Lesson About Priorities

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Bob Martin

Tonight’s post has many purposes. The one thing it is not for is sympathy. It does carry with it an apology to my wife and daughter. It holds a reflection of who I am. It has, I hope, a message for many people – people like me. It carries these responsibilities as I explain my morning to the world.

Like most mornings, I woke early, got ready for work, and prepared for the day. This included making our daughter’s lunch, and getting both of us out the door and on with the day. I promised our daughter breakfast out, so I had one less thing to worry about. I kissed my wife as she walked out. I checked the thermostat to ensure we weren’t heating an empty house. I poured the cats a snack and checked their water. I surveyed the house one last time, and off we went.

As we drove down the hill, our daughter and I chatted about the book she had just finished. She was writing a summary for class and was checking how things sounded. We talked about the book fair that is happening at school. Then we talked about her play and the upcoming basketball games. This morning was just like every other morning – until…
As I was driving, I start to feel a pain in my chest. It was a tightening, just discomfort. It wasn’t exactly in the chest but below it. I moved around a bit in my seat – no good. I sat up straight, I slouched – still there. It didn’t radiate. It didn’t move. Nothing else bothered me. I tried to use my diaphragm to see if it was just indigestion.

Funny side note here – I DON’T BURP!!! Never really have, and I figure after 52 years I won’t be starting any time soon. As a matter of fact, the only two times I can remember actually letting out a belch – it was followed by a flow. I get little bubbles that gently float up and out. I envied my brothers as a kid. Anyways….

I tried to see if I could dislodge some heartburn (something I never get so I didn’t know if that was this). I felt a couple of bubble, but no real change. I will admit that I did not panic. I did not fear. I accepted what this might be. Our family has a HUGE history of heart troubles, and I have already surpassed my dad by 10 years. I also know that medicine is different today than it was 30 years ago. I was ready to take this on. I continued moving about and using my diaphragm. The pain had not increased or moved, so I was pretty sure that this was whatever I ate last night. I continued slow breathing.

We stopped for breakfast and got out of the car, it started to subside. More bubbles surfaced and the difference in posture helped. It passed and I got on with my day. Physically I got on with my day – mentally was a different story.

Once I got to work, I played the events over in my head. I started to get mad at myself – not for the reason many are probably guessing. I was confident that this was just gas, so I was not upset with my actions. What bothered me was my thought pattern while dealing with all of this.

As I pondered the fact of what this might be, I started thinking about the work that laid sprawled over my desk. I thought of the finals that needed reformatting, printing, inserted into the proper programs. I thought about the work I still had to do to get our schools ready for testing. I thought about orders that had to be done. I wondered how anybody could step in and know where to pick up. I know that I am not irreplaceable. Any person can be replaced, and when the time comes, I will be replaced. I was just worried about the immediate tasks at hand and how to convey what needed to be done in what order.

After solving those issues in my mind, then I turned my thoughts to my family and how a stay in the hospital would do to them. My wife and I are a finely tuned unit. It takes both of us to get things done. I worried about the extra pressure it would put on her and how things would affect our daughter.

Funny, the one thing that did not cross my mind is what if this was the big one. I was ready to put my hand over my heart and yell, “Ethel, I’m coming.” Spiritually, I am accepting that when the end comes is not something that we get to decide, so I am doing everything I can to have that be the least of my concerns when the big one hits.

So why was I mad at myself? I spent the morning replaying the fact that work was the first thing that came to my mind. I thought over and over about how my worries were about completing tasks within my small office. My concerns first went to how much extra work this would cause others, and only after running all of that did I think about my family.
WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!?

I spent the day wondering about my priorities. How had my life become work first and family second? A friend explained that this is typical for men – They are hunters and providers. Men worry about taking care of their family and by doing a good job at work, we are providing for our families. While I can understand the idea behind that… WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!?!?!?

The sad fact is that I am not alone. I know many people who would have run similar thought patterns themselves. Too many people with whom I work would have worried about their classes, the papers needing grading, the projects due to their bosses. Not just those in education, but in so many career fields. We are a society of workaholics. Our priorities are work first family second.

The thing is that I cannot blame my job for this. I cannot place the responsibilities on the shoulders of my employers (they often tell me to leave work and go home at the end of the day). I cannot blame my family. My father, while I may have learned work ethic from him, is not responsible for how I am. The blame is squarely on my own shoulders. This is who I am. It would not matter if I was in my current job, a principal, working in a restaurant, or writing my books, this is who I have allowed myself to become.

So, I owe my family an apology. You should have been first. My love for them is bigger than any love I have ever had. They should have been first. They mean everything to me. They should have been first.

I am going to try to change. I cannot promise, but I can try. It will be baby steps. Turning off the phone at home, not worrying about emails after work. Always having my family first. I will still work the hours I do. When I am at work, work will be the priority. But I am going to try to leave work at work. I am going to enjoy my family more.

I will stumble. I will fall. I will fail time and time again. It will not happen overnight, and it may take years. I will try.

So, I ask those to whom I referred earlier. How about you? What will it take before you get the call to look at your priorities? Today, for me, it was gas. A little bit of gas. It did not frighten me. It did not make me fall to my knees and kiss the ground. It did make me think. How about you?

Posted in Do right thing, family, Lessons | Tagged | 2 Comments

Lessons From a Bouncing Ball

Posted on February 19, 2018 by Bob Martin

It is amazing what bouncing a ball can do for one’s spirit. I do not mean a little ball that fits in your hand or a basketball that can be dribbled over and over. I mean a large blue ball with green lines that you often find in K-Mart in one of those cages. That wonderful blue, bouncing toy helped me more than I could ever imagine.

This past week, month, beginning of the year has been rough. Not just for me but for so many people. In late January, we lost a friend and colleague. Only a week later, we received a call letting us know that our nephew was no longer with us. We traveled through a whirlwind weekend in order to get back to be with the family. Words cannot express those two weeks.

Then this past week, we watched in horror as the shooting in Florida took place. While we were not physically involved with that incident, since my wife and I work in education that hit home for us. It came back to us as plans were reviewed and checked. We listened to news story after news story where they talked about school shootings and said, “Not if, but when.” Then for other reasons, the last two days of the week brought other issues and stresses with them.

Add to all of this just the normal day to day life. We are a Girl Scout family deep in the sales of cookies and boothings. Our daughter is on a basketball team and has practice and games. In other words – for the last two months – LIFE HAPPENED! It is just that sometimes life can seem like this big weight just pushing down and getting heavier.

Even with all of this, I still consider myself very lucky and fortunate. I have a beautiful wife, a wonderful child, a challenging job to go to every day, a home, and so much more. However, come Saturday morning, I was sitting in a self-pity party. The worst part was that I did not want to be there, and yet no ladder was visible.

Then today happened. Our daughter had a friend come last night for a sleep over. I woke expecting to find them awake, but they were still out. I sat in silence drinking coffee. I did not turn on the television, I did not look at Facebook, I did not boot up my computer to work. I just sat and let peace happen around me. One of our cats rubbed against my leg and the other jumped into my lap and laid down (something she normally does not do).

Once the girls rose it was time for breakfast. I did something different and poured a ton of sprinkles into the batter. You would have thought that I handed them gold. “SPRINKLES!!!!!!!”, came the shout followed by giggles as chocolate syrup covered the pancakes. Healthy – maybe not.

Later the girls actually asked to go out on a hike. They wanted to go out in the 45-degree weather. A hunt was more like it since they were searching for the neighborhood peacocks. Our search did not take long before an entire family sat in front of us. The one male did not disappoint as it showed off his plumage.

Finally, the girls came home and wanted to play “handball” against our garage. This did not involve a little, hard ball, but instead big blue came to the rescue. Cold or not, they were out there swatting away at the ball, sending it hard against the door and back to them. They came in and invited me to play. Laughter, giggles, dancing, and jumping ensued for quite a while before our little friend’s mom pulled into the drive signaling an end to the visit.

The day started off nicely, but we had to get some work done. Our daughter offered to ride with me to accept a new delivery of cookies into the “cupboard”. What normally takes 10 minutes turned in to two hours as we had to move each box by hand instead of with the pallet jack. Our daughter sat there the whole time trying to keep herself busy but wondering how this little trip turned out to be never-ending. In the end, we moved everything, but the extra time with the truck cut out a couple of side stops for which she had been hoping. She was quiet the ride home.

Once we returned she walked in to find her blue friend waiting for her. She held it up to me with anticipation. I asked for 10 minutes to sit. She agreed, but her face told me her true feelings. After the ten minutes, the promise was kept.

The two of us went out into the drive and started hammering that ball against the door. We dodged each other, we side stepped, we played, and we enjoyed each other. While this was not a new game to me, it was the first day in which she asked to share it with me. For all she knew, she was teaching me something new, and I let it be.

I listened to her laughter as we played. I let her stop and look at the clouds and tell me about them. We just were.

That silly little ball that we have kicked around the backyard, that I have told her to remove from the living room, that has tripped me in the night, brought me the ladder that I needed. It brought me time with our daughter and it reminded me of why I do so much of what I do.

Today, I needed that little ball and the laughter of a child to bring joy back.

We all have those days, weeks, months, and, possibly, years. I pray that when it happens to you that you have a bright blue, bouncy ball to help you through.

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No Time to Say Good-Bye

Posted on January 28, 2018 by Bob Martin

As I have gotten older, I have started to understand my parents and grandparents a little more. Those silly old people somehow grew in wisdom as I grew in age. Perhaps it was hanging around me so much that they just could not help but glean some of the wisdom that, in my teenage years, I knew I had – and they were lacking. Perhaps one day, I will be able to accept that knew so much more than I will ever know, and they wasted it on trying to teach a teenager. Regardless, this past week taught me another lesson that the older generation tried so hard to get me to learn. I guess some lessons are learned when the time is right.

Part of the problem with growing older (I did not say old), is that we have more people in our lives, and more people in our lives means more people for who bad things can happen. My wife and I were looking at our friends recently and ticking off the number of people suffering from cancer, have heart issues, are dealing with addictions, or are suffering in some way. By suffering, we really meant people who are working hard to extend the time that they have here on earth. We also look at family and friends whose ages were numbers that we never thought possible when we were younger. The number blows us away. Therefore, whenever we can, we update each other on how so-and-so is doing. We tell each other about new treatments that are being attempted. We cheer their successes and weep for the losses. Nevertheless, these people, these fighters are the ones for whom I am writing.

We are accepting of the fact that our friends are going through very difficult times. We try to check in on them, find out what is going on, and when we can and no one has germs a visit to say hello. Whether we do it on purpose or not, the one thing I have noticed is how I talk with these friends. How I react when I am super busy and I see their number come up on my phone. I notice how my patience grows with these friends because I know the fight they are having. I am aware of the battle going on inside their bodies. I empathize with the struggle. Because of that struggle, I am willing to take that phone call. I am willing to do extra favors.

It is funny because even without thinking about it, we step up more for our friends who are suffering because they are our friends, but, possibly, if the worst happens, we do not want to feel as if we caused them any extra pain. We love these people and want to help – even if it is just saying hello. Still these wonderful people are not the subject today.

We recently lost a colleague, a friend. We lost a person who should still be around to say hello in the morning. Someone who should be able to share stories of her children with my wife. A person who 7 days ago was not even close to being on the list of friends above. It happened quickly. It happened without notice. It happened without the time to say good-bye. That is what today’s writing is about – not having the time to say good-bye.

In the last few days, this friend has been the topic of a number of conversations. We talked about how wonderful she was. People have written about her love was more abundant than all others. I have read about how she cared about so many and always worked so hard. Friends are pouring out their hearts with tales of their time with her. Except we never got to say good-bye.

I have played things over and over in my head. Were there times that she called me while I was in the middle of something and I let the phone go to voicemail knowing that I could always call her later? Did I ever let an email go unanswered? Did I avoid her because I just didn’t have the time to talk? Did I miss an opportunity to say one last nice thing to her?
Quite honestly, I do not know the answers to the above questions. Just like the rest of us, my day gets busy and has many people moving in and out of it. I want to believe that I always gave her a friendly hello when we passed; I know she always gave one to me.

The question today, though, is why are we willing to give those friends struggling our time and attention, and allow all the others to get what they get? We always want to believe that those friends will be back tomorrow. We can give them our time tomorrow. We can answer their call tomorrow. Our smile will be on our face the next time we see them. The extra favor can be done…

No. It can’t always be done tomorrow. This week was a wakeup call to a familiar song. We do not know what tomorrow will bring and if we will be part of it. All of our friends, family, co-workers, and others deserve to be treated like there is no tomorrow.

I know that come tomorrow (a Monday) the rat race will be off and running again. I know that both lines of my phone will be ringing and someone will step into my office wanting to talk with me. I am not naïve enough to think that there are enough hours in the day to handle what we are responsible for and give ourselves to everyone. But perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow when I am unable to take a call, answer an email, stop and talk, I will remember to reach out to those people at a later time to let them know that I care.

I am well aware that there will be so many more days where I will find out that I did not get to say good-bye. Yet, I can do something from now on to make sure that those days might be a little easier.

Posted in death, Do right thing, Lessons | 1 Comment

11 years and counting

Posted on January 20, 2018 by Bob Martin

11 years ago, this morning, I woke up on the couch in my apartment. My small one-bedroom was filled with people sleeping in different places. It is funny, the feeling you have when you wake up in somewhere other than your bed. I sat up, wiped the sleep out of my eyes, and tried to remember why I was on the couch. Then it hit me, people were in my apartment to help celebrate my wedding later that day. It is hard to believe that 11 years have passed since that morning. Then again, it is hard to believe that it has only been 11 years.

I can still remember a sense of peace falling over me that day. In the weeks leading up to the big celebration, I worried about how I would feel on THE DAY. Friends joked with me about having an exit prepped and ready. Colleagues told me to expect nerves to grow and take over. Family members told me it was okay to question and worry about what I was promising to do. None of those things happened. I knew that morning that this was the right thing and that no matter the future, I had found the right person with whom to spend the rest of my life.

So today is number 11. The symbol of the 11th anniversary is steel. This represents strength and durability. I guess they figured if you make it past 10, you are solid. I feel that this is a great representation of our marriage. – Steel the material that can take a lot of hits and still be there carrying on. Steel – an almost unbreakable thing.

In those 11 years, we have grown closer. Each and every day I get to learn more and more about the person with whom I stood next to and vowed to love forever. I believe that is one of the things that has kept us together and growing. That and always being willing to talk – even the talks that you do want to have. It is only being willing to talk about issues when they are still small that we have kept things from growing. We talk, talk often and about everything.

More importantly, we listen. We try to hear not just the words, but what is behind the words. The old saying about having two ears and one mouth really comes in handy for conversations. It is not about preparing a reply or coming up with a solution, it is about just letting the words flow into your brain and processing what is being said.

I would love to say that we learned all of this on our own. I want to brag that we are brilliant and have solved the mystery of marriage, but that is not the case. We work every day at making sure we stay solid to each other and grow in love. We work and we watch…

I say we watch because we are very fortunate in the fact that we have so many couples from who we learn. One advantage of being married later in life is that we have been able to watch our family and friends work through their marriages. The number of family members and friends who have passed the 10 year mark, 20 year mark, 50 year mark and more is large. We have each watched you, listened to you, learned from you. So many great examples to follow and live up to. Thank you all of you, the list is too long to place here – you know who you are.

These 11 years have been amazing, fast, and only the start of many more.

 

Finally –

 

To My Wife,

 

11 years ago, I watched this beautiful woman walk down an aisle on the arm of her Dad. I stood in front of our friends whose eyes were all turned and watching this wonderful vision float towards me and the altar of God. I so wanted to drop to my knees at that very moment and thank God for bringing us together. I wanted to stop the music. I wanted to stop what was happening. I wanted to freeze time and be able to walk up to you and whisper how beautiful you looked. I wanted to thank you for being willing to take a chance on me. I wanted to promise you that I would always be there for you. Time wouldn’t stop, time wouldn’t let me do that. Time did allow me to keep that memory of your face and the happiness that filled it forever in my memory.

Time still has never stopped nor slowed down. It has been 11 years of pure joy for me. No matter the ups and downs, it is all joy because you are standing there next to me the same way you did 11 years ago.

I cannot promise that our life will always be smooth. I know that life resembles a roller coaster and there will be ups, downs, twists, turns, and even loops. Then again, that is what makes life exciting. I can promise that for as long as God allows me to walk this earth, it will be by your side. We will ride the roller coaster together until the end.

I cannot say you completed me since we were both whole individuals before meeting and never needed another to be complete. I can say you have changed me. You have made me strive to be better each day. You complement me in that you enhance who I am as a person. No one else could ever do that.

So even though we are not in front of family and friends, I promise once again to be your best friend, your partner, and your husband. I promise to take care of you, to cherish you, to honor you each and every day, hour, minute, second. I will make mistakes. I will forget things. I will screw up, but I will never forget who you are and what you mean to me.

My love – here is to another 11, 22, 33 years together.

Thank you once again for taking a chance on me.

Love

Me.

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Don’t Make Me Grow Up

Posted on January 5, 2018 by Bob Martin

“When I grow up, I want to be a baker.”

“When I grow up, I want to be a D.J.”

“When I grow up, I want to be…”

Words are recently turned 10 daughter has uttered at different times over the last decade. At different times, she had planned out what her house will look like, where she will live, what parts of the world she will see, what her husband would be like; the fact that she won’t ever marry…the list goes on and on. For 10 years, or at least for as long as she been able to talk about dreams, we have heard about where she is going. Recently, that has changed a bit.

I am not sure what happened. Perhaps it was the event of making it to the double-digit years. More than once I heard an adult mention how she was no longer a little kid – she was now the big 1-0. It could be the fact that she is 1-1/2 years from middle school (her own friend who is in middle school has cautioned her about growing up too fast). It could be the events of this past fall. Having to evacuate from your house once and then months later knowing that we were under orders again can have an effect on a kid. It could be seeing family members get older or knowing so many of our friends who are battling different illnesses. In other words, the world is happening and she realizes that she is part of it just like everyone else. Whatever the cause, she seems to be trying to slow things down.

I think it was in the days leading up to Christmas that I started noticing things. While she has always believed in Santa, I really thought that this would be the year for the serious questions to start flying fast and furious. Not a single one came. Instead, it was almost as if her belief had been kicked up a few notches. She did everything possible to stay up and catch the old bearded man in the act this year. I think she talked more about Saint Nick this year than all of the other years combined. It seemed to be a necessity that she believe in the bringer of joy and happiness.

She also brought around an elf to the house this year. She has a little German Elf that had been given to her three or four years ago. It never moved, never sent a letter, never spied on her, and she was okay with that. This year she really wanted to experience Germayne moving about every night and having to find her in the morning. She followed all of the rules that her friends told her about. Her eyes would light up each morning when she had to search high and low to see where her friend had spent the night.

I think the thing that really caught my attention is that she has never been one to play with dolls or little toys all that much. She has always been one to play, but Barbies, Pound Puppies, and the such have never been big around here. Lately though, she has entered into the Chubbie Puppy world and has spent hours playing with them.

It is interesting because she hasn’t regressed. She does well in school, and loves her dance and guitar. She enjoys some of the freedoms that being 10 has brought. She gets up, mixes the pancakes, and cooks them all on her own (under supervision). She has more independence when choosing clothes and hairstyles. We even talk more with her about vacations and such. I think she enjoys being a 10 year-old.

Yet, at the same time, I think there is an internal conflict happening for her. Part of her wants to grow up and become (gasp) a teen. Part of her is struggling to stay our little girl. One side of her wants to have that extra freedom and responsibility. The other side wants nothing to do with it – she doesn’t want to have to deal with choices and consequences.
I see her looking in the mirror when she is fixing her hair or picking earrings and I see that young person shouting, “Watch out world, here I come.”

I see her sitting on the floor playing with her toys trying to pull the blanket of our family around her, whispering, “Not yet. I am not ready to be a big kid yet.”

I know that there is no way that we can stop the future from happening. We cannot keep her as our little baby forever. One day, way too soon for me, we will have to let her go or even give a little push to the big world. But today…today, tonight, this week… it is okay. It is okay for you to hold on to your childhood for a while longer. It is okay to not rush into pre-teen years (or teen years for that matter). It is okay to have your day dreams, talk to your stuffed animals, dance with your kitties, and just sing and dance through the day. It is okay to not be the big kid. In the end, we will get through this together, and all will be well.

Just like every Daddy, I wish I could keep the dark side of the world away. I wish that no one would ever suffer. I wish I could keep the pains of growing older far away from our door. I know that I cannot. The world is constantly knocking on the door wanting to be let in. I can promise that I will stand next to you for as long as I can. I will carry you when you need it, let you run when you want. While I will not be able to stop every hurt, I will be there to wipe the tears, give the hugs, and suffer with you.

Stay young our little girl for as long as you can. Enjoy the flying through the air on the swing. Believe that your unicorn is magical and will take you away to mystical places. Hold all of this in your heart and keep it colorful for as long as you can.

It is ok.

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The Magical Moment When the Clock Strikes

Posted on December 31, 2017 by Bob Martin

Dong, dong, dong.

Very soon that sound will ring out 12 times. We have a cuckoo clock in our house and it chimes on the hour every hour, twelve hours a day. Yet when the striking of the clock happens tonight, it becomes a magical time. The striking of midnight moving us from one year into the next offers more to the human spirit than, quite possibly, any other day. People look at this millisecond as a time of new beginnings, new hopes, fresh starts, and the end of the old. Yet, in reading my feeds today, even this has brought disagreement.

Along with all of the well wishes for the New Year have come a number of posts questioning why people follow this ritual in this day and age. For the past decade or so, I have been following much along the lines of the ones who have turned from New Year’s resolutions. Yet, I stand by ready to support any friend or family member who steps up in the morning and states their newly found intentions.

While I will be sending out New Year’s wishes at the end of this post, I just cannot put that much pressure on any one day. I tried for so many years to use December 31st as a day of self-reflection and list those things that I needed to end and the new traits that should be followed. I listed them on paper, on whiteboards, on sticky notes adhered to the fridge. I purchased so many items in the first couple of days of January in hopes of becoming more organized, harder working, physically fit, etc. The lists used to be long for I always felt that there was so much to change.

I started dreading the coming of the New Year for part of the inner soul searching would always bring up the lists from years past – lists with so little completed. The final attempts came on the tolling of the bells shortly after our daughter was born. My list now included being a better husband and father (mind you, I had been a father for a total of 17 days). I followed what I had been taught to do since I was a young lad. I placed pressure upon myself like no other person could do.

I totally understand the want to do this. I get that we get caught up in the revelry. The holiday comes on the heal of Christmas or Hanukah when peace is supposedly the want of all. Why should we not set aside a day to look inwards and find out how to be a better person. Why not set myself up to fail – for fail is what I did every year. The only person who could hold this failure over me was me – I can be rather mean to myself.

I believe it was the following year when I started questioning this method. I was joking with my now 1-year-old about what her resolutions should be: eat my peas, drink my milk, sleep through the night every night, … I stopped and I stared at our little child. What in the world was I doing?

It was then that I decided to stop with this tradition for myself. This does not mean that I do not self-reflect and look for ways to improve. It is just now, I do it through out the year. I find one item at a time that I would like to change – two or three at most. I then quietly – no loud announcements – try to make those changes happen. I took the pressure off New Year’s Day. I no longer look at it as a day of forced change. It is another day. The worst part of the day is having to remember to write the correct year.

New Year’s is still a time to celebrate. I celebrate the old friends whom I still call friend. I cherish the family members that are still with us as the year changes. I take a quiet moment and think of those who no longer can celebrate with us in person. New Year’s has become happy for me because I removed the worries of what will I promise today that I will break tomorrow.

So here are my thoughts for New Year’s:

As we sit here on the verge of a New Year, I think of my family and friends. I ponder where each and every one of you are this evening. I wonder where you are physically as well as mentally, and in your road of life. I wish you all a very Happy New Year and offer this prayer for all.

I pray as we enter the New Year that you are well, and if you are not that you have the strength to fight towards better days.

I pray that you have what you need in life. Not just in material goods, but also in having a caring family and/or friendships to support you when you need it.

I pray that you support those who need it.

I pray that this New Year will bring you more smiles than tears. However, when the tears do come that they are short lived.

I pray that those looking for work find that job that will provide what they need.

For those looking for love, I pray that it finds you and forever wraps you in the warmth of another.

I cannot pray that you have nothing but happiness for the New Year for life does not work like that. I can pray that the happy days outnumber the sad. I can pray that God gives you the strength, courage, and perseverance to get through the tough times. I pray that if you lose someone in the coming year that their love will always be with you.

Finally, for those who have struggled through this holiday season or longer that this be the year, I pray that you are lifted to a better place.

The ringing of the bells in a few hours will not magically make the world a better place. For some, the hour will strike and your heart will be heavy. Know that you are not alone.

I pray that the world will somehow find a road to peace. I pray that our leaders will take the right steps to improve the world for all. I pray that every individual takes the steps needed to change the world.

I pray for you and for all.

As the embers of 2017 fade away, I wish you all –

Happy New Years.

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Christmas Past

Posted on December 30, 2017 by Bob Martin

Over the last few years, I have found myself looking back to Christmases past. Now that I am past that half-century mark, I have a number of them from which to pull. I have spent Christmas in many places around the globe – multiple places in the U. S., England, Saudi Arabia, and (while not the day proper but days leading up) Germany. Each place holds special memories for me not because of the place, but due to the special people.

This year, I found myself more often than years past looking at the lights and letting the music wash over me as I used the time machine in my mind to visit Christmas past. Perhaps it was due to our little one turning 10, that I kept going back to my little town and the holidays of my youth. It is often said that memories are looked at through rose-colored glasses. Altering spectacles or not, those memories are filled with wonderful days and people. I believe that part of the charm of those days is the fact that I grew up outside a little town where the Niagara River and Lake Ontario met. A small area where everyone knew everyone and the holidays seemed to be an inspiration for Norman Rockwell.

My early years were spent in a house that was part of a neighborhood of 20 or so houses. That was a place where kids had nothing to worry about on Christmas break except playing hockey in the street or, if cold enough, sliding on the ice in the ditches. You ran around the neighborhood free as could be. The rule was that you went home when it got dark – sometimes even later. It was on a Christmas morning in that house when my dad woke my brothers and I early and brought us down into the living room. My brother received a G. I. Joe action figure and tent. My brothers all took the tent with excitement. I was still half asleep and could not understand what was so great about a plastic tent. Only after wiping sleep away three or four times did I see what was to become my companion for the next 14 years. Lady Guinevere sat in the tent whimpering.  A tent that only a couple of weeks later she would not be able to enter. We had received an Old English Sheepdog. I remember Lady for many of my following Christmas memories have her in them.

Most of my holidays spirits come from after we moved in with my Nana. The street held fewer houses; 5 to be exact. On one side of the street sat two homes of cousins. One our side sat three, the two outer homes belonged to our cousins with us in the middle. It may not have had as many kids, but the rules were the same as was the freedom. Even before it became our home, it was the house where so many memories were created.

What was cool about our little town is how many of the residents either were related or acted like they were. Off the living room sat a sun porch. During my early years, it wasn’t heated or if it was – it didn’t hold much of the heat in. This actually worked well for Nana because it became her storage area for cookies, pies, and other baked goods. Between the time of Thanksgiving and Christmas, our Nana would work during the day and come home in the evening to bake. She filled the room so that any person who came to visit would walk away with a little tin or box filled with delights to be shared with the family.

It wasn’t just our house that received the visitors. I can remember as I grew up having to take trips to the different cousins around town. Later, I would end up being called on to babysit the younger generation. This called for even more visits.

The best years were when we had a white Christmas. Just because we lived in the north did not mean we were guaranteed to have the picture-perfect holiday. But on the years when it did snow, it just added to the feelings of the holiday. I can remember driving around with Dad as we looked at the lights. Snow on the lawns and covering up the lights just made the sparkles a little brighter. As I entered my teens, I found that my favorite part of snow was when it would come down in the evenings. I would go out with a shovel to clear the drive. I was lucky on nights when no one else had started shoveling for it allowed the quiet of the night to settle in around me. I would just stand there surrounded by the falling flakes with the lights from the few houses on our street blinking away. Those days may have been the closest I have ever come to pure peace.

I think, for me, the nicest part of being from such a small-town area was the pacing. Things just didn’t seem as rushed. It was okay to slow down and take it in. It was due to the slowness that one of my favorite nights comes to mind. I may have been 12 or 13. I sat alone in the living room – almost alone. My faithful companion, still thinking she was a lap dog, sat with her front legs across mine as I sat in the floor taking in the sights and sounds of the fire. She laid her head down as I scratched her ears. The mantel was decorated with boughs and lights. Behind me, the mirror had lights going around it. The blinking casts shadows down upon us. The tree stood in the corner all decorated with lights, ornaments, tinsel, and possibly popcorn. I still remember the bubble lights going around the tree.

I can remember the stereo playing Christmas carols. Since we were so close to Canada, we used to pick up their radio stations. One of them played the carols from the 30s and 40s. I am not sure why, but I have always preferred those over the current ones. The curtains on the front window were still open – soon they would be closed to keep out the cold. For now, they were pulled far apart. Though it was pitch black outside, you could see the snow built up on the lower part of the window. The pile was growing. Outside of that, I cannot remember any other sounds or people moving. It was just me, my dog, lights, a fire, and music. There was a feeling of contentment.

I think I go back to this memory often for it was only a couple of Christmases later when we sat around the tree minus one. This was one of the last Christmases in which we had my Dad. Perhaps, that contentment was from it being one of the last for our family as a whole.

Today – today so many years have passed. We live in a different time when things don’t seem to slow down. One must really try to slow the pace even a small bit. Everyone seems so busy and pulled in different directions. Lady is long gone, but she still lives in my memories. Our parents have passed but their spirit is with us each year as we hang our lights.

We live on the West Coast and the chance of snow in Los Angeles is …. well not very high. We try to slow things down for our daughter hoping that she is making memories that years from now she will be able to sit and look back upon. A time when she can complain about how fast life is and how much slower it was when she was a child.

So, as we bring the holidays to an end, as we bring 2017 to an end, I have one more Christmas wish. I wish that each and every reader has their own memories be it from a small town, or a bustling city, or somewhere in-between. I wish that each of you have time with your family and if you can’t that the warmth of their love will suffice until you can feel the warmth of their hugs. I wish you peace and contentment.

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Can We Let Them Fail?

Posted on November 26, 2017 by Bob Martin

hands of child and father on wheat field

In reading articles about parenting, I read something over and over. In each, parents made comments about their children being happy.

“Happiness, isn’t that what we want for our children?”

“He is happy. That is the most important thing.”

As a parent, I am not sure if I have said the above word for word, but I do know I watch my child’s level of happiness.

“How is she doing in school?”, I am asked.

“She seems happy so I think things are going well.” I have said this once or twice.

Perhaps it is because of what is happening in our country that these statements popped out at me. “That is the most important thing”??????

Please do not get me wrong, I do want my child to be happy, but is it really the most important thing? Could this be one of the issues we are having in our world. We care more about making our children happy than making them adults that can take on the world and survive. We don’t want them to experience failure. We don’t want them to suffer. We don’t want them to have to admit defeat in anything.

We berate teachers into better grades. We demand that they get to play every time. We give them trophies because they played.

Maybe, just maybe, and I am ready to get slammed for this, we need to take a lesson from our parents and let the children of today understand that the world of tomorrow will not just be handed to them. They need to earn their way in life. They need to learn how to work. They need to learn how to win with humility and lose with dignity. Yes, they must learn to lose and fail.

As parents, instead of making sure that they are always smiling, we need to let them frown, cry, cheer, laugh, scream. They need to experience happiness, but they also need to understand sorrow, anger, and calmness for without these how can they know what it is to be happy. We need to be there to help them up after they fall, but let them fall. We need to stop them from bodily harm, but let them figure out most things for themselves. We need to let them live and prepare themselves for their future. The future where mommy and daddy cannot call their boss and yell at them for hurting their childs feelings.

So I will protect my child, but I will let her fight her battles based on her age. I will fight them today, but tomorrow she will need to take on, little by little, her own fights.

Don’t get me wrong – I will be a bear when needed, but my cub will learn to survive.

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Lessons From a Pile of Wood

Posted on November 25, 2017 by Bob Martin

I found this bit of writing from two years ago. It still holds true today.

I love when I have a task that requires little to no brainpower. I look forward to these jobs since I never know, without having a mental need, where my thoughts will wander. Today I had one of those tasks – moving a woodpile. I let my thoughts wander, and I ended up with a life lesson. This was one of those lessons that made me wish that I was back in the classroom so I could share it with my students.

This morning we had a half-cord of wood dropped in our driveway. One never really understands how much this involves until the truck lifts its open box bed and the gate opens and out tumbles the wood. So there sat this pile that now had to be moved to the backyard into the woodshed. I looked forward to the exercise and lack of brainpower required.

I started the move. Back and forth, fill the arms, drop the wood, turn around and head back to start. After 1000 trips, okay I may exaggerate. After 999 trips (hey! It’s my story), I started looking at the pile and wondering why it was not getting any smaller. 50 more trips and there it stood. (NO! Before my “friends” make comments, I was not carrying one piece at a time.) I let out a sigh and started back to what was starting to take on the role of my nemesis.

It was at this moment that a thought popped into my head comparing this task with so many tasks, goals, jobs or other items that require work. All of the mentioned items can quickly become something dreaded and become things to quit instead of seeing through to completion – all because of this wood pile.

Each time I walked out of the shed and turned toward the woodpile, I saw the same amount of wood waiting for me as when I started. It did not shrink. At least that was the appearance. I knew that if I turned around in looked into the woodshed that I would see the fruits of my labor. The pile of wood was proof that I was getting somewhere. However, I was staring at a pile that maintained the same level as when I grabbed the first log. I started to wonder if someone was pranking me by adding wood to the pile. Then it hit me…..

The pile had gone down since the first trip. The issue wasn’t that someone was adding to the pile, it was my point of view – my perspective. I was looking at the pile from the side. A very wide pile to start with that was about the same height all the way across. From where I stood, I could see only the height and the width. I could not see it from the side in which I had been pulling the wood. Without a full view, it looked the same. If I have been able to see the pile from above, I would have seen the difference in the size of the task.

I started to think of other areas of my life in which I had allowed my lack of ability to see from other views that caused me to quit. My first attempt at college, my second book, weight loss, all items I gave up because they seemed impossible.

So what would I teach my students? Stop looking at problems, jobs, assignments from one side. I would tell them to make sure that they walk around and look down as well. The other thing I would tell them, something I forgot to do today, would be to look at what you have completed. I quickly dropped the wood turned and headed back. I should have stopped to appreciate how much wood I had already moved. The same needs to be done with everything you do – when you have something that takes time and effort, make sure that you stop and appreciate what is done. This can be done with anything, even weight loss. All too often I check the scale to see a drop of a pound here, two there, but as soon as I turn around and see the mirror, all I see is the task left to be done.

So there is the life lesson I received by moving wood.

PS – A second lesson I learned is be willing to ask for help. Had someone been walking down the street, I would have offered cash to get assistance with the task.

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Envelopes

Posted on November 20, 2017 by Bob Martin

Over the last couple of weeks, we have been doing cleaning around the house. It is always interesting the things that you find when you do this. Sometimes you find wonderful treasures that bring back wonderful memories. Sometimes you find things that bring back memories you would rather not recall – those are the things you get rid of. Then there are times you find things that you thought were a great idea, but now as you look at the item you found, you are left with wonder and doubt.

As anyone who has been with me from the start of my writings know, it has been a little over a year since we lost my mom. Her passing was quick and unexpected. One day we were talking about things she was going to be doing in the future and the next she was in a hospital. A week later and I was rushing home – making it just in time to say good-bye.

We have already lived through the year of first withouts. The first Thanksgiving without being able to call and talk to her about the family dinner. The first Christmas of Nancy, our daughter, and I flying home to be with the family and yet there was an empty space at the table. The first for each of the birthdays passing and no card arriving. The oh so many times in which I picked up a phone and told Siri to call her only to be informed that there was no phone number for mom. Sometimes it takes that voice from your phone, “I’m sorry. I can’t find a contact for Mom.” to remind you of what you already know.

So, what does the passing of my mom have to do with finding things while cleaning the house – a lot. First though, I need to share this “brilliant” idea I had 9 years ago this very week. 9 years ago, our little girl was just that – a little girl. She was preparing to turn 1. I sat and thought about what present I could give a little girl about to turn 1. The age where an empty box meant more than whatever came inside. The age where everything was still new. The age where no one yelled at you for sticking your hands in the birthday cake; everyone laughed. What could a sentimental dad give his little girl.

I came to the understanding that I was no spring chicken of a dad. By that day 9 years ago, I had already been mistaken as the grandfather a number of times. I had come to terms with the fact that I was going to be the dad who had a full head of gray hair long before she graduated. I accepted that it was going to take a lot of work on my part to stay up with her during her teens years. More importantly, I knew that if had these thoughts about myself, that I worried just how long her grandparents and other relatives would be around to celebrate birthdays for her. With all of this running through my brain, I came up with a gift.

I reached out to family and friends at that time and asked them to prepare birthday cards for our little one for her tenth, sixteenth, and eighteenth birthdays. Not knowing what fate would do to our lives, I wanted for them to have a chance to be with her as long as possible. Catching on to what I found?

In my desk drawer are two envelopes. It seems like every 6 or 7 months I stumble across these envelopes. Both are addressed to my daughter on her 10th birthday. One envelope is from her Grandfather and Grandmother (Nancy’s parents). Her Grandfather is still with us and, we are happy to say, will be spending Christmas with us. Her Grandmother is now gone over two years. We do not know which person wrote the letter. It sits there patiently waiting.

The other envelope is from my Mom. I saw it often when she was still with us. It brought a smile to my face every time I moved items around in the drawer and it would peek out from under a pile of papers. In the last year, I find that when I am in the drawer and I see the corner of the envelope, I take it out, I hold it, I look at it, I wonder. It is funny. I never wondered about the words it contained until she passed. Perhaps I knew I could always ask what was in the letter. I never did for I wanted to honor and respect the privacy of the author and recipient. Now – I can no longer ask; I just hold it.

The big day is not far away – 3 weeks. I am not sure how our daughter will handle receiving letters from those who have passed (there are plenty of cards from people still with us). I have thought about the proper time to give her the letters – it is a school day.

I guess that we will wait until after dinner to give her the letters. We will not make a big deal out of it, but we will let her know who sent them. We will then give her the choice to go off and read them by herself for these are private letters. I know I worry over nothing. I know these letters are filled with love and hope for our little one’s future. I know that they will be words that she will be able to hold and treasure for the rest of her life.

I am not sure why I am worried about these letters. Perhaps it is reading the words of loved ones who are no longer with us. Perhaps it is seeing how these words will affect a happy celebration. Perhaps, just perhaps, it saddens me to realize that the reason I decided to ask for these letters in the first place actually came true. I think it is a little bit of all of those.

So tonight, I can just open my drawer and see the envelopes sitting there waiting – just waiting. I am counting the days that 9 years ago seemed so far away only to realize that they number less than 30. I will continue to wait, and – if our daughter decides not to share them and keep them close to her heart – I may never know what the spirits of her loving Grandmothers had to say.

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