Museum of Glass Art

Keeping Up with the Biebers

I often worry that I’m not involved enough with my kids. I’ve often seen and heard from various parents and grandparents that time is best thing you can give to your kids. But how much is enough without smothering them? It’s a delicate balance between being involved and giving them space to be themselves. Unfortunately, the scale is invisible and it’s hard reading the needle when you’ve got one foot on either end.

A year ago I made the mistake of pushing my son into cub scouts. Of course, I only call it a mistake because he didn’t like it. The problem is he’s a kid who won’t do anything until you give him a little nudge forward and he realizes how much he actually likes it. And I honestly thought he might like it. In scouting, especially with the younger kids, you play games, run around, go on field trips, discover things, and best of all I get to be a part of it. Unfortunately, he hated it, and I suspect that it was partially because it was me pushing him.

And with both of my kids I’ve often fell into the common mistake of comparing them with other kids. Are they keeping up? Why can that girl do something my kid can’t or what is it I’m not doing with my kids that is inhibiting them from excelling like some other kids?

Too many questions. What I always end up reminding myself is this: They’re just kids. And no matter what I do or don’t do, they’re going to grow up anyhow. I guess I should just enjoy them. We all want what’s best for our kids. But maybe what’s best isn’t always trying to build a superstar.

Lance Armstrong Returns Awards

Maybe it’s just me, but don’t you think the U.S. Anti-Doping Association (USADA) stripping Lance Armstrong of all awards and prizes earned after August 1, 1998 is just a tiny bit too harsh? And keep in mind that this is coming from a guy who’s been a long-distance runner for 20 years and avoids drugs of all kinds like the plague. I don’t even like taking Advil if I can avoid it. Still, we’re talking about Lance Armstrong - a man who’s probably the most drug-tested man in sports. People have been so mystified or perhaps envious of Lance’s accomplishments that he’s undergone test after test and he’s passed all but the most recent tests; recent meaning within the last few years. So why take away awards from 14 years ago, the years that he passed repeatedly?

Again, I’d be the last to endorse illegal drug usage or doping. But to take the punishment beyond reasonable boundaries just sounds like more petty jealously. If the USADA is looking to set an example, you’d think that it’d be a good example. Any thoughts?

Hurricane's a'comin', Run for the Hills!

So it looks like there’s another hurricane heading toward Florida, with possibly two other systems behind it trailing behind. I’m going to take a terrible risk and take a moment to rip into everyone’s favorite reporter, the weather guy. I know there’s a lot to meteorology and weather systems and air pressure and changes of patterns, yadda-yadda-yadda. But there’s one part of a meteorologist’s job that, shall I say, any idiot could do. And that’s track hurricanes.

Hurricane tracking even today appears to be nothing more than watching that big-old spiraling mess of clouds move along commonly followed tracks through satellite photos.  I can’t be only one who thinks this. And determining the projected path requires nothing more than asking the computer to do some modeling. Heck. I’m actually more impressed by the software gurus who implemented the computer models than the weather guy who’s using it. At the same time there’s these hurricane “prediction experts” who once a year put on their beanie caps and tell the whole world how many hurricanes and tropical storms they foresee will be barreling our way. And people actually believe these jokers, despite the fact that they’re about as accurate as a blind man attempting to solve a Rubik’s Cube. Ridiculous.

Anyhow, I’ll get off my pedestal and, in all seriousness, mention that’s now’s the time to stock up on hurricane supplies. If and you’ve lived in Florida or anywhere within a hundred miles of an ocean, you SHOULD know what these are; water, canned foods, flashlights, batteries, radio. But here are a few tips that you may not have considered:

·         Cell Phones May Not Work: These little gadgets have become such an integral part of our everyday lives, it’s hard to imagine not being able to use them. But if a storm knocks out the power to the closest cell phone towers, you’re the only thing you’ll be using your phone for is Angry Birds.

·         Stock Up on Toilet Paper: May sound like a silly item, but try to picture yourself without it. Try to imagine what you’d be using instead of toilet paper and very quickly you’ll realize the importance of this staple.

·         Get to Know Your Neighbors by Name: This may sound like an idealistic goal that everyone knows they should be doing anyhow. But trust me from someone who’s been through a few storms. When you have a tree where, say, your bedroom used to be, having a couple nearby buddies with chainsaws and muscle can make a huge difference.

·         Have Some Card/Board Games Handy: Like with the cell phones, imagine a world with no electricity. And depending on the storm’s severity and impact on your town, you may be twiddling your thumbs for days on end.

And to wrap up, here’s another weird look into my sense of humor: 

School's Back

Today was the first day of school for thousands of kids in my section of the country. My kids actually started last week and already my son’s missed days of school from catching a cold from another kid in school. Yippee. Like most people, I have mixed feelings about my memories of school growing up. I miss it and thank God that I’m done. The tests, the friends, the homework, the novelties, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the rankness of gyms and locker rooms, the bagged lunches, the frustrations and pressures from kids with more confidence, the music, the sports, the reading, the notes, the school bells… ugg, I get tired of just typing it all out. Yet, man how I miss it. For those of you who are school teachers, like my wife, I certainly feel immense pity and respect for having to face this repeatedly like a real life Groundhog’s Day. Since my wife is a teacher, I have the wonderful displeasure of reliving the hell of Prom every year as a chaperone. Apparently since I failed at it when I was in high school, I get to relive this atrocious experience year after year after year. Fun, fun, fun.

In any case, I wish all the kids out there all the luck. They’re certainly going to need it. And to kick things off, here’s some of my odd sense of school-related humor:

A Brazzle Dazzle Pete's Dragon

My son and I were watching Disney’s “Pete’s Dragon” yesterday when it struck me what wonderful movie this is, wonderful because of all the terrible elements in story. You’ve got a child runaway, child abuse, truantism, alcoholism, stereotyping, medical malpractice, herd mentality, kidnapping, loss of a loved one - just to name a few. Yet it’s told in such a fun-loving way, these horrendous elements are actually palatable for adults and kids. It reminds of me many of those happy-negative songs from the sixties with bouncy, foot-tapping melodies and lyrics like, “Ain’t no time to wonder why. Whoopie! We’ll all going to die!”

For “Pete’s Dragon”, this happy slant on these awful experiences is perfectly depicted through the eyes of a young Pete. Younger kids often have this inexplicable optimism despite the atrocities they may be enduring. That’s one of the things I’ve always found wonderful about kids; regardless where they are or what situation they’re in, they always find a way to play or make a game out of their situation. Such blind optimism wavers during teen years, fizzles in early adulthood, and practically nonexistent thereafter. I guess experience has a way of telling us that tomorrow’s not always as rosy as we hope. But I’m also sure that no matter how pessimistic you’ve grown to be, there’s always something that makes you at least wish that you had a big green dragon to swoop down and take you away from the Gogans. I know I do.

Darth Vader's First Failed Job

I Love the Rain

In spite of the mountains of documents and endless emails that I have yet to read, address, and sort out, I wasted few minutes today at work staring outside my office window at the silent rain falling outside. I’ve always loved rain, there’s a certain calming about it that comforts like a cozy blanket. This seems contrary to most songs and poems that typically speak of pleasant sunny days and gloomy rainy days. Plus, some may think it odd that someone born and raised in the “Sunshine State” like me must like the actually the sun over the rain. I suspect that if I packed up and moved to somewhere like Seattle where rainy days outnumber sunny ones, my opinion would change to wanting more sun. But I suppose that’s what gives value to simple pleasures, the fact that it’s not of great abundance and so we cherish them even more.

Which brings me to the question, what simple pleasures do you value? What moments in your life do you find comforting? Please post your pleasures.

Kids Never Remember What They Should

I had an epiphany the other day when I was talking with my kids about a trip to Williamsburg we took recently. You can easily spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on family vacations, trying to build good childhood memories for my kids. But it’s no use. They never remember what should. They don’t remember the fancy dinners or the sights on the expensive tours or most anything else that burns through your hard-earned savings. They remembered things like what the stray dog smelled like that we happened upon between bus tours and the taste of the free candy-like mints as we were leaving the fancy dinner.

Case in point, when I was about eight or nine, the age my kids are now, my mother, brother, and I were visiting my grandparents and aunt and uncle in Pittsburgh one summer. At one point, we headed out to downtown Pittsburgh and visited the touristy spots, the few that there are. Though I’m sure my grandparents and aunt and uncle laid down quite a bit of money on Incline tickets, the Pittsburgh Science Center, a Pirate’s game, and all the food and treats they shoveled our way, my most memorable moment on this trip had nothing to do with any of this. It was late and we were all walking through downtown to the nearest subway station after a Pirate’s game when I came across an old homeless lady, draped in layer after layer of rags and clothes and pushing a grocery cart. My grandfather, the perpetually observant man that he was, noticed the homeless lady and looked at me and immediately read the question in my mind. Placing an arm across my shoulders, he leaned down and whispered, “That’s a bag lady. She lives out on the streets all the time so she has to carry her home and everything she owns with her wherever she goes.” I was mystified. This was undoubtedly most memorable moment of the entire trip.

Anytime we’re out and about with my kids, I often wonder what moments they will be carrying with them into adulthood. Sometimes I think back at that “bag lady” and my grandfather’s instant clarity and I look for similar occasions with my kids where I can open their eyes to another piece of life. But suspect that no matter how hard I try, what they remember is forever out of my control. I guess such parenting is like playing darts in a hurricane; we keep tossing them over and with any luck one or two will stick.

Another use for that $3000 flat screen TV

The Smell of Coffee

I’m always so impressed how immediate our senses trigger the memory. I was given a coffee-flavored chocolate the other day and was struck by the following memory…

The smell of coffee brewing in the morning. I hop out of bed, my six-year-old bare feet sliding through the shag carpet in the dim, chilly light. Peeking around the corner, I see Nana at kitchen window gazing out to the early morning light, a cigarette dangling from her lips like a dying leaf. “Come on in,” her course voice calls to me without looking. Her six-sense baffles me. I join her, standing side-by-side, she still in her night gown. She turned to me, “What’d you dream?” She always knew I had one tucked away. I speak, weaving a tale of a flying boy with super-human abilities. I don’t know if she hears my story or if her mind is wondering off somewhere else as she listens to my squeaky voice. I don’t care. I give her a hug anyhow.

More Sugar

There I was. Hunched over my computer, frustrated, trying to get a piece of software to work and feeling the crunch of the deadline pressing down on me. I leaned away from the dining room table where I had my work laptop set up and did my typical “Stressed John” pose, arching my back and digging my fingers into my hair. I breathed out slowly and my seven-year-old son nearly scared me to death from behind.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

I jerked. “Ah, nothing. Just… trying to get this working.”

That’s when the wise philosopher emerged from my seven-year-old. Laying his hand on my shoulder and giving his head and a thoughtful tilt to the side, he said, “What you need is more sugar.”

I smiled and nodded. I couldn’t think of anything any more truthful. “Son,” I said, “Who doesn’t?”