That is My Smile – DARN IT!

Posted on April 18, 2016 by Bob Martin

smileI discovered over the last few days that I have been doing quite a bit of self-examination (Okay – all my friends reaching for the comment button, get your minds out of the gutter). This is not a bad thing for I am not trying to tear myself apart, just gain a better understanding of who I am. I hope that by having a better insight, I will be able to let some things go and change other things. Self-reflection can be good for the soul as long as you don’t stay there too long without doing something about what you discover. I have been struggling with two different posts, and in the end, this one won for tonight. Tomorrow’s post is already planned.

For the last two weeks, I have attempted to practice what I preach. I think that the one thing I stress to others more than anything else is that our emotions are our own. I used to talk with my students about this, and how they chose to let others control how they felt. I have written about it in the past and received a number of comments about how people agree. Yet, how easy is it to preach about something and then you don’t follow your own advice. Two weeks ago, I decided to change that for myself.

Two weeks and a day ago, I had a really crappy day. The more I tried to make things work; the more things went the wrong way. My frustration level had reached a new height. Every phone call made things worse, and I shut my door to keep people out. In the end, I accepted that this was okay because we all have bad days. If we didn’t have the bad days, we would never know what would be a good day. Later that evening, I thought back and realized that throughout the day, I was allowing others to steal what could have been a good or great day. I reacted emotionally to their thoughts and comments. I failed at my own advice.

The next day, I posted on Facebook that I was choosing to make it a good day. I succeeded. I posted that I was going for 2 out of 2 then 3 out of 3. I had to choose all day long not to allow others to bring me down. I found it interesting that my friends were liking my posts. Some put up words of encouragement. I felt as if I had a team behind me rooting me on to have good days. Tomorrow I will make that choice again. This will make day 15.

I do not want people to think that it as simple as saying, “I choose to be happy.” If it was that simple the film Inside Out would not have been necessary. There have been days that I had to walk away from things for a little. Times that I could not, I used visuals to remind me why I would not let others control me – mostly a picture of my wife and daughter. There are days I started to fail, but caught myself. In the worst case, a colleague, at just the right time, asked how my happiness was doing. All of these came together to keep me on track. I was not happy 100% of the time. I ran the gamut of emotions but came back, by choice, to happy. So why write about this? It is my smile or lack of one.

People knew what I was doing because for some odd reason, I post these things. Maybe I do it for support, maybe I do it so I can prove a point, maybe I do it …..I don’t know why I do it. However, I did get stopped a few times asking if I was happy. When I informed the person I was, I would receive a response of, “Oh. Okay. I wondered because you weren’t smiling.”

I wanted to reply with, “This is my smile, darn it.” I just don’t walk around with a smile on my face 24 hours a day. I know people who do and struggle between envy that they can and……well wanting to smack them and tell them that nobody can smile that much. I just don’t have one of those smiles.

I am not sure what happened to my smile. When I see pictures of me from school, I see smiles galore. Somewhere along the way, I stopped. I know I can still do it. We just spent a day at a Renaissance Faire. All day long, I was smiling – my face hurt when we came home. Unless something is calling for a smile right then and there, I have a stoic face. This can make being happy difficult at least where others are concerned.

Even our daughter has brought my lack of happy expression up on more than one occasion. She has come into the room or sat opposite me and asked if I was happy. When I responded I was, she would also question it again. She tells me that I look sad. I try to look happier, but it doesn’t work. Once at work, my boss and another mentioned how I didn’t look happy. I walked around the rest of the day with a big smile on my face. Then they told me that I looked creepy. I guess there is just no pleasing some people.

I know that I am not alone with this issue. One of my best friends in the Air Force also had this issue. People often thought that he was constantly grumpy. Ed had to be one of the nicest people but unless somebody took the chance to get to know him, they missed out. People assume they understand people like us and that we are not happy. My own brother told me that I look like I have a stick up my *$s. Yet this was never the case, inside we are happy.

So this brings me back to the original topic. I have worked in choosing to be happy. Yet, because I don’t walk around all bright and cheery on the outside it is assumed that I have not succeeded. While I am still working on controlling my choices, the last two weeks have proven other things to me. You can’t make choices based on how other people are going to react to you. I should not choose to be happy so that others know how I am feeling. I need to choose so that I know how I feel. I have to stop worrying about others’ opinions of me and live my life.

So now, tomorrow, I will make two choices. I choose to not allow others to control my emotions, and I choose to not worry about whether people know if I am happy or not.

This is the first of two parts where I am learning about me and what changes need to happen.

Thank you for meandering with me today, and I hope you will walk with me tomorrow.

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I Asked for Help…and I am Still Alive.

Posted on April 17, 2016 by Bob Martin

12376312_10153508865580509_812408868788743322_nAbout a month ago, I wrote a post questioning why people are afraid to ask for help. I spoke about looking at how I treat our daughter when she needs help. I then talked about how I always attempted to get myself back into shape without help. I always thought that needing to ask for help was a sign of weakness (for men), so I avoided it at all costs. In the last month, I have been working to change that in myself, in our daughter, and with others. How did it go? What happened when I asked for help?

I am glad to start by saying that I am still alive! I did not die nor did I become this worthless weakling that others could not stand to be around. In many ways, the opposite happened. I also noticed that our daughter has actually become a little more independent.

My wife and I just completed our fourth week on a fitness product. While I do not want to use this blog to advertise for companies, I will give credit where credit is due. We did the #21dayfix, by #beachbody. While I am sure that all of the companies have pros and cons, we ended up doing this one since one of our former colleagues was the coach. We did a week on our own. It helped that it was our spring break. We then joined a Facebook group created by our coach. This was difficult for me since we were all supposed to post information about ourselves including pictures. I was going to be held accountable by people I knew slightly or did not know at all. I asked for help and now had to hold up my end of the bargain.

20160417_093009Each day, we had to not only workout, but we had to monitor our intake. Then we had to post it. The last part was easy for me because my wife posted and I piggy-backed on her comments. Where the help came in was in the reading of the other participants’’ posts. We were there to support others on the rough days and cheer the good days. You also had to be honest when things weren’t working out as expected. I didn’t have extra people in my living room exercising, but I did have people giving me moral support from all over the country.

After 28 days, I am down almost 10 pounds. That doesn’t sound like much, but it is the differences in my body that make the difference. I can feel a difference every morning when I get dressed. I am getting results. More importantly, I have broken that 21-day barrier. Supposedly that is what it takes to set a habit. My habit is now set.

More importantly, I asked my wife for help. I could not keep the little colored cubes straight. I had no idea what I was supposed to eat or which workout I should complete each day. I was struggling to stay on the system. My wife kept everything straight for me. She kept me on target and moving. We were doing this together as a team. She challenged me on the days when I would start falling backwards into snacks or not wanting to exercise. She didn’t ask me IF I was going to exercise but WHEN. There was even a day that she turned the video on and looked at me. I had asked her for help, and she took the task seriously.

It is working. I believe that it has also made us a stronger team. In the end, it has set a great example for our daughter to see us doing this together.

I asked for help and I am stronger. I have found that this has even permeated my work. We are in the middle of state testing, getting finals ready, and setting up summer programs. Life is busy. I finally decided that I could let others into my world and help. The results have been great. I believe that by letting go of some of my responsibilities, it is helping to prepare my co-worker to take on bigger and better roles. It has been amazing to see how she thrives with the new roles. I have found that she is so much better than me at so many things. She is incredible to work with, and now I know that since I wasn’t asking for help, I was holding her back. I learned that not wanting to ask for help actually causes others to not be able to blossom. I failed by not letting her grow.

Finally, our daughter. I promised myself that I was not going to push away requests for help. Now when she asks for help instead of giving the third degree on whether she had really tried and done her best, I sit with her. I ask her to explain what she needs help with and what she has already tried. We then work through the problem together finding ways to solve whatever the issue. There is no arguing. There is so much more discussion, and she is learning to verbalize in new ways. I help her, but I do not do it for her.

This has helped her because she is no longer worried about asking for help. Since we have worked through different problems, I am finding that she is asking for less and less help. The best example is her current project on moths. She came home and told me in no uncertain terms that this was her project. I was NOT to help her unless she asked. The project is done. It is cute. I look at it and want to give suggestions as to how she could improve on it. I keep my mouth shut. She did not ask for help. In the end, it is the project of a second grade student – not the parent of a second grade student.

So what did I learn in this last month. You know it – asking for help is not only okay, it is necessary. I found out that it does not make you weak. It helps you become stronger because you end up doing more than you ever thought possible. You find out that together you can get through problems and reach goals. One day at a time.

So please, do not go through your problems alone. Ask for help.

Thanks for meandering with me today.

 

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Check out the short stories

Posted on April 16, 2016 by Bob Martin

The postings are still happening – check out the short story about Jack. http://www.meanderwithbob.com/stories/?p=42

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Haven’t stopped

Posted on April 14, 2016 by Bob Martin

Just wanted all to know that I haven’t posted in the blogs the last two nights since I am in the middle of a new short story. Don’t forget to click on stories to see what else is out there. The latest is The Chair

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Back When We Were Kids…..

Posted on April 11, 2016 by Bob Martin

bandaged bear head and eyeOnce again I saw a posting today that listed all of the things that kids did back when I was growing up. As with most of these postings, it made fun of the fact that we survived all of these “bad” things such as drinking from a hose. Quite often while reading these items, I wonder how in fact we did survive. I guess Darwin was correct, only the fittest made it into adulthood. While reading tonight, I realized that in fact we are lucky that we did grow up today – actually my parents are the lucky ones. They would have most likely been arrested today.

My parents disciplined us like other parents of the day. We did feel the end of a belt, hand, and, thanks to my grandfather, cork insulation – it didn’t leave marks. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE – they did not abuse us. However, we did learn early on right from wrong, what was acceptable and not, and the proper way to behave. Just the same, my parents are lucky that with four boys that DCSF didn’t visit us.

The first issue that I can remember is the time I almost lost an eye. We lived in what is called a split level house. Our playroom was the level under the bedrooms, the living room was a few steps up (in-between the other floors). The playroom opened into the backyard which made it nice for kids. We could get muddy and not worry about dragging dirt through the living room or kitchen.  During the summer, this room became a through fare outside and to the above ground pool. It also housed my mom’s baby grand piano.

On the given day, a contractor was visiting the house to receive final payment for some remodeling that had just been completed. I believe we were supposed to go out for dinner after the transaction. My mom sent me to go tell everyone to get out of the pool (I hope that there was a parent around). I went tearing down the stairs and into the playroom making a straight shot for the back door. There in the center of the room was a blanket – yep, mom always told us to pick up, but we never listened. I took a leap hoping to get over the obstacle not realizing that it held a secret underneath. Unbeknownst to me, the hose to the shop vac was hidden underneath. My foot hit is and that is the last thing I remember. I am told that my scream was so loud and piercing that the contractor left before receiving his payment. My face hit the corner of the piano bench just off the edge of my eye. A few stitches later and I had a scar for life.

I was the lucky one. That is the only visit to the hospital that I remember other than my tonsils. My brothers, however, found other more creative ways to see the inside of the emergency room. I can think of one day in particular. As I mentioned, we had an above ground pool. The pool even had a nice deck that had room to stretch out and chill. Of course Mom and Dad had rules for the pool. No diving and jump only from the deck. Much like the Brady Bunch, we never listened to our parents.

The edge of the pool had a flat top to it. As kids, you could shimmy around the rail and stand up on it. My oldest brother had a habit of doing just this in order to jump from the edge of the pool. Mom always said don’t jump from the side of the pool. My brother stood on the edge as he was told not to. I am not sure why or how, but instead of going forward he went backwards. Unlike today pools back then did not cover up all the nuts and bolts. Down the outside of the pool was a row of nuts and bolts. My brother’s leg and the bolt found each other. The bolt traveled up his leg ripping it open.

Now the advantage to having the mom we do is the fact that she was a nurse prior to having children. She took my brother inside and patched him up. Since my dad was working, she got the blood stopped and sent him on his way. Being that it was the 70s, outside he went. The only problem was that having a bum leg there wasn’t much to do. So….. when bored, you hit golf balls. My brother and his friend decided to hit balls over Meadow Drive into our neighbor’s yard. They used my other brother and his friend to retrieve the balls and toss them back. It seems like a good way to pass the time. The rules were simple, hit the ball, wait for it to stop, and toss it back. To this day, both brothers swear that the ball in question was dead in the grass. Somehow when my retrieving brother went to retrieve the ball, it jumped, seriously the dead ball jumped on its own, right up into my brother’s face. Blood started spurting everywhere. Since it was a head wound, my mom asked our neighbor to take her to the hospital. She then decided that if she was taking one, she must as well take the other.

The story that came back from the hospital was that our neighbor drove her to the entrance of the ER and dropped all of them off and went to find parking. A nice young police officer held the door as my mom got the two patients inside. Once everybody was checked in, the officer actually approached my mom to start talking to her about abuse. I have been told that the nurse interceded and explained that it wasn’t my parents just the way my brothers were.

The above only is about two different days. I could fill so many more pages with what my brothers did as they were growing up. So yes, the days of our childhood were filled with being outside all day. They were filled with daredevil stunts that would make parents of today cringe (funny since those kids are the parents). We drank from a hose, and dared each other to do stupid things. And….we left the house in the morning and did not return until dark unless we were hungry, thirsty, needed a bathroom (and not always) or needed stitches. So we were lucky that we were survived. Our parents were lucky that they were not arrested.

So go ahead. Kick your kids out and make them play all day. Just make sure that you have good health insurance and an alibi.

Thank you for meandering with me through the old road of childhood.

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Drivers Start Your Lessons

Posted on April 9, 2016 by Bob Martin

12936593_10153542148720509_6553285244619738544_nOne, two, three….go! That was the call we heard time and time again this morning. Our daughter and the rest of the local Brownies (Girl Scouts – not food) attended the Powder Puff Derby. For two plus hours, the girls hung in a school cafeteria watching cars go down the track. Names were called, squeals came out, cheers rang through the air, and fun was had. Just like all of the Pinewood Derby events I attended while a scout leader, this event had fun while teaching at the same time.

Call it Powder Puff, call it Pinewood Derby, it doesn’t matter much, they are pretty much the same thing – only the gender of the contestants changes. The outward goal for these events is for the scouts to have fun. It is exciting to see something you made compete against others. You watch as your car progresses through the different heats. And, if the adults stay out of the way, the young people walk away with some valuable lessons.
The first lesson that derbies can teach is the joy of completing a project. I love looking at the different designs that come in the door. The one problem is that some of those designs….well let’s just say that some of these students would put professional car designers to shame. Okay, lets face it, there are a number of cars that make you pause and wonder who actually built it. I am careful on this accusation because I have seen cars designed by the scouts and know that they did the work. The problem is that I believe the ratio of those types of scouts to the awesome cars seems to be off a bit… a lot. Now I do not expect to see an 8 year-old running a ripsaw, but the design should be theirs and, except for the cutting, the rest should be the work of the scout. This first step is important for the young people. They learn quickly either that hard work and perseverance can pay off or dad can do it for me. I actually love looking at the cars you know were done by the scouts. They may not be pretty, but wow do they show so much insight into the kids.11140164_10152776604235509_1949699640835773525_o

These events teach the young people to be responsible and aware of what is happening. I loved that they leaders had the scouts in an area next to the track. They called out the names for those in the on deck area. The girls had to take their cars and be prepared to race. Names were called out a few times and then the race happened. If a scout wasn’t there or the car presented, the race went on without them. Our own daughter was only saved by her friend because she had gone out to get a snack. Not only do they have that responsibility, but they must ensure that their car is run correctly. Our little one’s car didn’t not really show which was the front versus the back. She had to tell them. She had to be responsible. She forgot to do this in the second heat and, with the weights in the front, the car took third. For a young person, this can be the end of the world. We had to have a long talk about the fact that it was okay, and she would have other chances.

Most importantly, this day taught the scouts that not everybody wins. At the start of the race, one of the leaders stood in front of the girls with a big announcement. She started the day by asking if everyone was ready. She asked if they were there to have fun. She reminded them all that not everybody was going to win. As a matter of fact, there would be one winner. The girls were fine with this. There would be no trophy for all. The girls would have to accept that only the winners would get awards. The scouts didn’t care. They just wanted to have fun.

I will admit that there were tears. Saying that you are willing to acknowledge the fact that you may not win and realizing that you really aren’t the winner are two different things. Dads were crouched down in corners talking to daughters, cars in hand. You could see heads nodding accepting advise while the tears stated how hard it was. But they learned. Few walked out with trophies, but all walked out with smiles.

Finally, the scouts learn to support each other. Cheers came out at each race regardless of the winner. Hugs and high fives happened throughout the day. The best part was after dads had to have those hard discussions. You could always see a scout only steps away – waiting. They were ready to rush in and give a hug of understanding. These young ladies knew that more than winning, they need to help each other out. Competitors for a while, friends forever.

I have watched the derbies happen since the 90s. The leaders today put on as fine of an event as any I have ever witnessed. They remembered the purpose of these days. I can still remember the large events that we would hold at the one base in England. The only difference between then and now was the size. Then we would have 10 or more tracks running with scouts running everywhere. However, no matter if the derby was in England or Burbank, Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts, they are fun to watch and a joy to see what the kids can do and who they are.

1396834_10152016768190509_2045132892_oSo somewhere tonight there is a family celebrating a win. Either the fastest car, best looking, or best theme. In many more places there are young scouts just happy that they participated – no ribbon, just memories.

Thanks for racing with me as I meandered tonight.

 

 

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A Letter to My Daughter

Posted on April 8, 2016 by Bob Martin

To my dearest daughter,

 12240266_1229124890437498_7431082733743213637_o

Today I have discovered something about myself. I am going to be a mess when you grow older and move away. I don’t even want to think about your wedding day. For even just thinking about it, brings about a mix of emotions. I can tell that come the actual day, I will be unable to hold back the tears.

How is it that I know this? While today, a program called Facebook – something that may not be around by the time you get married – showed me that I had memories from postings of years past. One of those memories involved a video of you on Easter morning four years ago. You came out of your room to find that the bunny had left you chocolate and toys. While you took a moment to stop and look at what was in the basket, an open bag of jelly beans, something we both really like, sat on the dining room table. You immediately ran to them and held them up. The grand prize. Unfortunately, we forgot to close the bag and out they poured.

The video took me back. I then continued to allow the videos to randomly play. I watched as time jumped to your first year to this year and then everything in between. Each memory instantly coming back into my mind to the point that I didn’t need to even watch, I was transported back to those days. I especially loved the video with you and the puppet. Your laugh was beautiful.

One of the videos had you walking from the hall into the living room. I had to pause the film as I realized that you did the exact same motion last night. You walked into the living room wearing a veil on your head. The veil is for your upcoming First Communion. While I watched you walk, you stepped the same way a bride would do walking down the aisle. That memory came flooding back into my head as I sat here watching the past videos. I started thinking about how I would be on that day. Would I find myself sitting in a room watching all of these home movies taking me from birth to that day? Will I be able to handle it?

I sat and wondered what type of woman will you become. Would you be happy? Will you be on a path in life that you want to be on? I don’t know the answers to these questions. I can only wonder, and I can make you some promises before we get there. I only hope that by the time you read this as an adult, I have lived up to these vows.

I promise that I will always be your dad. I will be there, next to you, as you grow and mature. However you should know that being a dad means that I am not your best friend. I will listen to you, I will support you, and I will love you. I will also make you work, I will set it up so that you learn right from wrong, and I will give you consequences when you do wrong.

I will support you in whatever your heart desires. Even today there are too many people who think that girls cannot be equal to men. Some in society feel that women should only work in certain jobs or stay at home. This is not true. You CAN do anything that you want to do. If you choose to shoot for the moon, I will help you all the way to the launch pad. If you really want to open that bakery of which you speak so often, I will carry all the supplies. If you choose to be at home with children, I will be right there as well. I will not break down barriers, I will not fight your battles, but I will stand by your side fighting along with you. I will wipe your tears and hold you up when the fight feels to drag on too long. I will be your wingman.

I will protect you when I can. A father bear can be just as mean and nasty as a mother bear. As you grow, I will protect you to the death. I will do my best. But, my little one, you need to know that I will not be able to protect you from everything for there are many times when I will not be able to be there. So I will teach you to protect yourself. I will work hard to make sure that you will be able to stop others from hurting you both mentally and physically.

I will love you. As with most parents, I will always see you as my little, baby girl. My love for you 12346341_10153284126285509_5029947947034354991_nwill only be second to what I have for your mother. I want you to know this because as you grow, you will have relationships – how many I know not, but you will have them. I hope and pray that you will learn by the love I give to your mother that you should expect nothing less for yourself. If and when you start dating, I will pray that you find the person that will give you all of the love you deserve. I want you to know that you never have to accept anything less than pure love. Your mother and I were fortunate to find each other, but it took a lot of time. Do not rush into “love”. I know I started this letter talking about a wedding. That is just something I think about. That is a decision that will be yours to make.

Keep your laughter and imagination. The world is full of sad things and people. You have a beautiful laugh and an amazing imagination. I feel funny writing this bit since you so often tell me that I look sad. Know that on the inside, I am happier than words can ever express. Having you and your mother in my life has taken me too heights never known. Keep the joy and happiness that you have. Continue to dance whether music is playing or not. Always see the world and its beauty as you do today. You have a way of seeing the good in everyone – don’t lose that. People really do have good in them. Sometimes they just need help finding it.

Finally, please know that I will do everything within my power to still be with you for years to come. Unfortunately, we are all human and someday I will leave you. I hope to give you everything you need to live, be happy, and be strong. You already have that, I will just help you find it.

So to my beautiful daughter. When you read this, know that you have always been loved. Know that I am proud of you and who you have become. Know that from now until eternity, I am your dad.

Love,

 

Daddy

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Dance Little Girl – Dance.

Posted on April 5, 2016 by Bob Martin

20160405_182624Okay. Tonight we are taking a trip down daddy lane. Our daughter is the one who taught me a lesson today. I have been smiling about it all the way home and throughout the night. It caused me to ensure that I changed up a little bit at home, and it makes me look forward to what else she will teach me. For a person still in the single digits, it is wonderful to learn things from her. I loved being in the classroom and seeing what my students could teach me, and now my wife’s mini-me does the same.

As a second grade student, our daughter must do like every other student. She gets up early in the morning. She has her daily morning routine to get ready. When she drags her feet, she gets pushed to get moving. She then spends the day in a classroom. While they have recess, and lunch, she is stuck in a classroom unable to be free. For some children this is fine. Our daughter does a good job of going in learning and being a student, but she is a free spirit. Tonight I got to see her spirit fly.

Once a week she goes to her dance class. She is part of a class called Triple Threat. The girls study dancing, singing, and acting. They are preparing for the upcoming recital that will take place at the end of their year. Our little one loves being up there and performing. I can still remember the first year she performed. Her teacher had been caught off guard when the class went on stage. A certain little girl took it upon herself to get everyone in their spots and give the sign to start the music.

Now I am about to break Daddy code here. Our daughter loves to dance and dance a lot she does. However, she does not always stay on beat. She starts off hearing the beat in the music and then eventually her own drum takes over. I am supposed to say that she is the best dancer ever, but Ginger Roger’s legacy is safe. Just the same, I love watching her dance. She is truly happy and floating in a different world.

Tonight was different. Tonight was magical. Tonight I saw something different. Normally at her dance studio, they have a television going in the lobby that shows the different rooms. It switches between the active rooms. Normally, without fail, our daughter’s class shows up and just as she is about to do a move or position, the television changes to the other class. I get a chance to see her in action every once in a while. While it is nice to see her flit across the screen, the flat panel can only give you so much. Tonight, the door to her room was left open, and due to a crowded lobby, I stood in a corner opposite the door.

I pushed myself deeper into the corner so that if she glanced out the door, she would have to concentrate to find me. I didn’t think she would take the time to do such a thing especially since I am not the one that is normally at dance with her. By standing there, I saw both our little one as well as her reflection in the mirror. That is when I saw her freedom, her spirit, her joy, and her happiness.

I love the school that she attends. While the teacher works with the students to help them improve at their dance, they are not rigid about it. Yes, she corrects them, but it is not the way that you see in films depicting the stricter school. She does not stand in the center of the room with a staff pounding it on the floor, shouting “Again.” This teacher lets them go through the routine and then makes simple corrections. She does not make the class one that the students fear or hate to attend. She sees their love of dance and nurtures it. I am not sure about the rest of the girls, but I know that unless something changes internally for our daughter, this is just for pure fun and enjoyment.

By being able to see her reflection in the mirror, I could see her eyes. The lit up with excitement. When the music stopped, and the teacher stopped to work with one child or another, she danced. There was no music playing, but she heard something and she moved to it. It was beautiful. I saw her spin and pirouette. I saw the day run out of her. She let all of the mundane part of the day drain away. With each movement, she became lighter on her feet. Her smile grew to a point that it was three times larger than any smile before. She was uninhibited. The world and any problems that an eight year old might hold no longer matter.

Yes, I did see her struggle with a few of the moves required for the routine. I saw her be corrected on her spins. None of that mattered. She took her notes and tried again. Sometimes it improved, sometimes it didn’t. Her laughter never changed. She worried about nothing. She was in a safe place to let all go, and she did.

That was the lesson I walked away with. LET IT GO. All too often adults hold on to the stress and frustrations of the day. We leave work, but all of the issues of the day go home with us. Yesterday, late in the evening, I posted about how bad of a day I had. I could not let it go. Today, our daughter showed me how silly that was. She taught me to dance. Dance with or without the music. Don’t hold the day in, dance it away.

With that in mind, I crawled down on the floor with her tonight once we were home. We played, we laughed, we let it go. I am going to do that more often. I am going leave the problems of work at work. I will work hard to come home to my wife and child without the drudgery of work. It will not be perfect for often my wife and I need to get things out of our system. However, we can limit it. While we may not physically dance (maybe we will) we will spiritually dance. I will work to bring more happiness into my home.

So tonight, I am dancing down the road. Thank you for dancing along with me.

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What is Success?

Posted on April 4, 2016 by Bob Martin

I ffocus on success magnifying glassind it funny how it appears that things fall into your lap when you are concentrating on a subject. While I would like to believe in coincidences, I think it is that your brain is just more aware and capable of finding those things for which you need answers. Yes, I also do believe in divine intervention, but I also believe in God helping those who are aware. Anyways, in less than two sentences, I have totally digressed from my actual topic. What is success? How about that, I bet you never saw that coming from the opening. That is truly what I am meandering about tonight, what is success.

I am unable to pinpoint the time or reason that this came into my head, but it has been bothering me for a while now. At what point is somebody considered a success? Is the title bestowed on a person once they reach a certain level or wealth, job title, position within the community, or some other factor?

I guess it is because I am a father, and, as a dad, I think about our daughter. I worry about what lies ahead for her. She talks so often about what she will be when she grows up. Depending on the day (sometimes hour or minute), her decisions change. She moves from a chef, to a fashion model, to a baker, to a teacher, and a mom. All of these sound wonderful to me since my concerns are the she is happy with who she becomes. However, would any of these make her successful?

My questions come from the way our society looks at success by individuals versus the community as a whole. On numerous occasions I have spoken to different people to get their point of view on this subject. I find it funny because when I have had the chance to have one-on-one talks, I hear, often, the same thing. I will consider my child successful if he/she can support the family while also being happy. When they talk of success it is more about an internal feeling versus a title and money.

Here is the funny thing about those conversations. I remember speaking to one friend who echoed the above sentiments. We were quite a bit into the conversation. I, at the time, did not have a child, but this person had a couple of kids. He agreed that we put too much pressure on the kids to be something better than their parents. Children are pushed to be that CEO or better. Parents want to have the next Steve Jobs. He then said that we should let children be whoever they want to be. I can remember then asking if he would be okay with his son being a custodian somewhere or cook at McDonalds. He stated yes and paused. He smiled and then sheepishly said, “No way. My kid will make something of himself.” He fell into the trap and fell hard.

While we are not 100% a capitalist society, it does have a control over us. I am not saying that this is a completely bad thing. Capitalism is the thing that makes new inventions happen. It moves us along in so many different ways. It allows for two guys to start off in a garage and end up creating jobs for 1000s of people. However, it also dictates what we expect out of all of our younger generation. We look down upon those who do things that make them happy. We consider them lazy, without drive, and not worthy. We don’t want people to go after their dreams if their dreams don’t end with a million dollars and mansion. Is society right or wrong?

So how do we set our young people up for success? How do we get them to understand that being a CEO, an artist, a parent, a writer, a custodian, a… fill in the blank is successful if that is what they want to be? They learn from their parents, teachers, mentors, television, and society. Children see pictures of mansions, parties, and limos and the word success is connected to them. It almost seems as if we are afraid to tell them that being a normal person who works hard, has a small home, and a car is just as successful. It is rare that we call someone who takes a job that doesn’t demand much of them so that they have time to go after their dreams or spend more time with their families. Instead, we seem to have only one idea as to what success is. Why?

I will admit that while in the classroom I tried to teach the success is what you believe it is. However, when I felt a student was living up their potential, I worked to help him/her improve. At times, I did it by asking what they wanted to be when they were older and then relating how being strong in English was what was needed. What I should have been doing was finding out what their strengths were and what they wanted to be and then nurturing that while at the same time giving them enough in the English side of the house to be good at their chosen path. Not everyone needs to have an A in English.

So now I need to live what I preach. I truly believe that our daughter can be “successful” in whatever it is that she choices to do. How do I make sure that I help her move in her direction without forcing a belief that she needs to be rich with a big title? How do I make sure, if that is what she wants, that I don’t cause her to not try to reach goals for fear of going against my beliefs?

All I can do is be there to help her in whatever direction she takes. There is no career that she can do that I won’t be proud of her. She may actually choose a job that isn’t great, but in the end it will allow her to have time to pursue something that she is passionate about or spend more time with her family. I will try to remember the recent cartoon by Bill Watterson (creator of Calvin and Hobbes) http://imgur.com/gallery/nRI1l

I promise to be there no matter her choice.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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Innocent Voices

Posted on April 2, 2016 by Bob Martin

Boy SoldiersYesterday, I took time to watch a foreign film titled, Innocent Voices. It is a film that looks at the lives of the children in a town of El Salvador during the 1980s. The movie takes us into the last village that stands between the two forces. We watch as a young boy, 11 soon to be 12, sees his life torn apart by war. He witnesses civilians being killed. He watches as the innocent voices, those of the children, are torn from their families to be conscripted into the army, or, worse silence for life. This is not a feel good movie.

Watching a film like this makes you take a hard look at your own life. The movie had ups and downs. The people found ways to bring laughter even into this horrible situation. They found joy. They watched as their friends were taken from school. Then they had music. It seemed to make it alright. Yet through each scene, I could not help but compare my childhood to theirs for I am only a few years older than they were at the time. Would I have been able to live through something like this and still survived?

I then thought how people complain about how our children are today. How well could American children do with this situation?

Now before people stop reading, I understand it is nearly impossible to compare since children lived it every single day. Many were born into it and knew nothing else. How can one expect to children who have never had to experience war to be compared to these children? Then it struck me, American children have and do.

I watched a scene where the children were fast asleep in bed. The machine guns started spraying bullets with no care as to where they hit. What they called a house was soon a shooting gallery. They threw the mattress against the wall and hid under the frame of the bed. I started thinking of the stories of I have read coming from some of the cities within our own country. I have too often woke to hear a story on the news about some child asleep in their bed when a bullet came through a wall or window. I questioned whether or not our children could survive. I was wrong. Our children are having to survive.

Tonight, I had the house to myself. My wife and daughter were both out. At first I thought that this would be such a nice, peaceful evening. It is not. I am sitting here thinking of the children of our city, state, country, and world. Sadness is not even a word that comes close to what I feel. The thing that makes it worse is that most people have no ability to do much about these things. The only thing that I have the ability to do is to help educate the young people of today to find a way to stop all of this here and around the world.

Somehow we need to stop the circle. But how?

Tonight I bring up a problem, yet I can offer nothing towards the solution that has not already been said. We must demand from our leaders more be done within our country to stop this. No young person is brought into this world with hate. No young person comes into this world with the ability to kill one another. Yet, that is what we teach them. They see their friends being dragged and forced into this life. The hate grows in them due to teachings of the adults.

How? How do we stop the lives of our young people from traveling this road? It is only through our children that we will find a peace, but somehow we must get the adults of the world to teach it first.

I get it. I am lucky that I grew up where I did and that I live where I live. Our daughter is fortunate as well. What will it take until all of our children are as fortunate? The movie ended by stating more than 300,000 children are recruited into armies even today in more than 40 countries. We need to rest of the countries to stop this. But how?

I am sorry that the road tonight was not a happy one. Shed a tear with me, and then let’s figure out how to fix this.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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