Let’s Do IT together

Posted on February 8, 2016 by Bob Martin

Mature Man ScaleThis morning I became angry with myself. I had nobody to get angry at outside of me, myself, and I. I could not believe what I had done, and who I had become. I realized that I have been fooling myself for a while now. I kept saying that I was doing alright. I wanted to believe that I actually was making it happen with little or no effort on my part. I remembered telling our daughter only yesterday that if you truly want something to occur, you have to work for it. While I did not use the words, “no such thing as a free lunch,” I came close. Yet, here I was expecting things to happen just because I wished for them. How could I tell our daughter something without living up to my words?

So what did I do that was so bad? I stepped on the scale. Scales do not lie! My wife and I had decided to do this 7 day challenge we had seen on Facebook. It deals with cutting out the bad and adding the good. We are challenging each other. I took it to see if I could restart what I had done last year in the spring. I wanted to see if I could do it.

In order to see if the challenge works, I had to step on the scale. Years ago, I had reached 240 pounds. I could not stand myself at that time. I was tired. I had to buy new clothes. I was alone. At the urging of a friend, I started a boot camp program. After a few months, I was down to 209. Not too bad, but nowhere near my basic training weight of 186.

Since that time, I have done the rollercoaster that so many ride. My weight has gone up and down. Last spring I had gotten back to 214. I was on the way. Then I got busy. I needed to work more. I wanted to sleep a little more. I hurt my knee running. I……insert excuse here (I think I have used them all). I blamed my co-workers for bringing in too many treats. Oh wait, I brought in the doughnuts. I ate out more because….well because. I knew my shirts weren’t fitting the same. Things became tight. I kept telling myself that all was fine, I was maintaining. Today, I admit I was maintaining bad habits.

This morning I stepped on the scale to find the number 235.2 staring back at me!!!!! That does it.

Now I am not going cold turkey. I am not going to start working out two hours a day. I am not going to go nuts. I am going to try and make small changes. The challenge is a great way to start. I will try to slowly move down to my goal weight. The first goal is 5 pounds.

This is all fine, but I started thinking about why I want to get into shape. We are a country that shows off great looking people one second and then fast food burgers the next. In some cases, both are shown at the same time. We receive these mixed messages all the time. Our stores charge more for healthy foods than they do for junk food, but they post signs about choosing healthy. News articles are constantly telling us what is the best way to stay in shape only to contradict themselves a week later. So with all of this happening, why should I buy into it all and try to get into shape? I think that if you have read any of my posts, you already know, we have an eight year old daughter.

My family has a horrible track record when it comes to health. I have been fortunate to this point and all is well. I am lucky to have a doctor who keeps track of my history and watches my health. My father passed while only 42. I have many reasons to do this, but my daughter still tops the list.

I am glad to say that I have some great examples to follow. My wife is not only my biggest cheerleader, but she is also a great example. She shows me every day that excuses are not accepted. She goes out every day to get a work out done. She has never chastised me for my lack, but she is always willing to support. My oldest brother and his wife are two other examples. My brother like me used to have excuses. One day they stopped. He started. Little by little, the weight dropped off. The two of them run together to work out. They both just completed a race in Florida while on vacation. They are heroes to me even if they do not know it. They are older than me. Age has nothing to do with getting in to shape. I have a colleague that who is unwittingly challenging me to play catch up in the “get in-shape” game.

A number of my friends have done it. Some needed a little extra assistance, some had partners, and some did it on their own. I see them and know that I can do this. Again, at the moment I am lucky to not have the health issues, but they are probably closer than I think at this moment.

So here I go. No New Year’s Resolution. No fad diet. I am going to do this and do it right – slowly. I cannot promise that I will be here for every milestone of our daughter. But I can promise that I will change my ways and make sure I am doing all I can.

Who wants to join me? I have added a forum to the site under Let’s Get Fit Together. I have a few topics and will be adding more. They say that it takes support to make it. Let’s support each other. Share your experiences. Share your support. Share your victories. Just be there for each other.

Thank you for meandering with me and hope to see you on the forums.

 

Posted in Do right thing, health | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Cookies for Sale

Posted on February 6, 2016 by Bob Martin

Close up of Girl Scout cookies“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” I heard that phrase for a solid two hours today. Our little one and her fellow scout stood outside the local mall selling box after box. They explained to the customers how each flavor tasted. They spoke to every person who passed by, some accepted, some apologized, some ignored them totally. Yet these two girls kept smiling and even wished them a nice day. In the end, the two sold 154 boxes. They met their goal plus four.

I stood watching these two for the entire period. While it may be February, the temperatures were warm enough to make you sweat in the sun. My wife and the mother of the other scout sat behind the table collecting the money, running the cards, and restocking the table. While it was warm, the cookies moved so fast that melting could not even begin.

The two moms spent the two hours making sure the girls stayed on task.

“Turn around. Your customers are behind you.”

“Stop hiding behind the map. I know it has shade, but there are no customers out there.”

“Get up.”

All of these phrases echoed time and time again while the girls were being reminded why they were there. I am not sure that the girls really cared. After the first hour, the intrigue had been replaced by hunger, thirst, and boredom. I too started to lose my excitement of being there. My mind started wandering and meandering back to my own childhood and having to hawk my wares as a fund-raiser.

As a youngster, I belonged to a Drum and Bugle Corps as well as attending Catholic school, and finally belonging to the band in high school. All three, and I am sure there were more, involved fund-raising. We raised money for trips, for supplies, and for uniforms. My parents believed that if we wanted to be part of the groups then we had to do the selling. My parents didn’t take the forms to work and sell for us. My wife and I believe the same for our daughter.

I guess in a way it seems sad that we are not willing to up the number of boxes to be credited to her. However, I must always go back to the way I was raised. My parents were not perfect, but they did believe in one doing their own work and earning their way. I believe that it is from where I get a good part of my work ethic. It also is the reason that I have so many memories in which I can revisit during these years of watching our daughter do the same.

I believe my want to succeed and compete in numbers also ended up causing my parents more embarrassment than others. I wanted to sell. I would sell to anybody and everybody. I would attack my parents’ friends. I would approach strangers and ask. I would find new and unique ways to sell items.

Coming from our small town, we were friends with so many of the people. One such case was a priest from the local shrine. I cannot remember how we really met him or how he became so close to the family. I just know that when you needed somebody to talk with Fr. Louis was the man. He cared about people very much. If our drum corps had a rehearsal weekend in the local area, he would come visit and even offer a non-denominational service. He helped us out in many ways. Due to this, I would often take advantage of the friendship.

The Shrine had a rectory with a number of priests. They had to eat. Being part of the high school band which traveled to Florida every two years, we had to sell oranges and grapefruits. Being Catholic, I had to go to confession. In those days, you went once a month – need it or not. My parents dreaded when we would go. They knew. I would go into the confessional – we already did face-to-face – I would confess. It took minutes. Then I would kick back and start chatting. After a while, Fr. Louis would ask what I was selling. I would pull out my order forms. Forty-five minutes after entering the confessional, I would emerge to stares. People would whisper and look at my parents. They looked at the ground and would wait until we walked out of church before asking how much I sold.

My having to see for all of these clubs actually led to my first job. I was a Fuller Brush salesman. I had my kit and would go door-to-door selling brushes, combs, cleaning supplies, and other items. I also had a job as a water bed salesman later in life. All of these things came about because my parents had me complete the task of raising money for the groups to which I belonged.

I snapped back to our daughter. She completes a sales of six boxes. I can tell that she is tired and not finding this all that fun. But she continues. She turns around and starts asking the next person to walk by. My wife gives her a tip and she goes back at it. I can start to see that when she is older, she will have skills from today from which she will be able to draw. I wonder if Fuller Brush is still around.

So the next time you see a student doing a fund-raiser, help them out. You are helping them build skills for life.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight. Oh yeah, let me know if our daughter should contact you with a box or two.

Posted in Do right thing, family | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

A Cat’s Thoughts

Posted on February 6, 2016 by Bob Martin

WIN_20160206_08_26_09_ProToday we are going down a different road. Come with me as I look at the being that live around me. Just so you are aware, this is not Bob writing. It is one of those days where they (those two legged creatures) lie in my bed late into the morning. My name is Kiantrangopolisanti. Yeah, go ahead and try to pronounce it – please don’t. It bothers me when the beings try to say it. You may call me Kia. That is what my beings call me. I trained them on the shorter name so that they didn’t hurt my ears.

I have heard the one with the really short hair wonder what it is like to be me. Even the shortest of the group often says how she wants to be a cat. Hmph. They think it is so easy being me. It is a lot of work. Not like them just lying in my bed all morning. I work hard at training these beings and keeping them in line.

The littlest one is my favorite when I want to play. I think I have trained her better than all the rest. She knows what I like. On many afternoons, when she is not off at that place she takes food to every day, she treats me well. She selects items for me to wear. I love the hats and glasses best. More importantly, she does not make me walk. She has this wonderful bed on wheels; she calls it a stroller. She sets me in it and wraps me in a blanket and we walk. I don’t care where we go, it is so comfortable that I get in a good nap. She has these toys that I get for her to use, but she doesn’t do them all that often. The hardest part is trying to get her to play like a cat. We can start off tumbling with each other. However the first time I try to bite her or show her who is the winner she gets all upset. I used to play like this with my brothers and sisters and they never went crying to my mom. The big people yell at me for playing like this. They are too soft.

When it comes to playing, I look for the one with the long hair. She knows how to play. I have her trained to throw things. Yes, it is a lot of work to constantly run, get it, and bring it back, but it makes her happy. I find it really makes her happy when I run across the floor and slide at the last moment to get the ring. She laughs. While bumping my head into the wall all the time isn’t the greatest, I will suffer to make these beings happy. The things we must do for the animals we choose to have. She seems to have the most fun when I let her play with the light gadget. I have to jump all over the place to show her where the little red dot is on the wall and floors, but she seems to get the most joy out of this toy.

The short haired being is the calmest of the group. I can get him to play with me, but I go to him most when I just want to relax. He has a calmness about him that causes me to settle down. I really like to sit on top of the keys on this thing that has words. It is warm and it causes him to pet me and pick me up. It is fun to sit on the chair with him next to his legs. He is so warm and keeps me warm. Lately though, I have trained him on a new trick. I get on my big bed when he stands near it. I tap him gently, you have to be careful not to hurt these beings, and he bends over. I can jump up on his shoulders. I ride about there through the house until he passes the spot I want to take a nap. This so much better than walking.

I have trained my beings well. They serve my food twice a day and clean up my box. But life is still not easy with them. I still am training them to not bother me when I want to nap on the big table. Just when I get comfortable, one of them moves me (not the little one, she giggles). I also have to work hard at getting them to understand my wants when it is dark. For some reason, when the sun goes down, these beings think that is the time to sleep – what a waste. I try to rouse them out of bed, but they just wave their hands at me. I have to duck so they miss me.

I do have short hair trained to lift the blanket for me. I love to sleep underneath the blanket. I can crawl on the bed and tap him. His hand automatically lifts the blanket to let me take a short nap. While that works, it doesn’t work when I tap him to get up to play. He just pushes me away. I try everything to get them going, but these types of beings just don’t have the energy of us cats. I even tried walking on the thing that lets out music this morning. I planned it perfectly. I pushed the button and out came the music. His hand just slapped a different button and turned it off. The worst part is when they act like they are getting up. They get out of my bed and head for the door. I run ahead of them to show them where to go next and they shut the door. I must stop falling for this one.

The one good thing is that I send them out of the house almost every day. They need time to be with other beings. If it was not for those eight hours of peace and quiet, I am not sure how I would manage these beings. I can deal with the couple of days each week when they are home more than normal. However, every once in a while, they stay home for days at a time. IT IS EXHAUSTING.

Just the same, I am glad I have these beings. I really recommend every cat get at least one. I know that there are some dogs out there who own beings. I have not made my mind up about this one. I often look out the window and see the dogs exercising their beings. I worry that this could damage the beings so I will limit the amount of exercise I make mine do.

Oh well, the short haired being is up so I better wrap this up. I hope that this has provided some insight on the life of a cat. For all you cats sitting with your beings at their TV with words, take care of them. You never know how long you will have them.

Thank you for meandering with me.

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Visions of After

Posted on February 4, 2016 by Bob Martin

New winding mountain road with drawn linesSometimes the brain takes you on a journey that makes no sense. Often, when I go on these weird thought patterns, it is the result of a stressful day. Perhaps the frustration level was high, tasks needed to be done, there were a lot of interruptions, or some other series of events that would make my internal-self move off into other realms. Today was not like that. The time from morning till night went quite nicely. While there were many things on the to do list, the day did not stand out as anything out of the norm. Yet, on the way home my thoughts went to places that I cannot explain. I am curious whether these are normal inclinations or am I just weird (okay – to my “friends” I know I just opened a door with that one).

I love where we live. We are up in the mountains. While the area is a wonderful place to be, imagine Mayberry being placed in Los Angeles. It is not this that makes it a place to go after work. I am not sure how, but somehow the stress of work cannot make it up the hill. As soon as I turn the corner with the incline ahead of me, I can feel the pressures melt away. Tonight, the same happened, but once my head was clear of work it happened. What will happen when I am gone?

Yes. I started thinking of my own death. I can guess that the fact that I am 50 may have something to do with it, but that is a weak excuse. I am not ill. I have no health issues. I am fine. Yet there it was bouncing around in my head. The fact is I did not just think about death; I looked at it from every angle. I went all the way from the actual event to how life continued without me. The more I tried to stop it; the more it happened.

From what I can remember it was a peaceful end. I watched as people I know dealt with it. I saw what I always knew – my wife is strong. I felt the pain for both my wife and child as they had to deal with loss. I saw that they moved forward together. I watched the world move on. Internally I felt sad and also peace. This was a weird trip home.

I could not help but think about the trip as I sat and had dinner. What the heck was going on? I thought, did I have something for lunch that was giving me these thoughts (I don’t know, they always ask what you had for dinner when you have strange dreams). Was I receiving a message about life that I was supposed to figure out? Do I worry about my family history subconsciously?

An explanation started to take shape in my head. Actually many reasons came across to me. Part of me thinks that I was being reminded of the fact that nobody is that important to think that the world ends with them. My visions showed me how everybody continued. Yes, there were sad points, but in the end life went on. I believe that sometimes we get so wrapped up in what is happening in our world that we start to believe that everything does revolve around us. My little internal movie showed me that I am just a little piece, a very little piece, of the world. I help to make everything else move. When I am gone, someone else will take my spot. There is no person that is the center of the world.

I also took time to see if anything I have done in my life made a mark. Like so many others, I would like to think that I will do something that will be remembered long after I am gone. I write. Inside, I would like to think that somewhere is that novel that will make a difference for others. I imagine that I can leave a story that will be read by others for years and help people understand life or one part of it more. I hope that I will help others see something within themselves so that they strive to make a difference. I could not see anything that proves that that will happen. What I did see is that our daughter turned into a compassionate young lady that helps others in many ways. My mark, my way of improving this world, is her.

Finally, and this struck me most of all, I saw the love shared by my wife and I. I saw the goodness in the world. I saw that we are not as badly off as so many think. Even though we were separated, I could still feel the passion for the woman I love and her love was returned. The emotion was strong. The best part was that this was not isolated to just us. I saw how much people in the world wanted peace. I felt hope for the world.

I ended my evening with a smile. I thought my drive had delivered some sad news or a message of despair. Instead, I end with hope, faith, love, and courage. I think that all of the media coverage on the bad in the world started to take its toll. I was seeing, hearing, and feeling negativity. My brain took those negative emotions and flipped them. I go to sleep tonight knowing that there is many good things ahead. I am not worried about the end. I look forward to the world ahead and the future.

Thank you for meandering with me today.

Posted in death, dreams, Fright | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Fishing Anyone?

Posted on February 3, 2016 by Bob Martin

Winter Snow Covered StreamToday’s writing is about one of my older brothers. It also deals with what we would do in my small town for entertainment. This one is not specific to my area. I served with a number of people who came from rural areas, and I heard stories that, well not exactly the same, constantly took me back to some of own memories. I promise that the event really happened. I never experienced anything like this before or since.

Before we get into the event, it would help to let you know a little bit about my brother. I am the youngest of four – all boys. My poor mother was definitely outnumbered though I must say that during my childhood, she held her own. Each of us definitely had his own personality. While we may share some physical characteristics, we are each unique. This is a great thing, but boy does it cause for interesting holidays.

The interesting thing about the brother I have chosen for tonight is that he is named after my dad, and, more than any of the other three, shared many of the same personality traits. Based on stories told to me by the older generation, my dad was sort of a rebel. He caused problems in town. His teen years took place in the ‘50s. I hate to say it, but I often picture him as one of the greasers. My brother didn’t get into trouble with the law, but he liked to be the one to break the rules. He loved to work on cars with his friends and still does even today. He often liked to do things in his own way at his own time.

I grew up watching him. I grew up wishing that I had the courage to rebel in half the ways he did. However, I also saw him get in trouble and decided that boring wasn’t so bad. I can remember his sneaking back into our room late one night only to find my dad sitting on the radiator waiting for him. We won’t even get into the magazines that he hid under my bed so he wouldn’t get into trouble.

This memory doesn’t involve him getting into trouble. Tonight, I remember a very cool afternoon that the two of spent near our home. My brother is a hunter and fisherman. He does both for food. He makes sure to use whatever he catches. Hunting to him is not just a sport. While he hunts the same as any other person, sometimes when he goes fishing – well…….he has his own way of doing things.

I would have to say that I was 15 at the time which would put him at 17. I believe that it was February. All I remember is that there was snow on the ground and ice over the area he took me to fish. With the weather I dealt with over the past weekend, I think it triggered this story in my head. The two of us in sneakers, jeans, shirts, and just our school jackets headed out.

It was a weekend and we were both bored. My brother asked if I wanted to go fishing with him. Now for me, fishing isn’t exactly an activity that I would volunteer to do. However, and this is the down side of coming from the rural area, a weekend in the middle of winter doesn’t really offer up many other options. I figured why not. We threw on our coats and started walking down route 18 to the creek. We talked about whatever teen brothers would talk about to pass the time. I believe that I noticed he didn’t have a fishing pole with him, but knowing my brother he had something planned. He always did.

I can remember getting down to the creek area. You had to leave the road and go down a steep incline to the water. This place was quiet in the summer time. In the winter, it was more than silent. It has an eeriness to it. Not many cars passed by and with a golf course across the road and a cemetery nearby, no noises came from the neighbors. Dormant trees lined the creek area. Once in a while when a small breeze would come by you would hear the creaking as the bare, sad-looking corpses of trees moved back and forth. Had this been late in the evening with the sun setting, one would have thought that a bad horror film was starting. Fortunately, the sun stood high in the sky or as high as it would get for this time of year. We stood there and looked at the creek. I wondered how we would fish, my brother was plotting.

The ice-covered most of the water. A few small holes allowed one to see that the water still flowed underneath the frozen covering. The water moved at a slow rate, but you could see a small ripple here and there. It felt as if the water was trying to stop completely but couldn’t. I stared at the holes somewhat amazed at nature. The thickness of the ice allowed us to stand on it yet underneath the water still moved, life still continued. My brother told me that this looked good. I stared at him still wondering just how one fished without a rod and reel. I soon learned.

My brother moved up and down the ice. He enlarged a hole. He moved along the ice some more and pointed. Under the ice a dark shadow moved. It was a slow shadow, but you could see the dark spot going back and forth. As he moved on the top of the ice, the shadow moved in the opposite direction. He controlled it.

He finally gave me my instructions. I was to find the shadows and walk them toward the hole he had worked on. He stood on the opposite side of the hole. I was intrigued enough to do what he wanted, asked me to do. By now I had realized his plan. This I had to see.

I walked along the ice. Sure enough, I found a shadow. I moved myself to be on the side opposite the hole. With every step the shadow moved toward my brother. I had to take a step left or right to keep it on course; it took the path of my choosing. We inched closer to the hole. My brother took a stance with his feet wide apart. He crouched down. His hands over the hole like a catcher.

I took a final step and the shadow turned into a fish. Once in the hole, you could see it clearly in the slow-moving water. Before I could even say, “There it is”, my brother had reached in grabbed it, pulled it out, and knocked it out. He had caught his fish. He had caught my attention. He had caught my respect. Respect not for fishing, I still didn’t care for it. He caught my respect because he didn’t feel the need to always do things the way people said it had to be done. He had a task to do, and he figured out a way to do it. It wouldn’t have been my way, but he didn’t care. I think he actually liked the showmanship as much as the catch. It allowed him to say that there is more than one way to do things.

My brother and I had different sets of friends. He liked to work on cars and get greasy. I liked to write and create stories. Being from a small town, our circles of friends often intertwined and we hung out doing things with each other. When my cousins were in town, we would all go out and bowl or some other activity. However, this is the day that always sticks in my mind. This was the time it was just the two of us. It was the time, I let my brother show me just who he was/is. This is a day I often use to describe my brother. A person who can solve problems and get the job done.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight. Thanks for reading about my brother.

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Lies, Myths, and Truths

Posted on February 2, 2016 by Bob Martin

I believe that people who write for an outlet are a strange group of people. We run scenarios of all types through our head for any event possible. The scenes go from hilarious to sad to frightening to happy. We also tend to not let things leave our head until they reach paper or keyboard. I write tonight to let go of these thoughts. This meander is going to take us down a strange path.

Before I get into the topic, these are just thoughts and questions. I have not ruined our daughter’s dreams, hopes, or ambitions. I will not wake her up tomorrow and tell her that Santa is not real (ooops. Spoiler alert about Santa). I will let her be a child, but at what cost?

This morning, our little one told me that her class is doing a biography project. Her teacher offered the class twelve people, each person had to pick one, from which to select. She chose Helen Keller. She was quite proud of two facts: 1 – she was the only one to pick Ms. Keller. 2- She had already read the book provided by her teachers. Facts started flowing about this wonderful person’s life. My mind started playing The Miracle Worker in my head. I could see Patty Duke in quite possibly her best role ever. Our daughter referred to her notes to ensure that all facts had been stated accurately. This would be a good project for her.

In the car, on the way to school, our little researcher reread her book. She read aloud so I could hear all of the details. What an amazing life this woman left. What an inspiration to young and old alike. How could one complain about life knowing what this person went through? Then I heard something that stuck with me. The book, Helen Keller: An Inspiring Life, quoted Ms. Keller as saying, “We can do anything we want to do if we stick to it long enough.” What a great quote. These words matched what I told our daughter all of the time. Then it hit me – these words may be true for some, but many will not find their truth.

That thought, that one little pebble of an idea started an avalanche that lasted the day. We look at our children each and every day and demand that they be truthful to us as parents. We accepts their stories and tales, but when push comes to shove, we want the truth. Yet, we are anything but back at them. We pump them up that they can be anything as long as they work hard and persevere. I, like Helen Keller, tell our daughter, and told my students, that they world was an open book. They had the chance to write their story. We send them to bed at night dreaming of the life that will be.

Let’s face facts. Many people have dreams and work very, very hard to make them come true only to be disappointed. I live in Southern California – I see it all the time. I know this. I have tried a number of different paths. Still, I send our daughter off to school every day promising that by working hard she can obtain her dreams. She hears it from others – family, teachers, friends, and books on people who did succeed. Then it dawned on me that this is the same thoughts by almost everyone who succeeds. I guess it just wouldn’t sound the same to say, “Go honey. Work hard, persevere and you might have a chance to be what you want to be.”

Then I started thinking of other things we tell our children – Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, I will be around for a long time. The first three folklore, the last a promise that I do not know if I can keep. We tell our children all these things to make their life better. We want them to believe in fairies. We long for them to be children and not worry about the bad things in life. But they are lies.

I thought for sure that when our daughter was born eight years ago that I would have all of the answers. After all, I have been working with young people for thirty plus years. My friends all had older kids or grown children. I learned from them. I listened to their stories and took it all in. They shared the good, the bad, and the ugly with me. Like a good student, I heard and memorized. I studied for this test. However, now that I am in the middle of the test, I do not have the answers. I ask, but one person tells me to select C (the answer is always C), another says no it is B, and the last says “All of the above.” Their answers are not wrong – they are right for their situation, not mine.

I wondered all day if I am a hypocrite. I did not come to an answer. I explained the characters of myth as being a way to make childhood more enduring for her. I know that when the time comes, I will be able to use the explanations of so many people before me. She will accept them and probably not think about the fact that the things that made up her early years were not true.

That took me back to Helen Keller. How do you explain it if she works as hard as possible and does not succeed. How will I look at a dejected person, one to whom I promised success, and tell them that it doesn’t always come true. Some are luckier than others. How do I get her back up on her feet and get her to try again. How?

I will say that a conversation with a colleague did give me a little insight. It depends on what we consider success. We talked about Edison and his failures. However, even that as an example doesn’t work because he did succeed. We did talk about how failure can be success depending on what one gets out of it. Does it break you or make you work harder? These are great thoughts. I just hope that if I need to go there, it is understood.

This is odd. Most nights when I write I get answers to my own questions. Tonight, I am left with questions. I am left with concerns. I am left with worries about how what I teach her now will affect her later. Am I setting her up for success or failure? Will she forgive me if what I promise now doesn’t work?

I am a father. This worry will stay with me forever. I am sure that this will be such a trivial fear in years to come. Tonight, it looms over me. I will walk on alone now and worry.

Thank you for meandering with me.

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RETREAT!!!!!!

Posted on February 1, 2016 by Bob Martin

Clairon - Clarion - 19th centuryThis weekend was amazing. I retreated. I retreated from the world. I retreated from technology (well almost). I retreated from the problems of life. I retreated from myself.

I am not sure if it is due to my having been in the military or quite possibly watching too many cartoons as a child, but when I hear the word retreat I think of running away. I can picture this cartoon of a soldier on a horse blowing charge and riding from left to right across the screen. A few seconds pass and the soldier’s horse goes faster back across the screen right to left blowing retreat. For me the word retreat meant running from everything, and I do mean everything.  I picture militaries running from foes that outnumber and out power them. I picture, what Hollywood depicts, cowards. People who cannot handle life.

This past weekend, I chaperoned a retreat of 59 teenagers – TEENAGERS. While this retreat was religious in nature, the more I read, the more I find that there are retreats of many sorts. You do not have to be looking for God, you just need to refocus on life. All of this may have been what turned me off every time I heard the word retreat. I admit I looked down on the need to escape life. I thought that it was not something I needed.

I have been instructing in our confirmation program for a little over a year. I was asked to chaperone the retreat last year. I had a dozen excuses and back out. This year, after knowing the students a little better, I accepted the offer. The students needed this and I would sit in the back to make sure they were paying attention. I would offer my time to make sure they got something out of this.

The week prior to the event, I thought twice. I mentioned to my wife my hesitations. I started thinking of excuses. She told me to go. I trust my wife. I listen to my wife. I did not back out. I thought about work I could do while the kids were retreating from life.

I went knowing I would be assigned a group with which to work. I thought, well while the presenters were talking I could be planning. I could then handle small group discussions. I even debated leaving at night to sleep in our cabin where it would be nice and quiet. I could watch TV and work. I would be able to get so much done.

We arrived at the center. For our situation, we had two sisters running the show. I can’t call them nuns since they were anything but what you would think of with that word. I was pleasantly surprised that I and the other two older chaperones had individual rooms. Okay. I could stay. We unloaded and were prepping for the first talk on leaving behind our troubles. I thought of bringing my computer down with me. I decided to set the example and not bring it down just yet.

Our first session started. The talk was personal and made the students think about their lives and where they stood. Chaperones stayed toward the back to allow the kids to forget we were there. Without my electronics, I had nothing to do but listen and follow along. I started looking inward. Darn those sisters and their ways. Who were they to get me to start judging myself – not in a negative way – but looking just the same?

After the first talk, we broke into our small group. I realized as I looked at each face, that I had only worked with a couple of these students in the past. Well so much for us getting somewhere. We took a few minutes to settle. We had a specific task ahead of us – something we had to share. I fought internally on how to get these young men and women to open up. Wait – I had called them students, I called them kids, now all of a sudden they were young men and women. I looked at the other groups – I listened. I could hear some happiness and jokes. Okay. I turned to my group. I asked the question. I was disappointed because I had left out the jovial tone. The first student answered – it was heavy. The next one went even deeper and the emotions started. The third person spoke and talked about things that showed trust. Trust not only in his peers, but me. The tone stayed the same all the way around the group. Then I heard it. Me, myself, and I answered. I found my words sharing things that only my wife would know outside of this group. True beliefs and emotions. What the heck??????

Our group worked together from Friday night until Sunday afternoon. These young people shared their hopes, dreams, expectations of life and adults, and their pain. Wow. So much pain came out of these young people. It was not woe is me. It was not feel sorry for me. It was I need to let this go so my life will get better. I saw growth. I saw friendships grow. I saw young people maturing. I saw change. I changed.

We put away the electronics. We did not have television or radios. The cell phones came out for the adults just to watch the weather. A storm was being released both metaphorically and literally. I had the chance to look inward. I had the chance to exam where I am professionally. I had the chance to see where I am as a person. I was able to examine the way I treat people. I looked at my part of a marriage. I look at me.

The weekend ended, I was torn. I wanted to work with these young people even more. I missed my wife. I missed our child. I wanted to go home. I wanted to stay. I needed to go back to the world. I wanted to bring my family and leave the world. I was at peace, I was terrified.

After an 8 hour ride home, I felt like my new found peace was being tested – then I went to work today. It seems that when you really feel as if you have a handle on life it will test you. Today did just that. I was frustrated by the time I came home. After dinner, I tried to recenter myself. It started working. Then I realized the best way to bring it back was to write about it. This has helped.

I do not care if you are religious or not. I am not a believer in retreats. I highly recommend every one find one and do it. There are all sorts of retreats that remove the world. It can be a few hours. It can be a day, a weekend, or a week. Leaving the world behind for just a little time makes facing that world a little easier.

I must thank my wife as I end this. Even on the day of departure, I texted about staying back. It was only due to her encouragement and telling me to be there for the young adults that I went. I think she knew that they would be helping me more than I helped them – or at least 50-50.

Take the time to help yourself.

Thank you for meandering with me.

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Those Millennials

Posted on January 31, 2016 by Bob Martin

Millennials written on chalkboardLike almost any other week, I noticed a number of postings about the millennial generation. As in the past, the articles talked about their attitude of entitlement. Everything is supposed to be handed to them. One article discussed how they won’t remain at jobs for long due to their searching for something better. One gentleman was quoted that money was not enough to keep him working. He needed to feel as if his work did more than pay the rent. The comments of the readers, quite often, ripped apart the generation as being lazy. Constant complaints about how they show up to work late and cannot understand why they boss is upset.

Some of the articles even speculated that the generation to follow, Generation Z, or iGen. The author talks about how tied to technology they are and that the country, and world, are in deep trouble with the next few generations. To read all of these different writings, one can only be worried about where it is that we are heading.

I am happy to report that I do not hold these feelings of despair for our future. I have high hopes, and at the same time some questions for those that are unhappy with the group now currently in their 20s. This comes from a few different places for me. I work in education and I see the future. The students of today are no different than those of my time. They are eager to learn, the want to see what new things they can come up with, they succeed, they fail, and they are typical teens. I also work with the youth in our church. I am in the middle of a retreat with 60 sophomores. In this group, I see artists, mathematicians, English majors and writers. I have talked to both young men and women interested in the sciences and moving our country forward. This is a great group of students who I feel are more the norm than those about whom the negative comments are written.

As I see these young people, both in the schools and other places, I find that the teens may use technology more today than in the past. Their learning is actually tied to it. So, yes, they are different – or are they. When I was in school we used overhead projectors, teachers had Walkman’s and maybe even CD players in the class. Some films were even on VHS tapes. The difference isn’t that the students are using the latest technology to learn; the difference is what the latest technology is. That has nothing to do with the students.

I am happy to tell you that they can also put down the technology when given reason to do it (okay when it is collected). Once they are without the devices and you have the time to get to know them, one can find excitement in listening to their plans. Generation Z may even have bigger plans than my generation. What is more, they care. They actually are taking the time to care about the planet and what is happening to it. They care about each other. Yes, I know it is hard to tell when their faces are shoved into a smart phone or some other device. Just take it away and talk to them. But then again….it would mean that we too would have to put down the technology in order to make it a conversation. Yes. We need to set the example.

This leads me to the comment about the Millennials. I understand that many of my generation are not happy with this new crop of workers. However, I have to ask who taught them to be this way. Nobody takes the credit or the blame for their attitudes that so many complain about. It is not like these people came out of the womb with this sense of entitlement. It had to be taught. Who showed the 20 somethings that work should not just be a paycheck but more…much more. While some of it might have been taught from peer-to-peer, the first one had to learn it from outside of their generation.

Perhaps we are not complaining about the Millennials, but instead we are criticizing ourselves for the way we raised the. Oh wait, I didn’t raise one. Instead of complaining we should be accepting the fact that they listened. They listened to the grown-ups who would come home every day complaining about their job. They heard adults speak of how much they hated working for a company that did not value them. Their ears took in when parents and teachers alike told them that they could be anything they wanted. They accepted that they truly could follow their heart.

We have expectations for this group, but did anybody ever lay out those demands? Did we ever tell them during the informative years that this is what employers would be expecting? We taught them to be a certain way, and now we complain that they are following the expectations given them, or maybe lack of expectations.

I will admit that television shows did not help. We showed them young people auditioning for a show and weeks later having a record deal. We showed them people earning big money on YouTube. These are things that their generation did not invent. They took the inventions of the ones before and capitalized on it. They were shown that life could be easy and wanted that.

However, in the end, after working with younger people than myself, I am happy to report that these Millennials and Generation Z people are not the norm. The norm are the people no different than their parents. They will work. They will discover. They will move us forward, and I will be happy to walk with them.

Thank you for meandering with me.

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What?!?! Already?!

Posted on January 28, 2016 by Bob Martin

hands of child and father on wheat field

Tonight we will walk down the road that every father of a daughter fears or at the very least does not look forward to.

Our daughter had her annual physical today. I am happy to report that everything turned out to be perfectly normal. She is growing up quite nicely. The doctor was quite pleased. We sat and chatted about a number of different aspects that would and do make up the life of a young person. The questions came –

How much milk does you drink? Do you know your phone numbers and address? Do you like school? What do you do for fun? What books do you like?

I sat and listened intently to the answers. I already knew what they would be, but there was something fun in hearing my daughter have to tell another person about herself. She smiled. She liked being asked the questions as if it was a grown-up to grown-up conversation. I stayed out of the talk unless she looked to me for assistance with an answer. This was so different then years past where either my wife or I answered all the questions. Then the doctor looked at me –

“She is getting older now.” I nodded. “Somebody will soon have to talk to her about….” She glanced at our daughter and lowered her voice, “you know.” She indicated to her own body.

Before I could even think, the words “that’s my wife’s job” came blurting out. The doctor agreed but said she did not indicate mom so as not to insult me and dads. I appreciated that. Wow. She gave credit to dads. That’s pretty cool. Wait a minute!!!

My mind jumped back to what she just said. She explained that while nothing is happening yet, it is better to start the conversations now. Some of her friends may be maturing faster than her. Friends can be talking about things but not have correct information. It is always better that our daughter hears it from us first.

She went on to describe a story involving her son when he was younger. He had a conversation with a 12 year old. Being the son of a doctor, he knew all the correct terms and way things worked. The 12 year old did not. It turned out to be embarrassing for all involved. I guess this was supposed to make me feel better about the fact that she just told me to HAVE THE TALK!!!!

I will leave this task with my wife. I believe just as it is a rite of passage for fathers to sit with their sons, mothers should be given the chance to bond with their daughters. I am honest when I say that I am also staying out of this because…….. well just because.

I know that the conversation does not have to go deep into the whole subject – just an introduction now. However, the fact that a doctor mentioned it sent other images speeding through my head. I could hear my wife saying that she had the talk. The next flash was my answering the door to a skinny, short kid with a corsage for a dance. The kid disappeared and there stood a teen. I think one side of his head was shaved. Behind this young man, a car stood running with rap music blaring from the speakers. My daughter started to run by me and slowed. I started walking with her and the next thing I knew I was in a tux and she in a bridal gown. When we reached the end of the aisle, she turned and handed me a grandchild – we stood in her living room. Her husband stood next to her.

The doctor said something and I snapped back to present day. “No. No offense. I will talk to my wife and let her know.”

We finished off the appointment with niceties. We said our good-byes. The doctor headed off to the next room. Our daughter and I headed for the door. As we left the office, she reached up and took my hand. It seemed so small all of a sudden. I squeezed and wondered how much longer that hand would take mine as we walked across a street. How many more times would I be asked to pick her up? What small number of times are left where she will come to me in fear of the dark? In a year, will I be able to carry the sleeping child to bed? How far down the road until she would rather talk with her friends than her mother and I? What limited number of years until she brings home a boy.

I shook my head and removed all of these thoughts. I looked down and just enjoyed the walk we were having.

These are the joys and fears of a father. Thank you for meandering through a dad’s thoughts tonight.

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Where Were You?

Posted on January 27, 2016 by Bob Martin

Have you ever had a day when something keeps coming into your head? Today was one of those days. All day long, memories kept popping into my head due to a sound, a sight, a smell, some sense. Not only did the memories the memories keep popping up but the term sense memories followed. I kept thinking about how powerful the brain is that a simple word or smell can conjure up such strong feelings. The brain is an amazing organ. At the end of the day, one of the strongest ones popped.

As an actor, I used memories all the time. A song, a smell and I could bring up any emotion needed. I used to use it when I wanted to freak my students out in the classroom. I could bring forth a flood of feelings. However, one must be careful due to the strength of these memories. While many of them can bring elation, some can place in you a deep dark area that you thought you had left behind.

I love to walk into my kitchen when I am cooking spaghetti sauce. I start to think of my Nana and the fall. Add to the smell a cool autumns day with leaves crunching as I walk in from the car and I am now transported back to my home of long ago. Every fall my grandmother would have us working to run tomatoes through a juicer. She then put all of the ingredients for her homemade spaghetti sauce into roasters in our breezeway. For weeks, I would walk into the room after getting off the school bus to the aroma of simmering sauce. I went there today as I passed by somebody having something with sauce for lunch.

Oranges can have the opposite effect on me. I would like to say that the smell of oranges take me back to trips to Florida with the high school band. Unfortunately after those trips I had a different experience with oranges. I worked in a nursing home as a computer programmer. My office was in the basement away from all of the activities of the nursing home. If I wanted coffee or lunch, or I had to assist someone with a computer problem, I came up to the main floor. That is where the oranges come in. I think nursing homes do it differently now, but back in the 80s the facilities used an orange scented air freshener to cover up accidents. The spray did little to cover or remove the original odor. What it did do is mix the first odor with oranges. To this day, I cannot allow orange scented air freshener into my house.

Songs especially can bring up those memories. Like I already said, it is amazing how intense the memories can be. It is not just a thought or fleeting feeling. Depending on the song, I can feel as if I am no longer in the present. It is probably the closest thing to an out-of-body experience that I can get. The first few notes of Somewhere Over a Rainbow takes me to my dad’s memorial service. The drum and bugle corps played this in his honor at the service – his favorite song. All present day knowledge will stop and I am 15 again.

So this leads me to the biggest of the sense memories of the day – who knows maybe subconsciously it has been in the back of my head due to a news story that played but I did not focus on. All I know is that it just took a question from the talk show host, “Where were you thirty years ago tomorrow, January 28, 1986 at 8:38 in the morning?” Just those few words triggered a whole day’s worth of memories for me. At first something didn’t seem right. 8:38 in the morning? That was too early. The brain finally worked out the fact that 30 years ago I was 2600 miles away in the East coast. Once my brain reconfigured the time, the pictures started flooding in.

I was in college in Geneva, NY. My friend and I were in the fraternity house preparing for our chemistry lab. We were working on the pre-labs and drawing out the experiment. I can still picture the drawings – a closed system. We were going to be heating something up that day. One of our brothers came in with a weird expression on his face. He told us that we better come down and check out the TV. Normally we would have thrown something at him and told him to knock it off, but the look told us something serious had happened. We put down our work and headed to the basement where the television was kept. We no sooner hit the bottom step and we saw the replay on the screen. There in front of our eyes in slow motion, we watched the space shuttle explode. At least that was the conclusion since it was hard to tell what happened in all the smoke. The replay went again, this time continuing. Eventually the rockets went away and pieces started falling. We stood there in silence. No one in the room could understand it.

CNN eventually cut to pictures of the families in the stands watching it. They stood there in disbelief.

I can remember the fact that we had discussed going down to watch the launch. Both my friend and I had passed on it since we had seen so many of them in the past. It was one of those things that was cool to watch the first few times, but now it had come passé. While some people celebrated the fact that it was the first time a civilian was going up, in a way, we looked at it that had become so common place that anybody could go up. All that changed.

I started by talking about how powerful the brain is. I sat in my car thinking of all the actions and events of that day. I could feel the walls of the hall as we raced down the hall. I could sense my heart pounding from running down the stairs. I could hear the silence in the room when we entered. I could feel the sense of loss and pain for the families. I was no longer in 2016, but I had found that time machine and traveled back to 1986.

Again, something was nagging at me all day and memories kept popping. Perhaps it was just a prep for this final flow of memories. A day that I will recall forever. I will always know what I was doing and where I was on January 28, 1986.

So that is where my thoughts went today. Thank you for meandering with me.

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