Scoot Scoot

We are learning to be nicer to the other kids at the playpark.  When I say we, I really mean me.  Little Man is happy to walk in circles and wave at everyone, but I don't have the patience for mean older kids.  Rather than stare the bullies down until they hide in a corner, I walked up to them with Little Man and assured him that he could play with the unoccupied toys no matter what the older kids said.  I may not be able to fix other kids, but I will try my best to give my son the confidence to not be upset by their antics.  

Fire Engine

The kind firemen next door let Little Man climb behind the wheel this evening and take the engine for a spin.

What a lucky boy!

Adventure in Central Park

Yesterday Little Man and I went to Central Park to find a new playground, and we found a great one.  Hecksher Playground is close to Columbus Circle, and it is heaven for a young climber.  With castle walls to climb and bridges to run over, we had a party.  We will go back on a warmer day because they even have a water feature that looks even more fun.

Gabe, in true form, made many friends.  One young girl followed him everywhere and yelled at any other kid who got too close to him.  This park was filled with young men practicing their parkour moves, and some of them were actually pretty good.  When they walked by, Gabriel said hello and waved while other kids run away from the teens.  I don't know how he does it, but people just gravitate to him.  I feel blessed to be his dad and spend time with him everyday.  

Friend Projects

Little Man and I went to Times Square this morning to do a Flat Stanley project for a friend. We saw Elmo, Cookie Monster, and SpongeBob SquarePants hustling for some tips.

For some reason my kid loves this place more than any other park, museum, or tourist trap. He says hello to just about everyone we walk past and joyfully squeals at the lights. I am liking the place more and more. It is free to just sit and people watch, and it is only a few minutes away on the 1 train.

Sometimes it is fun being a tourist!

The Finished Product

Ta-daaa!

We are short one egg because Mr. Turd Ferguson thought that they ought to be opened before dyed.  I blame myself for leaving the carton in front of him while prepping the dyes.

Tomorrow should make for a fun morning of hunting eggs and mini peanut-butter cups.

Easter Prep

Coloring eggs and eating cookies is how we spend our Saturday night.

Rainy Day Play

Rain sucks, but he still has fun.

I am jealous.

Alternate Side Parking

While moving the car this morning to avoid getting a ticket, I realized that my son is one part greeter and one part siren. 

He cheerfully waved at every car that drove by and had a nice conversation with a traffic cop. 

When the street was quiet, he practiced his version of a familiar city sound-- the car alarm.

Music in His Soul

He likes to sing, and he loves his guitar.

I like it too.

I love my son.

This morning while listening to Sesame Street music, Little Man asked me if I would be his friend.

I said yes.

Helicopters and Boats

We spent some time at the South Seaport enjoying the afternoon.

Ferry Ride

Why do people ride the Staten Island Ferry?

Because it's free.

My Private Chef

I was fortunate enough to have some homemade bread soup prepared bedside this morning.

Life is good.

The Perfect Quote

I have been looking for a quote.

A perfect sequence of words, something that captures my current state of being.

Many years ago, I came across a cup of knowledge.  I was fascinated by this acquisition and set out in search of more.  I found streams and rivers of learning that flowed from the mountains and ponds surrounding me.  I was content with this and rested.

After some time, I wanted more and set off again.  I found larger rivers and great lakes filled with philosophy, history, science, and mathematics(which I quickly ignored).  I thought that I had mastered these rivers and lakes with my sense of exploration as paddle and an inflated ego for my raft.

Leaving behind the comfortable confines of my home, I traveled again thinking of new conquests and discoveries to add to my dominion, and I found the ocean-- the seemingly boundless world of the universe.  I am lost among that which I do not know.  As I learn something new, I am confronted with the greatness the unknown.  Certainly the newly learned lesson is a valuable asset, but it also unveils new realms of my own ignorance.  This great divides excites me; there is always a chance to learn and grow.  The great ocean of knowledge also discourages me; no matter how much I come to understand, it is nothing compared to all that is left to learn.

I stopped looking for a quote.

A song by James Taylor or a poem by Rumi may capture the realization of my nothingness, but its meaning is so finite that it cannot go further with me.  Maybe a line from Shakespeare or an excerpt from Kierkegaard can relate all that I experienced in the past, but it will not cover what I have yet to discover about myself and the world I live in.   I was confronted by the irony of my quest: using another's words to describe my path negates my own journey.  Perhaps instead of looking for someone else to describe my journey, I ought to be grateful for this realization of my insignificance and keep a happy heart while I continue this wonderful expedition.

My conclusion is that there isn't a perfect quote to capture life, but that it the beauty of existence.  If we found perfection, we would stop our progression, and I don't want to stop this adventure.

Baseball and Butler

In a world where the Ivy-League meets the Big-League, my son conquers all!  I don't have much advice to give him when it comes to sports, but he will be ready to give these Columbia chumps a run for their money when he walks through the doors of Butler library as a student in 15 years.

Looking Again

We went to the Central Park Zoo last March during my Spring Break at school, and I took this picture. For some reason I like it. I might like it because the Snow Leopard is so close to the window yet lost somewhere in private thoughts. I might like it because my son is in it, and I think that he is the greatest kid to ever walk the planet. I might like this photo because as I was taking it, an older gentleman kept blocking my shot because he wanted to get a picture of his own (he is the red blur on the right). This man was also getting agitated by other children who wanted to see the leopard up close and disturb his photo session, and that is when a small gem of universal truth hit me-- don't get caught up in finding perfection, just enjoy the moment.

So I took the photo, and we continued our exploration of the zoo. Looking at this photo again, I understand the lesson I learned. My son isn't looking at this animal searching for some fault that he can criticize; he is enjoying the moment of seeing a beautiful creature in an intimate setting. I still see that red sleeve in the photo and want to get upset with the grumpy man, but I simply shift my focus, and the blemishes disappear.  If I spend too much time looking at what I don't like, I will never enjoy the parts that bring me happiness.

I won't always remember this lesson in my daily journey of life, but I try to look at everything twice in hopes of seeing more beauty, wonder, amazement, love, friendship, potential, and divine worth.  While I may want to get angry or upset because someone or something hinders my progression, I reevaluate the situation, change my focus, and enjoy the moment.

Slow down and enjoy the ride-- there is a lot to love in this world.

The Good Life

Frosted Flakes, Sesame Street music, and a happy child are what I need for a great breakfast.

In the Dust of a Little Chair

Perhaps one of my favorite poets is Eugene Field.  As a 19th century American writer, he found his niche after traveling many roads in writing children's poems.  One of his most famous works is "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" which is one of our nightly readings.  There are two reasons that I can think of as to why his work resonates with me: 1- these were the poems that were read to me as a child; 2- his talent is in taking a larger narrative and writing it in a way that a child can understand.

He died at the age of 45 leaving behind a strong legacy of published work.  My favorite poem is "Little Boy Blue" (also known as "Dog and Soldier" to my son) which captures the feelings of loss he experienced upon the death of one of his children.  While this is one experience that I pray never to encounter, his words allow me the insight to cherish everyday I have with my child.

LITTLE BOY BLUE
by: Eugene Field (1850-1895)

HE little toy dog is covered with dust,

But sturdy and staunch he stands;

And the little toy soldier is red with rust,

And his musket moulds in his hands.

Time was when the little toy dog was new,

And the soldier was passing fair;

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue

Kissed them and put them there.

 

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,

"And don't you make any noise!"

So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,

He dreamt of the pretty toys;

And, as he was dreaming, an angel song

Awakened our Little Boy Blue--

Oh! the years are many, the years are long,

But the little toy friends are true!

 

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,

Each in the same old place,

Awaiting the touch of a little hand,

The smile of a little face;

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through

In the dust of that little chair,

What has become of our Little Boy Blue,

Since he kissed them and put them there.

Pretty, right?  The delicate nature of this prose tells of the great love we all have for those close to us.  As with everything in life, the more I read this poem, the more I understand it on different levels.  Upon closer reading, I find that the real sadness of this poem is not found in the loss of a child but in the loss of a dream.

How many of us have had a special wish or goal that was dear to our hearts only to have it whisked away by some other force?  Have we loved an idea or possibility so much that when it was gone we stayed in place waiting for it to return?  I know that I have.  The "ruts" of my life have come from when I think that something I lost is going to come back to me.  Whether this lost item is love, a job, an apology, schooling, a friend or even just a reward for hard work, the real sadness isn't in the loss of the object, but in the waiting for its return.

Let me be clear about something-- I am not advocating for a person to "get over" the loss of a child or loved one, for that is a tragedy that I cannot fathom.  I assert that we must not allow the dust of life to settle on us while waiting for the arrival of something that is gone.  I know that I have lost many years of my life thinking that someone else would discover my talents; I have lost many hours/days/weeks/months in anger thinking that someone else would apologize for what they said or did to me.  I have lost time sitting in that proverbial chair dreaming of the good-old-days, and I can never get that time back.

Shake off the dust and climb down from the chair!  We cannot go back, but we can determine our future.  You see, the real sadness found in "Little Boy Blue" isn't in the description of sorrow felt by the dog and soldier but in their abandonment of their own lives.

I submit that it is never too late, we are never too old, and the time is never better than right now to live.

In Defense of Rebecca Black

"Friday" you have heard it and laughed at it many times by now.  For those of you who do not know what I am talking about, go to this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2LRROpph0 and savor the creation of something you won't forget.

The first time I watched "Friday" (notice this implies that I have watched it many times, and I am listening to it as I type) I was revolted and found humor in the many comments, blogs, videos and posts making fun of this girl.  But when I thought about it for a little bit, I started to feel sorry for this girl.  Here she is a young aspiring artist with perhaps a little talent who became the laughing stock of the United States when all she was doing was living out a dream.  You may want to call her stupid for the simple lyrics and annoying repetition, but I submit that she is not the one with the problem, it is the rest of us that are making fun of her.

How long has the American public complained about the degradation of media and the lack of integrity among pop icons?  The entire cast of The Jersey Shore, Paris Hilton, Charlie Sheen have become the standard of American culture, and they are all disgusting.  Americans idolize drunkenness, stag films and spousal abuse over the aspirations of a teen.  So why does everyone want to hate a young girl who wrote a song and made a video of it?  First off, why were you watching a video of a thirteen year old in the first place?  Pervert.  She might be an idiot(who isn't?), but we are the ones watching her, so what does that make us?  Second, were you expecting Whitman or Shakespeare from her?  She used the vocabulary she knows.  She doesn't claim to be the next Bob Dylan.  She didn't sing about getting pregnant, doing drugs, or loving a vampire so much that she can't leave her bedroom.  Her song is about something that most Americans talk about incessantly Monday through Thursday-- let's make fun of people who post the days of the week on facebook as if we aren't smart enough to know for ourselves.  She is in Junior High, and she has become a lot more famous than me for living out her dream.  Give her a break.  Third, she owns her work.  She isn't some socially awkward deviant behind a computer typing away in attempts to demoralize humanity.  Look at the comment section of her video and notice that very few people are using their real names to attack her.  She isn't hiding.  She wrote a song about how much she enjoys the weekend.  It is better than complaining about Monday every Sunday night and Monday morning.

I will tell you something that is stupid.  Any American citizen that believes in the Two-Party System of Government.  Have you ever voted for someone that you didn't like, but you didn't want the other party to win?  Have you turned your back on someone(a third party candidate) that you believed in (Nader, Dean) to vote for someone that could win (Kerry, Gore)?  I am an idiot because I do this every 2-4 years (I am too lazy to vote every year).  Could you imagine what kind of change would happen if we directed our rage and frustration at our Congressmen/women instead of a young girl?

I am not a member of the Tea Party (if they even have a real party), but I am fed up with people taking the easy way out and making fun of other people instead of working to build them up.  Rebecca Black had a dream, she met her goals, and we ought to be proud of her.  You don't have to like her, but you should respect her.  If you want to make fun of someone, call your Senator/Governor/Mayor because I am pretty confident that at least one of them has done something a lot worse than make a music video about Friday.

This is Who I Am

I have been thinking about identity a lot the last few month for a number of reasons.  Since quitting UPS, I haven't found another job that is suitable to my school schedule, and I am only taking two classes this semester, so that I would have time to interview and accept a position.  So for the last three months I have been an unemployed, part-time student, and this is not the identity that I want for myself.  This has led me to examine the many facets of my life in order to make sense of this rut that I find myself in.

Starting with the obvious identities, I am a white male.  I can't do much about either of these traits because they are my genes.  My DNA has determined that this is who I am, but it doesn't determine how I identify myself.  I used the term male instead of man simply because I don't like the label of "man."  Do I really want to be a man?  Depending on what lens is used, manhood can be great(bringing home the proverbial bacon, defender of one's family, leader of the people), but it also has the potential of great harm(wars, rapes, genocides, you get the picture on this one).  With the dichotomous nature of this term, I refuse to identify as such.

I am a Mormon.  As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have found a theology that helps me have a better relationship with the Divine.  I relate to a loving God who knows and understands me in a personal way.  I was a missionary in the Philippines in my youth, and that remains one of the greatest experiences in my life.  There isn't a day since coming home from those Pacific Islands that I don't think about the amazing people I met and the lessons of love and humility I learned from them.  But "Mormon" is not my identity.  My politics are not those of my church.  My philosophy is not fully contained within the teaching of the church, and so the term "Mormon" is extremely limiting to my expression.  While it is certainly a part of who I am, it does not encompass the whole, so you will never see me on a commercial where the catch phrase "and I'm a Mormon" sums up my entire life.  My faith guides me to the greater identity but does not define it.

I am an Academic-- at least an undergraduate.  I love going to school.  I cannot express the joy I feel when sitting in class and something "clicks."  I am able to make connections between past experiences and scientific theories in behavior or evaluate the nature of language and its ability to create communities through simple words.  College is my "Axis Mundi" (a great subject for another blog post) where I have fixed my orientation to understand the world around me.  From this center I can separate the spiritual from the secular and grasp the pearls of knowledge that are in every aspect of learning.  I study with some of the brightest scholars in the world.  They inspire me.  Our professors demand perfection, and I always try to deliver the best papers and create the insightful conversations to meet their expectations.  The problem with this identity is that it is not guaranteed.  I don't have a scholarship; I pay as I go, and at a private college, it is really tough to manage.  I would love to attend graduate school, but that seems like a distant dream right now especially with the inability to have perfect grades.  I suppose I ought to be happy being an average student at an extraordinary school, but it really messes with my confidence.

I am a worker-- wait, I am unemployed.  Next!

I am a husband, but this is way too complicated, so I am skipping this entirely.

I am a dad.  This one feels good.  Actually, this one feels perfect.  I am a dad.  This will never change.  Catching a slimy, blue baby changed my life forever in one second.  I see the world through different eyes, and I imagine the greatest potential in everyone because I am a dad.  I feel that it is my duty to defend the defenseless, feed the hungry, and comfort the hurt from the empathy gained in this role.  These are things that feel natural, and I enjoy doing them.  This doesn't mean that I see myself a father to every person I meet, but it does mean that if  I can help you, then I will help you.  I am limited, so my assistance will not be perfect, but I will be there for you.  If I have it, then you can have it; don't hesitate in asking.

It is funny how small moments can change us in ways that we never fully comprehend, but I am proud to say that this is who I am-- a dad.