizza.

Even with all of those protective measures, sometimes pain would get through.  There were people who could still fire an attack that went all the way through the walls, the hedges, the Elmo shaped tree.  THOSE wounds were far worse.  They would cause more overreaction, more protection.  And those levels of defense often included pulling away from those people or becoming very angry or refusing to forgive them.  Bitterness sets in.  That poisons our relationships with everyone - making us even quicker to judge and slower to get over it.  That is where I found myself.

The last thirty months or so have been the most tumultuous of my life.  I have gone from working full time to being a stay at home dad.  I have lost 100 pounds and completely changed my eating habits.  We have gone through the most trying financial stretch of our lives (which is really saying something).  My rheumatoid arthritis flared up worse than it ever has been.  Heather's grandparents passed away - two people I had grown very close to.  I went through deep bouts of loneliness and depression.  I began to notice just how damaging my temper and sarcastic words were.  I heard my children repeating my comments and saw them copying my behaviors.  That forced me to change.  The solitude led to much self-examination and chances to work on my shortcomings. Through all of that, I have found that many of these walls and hedges and decorative foliage have been torn down.  My unhealthy coping mechanisms have been disrupted.

I have gone back to several people I hurt over the years and apologized for my behaviors and comments.  Recently, I went to someone and worked to repair our relationship.  I had said things that had hurt him and he had done things that had hurt people close to me.  At the end of the conversation, I felt completely different.  A huge weight had lifted off of me.  I had been carrying that anger and lack of forgiveness for years.  But, more than weight, it was almost as if I had seen a massive wall torn down.  And for the first time in decades, I saw my little house again.  It was battered and damaged.  And that terrified me.

As all of those protective coverings disappeared, I began to feel raw and vulnerable.  Things that didn't use to bother me hurt me now.  I got overwhelmed by the things I had to do.  Just trying to look at daily chores, work responsibilities, upcoming events seemed to cause a meltdown.  Last Sunday, I just sat on the couch and cried for what seemed like forever.  My head hurt and it felt like I busted a blood vessel in my eye.  The next day, my eyeball itched and burned all day.  All week I felt a little disoriented and weak.  Last night, something as simple as forgetting to cut the onions for on the grill started me crying.  It is an uncomfortable place to be.  I don't like it.  Of course, I am worried that people are going to judge me or call me a wuss.

The simple fact is that I have absolutely no idea how to function as myself.  At the age of 37, I am trying to learn how to respond to people, events, words, actions in a healthy way.  I don't want to go back to developing those protective behaviors - but I need to find a way to be less sensitive.  I can't retreat into the person I was before.  But I really don't know what to do with the person I am now.  For so many years, I lived in the corn mazes and solariums I had built.  I don't know how to live in my little house.  I never really had taken stock of it to see just how much damage had been done.  I don't think I really had even dealt with all of it.  I think that I had been so good at deflecting and distracting that I distracted myself.  I don't know if I ever really forgave my dad because I never really knew just how much he hurt me.  And I have been so busy hurting other people for the last couple decades that I never saw how hurt I was.  I've been wrestling with so much guilt about my bad actions and behaviors.  And now that I am reaching the end of that list of wronged souls, the last name on it is mine.

I know that you may not buy into all of this.  You may write it off a psycho babble - something I certainly believed for many years.  For me, though, it is very real.  It is still very new.  The fact is, I never really liked the person I had become.  I didn't like being arrogant and entitled and superior.  I don't much like this person either, though it is for different reasons.  I don't like him because I don't know how to control him.  I don't know how to function and succeed without dipping into my old bag of tricks.  I don't like the pain and turmoil.  But I'm not going back.  I have worked too hard and come too far to not see it through.  I know I have a lot of work to do, but it will be worth it.

In that conversation I mentioned, my friend said something profound.  We were talking about the process of breaking bad habits.  He said, "It certainly isn't easy.  It is extremely hard.  But so is losing 100 pounds.  And you did that. How much worse can this be?"  The essential truth to all of this is that I am not doing it alone.  I didn't lose that weight alone.  God gave me the strength, and He will do it again.  And I have a wife and family that loves me and supports me.  I have friends who genuinely care about me.  These people have seen through the fences and ivy and seen that little house.  And they love IT.  They love who I really am.  And they want to see me figure this out.  They can't wait to come visit the place when I'm done.

So as far as the blog goes, I'm sure I will get back to things eventually.  It won't be too long until I'm back to writing about UCF's ridiculous ability to get to the next level in sports or examining if the failure of green superheroes to capture the public's affection has something to do with the color itself.  And it won't be long until you are sighing and longing for the days when I was forgetting to write.  But for now, I have a little work to do.  Things are under construction.  I hope you'll like the renovations.