whoopi cowboy!

Zachary turned eight last month.  He didn't ask for much this year.  What he really wanted was an authentic pair of cowboy roll-cap six-shooters.  Jen bought him the guns, then sent me on a quest to find the roll-caps to go with them.  Near where I found the roll-caps, I also found whoopi cushions and I couldn't resist.  Eight-year-old Zachary and a whoopi cushion... perfect combination!

Cowboy Zachary

employment update

After many months of unemployment (and a nightmarish 6 month stint of training and working as an over-the-road trucker), I have been employed for the past 2 months in the sales department at a prominent Chrysler-Dodge-Jeep dealer in my area.

It's not my dream job. I'm an introvert. It's a little out of my comfort zone. But, sometimes that's not all bad.

It's too soon to say how this opportunity will work out. I am giving it my all, trying to learn quickly, and getting good feedback from my managers and peers. The proof, however, is in the paycheck. It is a 100% commission position. I am told that it has good income potential, and I am off to a respectable start. The concern is whether or not I can grow my customer base quickly enough to solely support my family of six. Striving toward that goal!

I know car salesmen do not have the best of reputations... and many times for good reason. Fortunately, my dealership does not wish to hire stereotypical car sales personnel and we are often told that our approach is refreshing after customers visit some of our competition. Good for me... I don't think I could work at some of those other dealerships.

The hours aren't great. Some co-workers complain about them. I have an advantage here, though... I was an over-the-road trucker. Car sales hours aren't so bad when you've spent weeks away from your family and lived in the cab of a truck!

my side of the... argument

"I left New York in May. I had a penknife, a ball of cord, an ax, and forty dollars, which I had saved from selling magazine subscriptions. I also had some flint and steel, which I had bought at a Chinese store in the city. The man had showed me how to use it. He had also given me a little purse to put it in, and some tinder to catch the sparks." 13 year-old Sam Gribley came to life for many young minds like mine through the imagination and pen of author Jean Craighead George, in the pages of My Side of the Mountain. I was mesmerized as a young boy and still re-read it every several years as an adult... my favorite work of fiction of all time!

Published in 1959, it was made into a movie in 1969. I've deliberately never watched it. I like my mind's version the best. I have viewed the book's scenes in vivid detail with my mind's eye for over 30 years. I don't feel the need to watch someone else's version on the screen. Settled.

Or... is it?

Within the last year, I gave my 9 year-old son a copy of the book. An avid reader, he devoured it in less than a day. He's read it multiple times. It's now a favorite of his, as well. Great!

But, herein lies the dilemma... he's also a media addict. He is aware of the movie version and is begging to watch it. I say, no. Let the classic children's novel stand alone. My wife does not understand my stance. She says the movie is likely a wholesome one, so why deny him the chance to see it? But, its not about wholesomeness. Its about whether or not we even need a movie when we have such a classic children's novel?

Any opinions? Does my stance make sense, or am I damaging my children with my parental weirdness?

ADDENDUM 5/17/10: Dylan and I had a discussion about how things looked in each of our mental versions of the book. His descriptions were very different than mine. Thus, he decided to skip watching the movie, after all. But, I'm still interested in your opinion.

best gift ever

Zachary, soon to be 8, had a school assignment to write a story titled, "The Day I Received My Best Gift". Neither Jen or I knew anything about the assignment until he brought the paper home today, so the story was completely his original thoughts and words. Zachary writes:

"My best gift ever was birth. It was a Thursday night in Akron, Ohio. I feel really special now that I look back at it. But without Mom I wouldn't be here. If you stop thinking toys and gifts for your birthday, you'll notice something. Your best gift ever... birth."

His teacher really liked it. I must concur! (Although... I feel a little slighted in the whole "without Mom I wouldn't be here" part... after all, I helped!)

el sombrero loco

This week, as Right to Read Week fun, Zachary's 2nd grade class had crazy hat day. Jen bought Zachary and Dylan sombreros when she was recently in Mexico during her cruise. Do you see where this is going?

Zachary's ears perked up when the teacher announced crazy hat day.

Zachary to Mrs. P: "Is there a size limit for crazy hats?"
Mrs. P: "Just how big IS your crazy hat?"
Zachary: "About 3 feet."
Mrs. P: "I think the size limit is 4 feet."

Zachary thought his sombrero would look great with the cowboy boots that he is really into lately. He also got in the Halloween costume box and found the silky shirt and vest that Dylan has used in past years for his pirate costume. He went beyond the crazy hat and went to school looking like he should be playing in a mariachi band. I'm pretty sure he had a lot of fun dressing up. However, he did have to take the hat off in most classes... it's a little too hard to concentrate when you're sitting behind el sombrero loco!

"calling" hours?

Let me preface this by saying that this is a hard to believe, but tragically true, story. It happened to a good friend of mine, who shall remain nameless... not necessarily for his protection, but because of the upsetting nature of the events of this story. Although this story has an element of humor, it is much more tragic than humorous. I am a bit ashamed to admit that my first reaction to hearing it was laughter, but I was quickly sobered and saddened by the tragic ending, and my friend has been deeply affected by his involvement.

So, the other day, my friend was enjoying the springtime weather and strolling around his property, which has frontage on a fairly busy road, when he happened upon a cell phone near the ditch in his front yard. Since it hadn't rained for a few days, the cell phone was operational, and he took it in the house with the intention of trying to contact its rightful owner. It took him a few days to get back to it, but he searched the phone's memory for a number of a significant person to notify about the lost phone. He selected a number that was indicated "in case of emergency" and appeared to be the wife of the phone's owner. My Good Samaritan friend dialed the number...

A man took the call. My friend quickly learned that the man who took the call was standing beside the lost phone owner's very distraught widow... who was standing beside the casket of her deceased husband (the phone's owner)... who's name and number had just appeared on the caller ID of her ringing cell phone. (Cue the Twilight Zone theme music... doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo...) Ironically, my friend gave new meaning to "calling hours", by innocently using the phone of the deceased to unknowingly call his widow... while she was at her husband's calling hours!

Although the irony of the story itself may have an element of humor, the tragedy lies in what my friend then learned and pieced together. It seems the phone was likely not lost, but discarded. The man who owned the phone apparently made a decision and tossed the phone to avoid being dissuaded from what he was about to do. Sadly, the man took his life. The haunting part for my friend, who is a father of young children, is that the photo on the phone's screen is that of a woman and three little girls... most likely a widow and her fatherless daughters.

Easter Scrooge?

I think it best that I start this post with a few disclaimers:

1. I am writing to no one, specifically, and I am in no way criticizing you, nor do I think less of you, if you celebrate Easter in ways that I question. (Many of you do and will likely continue!)
2. Many readers will likely disagree with my thoughts (my wife included).
3. We can agree to disagree and still be friends.
4. What good is writing and blogging if you can't be honest and transparent?

That being said, I admit it: I am an Easter Scrooge.

Oh, I know Easter is the most significant of Christian holidays. For a long time, though, I've really not been that into it. Guilty? Oh yeah, I've felt terribly guilty about my mediocre and apathetic response to this event that celebrates the resurrection of my Lord. But I can't deny it, so I'm trying to make some sense of it.

The older I get, the more I tend to question traditions. I find, though, that most people don't like traditions messed with. Hence the disclaimer. I'm not rebelling against traditions, per se, I'm just questioning... asking "why?" a lot. Why is it done this way? Why do we do that? Do we have to do it this way? Who says we can't do it differently?

I think, perhaps, this is partly the result of being a dad. I'm far, far, from being a model anything, leastwise a Dad. But, I do have a desire to be a good leader for my family and I try to parent very deliberately. Sometimes that deliberateness makes me cling desperately to dying traditions and other times it causes me to want to deviate from well-entrenched ones.

So, let us explore some Easter traditions through my lens.

Although I must admit I like a little commercialism with my Christmas, overall, I'm not a huge fan of commercialism, especially at Easter. Maybe I have undiagnosed ADHD, but I've long been very distracted by Easter's commercialism. A bit confused by it, actually. Maybe I have a difficult time multi-tasking, because I struggle with packing the religious and the commercial in one weekend... HE's not here (but the bunny was), for HE is risen! (what did he leave in your basket?) Bunnies and baskets? Bonnets and bows? I just have to ask why?

Ah, yes... tradition.

Now, I'll admit, as a child I loved going to Grandma's house over Easter break and spending some time with my cousins. I always looked forward to Grandma's Saturday evening Easter egg hunt. Everyone got a room in the house with an equal number of hidden candy to find, and one-by-one we'd work our way through the house. It was a fun... um... tradition. But, at some point after I quit believing in an Easter Bunny, the tradition of waking up on Sunday morning to an Easter basket seemed a little distracting to what the day was really about. (Mom, I know you read this... that's not a criticism... just thinking out loud!) I really didn't process it that way at the time, but I think the roots of my frustration with the commercialism of Easter reach somewhere back toward childhood. Even then, I think I sometimes wondered why Jesus should share the day with an egg-laying bunny and if some of the church attenders came for resurrection rejoicing or wardrobe wearing. (Again, don't take it personal if you gussy up for Easter service... it's spring... it's cute... just thinking out loud!)

This year, however, hasn't been just life as usual. Because (as I've mentioned in earlier posts) we are on our "church tour" seeking a place to call home, Easter was a little less predictable. I did a bit of an a-la-carte Easter this year. Dylan, Zachary and I attended an Easter play at one church, Good Friday service at another, and Jen and Zachary attended Easter service at yet another church. (We've been passing colds around, so we had to attend in part). I was really looking forward to Easter service this year, and although I was on sick kid duty and didn't get to go, I think it was more meaningful to me, personally, than many other years... for a few reasons.

This year, I focused my thoughts a lot more on the cross. I think a big part of my Easter frustration is due to the fact that my church background has focused so much more heavily on the Resurrection and tended to gloss over the Crucifixion. And why not? Resurrection is happy... crucifixion is not. But, how can you fully rejoice in the Resurrection, without first sharing in the sorrow of the cross? Sadly, I don't know that I've ever been to a Good Friday service before this year. Maybe I have and just don't remember? The boys couldn't understand why we would go to church on Friday. I explained to them that we were going to remember the sacrifice that Jesus made on our behalf and to commemorate His death on the cross. We discussed the service on the drive home. I think they started to get it. As part of deliberate parenting, I hope in future years to focus my family's attention more on the events leading up to Easter, to try to frame for them the full relevance of Resurrection Sunday.

Also in the area of deliberate fathering, I suggested that we drop Easter baskets this year. Jen conceded (a bit reluctantly), but felt I was robbing my children of childhood joy. I see her point. We struck a compromise for future years to have some very minimal commercialism at some point during the Easter weekend, rather than Sunday morning Easter baskets. It is not my intent to stamp out all childhood fun, but to adjust tradition to be less distracting from the real significance of the holiday.

Lest you think I am just a Scrooge down on tradition with little factual backing, let me conclude with some Easter history I discovered. I'm certainly no expert, but I briefly searched Google for the basis of some of our modern Easter traditions. Did you know that Easter originates from a pagan festival to honor the Goddess of Fertility, Eastre? Rabbits and eggs have long been symbols of fertility. Since both the Resurrection and the fertility festival occurred in the spring time, the progression of history has brought us the modern day Easter, with its bunnies, eggs and empty tomb. For this reason, some churches avoid the term "Easter" and favor "Resurrection Sunday". Hmmm... I think I like that.

So, are Easter traditions harmless childish fun that combine with springtime to help point us to new life and resurrection? Maybe. I doubt that any of you really pay homage to the Goddess of Fertility with your eggs and rabbits. Just the same, though, I have to ask... my Lord and Saviour, who gave His life to redeem my sinful soul, and rose to life the first Resurrection Sunday... should He have to share His glorious day with Eastre and the world's commercialism? Call me a fanatic if you want, but I struggle with the conflicts posed by... Eastre Sunday.