Dad Revisited

Advent is a temporal paradox. It is the end of the calendar year, but also the beginning of the liturgical year. It is a chance for a fresh start with your faith. It is, in fact, one of the two holiest seasons in our Christian year. It may also be the time where we are weakest in our faith.

Consider Black Friday. Were you your most faithful on that day? Were you considering what was best for all those about you, or for you alone? Were you among an angry mob of folks banging on a door, remarking that the sign says 5am and it is most certainly 5:02 already? Were you waiting patiently to be served, or did you foster anger and impatience among those about you?

Consider the holiday season in general. Are you considering your faith as you set out your menorah? Are you contemplating how oil sufficient for a single day of light should burn for eight? When I put out my creche, and I considering the miracle of a virgin birth? Or am I contemplating how another holiday is coming, and I have so much to do that I can’t see straight? Am I thinking the worst of my family because I do all the work on the holidays, and they have merely to show up with a tray of veggies as an admission ticket?

Am I yielding to the stranger in the parking lot who may have a baby, a pregnant wife, or an invalid relative in the car? Or am I stealing that spot because gracious I am in a serious hurry and you couldn’t possibly be on as tight a schedule as I am?

Am I letting the woman with three items go ahead of me in the grocery line when I have an entire cart full of provisions? Or am I justifying myself by thinking “no one ever lets me get in front so why should I do it for a stranger?”

Sure, we make our resolutions when we hang that pristine new paper calendar on the refrigerator. But do we truly make resolutions when the new year begins? The liturgical one? In this religious time of renewal (at least for Christians) perhaps we should consider making our resolutions on a schedule that makes sense in keeping our faith, and not with an artificially imposed governmental order.

If we live in a society where a man at a Walmart can be trampled to death by a group of people trying to buy discount televisions, it’s time for all of us to stop and reconsider who we are and what we do. Once we have our own houses in order, we can test the theory that I hope from the deepest reaches of my soul is true:

Good will is contagious.

So join what I hope becomes the largest scientific study ever conducted by a blogger. Come on this site and share with us all a tale of good will done unto you, and how you plan to do unto others. If you haven’t found any good will yet, tell us how you are spreading it in your life.

Thanksgiving trials and tribulations are so common that most years there is some sort of fight. It’s easy to do, really. All you have to do is let the stress get to you, suspend common sense, and let it fly.

The holidays are a very stressful time of year, mental health professionals say. I don’t have empirical data on this, nor a source you can check. I’ve heard it said, so I repeat it. This is the Internet so it must be true. I figure Thanksgiving fights come from the fact that tomorrow is Black Friday, and I just know I’ll be wrestling some old lady in the morning for the last $20 DVD Player at Target.

Some of the biggest and most memorable disasters we’ve had:
- The Great Gravy Incident, where my sister-in-law finished helping with the food for all the kids, and by the time she got to the table, the gravy was gone. I think that was the last time we saw her that night. She didn’t speak to anyone that year.
- The Bonanza Buy-a-Hand Brush-Up, where my brother-in-law bid $.25 for a hand in a penny card game. My sister-in-laws previous bid had been $.03. They didn’t speak for a while after that.
- The Drunken Douche Dust-Off, where my wife and I had a fight because her family was particularly aggravating and I let her know. She said I was ruining her day with my complaining. We didn’t speak for a day or two.
- The “Share Share That’s Fair” Scare, when I complained that I never see my family on the holidays anymore. The next year we solved that problem by actually seeing my family. I remembered why we don’t see them, so it’s better now.

The past three years are memorable because again we’ve been fighting over gravy. The first year someone was supposed to bring it and arrived asking “do you have a cookbook?” We ended up using jar gravy. Last year the gravy came out so bad that we had to reach into the cabinet and pull out packaged gravy (which we laid in just in case.) This year after an hour of preparation, the gravy was not thickening (which wasn’t mentioned at all on the Internet recipe she consulted) so we added the proverbial  emergency package of gravy mix to thicken it up.

And so we wrap up another Thanksgiving Day, joyfully sending our families on their way, reciting the mantra we hope to remember for next year…

“I couldn’t ask you to do the gravy. That’s too much. What vegetable would you like to bring?”

Hope you had a happy day!

My house is filled with videos of the family. I have 8mm video tapes I took on my first video camera. Well, it’s not actually my first camera. The first one my wife and I bought from Tops Appliance City. It was not really very good, and it had clearly been opened before. When we decided to go with a different camera (from Jersey Camera) we took that first one back to Tops. They wanted to charge us a restocking fee of 15%. Luckily, my wife was pregnant at the time (we wanted a camera ready for when Skippy was born) so with a little rubbing of the stomach and a lot of looking sad, we got it waived.

And so we have the early years of Skippy’s life (and our Italy trip) preserved on 8mm video tapes taken on that first/second camera. When that camera’s batteries crapped out and could not be replaced, we bought a 8mm Sony Handicam, in the interest of keeping the same format. Well, saying that 8mm camera’s have the same format is like saying that all you need is one lid for all your pots. Just because they are the same shape doesn’t mean all the pots and lids work together. Luckily, I kept the old camera, which works fine with the adaptor (or it did 7 years ago the last time I tried it.) We can still ostensibly view those videos.

The Sony is still our family video camera, but we never use it. I have a drawer filled with video tapes from that camera, and the camera sitting in a bag in the corner. We never use it because we really don’t watch videos after we make them. It’s just not convenient to do. We have to set up the camera with all the cables, hook it to the TV, and watch.

It’s also been usurped by our digital still camera. The Canon Powershot A-series camera does video and stills. They are all saved on an SD card, and can be uploaded, edited, and shared on the computer. This is by far the most convenient way to deal with video. I can edit it together with still pictures, titles, music, and even screen captures. Who wouldn’t want to do that? With iDVD, I can even make DVD’s for the grandparents.

The Canon PowerShot is still not the best video camera (the video is a little low resolution) but it may end up being the solution for the time being. I’d love to upgrade, but I’m not ready to spend $300+ on a camera. That and I don’t have $300+ to spend. I looked at the cheaper FlipVideo Mino camera, but the quality doesn’t appear to be THAT much of and upgrade and I don’t want to be a slave to USB. I like being able to bring a pocket full of SD cards and sort it out at home. Plus, I already OWN a pocket full of SD cards.

What solution are you using? It looks like the Canon PowerShot A-series will have to be the one for us, for now. We need to buy another still camera. The budget says we may be getting a second PowerShot. It’s a great multi-purpose platform, if you want good still and decent video in one inexpensive package.

Western Grace, originally uploaded by kretyen.

With Thanksgiving coming up this week, I’m considering what I will say at the table. Not for small talk, but in prayer before the meal. As the guy who works at a church, people assume I must be the most religious in the room at our Thanksgiving feast. I’m not. My wife is far more religious, but she would prefer that I do the public speaking. I used to be reluctant, but I’ve come to accept it, and now relish the idea of having a pulpit.

Anyway, that’s not the point. I know that “Thank you Lord for all that I am. Bless us all, now pass the yams” won’t do. I don’t know what I’ll say, but perhaps it will sound like this:

The world has been a difficult and dangerous place lately. Thousands of American men and women will be spending this holiday in harms way, while their families pray that the empty chair at their table will soon be filled again. Others worry about losing their homes, keeping their jobs, feeding their families, or affording a doctors visit for their children.

But with thanks to you, Lord, we know that a new day is dawning. We pray that conscience and faith will guide President-Elect Obama and his team in doing that which is necessary to protect and support our nation and it’s people. And although this is a welcome change, we know that we have always had reason to give thanks, because we have always had that which is most important.

We stand here today with our family, connected not only by blood but by unconditional love. Although at times we may be separated by arrogance, ego, or foolishness, we know that family is inviolate. We promise to love and care for one another, and we pray that you may bless others in the same ways we are blessed… with clothing, food, homes, jobs, and loved ones.

We ask this in His name. Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

I’m told I have a hearing problem. Either that or an earring bra bum. It’s hard to tell. But to quote Inigo Montoya, “I do not think that means what you think it means.”

I do have trouble with my hearing. Years of sitting in front of the trumpets in Band, coaching and playing drums in Marching Band, and a childhood punctured eardrum have taken their toll on my hearing. That’s not the true issue.

When I don’t hear you, I politely request a repetition. It’s when I think I know what you said that creates a problem. My wife is the most frequent victim of this problem.

“Do the dishes” says she. I respond “OK.” But I know the fishes died years ago. Why should I feed dead fish? She must have forgotten, so I ignore it. “Clean the bathroom” she says. “Yes” I agree. I see the math room. It’s also the science room and the English room. The kids do all their homework there.

What I find strange is how things get stuck in your ears. Yes, that kindergarten jelly bean debacle is one example, but there are other things that get stuck. Requests appear to be larger than other statements and get wedged in there for a while. They are only dislodged when the person who made the request reiterated the request. Apparently the combined force of the request doubled pushes it through. I’m no scientist, but I’m sure there is research on that. The largest phrase of all appears to be “pick up milk.” That phrase never seems to gets through.

I’m often amazed at how things get turned around before they get to the brain. I can’t figure out how “no, we can’t afford that” turns into “make sure they throw in the extended warranty.” I haven’t figured that out no matter how I try.

Unfortunately it appears to be genetic. My children have the same issue. “Be home by eleven” becomes “hope your date is heaven.” “Clean your room” becomes “see you soon.” “Do your homework” turns to “I’m a big jerk.” (I assume that’s what it sounds like. Their reaction when I say it appears to confirm that fact.)

It’s contagious too! Entire discussions I’ve had with my wife seem to disappear in her ear canal. I need not imagine how frustrated others must be when I am so afflicted as I feel it myself as I exclaim “we TALKED about this. You were there! How can you not remember?” Or so I think. It’s possible that was an old discussion dislodged by a gallon of milk.

Well, I need to go now. I have to make a bid on a pool. I don’t know why she wants me to do that now! The kids have to get to school!

Roland and Vinny talk about some belt-tightening measures around the house, and a few funny (and stomach churning) turkey issues.

[05:00] Belt tightening tips for these rocky financial times
[29:45] Listener feedback
[32:30] What’s on your iPod?
[37:35] Thanksgiving disasters and safety tips

Links Mentioned:

• Bankers Are Almost as Unloved as Prostitutes, Playboy Germany Reports
• Escape Pod
• Wait Wait… I know this!
• Turducken
• Turducken song #1
• Turducken song #2
• Deep-dried disaster
• Turkey drop
• Fryer fire

Best wishes to you and your families for a memorable Thanksgiving. Thanks for listening!

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I’m the worst when it comes to maintaining relationships. There may be only one thing that I do worse- deal with photos.

Lately I’ve found a way to take care of both- Facebook. I’ve met people on Facebook I haven’t seen in decades. I’ve starting singing with a bunch of my friends from High School (many of whom went into the Arts) and just got note from my old college RA. I started out just looking for a new way to connect with podcasters. I ended up resurecting the life I had ignored into submission.

What I’m loving most about Facebook is the Photo application. I can send my own photos there to share them. That’s very cool. The best part is not only can I see the photos I load but if they tag me, I can find other peoples photos of me.

Finally, a way to abdicate authority for my photos. I don’t have to put them in albums- just upload. I don’t have to find the pictures in my drawers- I just have to wait fir a friend to upload their photo and then tag them- they show up on MY page.

If that’s not a great reason to use Facebook, I don’t know of a better one.

The 2008 election was an historic election. No, not for Barack Obama. The residents of the State of California decided that the right for any two people to marry, regardless of their gender, was no longer to be sanctioned. The text of Proposition 8 read, simply, that “(o)nly marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.” The California Legislature has twice voted to allow same-sex marriage, but the Governor has vetoed the measure each time. This proposition to alter the State Constitution would nullify a recent California State Supreme Court ruling disallowing a ban on such marriages.

Love is hard to find. Truly. Each of us is so flawed I can’t imagine how we can even stand the sight of one another most days. We all have our foibles and issues. When you can finally find someone to love you, should you not seize the opportunity to join with them for a lifetime of love? How can any marriage, any agreement entered into with love and care for another be wrong? Does not Matthew 7:12 say “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” Read the last clause again, so you can see “this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” This is not a single part of the law, but the guiding force, the summary of it. If we deny marriage to anyone, we are not living by this guiding principle. There is no qualifier. “This sums up some portions of the Law, but reinterpret other sections as you see fit.”

No. Love is not to be feared, and commitment is not to be denied. The same folks who believe all gay men to be predators of whom our children must be fearful would also deny they be allowed the opportunity to marry. I would say that any man or woman willing to go against community sensibilities and enter into a world so misunderstood and maligned is crazy, not for their preference to love another of their gender but to risk suffering the slings and arrows of narrow-minded members of the human race. That they continue uninhibited is a credit to them and their conquest to find the one person with whom they might share a modicum of happiness.

If circumstances had been different, could I have married? Not another man, but imagine this: If I fell in love with my the woman I now call my wife, and I was told by my family that it was wrong, could I have continued? Would I have been strong enough to foster the relationship? If so, what if the town were to tell me the same? Could I endure? If the state then intervened? Would I be willing and able to look all of those whom I trust AND all of those who would judge me and say “I have made the right choice?” Would I then be truly in love if I had done such a thing? Wouldn’t anyone?

Love itself contains so many hurdles. The odds are already stacked against, dare I say, more “traditional” relationships. Same-sex couples endure far more to get to the point of marriage than my wife and I ever saw. If the path to a mixed gender marriage is a 5k run, same-sex couples run a triathalon to get to the same point. Who are we, anyone, to say they have not the right to cross the finish line?

I try to be spiritual and graceful, but I was moved to tears by Olbermann’s take on this matter. He says it far better than I could.

The full text of the segment can be found at buzznet.com

My wife and I are Band Parents. Not only am I a Band Parent, but as a music teacher, I’ve met a lot of band parents.

They are… different. They are not cheerleader parents killing another flute player’s mom for a solo.

They are not Little League parents who yell at the director after some kid blows the trumpet feature they think their child would have nailed.

They are not stage parents who push their kids to be the star they never could be.

Band parents are tough. They endure the blistering heat of the Memorial Day parade and suffer the icy cold of football championships on Thanksgiving Weekend.

Band parents are resourceful. They fix a hem on a uniform in mid-parade, fix instruments they have never played and cases that have seen better days.

Band parents are sensitive. They find positive words for mediocre performances and reassuring words for solos missed.

Band parents are enthusiastic. They cheer as loudly for the last halftime show as the first, and smile widely as they sell yet another plate of cookies.

Band parents are eclectic. They love the symphonies of the orchestra, the extended jams of the jazz band, and the close harmonies of the choir.

Band parents are selfless. They give up dinner to get their children to concerts for the warm-up, and luxuries to pay for extra lessons at festival time.

Band parents are patient. They put up with Machiavellian band directors and discombobulated orchestra leaders.

Band parents aren’t better than anyone else, nor do we think ourselves better. Many of us were band geeks when we were growing up. We just find it hard to believe that any child would not want to be in the band. It might seem like we are stunned when you say your child would rather play football. Don’t worry- we are, but it’s less about you than it is about us. We know, just as you know, that there is little chance that our children will be successful football players or musicians when they grow to adulthood, but it’s fun to consider.

Well, at least that’s what I tell myself as I freeze my keister off on the icy cold bleachers late on a Friday Night in November.

My internet went down. 

Funny, I expected creepy music, or more drama as I wrote that. Picture little japanese people running through the streets with giant rubber dinosaur feet in pursuit. Cows and picket fences flying through the air as a pickup swerves madly on the road. Cary Grant face down in the cornfield as a small plane streaks overhead, bullets pinging off the hardpack. A small child, crying on the curb as the masses rush about in terror. 

It was a big deal for me. The internet is my only connection with the outside world. Well, for half the day. I work in a day job where technology could have stopped around 1750 and I would still be able to continue. Give me candles, kids, and a clavichord and I’d be fine. At night, I become an Internet Superstar. (cue fanfare here) 

A minor star, perhaps. I was sitting and interviewing Michael Aaron Rockland, author of “The Goerge Washington Bridge” via Skype when he just… disappeared. I freaked. I checked the connection on my headphones. I wheeled across the room (desk chair, small room) and flipped on the speakers to confirm he was not speaking. Nothing. 

I quit Skype and restarted. Tried to connect. Nothing. RATS! Error 1004. What the heck is that? I’ll look it up on Google. Where is Google? Yahoo? ASK.com? OH NO! I’m cut off! 

I immediately began running around the room (as I said, it’s a small place, so it was many laps over a very short period of time) looking for two things. First, my cell phone to call Mr. Rockland and stall for time. Second, anything I would need to take with me. Suddenly I was one of those people in a California widfire, rushing about the house trying to grab the family photos, the pets, and anything else that I could carry to the local FEMA relief shelter. Except for me, it was grabbing all the electronics and cables I would need to go and live at the local Panera Bread until I figured out what was wrong. 

Then, suddenly, I was struck with a thought. It could, as these things have been in the past, only temporary. If that was so, perhaps I could… do something else. I called my author and rescheduled for the next day. I found my wallet (obscured during my mad dashing about but revealed when I moved my “emergency kit”… er, laptop bag) and went shopping. A low-tech, pedestrian activity. First, off to the Target (pronounced ‘Tar-zhay’) for the simplest of low-tech activities- buying skivvies. Then to the grocery store to pick up my weekly salad makings. All the while, I don’t relax, though. I’m concerned that I won’t be able to complete my Skype interview. I can’t update my podcasts. I can’t finish my blog post. I can’t check my email. I won’t be able to watch my shows on Hulu. My cell phone battery is dying, and I can’t find the charger. Without Skype, email, or cell phone, I might have to spend a night… dare I say… reading a book! Is it like riding a bicycle? Will I forget how to do it? If I stumble, will I have the courage to continue. 
I drove with gullet rising in my throat back to Studio B, hoping that it was a mistake. Maybe I simply forgot to reactivate the wireless, or I hit a shortcut disabling it. Maybe I had to reinstall Skype. ANYTHING! It MUST be something simple….. 

I never found out what caused the outage, but it’s over now. The crisis is past, and I can communicate with the outside world. As terrifying as they are, times like these are important. They separate the men from the boys, the weak from the strong. They show us how much inner strength we truly possess. They tell us, in essence, what we’re made of. 

Apparently, I’m made of marshmallow.