Hugs.

I had the insane pleasure to get out of my comfort zone a bit and celebrate the 50th birthday of a “dear friend I’d never met” at the invitation of his wife. A few months ago, I decided I would board a plane over the Labor Day holiday weekend and head to Jacksonville to celebrate with him, a handful of other non-Floridians who also flew to celebrate him, and to join in what appeared to be a huge family reunion as well as close local friends.

What I experienced was nothing short of magical. First, putting aside his baseball fandom being far outside mine (as friends often do!), he’s a talented musician, teacher, cook, storyteller, and overall Renaissance Man. We were treated to some of his own best barbecue sliders and brisket, along with an assortment of berries, cheeses, and other sides – that pasta salad was delectable.

After dinner, we were treated to a concert in the back yard. Not just running through music (he’s a piano-player and trained singer), but of connecting it to his life story. 50 years worth. Even the thunderstorm didn’t slow him down as we reconvened the entire party – some 25 to 30 or so new friends and family – in the combo living and dining room space.

He played Mr. Rogers, Vince Guaraldi, Elvis Presley, Bruce Hornsby, Michael McDonald, Brian McKnight, Doobie Brothers, Stevie Wonder, and more. A young budding musician debuted one of her songs as well, preparing to make her way to Nashville over the next few months. Another internet friend (as we call each other) and I sang and played a song written over 30 years ago by a high school friend of mine who was kind enough to remind me recently of the chord progressions.

I met the birthday boy’s mother and stepfather, along with his sister and niece. The introvert that I am, of course, I was quite content to chat (for perhaps far too long for them!) with his sister and niece. Sweet people. Kind and welcoming.

Even the niece (16yo) was content enough to hug me after the conversation, something her mother added that she often is resistant or hesitant to do.

This whole trip was too short. I think I’m finally caught up on sleep. But I experienced so much seratonin and dopamine pumping through my brain over the weekend, I had to sneak naps when I could.

The whole experience also offered a significant amount of nostalgia for me, despite not having ever met anyone at the party. I was telling one of my old friends from high school about the experience and what it triggered in me. It triggered some incredible memories of a time when I brought my Roland electric piano (which barely fit in my little car) to his house to jam with him and his brother, eventually leading up to a houseful of other friends who sang and snacked late into the night in his mom and stepfather’s home. My friend Melissa referred to the experience as found family. And indeed, they found me.

Teri, Tai, Melissa, Aaron, and me.

The story of my history of friendships begins here.

Manly.

So, Jody Allard has now publicly shamed her two teen sons (between 16 and 19, it seems, from her original post) a second time.  During her first post, she talks about her position on rape culture and misogyny and how she must get them to see how they contribute to it, even by their silence.

I have compiled some thoughts for a friend.  Any quotes of the original post that prompt my response are to be credited to her and not to me.  I’ll be quoting inline to save you the time of going back and forth.  However, it’s up to you if you want to toss her a hit to her site and actually read the entire thing.

They are good boys, in the ways good boys are, but they are not safe boys. I’m starting to believe there’s no such thing.

Of course there is no such thing.  Men were not designed/evolved to be safe.  If a woman is in danger (and lacks ability to defend or protect herself – not saying all women lack these!), a safe man won’t help her.  She (and weaker men) need (even if they don’t want) the alpha unsafe male to do his thing; he makes unpopular decisions and takes unpopular actions to ensure the safety of those around him, but he is not safe himself.  I gave her a piece of my mind in the comments on her original article.  This desire for safe men is ruining real masculinity.  Yes, I have very strong opinions on this.

I didn’t think it would be controversial when I wrote it; I was sure most parents grappled with raising sons in the midst of rape culture.

How could she not think it would be controversial?  She’s either naive or unwisely living in her little, (not really) safe, progressive bubble.  What about those of us who are raising daughters in rape culture? She’s totally diminishing the stress of parenting anyone who isn’t raising sons, but raising daughters instead.  Parenting is hard work.  Last night, I was present when my daughter addressed some things about one of her colleagues.  She takes responsibility for her own mistakes and doesn’t push her expectations on others, beyond legal and professional ones.  It’s her first job and she’s learning about corporate culture and responsibility.  However, she recognizes that not everyone experiences morality the same.  

He is angry at me now, although he won’t admit that either, and his anger led him to conservative websites and YouTube channels; places where he can surround himself with righteous indignation against feminists, and tell himself it’s ungrateful women like me who are the problem.

Of course he’s angry with her.  She attacked his identity – not his behaviors.  She attacked him for something he can’t control.  Being a man.  Oh, no.  He went to conservative websites?  If I ever shared my thoughts publicly regarding my daughters as being included in something I fear or hate (not that I have any), even with their permission (she said she had her sons’ permission, too), I’d expect anger, hurt, even retaliation that I’m the problem.  I don’t remember all the details of her article last year, but I can totally get why her “good” son thinks his mother is part of the problem. That’s not to diminish the challenge of women who are single parents to sons.  Not at all.  

I teeter frequently between supporting my son and educating him. Is it my job as his mother to ensure he feels safe emotionally, no matter what violence he spews? Is it my job as his mother to steer and educate, no matter how much that education challenges his view of himself? I think it’s both, but the balance between the two has proven impossible to pinpoint. When I hear his voice become defensive, I back off but question whether I’m doing him any favors by allowing his perception of himself to go unchallenged. When I confront him with his own sexism, I question whether I’m pushing too hard and leaving him without an emotional safe space in his home.

Last year, the sons were 16 and 18.  I think it’s safe to say that her job educating them is done or nearly done.  For several years, it has not been her job to make them feel safe. The fact that he would get angry and irritated during those diner conversations surrounding yet another discussion of rape culture and misogyny… not unlike the frequent conversations in our house about adolescence issues, healthy and unhealthy behaviors, and friendships.  She’s not okay with letting him be (in her eyes) completely wrong.  My bride and I are often concerned our children might be wrong about things.  However, if we shield them from that now, while under our roof, they won’t develop the skills necessary to experience disappointment and correction the hard way later through corrective action and documentation with their employers.  No; she needs to let someone else challenge him.

As a single mother, I sometimes wonder whether the real problem is that my sons have no role models for the type of men I hope they become. But when I look around at the men I know, I’m not sure a male partner would fill that hole. Where are these men who are enlightened but not arrogant? Who are feminists without self-congratulation? If my sons need role models, they may have to become their own. …  White people aren’t safe, and men aren’t safe, no matter how much I’d like to assure myself that these things aren’t true.

It’s not enough for her to want them to have role models for who she wants them to become, but who the world needs them to become – and she needs to recognize that the two potential results may not be identical.  Only through adversity will a real man be shown who he is.  (i wish I could take credit for that, but I read it somewhere; this note is to not take credit, but it’s to not plagiarize either.  I just don’t remember where I saw it before).  Who is she to say what’s enlightened?  Her view is the only enlightened one?  And who is she to say what’s arrogant?  Feminists without self-contratulation?  It’s like the meme about vegans and crossfitters.  They can’t walk into a room without announcing their presence or proclivity to avoid animal products and participate in some extreme workout regimen.

If the feminist men — the men who proudly declare their progressive politics and their fight for quality — aren’t safe, then what man is? No man, I fear.

So, only progressives (she doesn’t use the word liberal, because progressive sounds forward-thinking) can be feminists?  This woman needs to be shown a Venn diagram and explained that her boxes are not mutually exclusive positions.  I know men, including myself, who believe and demonstrate that men and women are equals – but different.  I work in a female-dominated field with male patients.  I know I’m disadvantaged in some ways surrounding masculine and feminine stereotypes, and I’m working through that.  Of course a feminist man isn’t safe.  If he espouses the position that women can take care of themselves, he’s not going to defend her.  If he defends her, he’s not a feminist (because she doesn’t need defending), and if he doesn’t, he’s silent in the face of misogyny.  He cannot win within the framework of her position.

I do not want to prove my pain, or provide enough evidence to convince anyone that my trauma is merited. I’m through wasting my time on people who are more interested in ideas than feelings, and I’m through pretending these people, these men, are safe.

I recognize this woman writes from a position of having a traumatic past.  She didn’t (and still doesn’t) deserve what happened to her.  Many people put their insecurities on others based on their past.  That seems to be what she’s doing here.  Placing her questions, fears, and disappointments on her sons – unfairly.  It’s like she blames them for her rape.  Interestingly, feminism is based on ideas – not feelings.  She’s duplicitous in her wanting to address her feelings.  Perhaps a therapist can help her with that.  I hope she finds peace in the midst of her pain.

I love my sons, and I love some individual men. It pains me to say that I don’t feel emotionally safe with them, and perhaps never have with a man, but it needs to be said because far too often we are afraid to say it.

Um.  I don’t understand the idea of anyone having sex with someone with whom he or she doesn’t feel emotionally safe.  Thus, I’m confused as to if she felt safe enough with their father(s) for their conception – Note: I don’t recall seeing if they were full or half-siblings.  This is not a statement regarding promiscuity or an indictment on her character.

This is not a reflection of something broken or damaged in me; it is a reflection of the systems we build and our boys absorb. Those little boys grow into men who know the value of women, the value that’s been ascribed to us by a broken system, and it seeps out from them in a million tiny, toxic ways.

She refuses to look in the mirror of her own mind.  First, she generalizes that “we are afraid to say it” and then she displaces her feeling of lack of safety to others, denying the brokenness in herself.  We all have some form of brokenness.  Hers is different than mine or yours. 

I don’t know what the balance is between supporting these men and educating them, but I know the toll it takes on me to try. I am too valuable and too worthy to waste my time on men who are not my flesh and blood. But as my boys grow into men, I wonder whether I’ve done enough to combat the messages they hear from everyone but me. They are good boys, and maybe that’s the best they can be in the system we’ve created for them.

This is not the first time she talks about supporting and educating.  Her kids are in their later teens.  However, her position at this stage in her life is not to educate.  And supporting them is different than it used to be.  Unless someone is mandated, it is not possible to force education on them.

Those are my detailed thoughts.  Overall, this perspective is hurtful to society.  Just as the Genie from the Disney movie Aladdin says, “You can’t make anyone fall in love with anyone else.”  We can’t make someone feel something, short of blatant psychological manipulation.  Perhaps that’s why her sons are annoyed.  They feel trapped in the conversation because of her authority as Mom and the location being the dinner table in her home.  She is also removing their sense of individuation.  As adolescents start to develop their own set of beliefs and morals, they step away from parents a bit to experience and test their beliefs in the world; she fears that.  Generally speaking, though, mothers who fear their sons, fear them because of some psychopathological or sociopathological trait they see, like parents of serial killers.  Perhaps these boys will be.  But I doubt it.  They will cut her off and she will be disappointed when they don’t let her see her grandchildren.

She will be lonely.  And that makes me sad, even though it’s the consequence of her own actions.

I’d love to receive comments and feedback.  I wanted to link this in my comments on her article as well, but the hate is strong against her and the comments were closed.  Please consider sharing this post in your social media circles.

 

Split.

I don’t understand this.  I’ve seen several friends separate or divorce during my near 20 years of marriage.  Within the Christian community, it’s often said that divorce is a sin, which is many people’s interpretation of the Biblical statement, “I hate divorce” (Malachi 2:26), referring in the first Person of God.  Because He hates it, many believe it to be a sin.  Well, He offers it as an out under special circumstances in Scripture.  So, it can’t possibly be a sin – under those circumstances.  I’m not here to debate the sin or not-sin aspects it.  I’m here to offer perspective and my visceral reaction to the statement made in Malachi (for those of you unfamiliar, that’s the last prophetic writing in the Old Testament of the Bible – no judgment; I just want to get you on the same page as my post here).

I guess, if we were to consider a biblical perspective, we might at why God would hate something (assuming you believe in the God of the Bible).  God is a God of unity.  Of connection.  Of community – unity together. And the statements that precede this are common in a variety of faiths – not just the Judeo and Christian ones.  Let’s make a list of the damage that divorce causes (not the causes of divorce):

• the marriage is torn
• the family (including extended) is shattered
• the friendships are lost
• the property is divided
• the hearts of the individuals are broken

The marriage is torn.  The truth of the matter is that, even before the judge decrees the marriage to be over (divorce), the grieving and anger have been well on their way.  Rarely does a marriage end on a split-second decision, but after the actions of one or both partners has done damage, first in small ways, then in bigger ways.  Gottman (the premiere expert at predicting marital success and divorce) refers to the signs of the end of marriage relationships as being: contempt, criticism, stonewalling, and defensiveness.  These behaviors typically start long before the marriage officially ends.

The family is shattered.  Some couples have large extended families that actually get along.  Gatherings include combined extended families – huge communities who have supported the couple in their marriage through both financial and emotional means.  The traditional wedding in many faiths and since ancient times was a coming together of two families.  Weddings today often have “groom’s side” and “bride’s side” when determining seating on either side of the center aisle in the church.  In Western tradition (as opposed to Middle East, African, or Asian/Eastern), couples may often live away from family as they seek out employment and cultural experiences in places different than the towns and cities of their youth.  Also, individuals may meet their mates in a 3rd location, different from either of their hometowns.  For those who continue to live near family, the impact of the marriage termination seems to be greater by virtue of continued contact with the ex-in-laws.  I was fortunate, though still happily married, to have positive relationships with my Mother in Law and Father in Law while they were still alive.  And I grieve their loss and support my bride in her grief.  Aside from in-laws, children are hurt by divorce, often taking on shame / blame for the parent leaving or not “wanting” to spend time with the children.

The friendships are lost.  When a person is single, they hang out with single friends.  When they are married, they hang out with married friends.  When they’re married with kids, they hang out with other married friends with kids.  When they divorce, the friends are divided up no unlike the marital property (more on that later).  Friends feel forced to choose side and often place blame for the demise of the marriage on one or both of the former couple.  They are affected by the breakup as well.  They grieve and hurt and are angry at how they feel.  Their kids may not be able to hang out at the home of their childhood friends, and those friends may be splitting time with parents, so their availability is limited. “Sorry, I can’t this weekend; I’m at my mom’s house,” may be a common response to an invitation to play or go to a movie.

The property is divided.  While this seems to be the part (along with custody of children) that causes the most anger and pain, for some reason, it also elicits the most vindictive vitriol in communication between the former couple going through this.  This is about, for many, revenge.  She wants his mother’s good China and engagement ring, only because of the sentimental value he places on these items.  He wants the classic convertible that her father left her in his will because of the sentimental value to her – perhaps only to sell it off to spite her.  So much pain here, over stuff.  This and other financial issues (child support and alimony) are often the part many divorcing couples focus on most.  And yet, the least important part of the divorce.  The part that actually ends when all the other ripples keep extending.

The hearts of the individuals are broken.  The pain still lingers.  The focus is on so much hurt and negativity (often through the division of assets/property), that the memories of the good times fades.  Let’s face it – there were good times; they are what brought the couple together and held them for as long as they were held.  But those started fading long before the finality of the divorce decree.  And the broken exes now face even worse odds of a successful relationship in the future, not having the tools and resilience to succeed in their first marriage.  It’s like addiction.  Addicts see their parents turn to the bottle or the pills as coping skills, so learn to do the same.  I work with addicts and see a lot of parallels, primarily in the brokenheartedness.

My reason for posting this is that I’m incredibly grieved by all of this pain.  I’m aware that some of these divorces stem from infidelity, physical/emotional/sexual abuse, and other issues that add to the pain and brokenness.  But this is how I feel.  Several of my friends recently have announced publicly (on social media?) that they are splitting up.  I love them still.  However, to say that it’s amicable and cite “irreconcilable differences”, and move in “other directions” only to (a week or two later) start reporting dating someone else, or being head over heels or whatever, and then seeing friends upon friends pile on support for the new “love” in our mutual friends’ lives…  Ouch.  And there are children who are also on social medial who might be confused at how love and marriage works as a result of my friends’ decisions.  I have a hard time supporting my friends with what seems like their selfish behaviors.  As a Mental Health professional, I see a lot of unhealthy behaviors that are selfish.  I try diligently not to judge and use words like “good” and “bad” or “stupid”, but that’s how I feel.

Maybe that’s wrong of me to use those words, but those are the words that come to mind.  Divorce hurts.  I don’t care much if you’re in love again.  #toosoon?  Probably.  For you.  Learn to be alone, for heaven’s sake.  And learn to be a better partner before you’re a partner again.  In the meantime, I’m unfollowing you, and if we’re good friends, I’m going to have a conversation with you.  Because you’ve trusted me to be there for you, and my silence is my failure to do that.  I’m sorry for that, but now I’m back.

Magic.

Feedback offered to the staff of a world-class mouse-centered theme park in central Florida.
Good evening. 

Although my family decided on a vacation with your primary competitor in Orlando, we were able and fortunate to spend a few days in the Magic Kingdom and Epcot as well. 

I regret not picking up a few Great Service Fanatic cards and taking the time immediately to write. However, please offer the gratitude of the Hokie family from Syracuse, NY. 

First, on Thursday (8/25). I required my family to experience the ultimate bit of nostalgia within an adventure ride, the Jungle Cruise. While this ride didn’t hold a lot of memories from my own childhood (it’s been 26 years since I’ve been on your properties), Weird Al Yankovic has done some great advertising on your behalf with his song, Skipper Dan. We were only briefly disappointed that our skipper was not Dan. My children, who had a low expectation of this ride – we should call it a show – enjoyed every moment of Skipper Patsy Jane’s monologue. The timing of her puns was spot on. My 16 year old daughter laughed heartily when Skipper Patsy pointed out the incredible flora, particularly the hibiscus, lobiscus, midbiscus, dogbiscus, and seabiscus. My family thinks that my puns are lame compared to those regaled to us by the silver-tongued and seemingly quick-witted Skipper Patsy.

Second, the cast members working with Mickey at Tony’s Restaurant for the autographs on the same day (at park opening) did really well to recover after an incident involving the family immediately in front of mine. Mickey was removed from the room and appeared to have debriefed with his handlers and then my family was permitted photos and autographs with him and then Tinker Bell. It took longer than planned, but your cast members responded well and appropriately. 

Third, on Friday, my 14yo and I were building lightsabers (just a fun activity) in Mouse Gear when we were approached by ‘Matt the Jedi’ from the University of Maine. Matt helped us build the sabers and took some photos of my daughter and me (we opted not to purchase, telling Matt we were just browsing, and he encouraged us to have fun). We expressed concern about the wait time for Frozen Ever After and asked about our Fastpass+ to Mission Space and Soarin’, as we also wanted to meet Mulan in the World Showcase temple in China (the afternoon rain pushed the photos inside). Matt assured us that we could be up to ten minutes late for our Fastpass+ windows without losing our ability to use them and encouraged us to join the Orange Team for Mission Space for the complete experience of the attraction. We expressed to him some displeasure over the Ellen DeGeneres attraction focused on energy and the Stitch’s Great Escape (which my entire family experienced on the 25th). Matt confirmed that a lot of guests don’t care for either of these as there are far superior experiences in the parks. Matt advised us, regarding Frozen Ever After, to be there at the attraction entrance by 8:50 to be guaranteed a ride, though the sign and My Disney Experience app on our iPhones had the wait time at 105 minutes throughout much of the day. We followed Matt’s instructions and boarded our boat on the ride by 9:08pm. We also were a few minutes late to Soarin’ and had no problems experiencing this incredible attraction. Matt really did well. I should add that it seemed there were additional character meet and greets scheduled (Mulan and Aladdin) that should be included on the App.  

Fourth, I met Al from Ft. Hood, Texas at the Refreshment Port between Canada in the World Showcase and Future World. Nice guy and he aspires to ultimately work in your IT department. He said he appreciated that I wanted to reuse my soda cup (because it was a large), but that you require fresh cups. However, instead of a small cup, he was kind enough to provide the same size I offered to reuse. 

Fifth, my daughter and I did not have high hopes for the Agent P ‘game’ presented throughout the World Showcase. However, once she identified the display in the entrance to the pyramid in the Mexico area, she was thrilled at the experience. We played through Mexico, China, and Germany – we loved the yodeling steins in the gift shop in Germany! 

Finally, my family has some dietary challenges for one of our children. While not technically an allergy, she has an inability to absorb fructose. Your food service cast members responded well to our questions and concerns throughout the park. 

There were some negatives.  

Although the water was ‘free’ for courtesy cups, my wife and I agree that it tended to taste like ‘hot dog water’. You know, the water that remains after boiling hot dogs in it. 

Additionally, the Stitch’s Great Escape signage offered no indication that smells would be incorporated into the attraction. My wife experienced nausea for several hours due to the aroma of chili dogs.  

Finally, between 8:25 and 8:30pm on 8/26, my 14yo was meeting Joy and Sadness from Inside Out. Evidently, and she told me immediately after meeting them, Sadness was in a hurry to get photos done and whispered to her, ‘let’s take the pictures already’. I didn’t hear it and, frankly, the fact that we weren’t moving more quickly was up to the handlers and photographer. While I was taking photos myself throughout the day of all the meet and greet experiences, I made it a point to tell the photographers that I would be letting them take their photos and managing mine around them – I know how challenging it can be to work around parents and flashing iPhones; I appreciate the work that your photographers do. 

We weren’t sure how our daughters (16 and 14) would like the parks, their first time at WDW resort, and having been at DL in 2009. The challenge we have is that one would prefer to spend her time on your properties while the other with your competitor. I think we were able to spend ample time for each child in her favorite experiences.  

Please thank Skipper Patsy, Al from Ft. Hood, and Matt the Jedi from the family from Syracuse and add this note accordingly to their HR files.  

Thank you for reading all of this and making some dreams come true. 

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College?

In this article, the author tells her children that she “couldn’t care less” if they go to college.  Please read the entire article before continuing with my response.

While I agree with Cathy’s sentiment, I have to wonder who is paying for this adventure of passion of which she is encouraging her children to embark.  When my children graduate from high school, unless they have jobs, they will be lacking in income.  Don’t get me wrong, they are incredibly bright and talented young women who can learn whatever they set their minds and hearts to – one is an aspiring writer at 13 (who has won Nanowrimo now twice) and the other teaching herself to play drums at 15.

The reality is that they may both have to take odd jobs in whatever industry is available wherever they happen to be.  I’m good with that.  But if they run out of money and ideas, is coming back home an option?  Returning to mom and dad’s rules and expectations for living in the community of a family within the house?  That’s really tricky from a human development perspective.  With many different developmental models to choose from, several put the adolescent (10-25 years old, roughly) as beginning to seek out independence.  However, in the 2010’s, as a western society, we are seeing more and more young people not getting jobs right out of college, not even getting driver’s licenses, and not moving out of their parents’ homes.

Cathy doesn’t mention if she will permit her children to come home discouraged or hurt (from presumably falling in love really hard and getting their hearts broken) or financially depleted.  She doesn’t say whether there’s a hefty trust fund to permit this kind of laissez faire parenting and all of its freedoms or what.  She also doesn’t say how she will deal with things like her children getting illness abroad (possibly while still riding on her medical insurance – see Affordable Care Act), or even if she will see their care and transportation as her responsibility.

I want what is best for my children.  I assume you, if you have children, want the same thing for your own.  I don’t pretend to know what that is much beyond today.  I know I want them to be inspired and to feel the full range of human experience with the very core of their beings.  And I want them to find comfort in their mother and me as emotional support and stability, as well as to find hope in a better day tomorrow.

Road-Trip.

Adventure.  Something about just saying the word stirs something in my soul.  And adventure just is not the same without friends.  And, when your friends live 650 and 1200 miles away (respectively), much of the fun is getting there!  It was for me.  A full iPhone of music and a 12v adapter were all I needed to get to my friend’s (Ashley)  home.  Those and a supply of road trip food – aka Large Fudge Rounds.  Having the good fortune of a night of sleep at Ash’s house, we headed to Joe’s.  Joe had only begun to do the math that we were coming to visit.

The surprise was worth it – and so was belting Weird Al on shuffle much of Day 2 of my drive.  With Ash.  At the top of our lungs.

Day 2 saw us arriving at Joe’s place in the middle of the afternoon.  He didn’t have to work that day, but was chilling a his house when we pulled up, skimboard in hand.  Ash had the awesome genius to ask him if he wanted to go to the beach (he was severely injured in a skimboard incident about 8 years ago) to which he replied (simply), “No.”

So, we hung out with him, his wife, and his granddaughter for much of the rest of the afternoon and then went out for that southern delicacy, Buffalo Wild Wings, for dinner later, offering Joe anything he needed of our time and our ears. Our mission and our adventure were not about us, but about our friend.  Note: I hadn’t seen Joe in almost 5 years and Ash in almost a year.  Driving to the gulf coast area is not a regular event for me.

As we were talking about what we would do on Saturday, Joe asked if we would be up for helping him with some drama club work.  He was in the middle of building stage platforms for his annual production of Lord of the Rings. Sure! We could turn anything fun and, with three of us, it was fun and efficient.  Joe had all the supplies, so it was a matter of holding 4x4s and plywood while he drilled and drove bolts in.  5 platforms.  Stupid jokes and a lot of laughter, but we worked safely.  Mostly.  At least nobody got hurt.

We ran out of drill/driver power from the batteries, so we charged the battery while we took a side adventure.  So, years ago, I worked for a company that had a presence where Joe lived.  And nearby, there was rumored to be a statue to pay homage to the Boll Weevil, agricultural pest, and destroyer of cotton.

None of us had any better ideas, so Joe took me up on my humble quest.  Not knowing how far away it was, after 10 minutes, I asked Joe where we were going.  His simple answer, “You wanted to see the Boll Weevil statue.  So, that’s where we’re going.”

And that’s where we went.  The selfie above are the adventurers and, featured behind Joe, the only monument ‘dedicated to an agricultural pest’ according to the Wikipedia article that was read to us by Ash in his Colonel Beauregard accent.

After containing ourselves and getting a few selfies with the majesty of the boll weevil monument behind us, we piled into the Cooper and attempted to see the original before it was vandalized over the years.  The museum was supposed to open at 10am, but nobody was there, so we headed back to the school, which included adding some gas to the car.

Then Ash got the idea of pure awesomeness of getting a selfie or two of us disappointed that the museum was closed and locked.  Only, when we got there, it was open.  Wait, what?

Two dollars for each of us was forfeited by the museum employee because she couldn’t make exact change and bartered our admission for help carrying some new properties into the main exhibit area of the museum.  Not much to see, there, but for 3 minutes of work, it was worth it to see the original statue including a not-to-scale boll weevil which made its way into yet another photo with Ash and me.

With some barbecue and newly-charged drill/driver battery, we completed the stage construction and the rest of our day included more laughter and dinner.  The photo above, with more consideration, makes me smile even more knowing that it was pure joy that we had that time together, though it was not nearly enough.  I absolutely love these guys and am already looking forward to seeing them again.  When?  I have no idea.  But it must happen.  I need it to happen.

Man.

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I spend a lot of time considering and discussing with others what it means to be a man.  For me, a man is a male who is comfortable in his own skin.  Sounds simple, right?  It’s more simple on this side of the question than where I was about 10 years ago.

I was quite lost.  I was hyperapologetic toward anyone and everything that I may have offended.  I was afraid – and I had no idea of what.

I posed this question to a few of my friends that I consider to be solidly aware of who they are as men.  Here’s what they came up with.

Not that being self-aware as a man has anything to do with a woman, but one said this, “I hold fast to the need for a man to know himself to have the capacity to enter any relationship of depth with a woman.”  It’s not about her.  It’s about him.

“Manhood entails Courage, confidence, tenderness, toughness, resilience and heart.  All are borne of adventure, failure, victory, and a pursuit of truth.”  

Finally, to even ask the question about what women want in a man is to ask the wrong question.  It reeks of a lack of confidence and going to her to find out who you are.  Men and women are drawn to men who are authentically confident – not those who look to others for validation.

What is interesting to me is that, when I challenged a different audience that was co-ed with the comment (in a thread that someone else had started) about the opinions of women bearing less weight than the opinions of men, the discussion simply ended.  Further, out of 16 individuals who responded to the original question, 2 of us are men.  The other 88% are women.

I feel like it’s pretty telling when men are silent on the question of what it means to be a man.  I think there are a few possible reasons.  it’s most probable that they really do not know the answer to that.  Another possibility is that their answer is so wrapped up in the feminine that they aren’t able to confidently answer it without looking to women to do so.

So, if you’re a man, what do you think makes a man a truly worthwhile friend or ally?  Why?

Munchkin.

I promised a few friends I’d put together some tabletop game reviews – the same friends who were kind enough to suggest to me family-suitable games, particularly now that my bride and I aren’t working evenings.

The first such game is an award-winning card game called Munchkin, and was developed by Steve Jackson of Austin, TX.  Munchkin is a role-playing game without the role-playing.  Essentially, it’s all about the action.  You know, the opening of doors, the killing of monsters, and the taking of treasure.  There’s one major point of the game that’s different.  While it’s a “collaborative game”, players are encouraged, from time to time, to (within the context of the game) “stab your buddy.”

The rules of the game can be found here in PDF format.  I’,ll not spend time explaining them.  The goal of the game is simple: to get to level 10.  All players start at level 1.  It’s a pretty basic race.  If you want to see game play in action, check out Wil Wheaton’s TableTop episode.

Just like a full-on role-playing adventure game (a la Dungeons & Dragons), players come in various genders, races, and classes.  Only in Munchkin, all player-characters start as humans with no class and with whatever sex their players were born.  Thus, mine is the only male character to start the game in our family.

The game itself comes with a single 6-sided die (d6 for you gamers) and two decks of cards – doors and treasures.  Oh, and the rules.  There is no board (you can make one – like my younger Princess did!) and there are no tokens to count character levels.  In the TableTop episode, they have a board (from the Deluxe version of the game) and tokens to move on the board through the levels.  Another YouTube video shows players using 10-sided dice (d10) to count their levels.  For the uninitated, the d10 counts from 0-9, and, well, the game doesn’t require a 10 because that just means that it’s over and the winner is declared.

The whole game is so tongue-in-cheek from the rules, to the artwork, to the names of the monsters, and even the game mechanics.  Even determining who starts the game is snarky. “Decide who goes first by rolling the dice and arguing about the results and the meaning of this sentence and whether the fact that a word seems to be missing any effect.”  The point is, it really doesn’t matter.

Player-characters take turns “kicking open doors” – that is, taking a door card.  If there’s a monster, they need to fight it or run.  If not, then they are subject to a curse or get to keep whatever card they get and add it to their hand.  If they want, they can fight a monster from within their hands, or do what’s called “looting the room”.  This is simply taking (without showing the other players) another door card to play later.

Play rotates around the table with various activities that earn levels, and some that lose levels.  All monsters have something called “bad stuff” that happens if the player-character is unable to run away.  Not all monsters will actually kill the player-character.  Regardless, characters don’t completely die.  They just start over.  This is better than someone having to leave the game table.

The game mechanics are impressive.  For example, there are Big and Small Items.  Big Items are the only item that a character may hold at a time.  However, an infinite number of Big or Small items may be held in the character’s pack.  And characters (whether elf, halfling, human or other) all only have 2 hands, 2 feet, and 1 head.  So a character may not employ 2 items of headgear or combinations of items that require or more hands.  This just makes sense in the Munchkin world.

One of the awesome mechanics of actual gameplay is that players can bargain for help fighting monsters.  Combat strength of a single character may not happen to be more than that of a particular monster during a turn, so the player may offer some of the monster’s treasure for help.  This might be done with offering any number of treasure items and even to the point of giving the other player the choice of which treasures to receive.  It should be noted that once a character is committed to battle, another player may add difficulty to the monster or decrease combat strength for the character fighting.  No, this is not your average 10 minute card game.

In fact, the game might take an 60-90 minutes or so with characters helping and harming each other.  In fact, I don’t think we actually ever needed to shuffle the cards yet in the middle of a game.  With the Princesses being 14 and 12, there’s been a lot of laughter and fun.  That’s why I chose it – that and the awesome encouragement from several game players I’ve “met” online.  It’s a fun and snarky way to enjoy some quality family time.

I’ll add this.  The game developer recommends ages 10+.  User feedback via BoardGameGeek.com suggests 12+ with 10+ being a close second in the poll.  And it’s suitable for 3-6 players with 4-6 being recommended.  Because it’s hard to gang up on someone when there are only 2 of you.

Dog.

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Have you ever heard of the Restaurant Dog?  No?  I’m surprised, because my family first became aware of this magical little creature several years ago.  We were out to lunch together at a midweek pizza buffet.  My young children had this unsanitary habit of jumping off their booth seats and onto the floor under the table.  Why?  Because they were still of the age they were learning to clean up their own messes.  Note: they are now adolescents and this behavior seems to have self-eradicated.  Every little piece of pepperoni or sausage or breadstick dropped was dutifully followed by a small child near-leaping off her booster seat to scoop it off the floor.  In hindsight, I’m really just glad they didn’t opt to eat the, um, fruits of their labors.

In order to convince the little monsters not to participate in this new ritual, I shared with them and their mother the story of the Restaurant Dog:

At every restaurant, there is a dog.  The dog is not given dog food (much to my professional dog trainers’ chagrin, no doubt) all day, but rather is trained only to eat what has fallen from table, mouth, seat, or lap that falls to the floor.  This phenomenal and magnificent beast (photo above) is permitted, nay required, to eat all the scraps in the restaurant.

When the children have asked why they have never seen the Restaurant Dog, I politely and ever-so-deceitfully explained that the Restaurant Dog isn’t permitted on the restaurant floor in the dining area because there might be someone (heaven forbid) allergic to dogs and the owner would face a grave lawsuit should someone get sick from his or her allergies.  And, we wouldn’t want that.

Over the last several years, the Princesses have given me the, “Dad, we know there’s no Restaurant Dog!” retort.  However, while visiting some friends, it was pure joy when they shared the legend of the Restaurant Dog with their new friends.  Their friends laughed with them at the story and their friends’ parents (our friends) were hearing the same story from my bride and me.

I’m willing to bet that, when they have children of their own, the legend of the mighty Restaurant Dog will be passed on to our grandchildren.

What traditions and stories have you started, on a lark, in an effort to engage your children or nieces or nephews in appropriate behavior?  Please share in the comments.