Down but not out

I sobbed.

Hearing his voice laced with fright and audibly weakened, I wept and felt as if my own world was falling down around me.

That was me on February 21st at around 3:30pm or so when I first talked to my dad from 2,600 miles away as he laid in the recovery room after suffering a heart attack.  In the 3 minutes that I spoke with my dad, my relationship quite literally flashed before my mind.  Sadly for me, my relationship seemed to be filled with my own self-loathing and guilt.

My relationship with my dad hasn't been strawberries and cream.  I'm the first one to admit that.  My dad is probably a close second.  We're too much alike but at opposite ends of the spectrum.  He's a stubborn and principled man that many times felt like zealotry.  Or at least that's how I felt for many years of my life until 3:29pm on February 21st, 2013.

You see, at that moment when I was able to hear his voice after learning the news, the walls I had built up around me blew in and was washed over by the pettiness of my own actions over the numerous years.


In my myopic youth, all I saw were the faults, the dangling modifiers and flaws that came with my father.    

My dad can be a bit gruff and rough around the edges.  His mental filter, at times, resembles a sieve which creates mild cases of "foot in mouth" disease.  He can be so steadfast on proving a point that Torquemada would blush at the lengths he might go to proving a point.


His gruffness and rough around the edge feel is seen (and felt) when he gives you a hug.  It's hug you won't soon forget as many times you might slip a disc or sustain PTSD.  I secretly think he's on the payroll of local chiropractors and physical therapists as your upper torso can quite literally be crushed in the bear hugs.

His emmentaler cheese mental filter is heard as he talks plainly of justice, fairness and compassion for all.  Except for rats.  He really doesn't like rats and sometimes Democrats.  

His zealotry would carry him to the ends of the earth if we asked him to, especially if there is a fishing brook or lake at the end of the journey.

When asked to give you a back rub, he gives you a back rub with such vigor that your bone marrow cries out in pain.  His Thanksgiving Day dinner toasts are renowned for always ending in him getting misty eyed when talking about our forefathers and his "blessings" that he's been given in his life, no matter how small they might seem.  He's enormously proud of the tomatoes, lettuce and zucchini that he's able to grown in a 3 x 3 planter's box.  My family likes to joke that my if my dad were to ever retire that we'd need him to go chop down a tree every single day as he such a vim and vigor for life.

As you can plainly see, my father is a flawed man.  One that I wouldn't want any other way.

No one is perfect in this world.  We're all Navajo rugs in some way.  We all have a flaw or a mistake some where inside us.  However, it's about what we've become with the perspective of what we were given to begin with.  It's that last part that has taken me far too long to figure out.

So here I sit ruefully muttering about days wasted, days gone by.

Or is it now days given, days to be had?

I've undoubtedly been given a mulligan along with the rest of my family.  It's a new day for me.  A brighter dawn, a not so dark night with better days to come.

Things can change in the blink of an eye or in my case a heartbeat continuing to beat.  It's taken me thirty four plus years to realize how foolish I have been.  It's taken me too long to understand how bloody and utterly lucky I am have a father like mine.

I still have some grains of sand in the hourglass to realize that.  I'm blessed to have some moments to share without reservation, without prejudice with my father.

Carpe diem dad.  Carpe diem Daniel.

I love you dad.

Even with your neck kisses and your eternal love of Chico, our hellspawn kitty.

Flu-mageddon

Running score:

Flu 3,452,964,275  Mankind: 0

This is worse than Steve Spurrier's Florida Gator days when he ran up the score on Alcorn State A&M.  Go go Danny Wuerffel!  I think I'm the first person to mention Danny Wuerffel on the internet since 1996.  

So I came down with the flu last week and it made me into a blithering drooling snot-infested invalid.  Nothing is more fun than sitting in your own bed for 4 days going through countless pills and half contemplating your own funeral.  If you haven't gotten your flu shot, I highly suggest you get it.  Also, don't forget to spay and neuter your pets.  

While I was laying on my bed secretly hoping that I would fall into a 3 day coma, I thought about a few things between my bouts of chills, cold sweats and coughing fits. 

First, that the name of this flu strain doesn't do it justice.  I think the CDC should hire Michael Buffer annually to introduce the strains circulating our little globe as he would be infinitely more adept at simply showing how powerful these viruses are and how useless our remedies can be.    

(Thunderstruck by AC/DC is playing in the background)

"In the blue corner, standing in at 120 nanometers with an undefeated professional record spanning the length of time, the undisputed crusher of work weeks and loved ones, Type A "Mad Dog McCraeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" H5N2"  

(The entrance music for Glass Joe from Mike Tyson's Punchout begins to play)

"In the red corner, standing in at 8oz with a defeated professional record, the laughing stock of remedies, Thera "Ain't no way in hell this is going to make me feel better" Fluuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

If we promised that we could get Megan Fox to hold up the fight cards, we could probably sell this to UFC/Dana White and nerdy infectious disease specialists would most likely pay to watch.  I'd pay $5 to see this so long as Don King was standing behind the petri dish and steaming cup of Theraflu waving small flags of the United States.

Anyways, I'm recovering now.  I'm still not 100% but at least I'm now taking showers again and my wife has taken off the hazmat suit and doesn't look at me all crazy like every time she comes into the room, much like Renee Russo did when she realized she pricked herself with a needle in Outbreak.  

So moral of the story, don't make out with stowaway monkeys that escaped from Korean cargo ships. 

That's all I have for this post.  My brain is still mush.  I know I said I pondered a few things but I lied.  I flat out lied.  I barely pondered at all during the flu.  I really just sat there with my head in my hands secretly hoping to be torn limb from limb by an escaped pack of spotted hyenas as I thought it would at least put an end to my suffering.  

Sadly, we're fresh out of spotted hyenas up here in Boston.  Screw you Pangea.  

Taking the leap

As much as we like to think we're swashbuckling, risk taking trail blazers, the vast majority of us timid and risk averse.  Much to Mr. Frost's dismay, we take the road most often traveled.  We return to our comfort foods without pausing to hear the specials of the day.  We converse in the same circles and rarely change our ways.

Striking out on your own, away from the handrail and our microwaved sanitized world is scary.  Many pitfalls abounds.  Financial ruin.  A ruined meal.  Failure to see it through.

Most, importantly, caverns of scorpions and  ravenous alligators.

However, is it really that scary?  Is the world as cold and jaded as we've made it out to be?

I remember the first "big" risk I took.  I ran for 6th grade student body president of my elementary school.

I know what you're thinking.  That I promised that the water fountains would be replaced with soda.  That math hour and history hour would be replaced with recess.

Nope, I struck out on my own.  I came up with a skit where I had built a time machine and tried to convince my classmates that the world was a terrible place all because they didn't vote for me but I had come back in time to show that they had another chance to make things right.  It was very well acted with me playing the role of the dashing and brilliant mad scientist trying to alter the world's path into a more benevolent alternate universe.  Much like every foreign film nominated for the Oscars, it was given high marks in artistry, acting and script but unfortunately, nobody gave a flying poop.  

The first takeaway from that is that I believe Fox News owes me massive amounts of royalties due to my intrepid use of fear mongering and faulty science.

Second, did I win?  Oh hell no.  I got my face smashed in.  I think I came in third with second place going to Optimus Prime as a write-in candidate.  In his defense, technologically advanced alien robots would probably do a better job in administering tater tot Wednesdays in the cafeteria than I would have.

Optimus Prime:  Eat your starch-based sustenance carbon-based life form as it will help with your cellular development, energy output and neuroplasticity.
Student #1:  Huh?
OP:  (sigh)  Tater tots will help you in kickball and your math test.  Proceed to consumption meat bag.
Student #1:  What if I'd rather just eat bugs under the tree?
OP:    (resists urge to vaporize)  Here's a juice box.  Enjoy.

All your vote are belong to us

I tried.  I took a chance.  After I had taken my lumps, eaten my consolation dinner of Little Ceasar's pizza and wondered if I could show my face in class again, I realized I had at least put the bat in my hands and took a swing.

It might have been a spastic untrained swing but at least I didn't take strike three looking (Oh hai A-Rod!) or worse, not even show up to the game.

Taking a chance isn't about being oblivious to the inherent risks behind a decision or ignoring common sense.  It's not thinking that Beanie Babies are an investment to go long on in 2007 and that I will totally be able to claim my 10% of the deposed Congo princeling's family fortune if I just show up to Madrid with a valid email and blood type.

It doesn't have to be grand undertaking either.  It can be as simple as trying a new dish at your local restaurant, striking up a conversation with someone standing in line with you or taking a class at your local community center.  If you can manage the risk, by all means, shoot for the moon.  If you miss, at least you'll see some stars.  

Tis the season...

First off, the world didn't end.  Our planet didn't fold in on itself to the point of singularity like I thought it would.

Now what am I going to do with all these "I survived the Mayan Apocalypse" t-shirts?  Worst part is that I never was able to have my Mayan-themed party where I could sport my jaguar-print track suit.

Guy:  Nice leopard print dork
DT:  It's jaguar, learn the difference cretin.
Guy:  Whatever nerd.  Animal has spots.

~~~~~~~~~~~

We're approaching DefCon 3 in terms of holiday season.  Just 3 days left in which we can load up on crap we shouldn't buy, crap we shouldn't eat and Mannheim (Cleveland) Steamroller songs that make me want to bludgeon a baby fur seal, skin it and use it for soft and fashionable ear plugs.

Protip:  electronically garbled music and Silent Night don't mix.

Our family is done with Christmas shopping and we did it all from the comforts of our home.  Honestly, if there is a Santa Claus, I bet he's a washed up hobo, staggering around Calgary right now drinking Schlitz and eating freeze dried Comet and Vixen.  Mr. Amazon reigns supreme in this land of over indulgence bitches.

Do I miss fighting crowds, not getting what I set out to buy and muttering things about how much I hate humanity because some dillweed can't hold the door open for me as my hands are full with toddlers, bags and homemade fudge?  No, not really.

But you literally cannot fail with Amazon.  They make it so fecking easy.  I can drink my eggnog, watch Nova on PBS and throw stuff in my basket until I either a) run out of eggnog or b) realize that, no, my nephew does not need a baby orangutan dressed as a cowboy.

The practical side of me says:  Great, no more of the above and more time for guzzling eggnog!

The reminiscent side of me says:  Bah humbug to Amazon.

My kids won't have the pleasure of snooping around the house trying to kind mom and dad's present stash.

They won't have the joy of both mom and dad frantically leaving the house on Dec. 23 trying to find that one Toys 'R Us store that still has Amazing-robo-saurus in stock while leaving the oldest sibling to watch over the rest of the family but fully knowing that the oldest sibling will decide to load up the kids in the suburban and drive around the neighborhood at the age of 14.  (BTW:  Hi Sarah!)

Most of all, I'm not sure it will give them the satisfaction of the actual giving when it comes their time to buy presents for their loved ones.  It's easy to click twelve times and have our presents magically delivered by Amazon elves.  I get that.  However, I'm left with a certain hollow feeling when all is said and done.  I poked around some sites, looked for some online discounts but never touched the items I purchased.

(This goes in the same vein as me wanting to have a printed book as opposed to an e-reader.)

I need the tangible gift in my hands to crystallize how gift will make Person A happy.

It's trite.  It's silly.  But it's real to me.

Sure, I'll make excuses that I don't have time with 3 boys to help take care or that it's too cold out or that it's cheaper online but I do miss the actual act of picking something out.  I miss giving.

I am looking forward to Christmas and the New Year.  I'm excited to see G's face when he tears through gifts and have the twins be more enthralled by the cardboard boxes that delivered said gifts.

I'm looking forward to listening to "Carol of the Bells" and listening to my wife change the words to "Ding, fries are done/ ding fries are done/would you like an apple pie with that?".

I'm looking forward to the holy peace of Christmas Eve once all the wrapping is complete, the Christmas morning prepping is done and the spiced eggnog begins to make me doze.

I'm looking forward to the New Year and the freshness that it somehow brings.

I'm mostly looking forward to a resolution of being able to give again.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight.

Conjunctivitis, Party of 4

So here I am with a chest cold that makes the Spanish Influenza look like a sniffle and conjunctivitis in both eyes.  The discharge coming from my eyes looks like it should be part of Behr's spring indoor color wheel.  I have tried to trademark the color and name it Spring Mist.  It pairs well with Warm Ivory and Lavender Field.  Just see your Lowe's associates for ideas for application.

On top of my own self-pity, my wife and three kids are either sick or just getting over being sick with all three boys having pink eye.  Final tally:  8 eyes with pink eye.  2 ear infections.  5 colds.  2 doctor visits.  3 fevers.  Countless milligrams of acetaminophen and NSAID consumed.  One weekend.

Ahhhhhhh yeaaahhhhhh  boyyyyyyyy!

Our house has been categorized by the U.N. Security Council as a hotspot for biological warfare.  Of course Russia abstained from voting, but I imagine the blue helmets are going to show up at our door any moment now.  Move over Axis of Evil, here comes Turleykistan.

Maybe it's the massive amount of DayQuil and Robitussin that is coursing through my veins.  Maybe it's the lack of sleep.  Maybe it's the 3 constant days of gray drizzle we've had here in the Northeast.

But good god almighty, the collective "we" are one lucky group of people.  Seriously.  We have been doused in a metric ton of luck juice and then jammed full of serendipity until our jaw hurts to be born when and where we were.  It's hard to see this through the recent events at Sandy Hook and Clackamas Town Center but it's there.

Think about it.  Don't just wave your hands in some non-sensical way and mutter how bat shit crazy I am.  Actually think about it.

Had we popped our heads up south of the 31 N degree parallel, we'd be born into a country primarily ruled by oligarchs, rife with systemic violence due to the drug trade and have little of the comforts we have here, namely Pinkberry and Five Guys.

Had we been graced this world by being born west of the 124 W degree line, well, we'd be born into an ocean but you get my drift.

Drift ... ocean ... get it?  Get it?!?!  Oh FFS. . . moving on.

We are lucky that we don't have to worry about polio or smallpox ravaging our population.  We are blessed to have the freedom of press, religion and be in a progressive state (admittedly not as progressive as many as would like but progressive nonetheless).  We are fortunate to be living where we can connect with friends, family and loved ones within mere seconds thousands of miles away.  We're lucky to have a contentious political system, for all its failings, have given us generations of relative prosperity and peace. 

But luck can only take us so far.

The United States is not perfect.  I'm not naive enough to think that we are a peaceful nation.  In fact, it's the opposite.  Since November 11/21, 1620, the Pilgrims decided to use fists and guns as diplomacy.  We rebelled against the mightiest European empire and rend our nation into two.  Whether it's a predilection to violence or it is somewhere written in our DNA, the human race is a contentious lot and glaringly moreso here in good ole' Muricah.

I'm not going to ramble on how this is a watershed moment because frankly, nothing has changed.  We are in no different place than we were when James Holmes went on his pre-meditated rampage.  Columbine.  Fort Hood.  Seattle cafe.  Thurston High School.  Gabby Giffords.  Nothing has changed.

Don't confuse my logic with emotion.  I have shed my own private tears thinking about those affected.  I have three children of my own and can barely stand to see them have a cold.  I cannot fathom the grief these communities are facing.  However, until we are honest with ourselves, nothing will change.

We embrace violence.  We extol violence by calling people patriots, martyrs and heroes.  We talk of warriors, being tough, fighting through the pain and shedding our blood on the proverbial battlefield, whether that battlefield is real, on the playing field or even in business.

^^^^^
This is us.  This is you.  This is me.  This is our nation.  Until we have our "moment of clarity" and see what is actually going on here, we will continue on our violent ways.

What comes from these events on a policy level, I cannot guess at.  I hope it's a thoughtful and comprehensive approach and not a knee jerk reaction.  Gun control.  Mental health.  Federal regulation of arms.  2nd amendment revisions.  They're all prescriptions addressing symptoms and not the underlying cause.

I'm waiting for the day we can have a rational and lucid conversation that isn't hijacked by soundbytes from pro or anti gun lobbying groups.  Neither side is helping here.  It's a terrible self-sustaining feedback loop that does not appear to be at its crescendo.  

As lucky as we are, I'd trade it away for some hope and action towards a better world for my sons.  

Bi-polar express

This isn't the sequel to the beloved children's story Polar Express.  I'm fresh out of silver bells.   

This is more about why we can't seem to get our proverbial poop together when it comes to the nature of political discourse.  

For full disclosure, I'm a socially liberal fiscally conservative kind of guy.  We actually exist, unlike other mythical creatures such as unicorns, cerberus, and skilled Twinkie factory workers.  Needless to say, I am in a perpetual state of imbalance as I have to deal with my heart and head constantly.  

The impetus for this post was me finishing Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  If you have any interest in history, this has been my favorite book so far.  This is coming from a guy who found books about salt, cod, and the Sistine Chapel to be fascinating.  So when you add in one bad mother like Lincoln, our greatest struggle as a nation in the Civil War, and impeccable story telling by a Pulitzer Prize winning author, it becomes a great read.  The story telling is so good I at one point caught myself saying, "Hopefully he doesn't get John Wilkes Boothed in this story!"

Spoiler alert:  The North still wins. 

So what does a book that covers the life of Lincoln's supreme political genius have to do with the current political state?  

First, politics have always divided any group of diverse people.  

Second, as bad as you think we have it, it was no where near as bad as it was between the Whigs (and Republicans) and Democrats.  

History lesson time!

Massachusetts Senator Sumner was literally caned within an inch of his life in 1856 during the Kansas-Missouri crisis by Congressman Preston Brooks because of personal verbal attacks on Brooks' cousin that were made in a speech by Sumner.  This set the stage for the bloodiest conflict our nation has ever been a part of.  

Third:  someone needs to exhume Lincoln and most likely Jefferson and go all Jurassic Park cloning on their bones because we have a dearth of leadership from both sides.  Let's just hope Lincoln doesn't velociraptor our faces because we've become as dumb as cattle 

We've faced a revolution against the mightiest modern day empire, civil war that cleaved the nation in to two, two world wars, a Cold War that cost us trillions of dollars and nuclear proliferation, and direct attacks on American soil.  Now we are faced with. . . (cue dramatic and foreboding music)  the FISCAL CLIFF!   

W.T.F.

This isn't a crisis.  This is a glorified word problem that we solved in pre-algebra.  Billy spends a $1.10 each day to sell apples but makes $0.90 selling apples.  Is Billy running a good business?  Let me think about this...

"Carry  the one, subtract the two.  Apply quadratic formula..."   Answer:  No.    

I'm not going to blame the news machines, apparent demagoguery being played out by our politician leaders and radical actors that have hijacked our political system on both sides because blaming both sides that have the collective IQ of an empty mayonnaise jar won't get me anywhere.  

(That's right, both sides a stupidly and utterly wrong.  Both sides are beholden to minority interest holders.  While we are at it, neither side has a mandate so do what the rest of us are doing and do your apparently god forsaken jobs.)

So here is what I propose:  

First:

Let's use the government for the people and petition the EPA for the conservation of moderate politicians as a protected species.  It fits all the requirements: 

Their habitat is being destroyed (oh hai network news channels!), introductory species are competing for resources (voters incredulously supporting tea-party, far-left liberals) and their numbers are dwindling precipitously.  

Move over Spotted Tree Owl and Yangtze River Dolphin, I give you the logic filled and reasonable legislator!

Second:  

To all the partisan legislators, whenever you think of something to propose, I'd like you to follow these simple steps:  

1.  Put down the phone.

2.  Find a gently used 2x4 or rubber mallet.

3. Bludgeon yourself until you lose consciousness.

4.  Upon awakening, bludgeon yourself again.

5.  Seek brain stem replacement therapy involving a bonobo or three-toed sloth.

Your muddled brains apparently can't look back at the bi-partisan proposal that was put forth and agreed to on a majority (albeit not a super majority) basis in 2010.  All these machinations and lurchings towards a paltry tax rate increase on the devil incarnated wealthy and possible means testing of entitlements pales in comparison to the well thought out Simpson Bowles plan.  

Why the general public, media outlets and remaining moderate politicians aren't shouting this from the rooftops is beyond me.  The current negotiations feel like the doctors quibbling over the size of the gauze pad that is needed to stop a paper cut on the left arm but fail to see the gangrenous atrophied right arm with a staph infection running from radius to humerus.  

Yes, many people on both sides aren't happy with everything.  As I've found out in my business dealings, that's usually the first step in the right direction.  So let's as a nation do our best to remove ourselves from pledges to people named Grover and something called Progressive Change Campaign Committee. 

As an aside, the only pledge I'd make to something named Grover would have to involve Sesame Street and looking forward to sunny days.  

Also, a pledge?  Really?   The last pledge I made was to not let stinky girls with cooties in my forts while stock piling dirt clods to fend off the inevitable zombie coyote attack my friends had witnessed on the other side of the canal where we lived in Mesa.  

Put down the Zealtory for Dummies and use the neurons that our supreme maker gave us.  Now isn't the time to be penny wise, pound foolish.       

Random thoughts

My random thoughts for all to enjoy:

#1 - Every time I hear a talking head mention the word fiscal cliff, I instantly picture SNL's "Toonces, the driving cat" skit.  

#2 - If I could magically transform in to an animal, I think it would have to be a sea otter.  Playing in kelp forests, laying on my back and eating seafood all day and having everyone adore me for how cute I am.  Only downer would be the inevitable bludgeoning to death with a crowbar by fur trappers.  I think I'd take my chances.  

#3 - Another year I remain undrafted by NFL teams despite having great hands and decent 40 times.  

#4 - Looking back to pre-cell phone days, I'm amazed more people didn't wind up lost, kidnapped, or eaten by roaming packs of rabid raccoons.  How did we ever get around?  Was it like one huge game of Marco Polo?  

#5 - I can't be the only person who tries/tried slip in non sequitur words into presentations, term papers or essays just to see if anyone picks up on it.  Am I?

#6 - Rapacious.  It's a fun word to say.  Just say it.  I'll wait.....                See what I mean?

#7 - Red Vines > Twizzlers.  

#8 - The yogurt craze is officially out of hand.  Greek, austrailian, swiss, frozen, non-fat, low-fat, pro-biotic, yogurt bars, yogurt tubes.  Can we just ease back on this a bit folks?  It's fermented milk product made by bacteria.  That's it.  

#9 - I'd like to be cremated.  I can't stand the thought being devoured by worms.  Partly because I just picture Earthworm Jim eating me bite by bite the entire time.  

#10 - If I had my choice of a pet sidekick, I think I'd go with an organ-grinding fez-wearing monkey over a wisecracking parrot.  

#11 - Let's say aliens do exist and know that we exist and have the capability of intergalactic space travel, do you think they'd be kind enough to bring us a Harry & David gift basket prior to introducing some rare cosmic strain of smallpox that would ravage our human population?  

#12 - The platypus.  Part duck, part beaver, 100% WTF   Explain that one to me creationists.   

#13 - If you're not watching Homeland, I don't think I can be your friend.  

#14 - Why do English/British singers lose their accent when they sing?  

#16 - What happened to #15?

#17 - I'm relatively good at math and relatively good at applying my math skills to everyday problems but I still haven't found a daily use for the quadratic formula.  My math teacher lied to me.  I'm very disappointed with you Mrs. Fullerton.   

#18 - So we've had this zombie fascination and vampire fascination.  Ever wonder if the werewolves of the world are working their crappy 9-5 jobs as FedEx drivers or Applebee's servers waiting for their big break in Hollywood?