Living in a Small Town

Posted on January 22, 2016 by Bob Martin

ontario houseMost of today, and I do not know why, I have been fondly thinking back to where I grew up. We live in the Los Angeles area – many people think of this area as a hustling, bustling world. I will state that the little town in which I grew up could not be any further on the other end of the spectrum than Los Angeles. Los Angeles has 3.93 million people – Youngstown has 1896 (both numbers from 2014). By the way, the Youngstown population has no period nor ending such as million. It really has one thousand eight hundred ninety-six people. Let’s lower that number even more since I grew up outside of the village in an even more rural area.

To give an even more distinct image of my home area, it took three towns to create our school. Putting all those students together made a graduating class of 311 students. My niece, who graduated recently, had a class size in the 180s. In Burbank, where I work, one high school has 2500 people. The schools are spread throughout the city. My school went K-12 all in one area. All the schools within a single piece of land. Here parents drive kids to school. There kids wait out by the road for the school bus. On a side note, there is nothing like Western New York in February when you have wet hair. Everything about my home area is small, and that is okay.

Our town has an intersection with 3 stop signs. I believe it had a stoplight at one point for a short time, but it is gone. My town is the type of town that people sing about – they sing about leaving. It is the town that you see in movies like Footloose or All the Right Moves. It could be the town in John Mellencamp’s song. The town that teenagers cannot wait to leave. I am proud of Youngstown. I miss my town.

I have met many people who try to forget their home area. They do everything in their power to erase their past. I will not judge for I do not know what they went through growing up. I even know people who could not wait until they had the chance to leave our area. I thought for sure that I would remain in Western New York for my entire life. However, my roads took me out and off to different paths.

So what is so great about growing up in a small town? I am attempting to keep my rosy colored glasses off as I explain. I also understand that this is my experience. Others who grew up in rural areas did not walk away with the same feelings or stories. But meander into the past is where I go tonight.

I mentioned how few people lived in our area. This could be both a blessing and a curse. I loved the fact that you knew almost everyone. You had people who you could depend on for support, help, and just friendship. The curse was that you knew almost everyone. My friend said that he hated this. Not so much the fact that he knew everyone, but that everyone knew his mom. He often would curse that he could sh*t crooked without his mom knowing about it before he got home.

I loved the fact that there were opportunities to work as a teen. We had a couple of restaurants in my late teens and early twenties both were pizza parlors. At one point or another I worked in both. I started at RR/DD and ended at Brennan’s Irish Pub. Both places offered young people a great introduction into the work world. Many other friends worked in the next town. They had more places. It also helped to be kin of the owner of the local bar. I hired for a summer under the family plan for cleaning and stocking at 6 am. Each of those jobs prepared me to be part of the real world.

I think the thing I miss most is the speed or lack of it. As a child in this area, the days passed slowly. Summer days were spent outside. In my first decade, we lived in a neighborhood of about 40 homes. The children would gather together in the morning and only head home when my father would whistle for dinner. Once we moved half a mile closer to home, things became even simpler. 5 homes two families. The kids worked in the morning and then played the day away. The Blizzard of ’77 was just two weeks of play for us.

I think the best example of the slow life was this gentleman who lived on the main road going in and out of town. From spring until late fall, he would sit in a lawn chair near the road each day. He waved at every passing car whether heading into town or out. He knew not the person in the car, but he waved none the less. One could not help but wave back. When the temperatures finally dropped too low, he would disappear. I would wait eagerly to see him reappear the next spring. When the days would get warm and he was not there, I would get worried and sad for him – then there he was, waving away. On my first visit back to town, though I knew too much time had passed, I drove to town, looking, hoping. No chair. I miss him.

I think the best selling point for the town is how much people cared. I already said that people knew each other, but they really cared for each other. This is something I do not see all that much out her in L.A. Here we know a couple of our neighbors and we watch out for each other. There it didn’t matter how much you knew somebody, you helped out. My dad taught us this when he was a volunteer fireman. There were no paid professionals. People volunteered to take care of each other. They volunteered to run the field day. I can remember helping our neighbor with hay because they needed it. My arms were poked full of holes, but the haying got down. I believe this is the main thing I miss – the people.

I think I have watched too many news stories in the recent days where people did nothing but harm one another. Los Angeles has many people who are nice and helpful. However, even a small percentage in of bad people in Los Angeles can mean more than 1 million. I have a feeling that is the reason I have been thinking of my home town. I just want people to care about each other.

I know a number of people who could not wait to leave the area. As soon as the time came, out they went. Many of them came back. I wanted to stay and yet I left. I may have physically moved away, but small town has always remained in my heart. In my times around the world, I have been drawn to small towns and villages. Even now, though the sign on the freeway says Los Angeles, the area where we live is similar to a small town.

I wish everybody could have a chance to visit Youngstown. New York not Ohio. See Fort Niagara. Experience hometown hospitality. Maybe, just maybe you will end up missing the small town as much as me.

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You’ll Miss It When It’s Gone

Posted on January 21, 2016 by Bob Martin

20160121_184024I find it funny that as I grow older, I can hear some of the phrases my elders used to say to me coming out of my own mouth. Some of the thoughts are less serious than others, and some, I am not sure if it fits just what they meant when they said it to me. The adage that came to me recently is that you never appreciate something until it is gone.

For the life of me, I cannot remember who used this sagely advice when speaking to me. It could have been my Dad, Mom, Nana, or Aunt. It definitely was one those four, or, quite possibly, all four. I think it came out of each of them at least once.

I am happy to report that when these words came to me this morning, they did not go from me to our daughter. As a matter of fact, it was during one of those all too often occurrences when I am speaking to me, myself, and I. I am also ecstatic in reporting that the words are not due to death or the loss of something important to me. I spoke the words due to the lack of two events that I often, in the past, complained kept repeating. I used to question when they would stop. Now that they appear to have ceased, I kind of miss them.

The first item deals with our daughter. Ever since she was a baby, I am the one that would normally get up with her in the middle of the night. This was the agreement made with my wife since I could – A. fall back asleep quickly, and B sleep anywhere. My wife handled issues during the day. We also made it a point that, once she was walking, if she came to us during the night, we would walk her back to her own bed. At first I would sit with her back in her room until she fell back asleep. I would then crawl back to our room and put my head back on to my own pillow. Once she had a “Big Girl’s” bed, life became easier. Her bed has a trundle. I would walk her back to her room, pull out the trundle and fall back to sleep.

Being part of education, I received advice from all sorts of people. Other teachers, school psychologists, nurses, and friends would all offer thoughts on this process. Most people would say don’t worry about it, it is a phase that will go away. Our daughter is now eight, and while this is far from a nightly event, it did happen enough to make me wonder how she would handle college.

Then this morning, it dawned on me. It has been almost two weeks with no nightly visitation. I am not sure if she gets up at all during the night. While I am a light sleeper, I have not heard or seen any indication that she is. If she is, she has been going back to sleep on her own. I realized this morning that my forehead has received not a single smack in nearly a fortnight. No bad dreams, no needing a drink, no “I just woke ups” – nothing. This is a good thing for I feel as if she is getting a better rest. I wish that we could state that we figured out the secret, but alas we had nothing to do with this.

Then I stopped and thought. It hasn’t happened in nearly two weeks. She may, quite possibly, be over her night visits. She is growing up and able to handle things that used to scare her on her own. There is one more thing on the list of things she doesn’t of which she doesn’t need me. The list is getting longer. Mind you, I like the night’s rest, but just the same…….

This brings me to the second loss – our cat. No, no, no, she didn’t pass or run away. She is fine. However, as in most homes, our daughter wanted a cat. I, while not thrilled, was okay with this. She needed a pet. She needed something that would stay with her, a furry friend. Of course this meant that the animal decided to hang with me – especially at night. This cat likes to be under the comforter. However, she only likes to be there for short spans of time. This cat will tap me on the shoulder during the middle of the night for me to raise the blanket. She crawls under and sleeps at my feet just like a dog. She also plays fetch. I really believe that it got to the point that I didn’t even wake up. She would tap and my arm automatically responded. She would stay for a while and then crawl out. This would be repeated many times a night.

Again, this morning I stopped and realized that I haven’t been tapped on the shoulder for a couple of weeks as well. It appears a chair stopped the tapping. When we took the Christmas decorations down, we put my Ikea chair in the living room. I am not sure if it is the chair, or possibly that the chair has my scent or what, but I noticed of late when I get up that she is asleep in that chair. No more bedroom visits. No more gentle taps. Our cat like our daughter had outgrown needing me in the middle of the night.

Now mind you, it is a nice feeling being able to wake to an alarm and not a smack to the head or tap on the shoulder. However, I now realize that you never appreciate something until it is gone. I used to complain about both reasons for waking during the middle of the night. Only now do I realize that in a way, I liked them because either a person or animal, in some small way, needed me. Now they don’t. I now appreciate their nightly visits. I miss them.

I will also be the first to accept that by writing this, I may be jinxing myself. In a way…… I think I would be okay with the rare tap or smack. I just don’t want them to grow up too fast.

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Celebrate Like a Child

Posted on January 20, 2016 by Bob Martin

946169_10153355241385509_8874054819816265590_nI do not want to think that life has made me jaded. I definitely cannot think that way when it comes to my wife. However, I do have to agree that things that used to excite us as youngsters just don’t play out in the same way when you are adults…… or dare I say, adults in their 50s (me not my wife).

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, today is our anniversary. My wife and I take this day seriously as a way to remember pledging our love until death do us part. This day is a symbol of our unity. It does not come as an “Oh good, one more done.” We truly do celebrate this day. We just don’t do it in the same way that our daughter does. As a matter of fact, we have been so busy of late, we almost forgot to plan anything.

Seeing anniversaries and birthdays through the eyes of an eight year old really brings home the fact that these are days to really celebrate. The year is filled with so many ordinary days that young people understand that one should not simply allow these events to pass us by.

This morning our little one surprised me when I entered her room to wake her up. This task normally takes a few minutes as she grudgingly starts to open her eyes and decide to get up and shower. I cannot complain since I have read postings by other parents and the difficulties they have dragging children out of bed. While it might take her a few minutes to get her engine going, for the most part, once she starts she goes. Today, however, I walked in to her room to see the blanket totally over her head – hmmmmm this was different.

She timed it beautifully, just as I reached the foot of her bed, off went the blankets and this Tigger like creature came bounding out of the bed into my arms yelling, “Happy Anniversary!” One would have thought that it was her special day. She grabbed her towel and ran for the bathroom all the while shouting instructions that I was forbidden from going to the kitchen for any reason. Thank goodness I had already brewed my coffee.

Before I could even think about getting dressed, she had showered, dressed and ran to the kitchen. All the while warning that we were not allowed. My wife and I went through our usual morning rituals. I could hear singing wafting from the kitchen, a made up song about anniversaries.

Finally, the announcement came that breakfast was served. We came to the dining room to find cards, a drink with two straws, waffles, a stuffed dog, and cotton balls (decorations to resemble snow). Before we were allowed to eat, a picture had to be taken to mark the day. This was followed by breakfast with a very lovely young lady constantly asking if we needed anything.

Unfortunately, work and school called so our morning celebration had to come to an end. All the way to school, I was told how we should do more after school to make the day special. She could not just let the day go by without making the most of it.

As I sat at work today, I could not help but think about our daughter’s attitude this morning. She asked questions about the wedding and the number of years. She wanted to know if I was happy. Her enthusiasm started taking hold. I started to understand how she viewed the day. Something great happened on this day. Don’t just let it go by. Sing about it. Shout about it. Be happy.

I left work on time today (for those that know me, you understand the importance of this). I started home thinking of making a meatloaf. The closer I got to home, the more I realized that while my wife likes my meatloaf – meatloaf doesn’t sing. I pulled into the local market and bought steaks. We ended with Cold Stone ice cream. I started to celebrate my anniversary like a child.

I end the day looking forward to the next day to celebrate. February will bring both Valentine’s Day and my wife’s birthday. I am going to think as an eight year old as I prepare for both days.

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9 Years and Counting

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Bob Martin

I spent some time looking at statistics. Everything that we do in life can be broken down into numbers. Depending on the information you want, those numbers can be manipulated to be anything that the author desires. In this particular instance, I looked at numbers dealing with marriages and divorces. I was curious since tomorrow, January 20th, my wife and I will be celebrating nine years since saying our “I dos.”

According to some of the reports, we are beating the odds though we need to get one more year. One report states that only we have a 1 in 15 chance of going more than 10 years. I have a hard time with this one. Another states that only 10% of the population is divorced. That one gives me hope. It also stated that the median duration of first marriages is 7.8 – YES! We win.

In the end, statistics are no more than a group of digits that people have put together to prove or disprove a point. To the normal human, they do not matter. What does matter is that you find the right person, whether first, second, or third try, and then you put your time and effort into making it work.

I am very fortunate. I found my soul mate on the first try. Although it took us both 40 years to find each other. In the end, I hope that our struggle to find the right person will be a life lesson for our daughter. There is no reason to settle for someone just to get married, just to not be alone.

There are a number of reasons that my wife and I will be together for a long time to come. Each one of them is something that we will pass on to our little one.

We each liked who we were and could stand to be alone with ourselves. We weren’t desperate to get married. Heck, I think we both had resigned ourselves to the fact that we would never get married. I think our families had done the same. This lack of searching is something that brought us together. More importantly, we were okay with this possibility. We both were people that we liked and didn’t mind being with.

Since being together, we have found that we have many things in common. We have also found that we have many separate interests, and that is fine with us. Spending time on our personal interests is what helps us. It gives us the time apart. What is even nicer is that sometimes, we take part in those interests. It is fun going into her world. Yes, I have sat through Spark’s games. I thought I would just sit there, but darn if I don’t start getting mad at those refs.

We have/had great role models. My wife’s parents made it to 57 years just missing 58 by a few months. They made it through great years, they made it through tough years – they made it together and set the example. Her brothers have also made it through marriage milestones as well. My parents made it 19 years at which time my father passed. I grew up with parents that also had a roller coaster, but they never gave up on each other. Both of us have a large number of friends who have passed 20, 30 and 40 years. Our friends set the bar high, and we are up to the challenge. We thank them for being such great examples.

We also communicate. This may have something to do with the fact that we were both in our 40s when we wed. By that time, you are too tired to argue over piddly things. We take the time to talk to each other before we get to the point that we want to reach out and smack a head or two. Our age also helped because we know what compromise is.

I think the main thing is that we never go to sleep, part in the morning, or go about our day without professing our love for each other – and we say it in front of others without worry. Even when we are separated due to travel, we make sure that we say those words every night and every morning.

We are only hitting number nine. It feels like we are decades in – in a good way. We know that we have to work at it each and every day. But I can honestly say that I would not want to work with anybody else. I asked her when I proposed to her to be, “My Best Friend, My Partner, My Wife.” She has been that and so much more. I spent 40+ years feeling that it is okay to be alone. Now I cannot imagine a day without her.

I thank God every day for bringing her into my life. I didn’t need her to complete my life, but boy has my life expanded due to her.

Thank you my love for saying yes. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being my soul mate.

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Tonsillectomies compared

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Bob Martin

I noticed of late that my postings are very serious and somewhat sad in nature. I thought I might change that up a little tonight.

Our daughter and her friend were talking about tonsils tonight. They had been watching an old episode of Little House on the Prairie. In this particular show, Laura had bad tonsils. She had been kept home from school and had a bad fever. This caused the two young ladies in my house to speculate what this evil thing might be. Our daughter only knew that she had her tonsils out a long time ago, but she could neither explain what they were nor why they were pulled.

I explained to them why she had to have them yanked. At the age of 1-1/2, her tonsils had grown to a size that block her throat when she slept. My wife gave them an idea as to where they live in the body. I do not think either of us could have explained their purpose without using Google. Fortunately, our medical expertise ended at the location.

After our talk, I started reminiscing on her day in the hospital. We drove her to the hospital in the morning. At her age, she really didn’t know what was happening. We did the paperwork and headed to the ward. She was in a room much like a doctor’s office. They gave her the happy juice and waited for it to kick in. She was happy. Then they allowed us to walk with her until the doors of the surgery ward. She was asleep by this point.

My wife and I then moved to a waiting room. It had nice furniture and a television. I cannot recall how long we were there, but for some reason I think an hour and a half passed when the doctor came in. He informed us all went well and that she had the largest tonsils for a person her age that he had ever seen. I went back to recovery since only one parent was allowed. Once she started to stir, we were moved to a little room where my wife joined us. We sat with her until they felt she was good to go. We left the hospital around noon. It took us less than four hours from door to door. We even stopped and got her an ice cream on the way home.

By that night, our little patient danced around the living room. She had Popsicle in hand and moved about as if nothing had happened. She gabbed away, well as much as someone her age can gab. I remember being amazed at how quickly the events of the day had gone and how fast she recovered.

Once I had run her

through my mind, I ran the story of mine through my head. Mind you, I don’t really remember much of it. It is one of those things where you have a slight recall, but through hearing your parents or others talk of it so often, their stories become your memories. So hear is a combination of my real memories with the implanted ones.

I remember being in a hospital with a children’s ward. I cannot recall if it was Niagara Falls Memorial or St. Mary’s. I believe it was the first one since I always relate that hospital as being dark and unfriendly. I seem to recall a brownish tint to everything including the air. My parents checked me in the night before. A big sign hung over my bed, “DO NOT FEED.” As a child, I could picture the exact same sign at the zoo in front of the bears.

I am not sure if it was later that night or early in the morning, the lack of food plays with one’s memories, but I know that other parents were in “The Ward.” Come to think of it, my barracks in basic training had a happier feel to them. I looked around and could not find my parents. I became upset thinking the warden wouldn’t let them in. Another mom came to assure me they would be there soon.

When my parents arrived, some guy, some ogre, some monster appeared alongside my bed with a needle that was longer than my arm. Hey – I remember this as a 9 year old. He gave me the happy juice. Only this juice did nothing to make me happy. Apparently, it did not affect me like others. According to the way my dad spoke, it created a monster. A monster who thought he could escape this Cuckoo’s nest.

The rest is my Dad’s version.

Another attendant showed up with a gurney to take me away – this was nothing like Colgan. I have been informed that as they attempted to strap me down, I made a jump for it. I guess the two big guys were expecting a sedated patient. I have been informed that I jumped off the gurney and ran around the ward. I was not going down without a fight.

At some point, they held me down but could not strap me. They attempted to take me out of the room in this fashion. It is difficult to hold a child’s arm, legs, torso, and move a gurney. I won or maybe not. The larger of the two decided to carry me out of the ward and down to surgery. My parents walked with him to the elevator; my legs a flailing. Not knowing defensive modes, the placement of my foot was purely coincidental and though I wish I could say it was planned – it was just luck on my part.

My parents tried to calm me down all the way down the hall. They told me it would be alright. The elevator doors opened. Giant man stepped in with my in a half nelson. He turned and I spied my parents standing on the other side of the metal line on the floor. They were abandoning me!!!!

Once more my feet started having a mind of their own. They would not fail me. My legs sent my feet in all directions making contact with anything within a short distance. I made contact with a large number of buttons. My father told me many a times how he heard me screaming all the way up in the elevator and then down again (the surgery ward was below the children’s ward). He then heard me scream on the way down to the correct floor.

I don’t remember anything after that. For some reason, I do believe they painted the ward and changed the curtains while I was in surgery. While I do not recall the new color, I do know that the brown tinge had vanished. It is amazing the amount of work that can be down in a few hours. I believe I spent a few days in that place before being released.

My recall does not hold much else. I do believe it was near the Christmas break at school because I seem to recall missing the Christmas party in school. Oh yeah. We still had those.

So that is how I spent my afternoon. Comparing our daughter’s tonsillectomy to mine. In the end, I think she had the better experience.

 

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Hello. May I Help You?

Posted on January 18, 2016 by Bob Martin

An obviously bored customer support girl.“Hello. May I help you?” The words we hear all too often when calling an 800 number or go to a location all in the hopes of obtaining some customer service. It is not that I dislike these words; I just wish that they came with a want to follow through on them. There are two things I constantly wish for, sorry colleagues I know you have heard this before, customer service and better communication. I will save the latter for another post.

The problem, and others may disagree, is that customer service has become nothing more than lip service in so many places. I have heard that it is because employees don’t care. I have heard that it is the Millennials, and their lack of work effort. I have heard that it is due to outsourcing. While each of the mentioned items do play a little part in this area, these are not, in my mind, the cause for companies having reached the point of, “Hello. Thank you for calling customer service. Please note that I may or may not listen to you, and I most likely will do nothing for you.”

Is it too late? Can it come back?………….It can because it is not gone entirely.

We like to go to Big Bear. Now for those outside of Southern California, this is a small city (population 6000) up in the mountains of San Bernardino. It is known for its skiing, but it has a great little village. Within the city you will find some “big box” stores and restaurants. However, for the most part the shops and eateries are small businesses trying to make a go at it in a city that lives and dies by the weather. For the most part, it is a beautiful place to go even on holiday weekends when the time to town goes from 10 minutes to 30. More importantly it is a nice place to go due to how they treat people whether they are locals or tourists. They depend on each and every customer. They do not only rely on them just for that particular sale, but for future sales as well. They need them to come back time and time again.

We frequent these small businesses whenever we can. I would like to say that it is because consciously we have made the choice to support the underdog. It is not. We step through their doors because of how they treat us as a customer. These businesses do what they state they will do and more. On the few occasions when I have had a problem, it is taken care of swiftly. What I like even more is that they do not attempt to shift the blame back on me. There has been a time or two, when dealing with the hardware store, that the problem is me. I did something wrong. I informed them of this; they smile and say no problem. The problem gets fixed.

I am also happy to report that this type of customer service is not limited just to Big Bear. My wife and I come from small towns in Western New York. We go back to visit our family at least once a year. Again, these towns, even smaller than Big Bear, are made up of Mom and Pop styled stores. The sense of helping the customer is just as strong in these stores. When we traveled last spring, our stops took us to smaller communities. That sense of doing what is right existed in each and every small community. By the way, we were served by all types and ages of employees, so we can toss out the blame the Millennials.

So what is it? I think it goes back to what I stated earlier. These companies depend on each and every customer. They cannot afford to lose a single customer. Even more, they cannot allow a customer to walk away with bad feelings to spread on to others.

Larger stores and chains are missing this. If a customer decides to change loyalties on electronics, the first store will most likely never even know it happened. The new receiver of the customer’s loyalties probably wont care. They will still have all of their other customers coming back. If a person writes a bad review, the companies hire people to counter the comments. The companies have more means to fight the single consumer causing them to need less and less customer service. It doesn’t need to be like this. Have you ever gotten the fluke call where the person on the other end knew what he/she was doing and helped you? I have – it is wonderful.

When I get those customer service representatives, I call back to get a manager. I sing the praises of their employee. I tell them that that person needs to be training others. I compliment the employees want to really put the company in a good light and making the customer feel as if no one else mattered. I tell others about the great experience. Yes. Good customer service is that important to me.

I don’t even want to make this sound like the problem is that big box companies do not depend on the customer. They do – they just have more of them. I think the problem is that those running the companies do not come out and meet the customers. They don’t walk in the shoes of those who might be buying a big ticket item only after saving for it for a year or more. They don’t understand who it is that pays their utility bills.

I also think part of the problem is in pushing new employees through quick tell and sell training. They get told what to do without having proper training. It has nothing to do with uncaring employees or the young generation being horrible workers – it is that employees are living up down to the expectations of their employers.

So I will stop complaining about poor customer service. It is funny, many are all too willing to leave a bad tip or no tip for bad service by a waiter. Yet these same people will hear that nothing can be done to help them in a store where that person spends thousands of dollars and still remain a loyal customer. I will no longer do this.

I will put my money into stores, restaurants, and companies where I am treated properly. That means I will stay with some larger companies, but most of my money will go to the little guy.

 

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Single Child Syndrome

Posted on January 17, 2016 by Bob Martin

12417850_10153348206625509_6019996959051872711_nI have often told, bragged, that we are very fortunate with our child. It is no secret that we are older parents, and I worried about how life was going to be with a young child while we became familiar with our 50s. However, for the most part, we have a very easy, go-with-the-flow child. We never experienced a temper tantrum while out in public. While she did throw some, they were always in the home. We did not experience colic or if we did it was minor. She loves going to school, and she loves to learn. I can hear the eyes rolling….really – an entry about how great his daughter is? Ahhhhh, nope. My colleagues can attest to the fact that she is given me days of frustration. She causes me to worry about the future. She is a normal child which means there are issues.

One thing that has come up in the past, and we saw it again today, is that our daughter suffers from what I call “Single Child Syndrome.” This is not to say that she is spoiled and gets everything she wants – I really thought her first word would be No. As a matter of fact, I fear that sometimes I say no a little too often just because I worry that she will expect everything and with no sharing involved. No the syndrome I write of deals with social issues. She is friendly, kind, and outgoing, but she is overly cautious when it comes to introducing friends.

Today proved to be a day where this syndrome reared its ugly head. With it being a long weekend, we decided to get out of town. We went up to the snow for some fun. Knowing that we would not be able to last the weekend, we allowed our daughter to bring a friend. I hate to admit it, it is normally so much easier when she has a playmate. This playmate is one of a few that she considers to be her BFFs. Things moved along just as expected. By 11 a.m., the two were going strong and at an energy level that would have wiped me out by 9:30.

We also knew and were excited that friends of ours who had moved away in November were back in town. Their daughter also fit into that small group of our daughter’s BFFs. What a great day to bring the three together.

The local friend arrived and introductions were made. Instantaneous friendships seemed to be blossoming. The girls went out and built a fortress and snowman. We begged them to come in to eat lunch so that we could go sledding. All seemed right with the world. We ate, redressed, grabbed the sleds, and took off for the hill. The three of them a common day Three Musketeers.

Sledding started off well. Slowly, I could hear, little issues started to arise. Questions about who would ride with whom, what position each would take in the sled, and which person needed to pull the sled back up. I let it going – hoping. At one point, our daughter crashed right next to me. Not a big crash, more of a roll out of the sled. She looked at me and stated that she was hurt. Unless some invisible tree or rock had been struck, there was no cause for injuries. I deduced that the injury was internal and dealt with the heart. I didn’t want to bring up my conclusions. When she stated she wanted to go down to the swing, I reminded her that her friends still were at the top waiting on her. She grudgingly moved back up the hill.

They made one more run and she moved off to the swing to be alone. The girls followed. The even suggested making a snowman. My wife tried to get our little one involved with the construction team instead she moved off to the tree line and climbed onto a stump. We let her be. The other girls kept calling to no avail. After five minutes, I walked over.

She sat there pushing the snow around and licking some off of her gloves. I could see the tears she tried so hard not to let flow. When asked what was wrong, she stated she didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was upset. It just hurt. We talked through a few different issues. I called out topics waiting to see if she would know. She didn’t.

We talked about her sharing her friends. I reminded her that she did this every day at school. The tears started coming, I feared her cheeks would freeze. We talked about the fact that she brought other friends to our get-away and shared her local friend – “Daddy, this is different. They don’t need me.” Bingo. Light Bulb. Only child.

Growing up, I had three brothers to share. I shared my parents. I shared them from the day I was born considering I am the youngest. Since I knew how to share my brothers, sharing my friends was easy. Our daughter hasn’t  had to share us or her friends. Now at the age of eight, she felt a pain in her heart that had never been felt. She could not explain it or understand it.

We talked about past friends having to share her local friend. The difference was that that sharing was a straight line. Due to slight age differences and different hobbies, the one commonality that the two new friends shared was our daughter. Today, the straight line took on a different shape. Instead of a line, these friends had a triangle. All three had things in common. The two new friends didn’t need our daughter to see common items. This scared her. I tried to explan how great it was that a new friendship had been forged. It didn’t help. We let her heart cry out its pain. It took a few minutes. We walked over and joined my wife and the other two. In the end, a new snowman took shape, more rides down the hill, and a lot of giggles took place.

It Is now 8:00 p.m. The local friend departed – hugs all around. We have eaten and the girls walked themselves upstairs a half-hour ago. All three are friends. Hopefully, our daughter has learned a little bit about what it takes to be a good friend and part of a bigger group.

The weird thing is that in the midst of all this, I had to fight the feeling of failure. I think as parents, we want to have the best for our child. We want them to grow without pain. We take their learning pains as possible failure on our part. We did not fail. As a matter of fact, failure on our part would have been stepping in too soon or too strong. Our jobs are to help the children reach conclusions and learn from them. I hope today, we succeeded.

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Toss Aways

Posted on January 16, 2016 by Bob Martin

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This morning I walked by this computer and monitor. It sat on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up – discarded. Tossed out. No longer wanted. Water sits on top of it proving that it most likely can never be used again. Any bit of usefulness left in this little machine has been washed away. I could not help but feel sad for this computer and friend. As a writer, I personify objects, I let objects talk to me. This object did not talk. It could not. Its life was no longer.

I started thinking about how we have become a society that tosses away things as soon as we feel that they no longer can be of any use. We no longer darn socks, patch knees on jeans, mend holes in sweaters, and keep computers when the next best thing comes along. What a 180 from my grandparents generation – those who lived through the depression. My Nana threw little away, and when she did, it could no longer be used for anything.

Our generation has been taught, through advertisements, peer pressure, and other tactics, to always have the latest greatest item. We are teased to have the latest version of an item before we learn how to fully use what we have. Those companies that produce items for our use do so in a way that makes repairs either impossible or more costly than it would be to purchase anew. Items are no longer made to last, but, instead, they are designed to break the first time it experiences anything outside of normal use.

Due to all of this, we dispose of things that still have so much to give. This poor computer may have taken a few extra seconds to load a program. It may have not been able to run the latest games or word processing program. It may just not have been as flashy as the new model. So, out the door it goes – not even sent for e-waste. Just tossed out on the sidewalk to fend for itself against the weather.

If we are willing to do this with costly items, what about people? Have we become a society that tosses away people? I know so many couples that have been in relationships for twenty or more years. Now that I think about it, many are over 30. They know that when the relationship isn’t smooth, you don’t toss it out the window. You work at it.

I also hear a number of stories of younger people separating after being together for years. Some break-ups are for the best. Many are because people no longer want to work at it. Since so many things offer instant gratification, it is hard for young people to realize that the best things take reap the rewards. They want to keep a partner until the new, flashier model comes along. As soon as there is a hole in the relationship, instead of pulling out thread and mending, the relationship is put on the donate pile – let someone else fix it.

Then finally those that are homeless. I am not going to state that society is to blame for their being homeless. In some cases, society has tossed them aside and not lived up to promises – the word veteran comes to mind, In other cases, people have ended up on the streets due to their own choices or bad circumstances. No matter what the reason, these people have become our throw aways. We walk by them maybe offering some money, but we want someone else to deal with the problem. I can even remember hearing stories of a city bussing them out when the Olympics came to town. The city tossed them away. I can recall a number of times where I feared that I was going to become one of the tossed of society.

Society needs to stop tossing everything including people out. I will be honest, at the moment, I do not have the solution. I have personally had scary experiences when offering to help people. It causes you to not want to help. That just means that that person needs a little more mending. Maybe I am not the correct mender for him or her, but hopefully the next person who tries is. We need to start teaching our children that the latest greatest isn’t always the best. We need to save and keep what we have until we can no longer make it work nor get it fixed. We need to keep working at relationships so that they don’t fail, but understand that some must. I don’t want to go back to the 1930’s, but perhaps we can still learn from that generation.

All of this came from seeing a computer sitting on the sidewalk. I hope that my feelings are 1000 times stronger when I see a person sitting there.

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Throwback Thursday

Posted on January 15, 2016 by Bob Martin

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I am not sure how Thursdays became known as Throwback Thursdays. Somebody on Facebook probably put up an old picture on a Thursday. Then, like so many things on social media, two friends joined in and then another two and so on and so on and so on. Wait – I think I just did a shampoo commercial. Talk about throwbacks.           

Well, my throwback has more involved to it than just looking at a picture. It has to do with one of the best speeches I ever had the pleasure and honor to hear.

In 1995 or 1996, I graduated from Airmen Leadership School (ALS). For those not familiar with the Air Force, ALS was a course for Senior Airmen just before they put on their Staff Sergeant stripes. The course taught….well….. leadership. A graduate left the school with the knowledge to supervise young airmen. They understood how to be firm while able to encourage. One learned how to speak in front of others. The SSgt to be knew how to fill in the military paperwork.

The best part of ALS was graduation. People had the chance to dress in their formal attire. Non-military guests dressed just as nicely. Supervisors and friends came to celebrate the fact that you made it through the course without wanting to strangle someone. The dinner was nice and the accolades were given. For me, the best was our guest speaker, a CMSgt (Chief Master Sergeant). This man led. He did not lead by yelling and screaming. He led by example. He knew what it meant to lead. He also knew how to make one think and strive by his way of speaking. His speech that night had to do with choices.

Now the reason I bring this up in my throwback Thursday is that I cannot count the number of times in which I have quoted or given the gist of this speech. I know that I brought it up to my students at least once a year though I would think more like ten times a year. My scouts all over the world can most likely tell you what the speech was about and how I connected it to their own lives. I use it with colleagues. I USE it for myself almost each and every day. Now, I try to teach it to our daughter. She has had heard me refer to it on a number of occasions. She actually can repeat it back to me and does – several times. She may not totally understand it, but she will learn it is true as she grows.

This CMSgt informed the graduates and everyone else in the room that everything in a person’s life comes down to choices – almost all are made by him or her. All too often, we make choices but want to put the responsibility on others. He stressed that more than anything else our feelings and emotions are controlled by nobody but ourselves. The human brain is capable of a myriad of emotions. We are happy, sad, joyful, and indifference. We emote anger, jealousy, fear, and love. Not one of those emotions, according to this Chief, are things that others can make us feel. When we feel, we choose to feel. The decision may be based on how someone treats us, something happening, or actions of society. In the end, though, we all get to choose how we react. Nobody can make us mad. Friends cannot make us happy. Jealousy is something we invent. We are in control of our thoughts and feelings.

The same goes with our actions and place in life. While he understood that people sometimes have to choose things to survive, the choice to continue or move forward belongs to you. He went on to say that making a choice does not mean that life is going to be roses. Doing what one wants to do involves sacrifice, risk, and chance. It also means that you may find out that what you dreamed and what is aren’t the same. You may find out that your dreams don’t live up to your expectations. He talked that all too often people choose to stay put because it is easier. If that is the case, then complaints must be turned into the person in charge of the choices.

This man’s speech had a huge impact on me. I would like to think that I live up to what he taught me that night. However, I do know that I have chosen not to many times. As I mentioned earlier, I try to help our daughter to understand this line of thinking. She comes home upset or sad. We talk about her deciding to be that way. She tells me that she understands but that it is hard. And, much like the Chief said about his wife, you must be careful about using it too often with an 8 year-old for she will turn it against you. I have gotten angry with other drivers for cutting me off or running a stop sign. I mumble something and I hear a voice from the back.

“Daddy are you angry?”

“Yes. He just…..”

“Daddy did you choose to be angry?”

So on this throwback day, I throwback to a wonderful dinner surrounded by great friends and colleagues where I learned (or confirmed) one of the best lessons in the world.

 

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I’m sorry

Posted on January 14, 2016 by Bob Martin

CaptureI feel that I need to apologize to those who read my writings. Apparently I am using words that may confuse you or cause you to feel less than adequate to read my blog. It is either that or the proof reading program has decided people are too stupid to be able to read above a second grade level.

I had no idea that my love for words could be doing such damage to people. I can only imagine readers now walking around all day long depressed that my meanderings are stopping them from gaining a true understanding of where my thoughts go. I would feel even worse if I remove all of the complex words and dumb down my musings, and then readers grow in ire as they ponder why I need to use only monosyllabic words.

While I do write all of the above in jest, it makes me wonder about the people who code these programs. Do they feel that technology has gotten to the point that it can decipher how difficult the writing should be? Perhaps coders think that since people can only write in text-ease that actual words are no longer required.

I can remember when I was preparing my book for publication. All of the material I read told me to make sure I did not use a lot of extraneous words. I should use simple language. Make it easy for the reader. I couldn’t.

I grew up reading. I read everything. I idolized Sinclair, Steinbeck, Dickens, and the rest. They knew how to use words and weren’t afraid to challenge their readers. Many a time, I had to use a dictionary or thesaurus to gain the true meaning of the sentence. I learned how to read using context clues. I did not shy away from their writings because they took me to places I could never physically go. I travelled the world of my imagination. My vocabulary grew because those authors did not have a computerized proof reading program cautioning them about being too complex.

Sinclair, in The Jungle, wrote:

Here was a population, low-class and mostly foreign, hanging always on the verge of starvation, and dependent for its opportunities of life upon the whim of men every bit as brutal and unscrupulous as the old-time slave drivers; under such circumstances immorality was exactly as inevitable, and as prevalent, as it was under the system of chattel slavery. Things that were quite unspeakable went on there in the packing houses all the time, and were taken for granted by everybody; only they did not show, as in the old slavery times, because there was no difference in color between master and slave.

The proof reader would probably change it to:

There were a bunch of hungry people that worked for mean people. Bad things happened where they worked.

 

So while I will live the proof-reader on to check for spelling, I will smile every time it states a word or expression may be too complex. I will smile because I know that the reader will understand it. I will smile because I am not insulting readers by dumbing down my writing. I will smile because I am trying to keep my love for language alive. I am sorry that my proof-reader doesn’t believe in you as a reader, but know that I do.

Posted in humor, sarcasm, writing | Tagged , , | 3 Comments