26.2 – Success or Failure?

Posted on March 23, 2017 by Bob Martin

This past Sunday I completed my third marathon. The first two took place 21 and 22 years ago in London. I was MUCH younger then. If you noticed, I did not state that I ran any of the three marathons for, in all three, I ran, I jogged, I walked, and in one case came close to crawling. So, I am unable to cross off “running a marathon” from my list. Why or how it is on my list, I do not know, but there it still sits – staring at me…. waiting for me to actually do it. Perhaps someday I will.

Before I get into the lessons learned, I will give some facts for which I have been asked – you can skip this paragraph if you want. My best time was my first – 4 hours and 20 minutes. My last two took me over 6 hours, 6:28:57 for this past one. On Sunday, I placed 758 in the male 51-54 division (873). I was the 9,472 male out of 10,938. 18,893 people crossed the line with around 24,000 starting. I was number 15,341 crossing that line. Now to the lessons learned.

I do not feel that I have done something special because I completed this distance. I struggled writing that last sentence for I do not want to take away from others who feel differently. For many on that route, this was the first time doing something like this. Others did it to prove that they had the strength and will. I spoke with and met some who were doing this as proof that they had beaten down cancer or some other disease. Crossing that finish line was something special. I, on the other hand, had done this before. I will not lie; it did take a lot of energy to do it. I was not proving a point. I went the distance enjoying the party atmosphere and the camaraderie of the other runners along the way. I strolled through Los Angeles, Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and Santa Monica all the while enjoying the sites. In a way, I feel as if I failed on this one. The only reason I do not count this as a total failure is because I learned so much both preparing for and completing the journey.

So much of what I learned, I thought I already knew. However, this little jaunt taught me that just because we think we know things does not mean that we act on our knowledge.

I learned that doing things without a solid goal and plan of action will lead to less than satisfying results. I first thought of doing the marathon last year when I was 50. I wanted to show that I could still do an activity 20 years later. The date of the race didn’t work in my schedule so it was pushed off until this year. Again, the only real reason to do it was just to appease an ego that worried it was getting old. I jokingly tossed out a time to match my first race. Yet, I never sat down and worked out why it was that I wanted to do the race, I never had a true goal, and I never planned. I was just going to do it. Just doing it might work for doing the dishes, cutting the lawn, or small tasks, but it rarely provides great results for the bigger parts of life. People asked how I was going to prepare, I responded with, “run.” I may have looked up some training plans, but I never took them to heart. I’ve already done this, why do I need to plan? One of the biggest factors in not having a goal and plan was that I often lost motivation. Since I did not have something specific to work towards, I found myself asking why all too often. Several times, I awoke, dressed, stretched, and walked outside only to stare at the road. I could not give myself a reason to take the first step. On some mornings, I went without understanding why. Many mornings, I walked back into the house and just sat down – I gave up. No goal means no drive.

Today I look back at more than the marathon and realize how much of my life has been this way. I will tell others that I am going to do something, and then just start doing it. I wonder how much easier certain aspects of life could have been had I taken the time to figure out why I wanted to do something and then planned. Would I be a doctor today or have a number of books to my name? While I will admit that one can over-plan, I have yet to have that worry. I would never have allowed my scouts to go out on the trail without a plan. I always told my students to plan their tasks. I help our daughter make plans. However, there I stood back 6 months ago stating I was going to go the distance, and yet I had no idea how to get there.

The other lesson I had to relearn was making priorities. Friends talked to me about this, but I brushed it off. You cannot just roll out of bed one morning and run the miles without giving some time to preparing ahead of time. Even without a plan or goal, I knew that I had to get out there and run and run often. I knew that my muscles needed to be trained, yet I always had more important things happening in my life. Notice that I didn’t say that I made excuses. Yes, there were times I made excuses for not running, but mostly, I had events and activities that I put at a higher priority than running. There is nothing wrong with putting family, work, and other life events before running. However, if I wanted to do this right I needed to figure out how to prioritize it properly.

Again, now that I am in the after days, I look at this lesson and look back at my life. So many times, I prioritize life by what is happening now. I am finding that prioritizing life and sticking to that order is difficult. I am so easily sidetracked from important tasks by a task that comes walking through my door. There are times I feel like Doug from the cartoon UP. I am fine until the squirrel runs by. I believe that this may be the most difficult of lessons to put into action. We all have so many people requesting so much of us; how does one know which is the priority? We do not want to offend others, so we put our needs at a lesser level. This is definitely something I need to work on, and it will take a while to figure it out.

Finally, I am an introvert. Was that a news flash for those who know me? I struggle with doing things around large crowds, and yet I chose to be with 24,000 people on Sunday. Just the same, running is an individual sport. Except for those at the head of the pack, the majority of people were running against themselves. They may have had a specific time in mind, or they may have just wanted to finish the run. Once the starting horn went off, the competition is internal. Yet, the marathon taught me that we cannot be alone when going after life. I have no idea how many volunteers it took to put on this event, but at times it felt as if there were more people giving of their own time than those on the road. The yelled, cheered, passed out water and goodies, played music, sang, and made sure it was safe. All those people played a role in my being able to complete this task.  Then there were the other runners – we pushed, supported, encouraged one another. They were not my competition – they were fellow warriors pushing to the sea. But there were people before that horn.

I learned again that life is full of supporters. People who get nothing out of you reaching a goal, but are there for you just the same. My wife was one of my biggest supporters during this time. She budgeted so I could pay for the run, shoes, and gear. She knew when to push and when to just let me be during my runs. Near the end, she knew what to say to keep me from quitting. Then, she and our daughter gave up their day to drive down to LA to get on a train to Santa Monica and wait. They waited for a good amount of time far from the finish line in the family meeting area for a tired, sweaty, smelly, achy old man to meet up with them. My co-workers are also part of this group. They gently pushed me toward my goals. Whether it was inquiring about my training or texting me in the morning asking how far I ran, they were there. They took time to help me finish this. While there were many others, I will mention my friend from far away. His support was in questioning me repeatedly. At times, I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to curse him, I almost unfriended him. Then I questioned myself and realized that I felt those emotions due to his being right. I wasn’t putting my best foot forward and he called me on it. I thought my anger was at him when it was at myself.

This race taught me that I needed each and every one of those people to get me to the finish line. As an introvert, it is not always easy to allow so many people into my life. Yet, I had to to complete the miles. The bigger lesson for me was in looking back to see if I am doing the same for others. Life is not a solo race. One may be able to go for a run on their own, but in the end, it takes a lot of people to reach the big goals.

I lied – one more lesson. I also learned not to complain. There were people out there on the road with me that had overcome great hardships to be there. They fought, or are still fighting battles, that I have yet to know. Yet there they were smiling all the way. I know people who would love to have been out there on that road, but for one reason or another could not. Yet they cheered as if they themselves had done the race. Their race is so much more than 26.2 miles. Their race is non-ending. The biggest lesson I walked away from Santa Monica with was that there is no finish line for so many. I may have had aching muscles, but they went away in two days. I may have gotten thirsty along the way, but every mile someone offered me water (beer at mile 22). I took on this challenge knowing that I got a medal. Life doesn’t offer medals; it offers more challenges. I hope and I pray that the next time I think I am running a marathon (figuratively) through a challenge that I remember those I met and know who constantly are working their way through their own marathon.

I guess this challenge wasn’t a failure. I learned from it. The only true failure is if I forget those lessons.

Thanks for meandering with me today.

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Lessons From a Chicken

Posted on March 20, 2017 by Bob Martin

https://cooking.nytimes.com/guides/11-how-to-roast-chickenJust a little memory for tonight. It has been too long since I have had the time to sit and write. However, tonight I want to share a little smile that came to me this evening. It all came while cutting up a cooked, whole chicken. This little bird was enough for the three of us with a little left over. It smelled wonderful. It looked delicious. Yet all I could do was laugh to myself.

During the 1976, my father had to take off the entire summer due to recovering from surgery. Unlike today, back in those day, when one had double by-pass surgery, you did not get to go back to work in six weeks. They gave you plenty of time to heal due to the surgery being so much more invasive than it is today.

As a kid, I remember knowing that my dad was having something big done. I remember visiting him in the hospital after the surgery (my brother and I were yelled at by the doctor for the amount of salt we put on fries). When you are only 10, your dad being at a point of being close to death does not equate. He was going to have surgery, and then he would come home and life would continue. The bonus was that he got to stay home with us, and our family took a trip that still brings me so many smiles.

So what does a chicken have to do with this summer?

That summer we took a trip north. My Dad decided to take the family through Canada. We saw Montreal, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward’s Island. We traveled up and down Magnetic Hill. We traveled through so many areas of which I one day hope show our daughter. We hooked up the trailer to the suburban and off we went.

So on my 11th birthday, after having traveled for so many days and eaten out of the trailer, my Mom and Dad promised to take us out to celebrate my birthday. I was looking forward to the evening out and trying some new types of food. I was told that in New Brunswick, one got to pick their own lobster from a tank and have it prepared especially for you. The only hitch was that Dad wanted us to stop by some unmet relatives and visit with them for a spell. Oh well, the lobsters were not going anywhere.

I am sad to say that I do not remember the relatives’ names. I can remember their faces. I can remember their apartment. It was a small little apartment. I believe it was the first time that I realized how lucky my family was. We were not wealthy by any means, but here was a large family living in a small apartment making ends meet. While this was not the purpose of meeting the relatives, it is certainly something that has stuck with me. I think the thing that really stayed with me is the fact that my relative, while not having a lot, were happy. They loved, laughed, and enjoyed life. It really made me wonder if we needed the next gadget.

So there we were. Our family of six with another five of my relatives getting to know one another. As children, we sat in the living room and listened to my dad and the relatives talk and reminisce. We got to know the younger relatives. We learned of a cousin who we would never meet. Our cousin told us of spots to go to as tourists and where to avoid. It was a really nice time. I think the best part was meeting relatives on my father’s side. Up until then, we really had not met many since he was an only child.

Finally, it was getting close to dinnertime. My Dad started to make the niceties to get us out of the apartment and on to dinner. At that point, the eldest cousin, being a gracious host, asked us to stay for dinner. The aroma filled the apartment all afternoon long. My father looked over to me with that look. Anyone who has been a kid knows “that” look. The look was half-apologetic and half “there is nothing we can do.” I nodded in acknowledgment. I knew that I would have dinner out the next day.

Then my cousin opened the oven door. In the oven was a small, whole chicken. To call this a chicken is actually complimenting it. In my mind’s eye, I imagine it more the size of a pigeon. My dad took one look at the cooking bird and then back at his four (three of them teens) boys. He stifled a laugh. I then became his excuse.

My dad did a great look of “Oh my God, I forgot.” He then explained that it was my birthday, and then he went on to explain that they wanted to take me out to celebrate. In reality, he feared what would happen when four hungry boys tried to eat their portion of the hummingbird. Our cousin accepted the excuse and even offered places to go.

The final part of the day occurred at a nice restaurant in New Brunswick. My parents chose a restaurant that sat right on the Tidal Bore. My dad explained how at some time during the evening, we were going to able to watch this BIG wave come up river. I will admit that this was my introduction to real hush puppies. I just could not send a lobster to its death.

My dad snuck over to the hostess at some point to let them know that it was my birthday. The staff brought cake and serenaded me. As an eleven year-old far from home, this really made my day. Then at the end of the song, just as the last note finished, a patron shouted here comes the bore. The excitement in the place rose. We were sitting next to a window. We pressed our faces to the windows. Other eaters pushed in to see as well.

As we stood waiting, somebody noticed that a dog stood in thttps://tidalboretimes.ca/he middle of the basin in which the tidal bore would soon be rushing through. I freaked thinking that I was about to witness the end of this little four-footed creature. We waited. Then it came, a wave that everyone had talked about. In my mind, I expected a five-foot wall of water to come rushing through. Instead, this three-inch wave came through. I am not sure if it even went over the entire paw of the dog. I was both elated for the dog and disappointed in nature.

Just the same, we sat back down and ate our cake.

So there you go. I stood today cutting up a chicken. Something people do every day. Today however, this chicken brought a rush of memories. The fun of meeting family. The understanding of just how well we had it even though we didn’t understand. The memories that my mom and dad made sure that we had to look back on so many years later. Memories for us to cherish now that they are no longer with us.

I think I needed this reminder tonight. We are now on spring break. I think the chicken was telling me to do the same for our daughter. The bird was telling me to make sure I take time during this week to give our daughter memories that can be recalled long after I am gone. Perhaps it won’t be triggered in her cutting of a chicken. Maybe it will come with a snowfall, baking a cake, watching a silly movie, or just looking at the stars. Just as long as we give her the time now to build those memories to be recalled later.

So much from a little bird.

Thanks for meandering with me tonight.

 

 

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This school ROCKED!

Posted on March 10, 2017 by Bob Martin

 

http://www.chipola.edu/pictures/arts/theater/ScHouseRock/School%20House%20rock%20logo.jpg

Tonight, I watched a play that involved drop lines, missed cues, sounds from the stage crew, and many gaps. I could not have been happier. Our daughter’s school put on their production of School House Rock. It was an hour-long trip back through time as so many of the songs from the Saturday mornings of my youth came flashing back in full living color. Tonight, was amazing, jovial, entertaining, and educational. While it is impossible to judge public education on single event, I am going to say that tonight showed that schools are doing some great things for and with their students.

First a big congratulation goes out to the director of the show. This mom volunteered her time along with other parents to get this show from audition to opening. Parents are the ones that fill in where needed to help teachers, staff, and students make the most of a school. These parents took that responsibility to a whole new level. The number of hours put in to teaching the blocking, the songs, and the dance steps go beyond a simple number to put into a spreadsheet. Every hour, every minute, every second was filled with not only the needed lessons but also with love and care. Our daughter came home tired but excited. This parent and her team really out did themselves.

The next impressive part of the evening was the number of students involved. I had the chance to compare notes with the principal after the show and we calculated that about 25% of the students had some part in this production. 25%!!! The auditions were open to any student that want to try out. The team found a spot for all the students who wanted to work on it. The director announced at the top of the show that the entire production crew was students…. the stage hands, the spot lights, the costume designer (a second grader), the props master (3rd grade), and the rest of the unsung heroes that make a play happen.

I have read articles that complain how children are not turned away from teams. Author after author talks about how teams are forced to have players without any skills being allowed to play. That was not the case here. Not every child was the star. There were many parts to be played. Some students were singers, others were dancers (of course there was one really cute blond in curls), a few were stars, and all made up the show. No student was made to feel like they couldn’t. Everyone was encouraged to find their place on the team and run with it. Based on what our daughter shared about rehearsals, all were held to the highest standards. There were no trophies for all but demands were placed on each.

I must admit that the students were not by themselves on stage. There was a single adult that stood there with the students. A third-year teacher gave up his time to be at the rehearsals. Teachers give so much of their time just in doing their jobs. I see teachers go home every day with stacks of work. Yet this teacher, in the middle of planning his wedding, gave even more of his time to be there to work with the students to put on the best show possible. He was the glue that held things together. He could tell when actors needed a little hint, or push (off stage), he added little one-liners to make the audience forget that the music didn’t start quite on time. He danced, he sang, he looked sooooo silly. He let down that façade that teachers wear so that his students could shine. He worried not how people would look at him, but how much the actors would shine in their own light.

Finally, the night reminded me about the principal and the rest of the staff – many of whom sat filling the first rows on the stage right. The principal gave her blessing and then support for this production. Schools have so much to worry about from budget to testing to new standards to…. to…. to…. It is a never-ending stream of demands and yet the principal, the office staff, the teachers, and every other panther worked together to encourage, to be the liaisons, to be the cheer squad. After seeing the large number of faculty sitting in the seats one does not question why so many of the students are involved with the activities of the school. The staff sets a fine example.

Then there are the rest of us parents. We might not be able to put the time and energy into the production. Yet there we are filling the seats, chaperoning the holding rooms, selling the snacks and flowers, and cheering as if we just witnessed the opening of a Broadway musical. Every panther stepped up.

Tonight, out did any Broadway show that I could see. While I was reminded of the ending scene of The Music Man (sorry – no spoiler, you should watch it), it rocked! Tonight, I relearned what turns a bill into a law. I refreshed my knowledge on Interjections and conjunctions (those songs in your head yet?), I imagined what it would have been like to have School House Rock come to life – it did.

More importantly, I witnessed public education at work. No, I do not know if each kid on stage can add, do fractions, or read at their grade level. I do not know what the last science experiment that was done by each class. However, I do know that I saw people who care, work hard, and are willing to put the time into our students. I saw students taking pride in working together to create a piece of art. I saw children enjoy learning and understanding. Public education may have its problems but tonight it Rocked as we all yelled YEAH!

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Thank You

Posted on March 9, 2017 by Bob Martin

Thank you. Two simple words made up of the same number of syllables. If you played the words in Scrabble, you would only receive 18 points, but then again, your opponents would wipe it away since you are not allowed to play two words. To speak these words take less than a second – I actually timed it and they take less than half of a second. Two simple words and yet powerful words. Words that can change a person’s day and even the world.

We teach our children to say please. In our house, if our daughter comes up and states, “I want…”, we immediately correct her questioning where the word please went. She corrects herself and asks again with that oh so magic word. Then, once that word appears, we are willing to give in to her request. She takes it and moves on with life. Often we hear the thank you. Other times, she takes and goes. The problem is that we are too busy to notice when the Thank You comes. She does it more often than not, but do we really notice? Not only has she moved on, but so have we. We aren’t as concerned with being given the gratitude for having completed a request. I have noticed the same throughout other areas.

Think about the last time you held a door open for somebody whether you stopped your transition through the door or held it instead of letting it close on a person. How often did that person pass through the portal to the other side without even noticing that you took time from your life to be kind. What about when you allowed that driver to cut in front of you after they forgot (or not) to move into the turning lane so that they could stay on their course? Did a hand come up in a friendly wave?

I know that as children we are taught not to do kind things for the recognition or acknowledgement, but to do it to be kind to one another. My parents told me that no matter how often you do something kind and the other person doesn’t even know it, I was supposed to keep on doing it. I continue to this day as an honor to what my parents taught me.

But now I ask each reader to think about this. How many times have we allowed others to do things for us and we accepted the gesture and moved on. People do not due it out of spite or even to be rude (well some do). We are so busy moving from one place to another, we are busy worrying about that next task, the to do list, the next stop on our busy day. I truly believe in people and believe that if people could look back at the number of times that they took without say Thank you embarrassment would run amok.

We Catholics are in the middle of the Lenten season. For most, it is a time to give something up – a sacrifice. This year I have been struggling with what that thing should be. What would be my sacrifice? What is the thing I could give up? The thing about Catholics today is that Lent is not always about giving up, but changing so that we do good for others. I started last week, I am not sure if it has been noticed (then again if I do it right – it shouldn’t be noticed). I am trying hard to say thank you for anything that someone does for me. That something could be big where somebody helps me rewrite a plan for work. It could be simple as someone holding the door of the elevator. It could be as small as someone just telling me to have a nice day. It matters not. Thank you is now going to be my mantra.

I want to challenge others. During this last year, I have watched my friends be polarized by what has been happening around this country – this world. I understand that each and every person has their thoughts and their beliefs. That is fine. What I am asking is that when somebody, I don’t care who, does something for you do not walk away until those two little words, less than half a second of your life, comes out….Thank you.

You just never know what acknowledging another human being might do for that person. You may change the worst day of their life into one not so bad. Take the time to look at each other and appreciate the good things that we do for each other.

So thank you. Thank you one and all. Those who read my ramblings. Those who help me at my job. Those who love me and put up with me. The one person who chose to marry me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for meandering with me.

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Lessons from De-Christmasing

Posted on January 8, 2017 by Bob Martin

Today we did a task that so many have been doing over the last two weeks. We de-Christmastized. In the past, this has been a bitter-sweet day. It is nice to get our house back in order. We do not have a big place, and the Christmas decorations, while beautiful, make our house just a little smaller. At the same time, I am big into Christmas. For me, packing away each light is like packing away a little memory that may come back next year – I hope. This year, however, this year was different. Put away the Christmas decorations this year was just a chore. This year was unlike the past.

Now I do not write these thoughts for pity or sympathy. I write because writing is what I do. I have thought long and hard about sharing this, and have only decided to do so since there may be others who feel the same and may take solace in knowing they are not alone.

So what happened this Christmas? What happened to the feelings when it came time to take down the joy of the celebration?

There were so many things that happened. I do not know if there was one certain thing or a mixture of some or all of the events over that last few months that came into play.

As most of those who read my posts know, this was the first year without my mom. We still had the chance to get together as a family, but that corner seat on the couch was occupied by another. I would love to be able to say that our Christmases were the same as those seen in a Norman Rockwell picture, but I will not lie. Our family would get together and have a good time, but we didn’t go out singing carols or hug around the Christmas tree. We just were. As a matter of fact, the only thing different for Christmas versus any other get together was the fact that it was cold outside and there was a tree inside. However, just the same, we tried to get together. In looking back over the years, considering we live on opposite coasts, there were a number of years that we didn’t get together. Our Christmases during those years were spent together via phone.

The more I think about it, it is not so much the fact that she was missing on that particular day that caused the hole. It was the number of times that I have picked up a phone to call her that caused the hole to be noticeable. Christmas day, New Year’s Eve at 9 our time, the fact that we made it through our flight back home. All of the little times that I would have checked in with her to make sure she was okay. The phone just remained in my hand.

Living on the opposite coast also takes away from the holiday. Though over the last few years, I understand why my dad finally put his foot down, and we stayed home. With four boys in our family, my mom and dad tried hard at Christmas to get to see all of the relatives. This involved crossing the border into Canada and dealing with customs when we returned with presents. One year, my dad had had enough. He announced that from that point forward if people wanted to see us on Christmas, they had to come to our house. I get my dad. We love seeing all the relatives. However, even our daughter asked if next year, she could wake up on Christmas in our house. I guess she does want to play out the travels of Mary and Joseph any more. The traveling is fun, but when you have to run every day, the joy begins to seep away. (I mean no offense to our relatives, and hey – our home is open for you next year.)

The holiday, itself, pulled a fast one on us this year. I know that most people work right up until the 23rd, but my family is all in education. We normally have a few days off prior to the holiday to get ready. It gives us a little decompression time after finals and grades. This year, we worked on the 23rd, and our daughter was in school. We then flew into Christmas Eve. I do mean flew since our flight landed at 1:30 am.

Our daughter is also older this year. She is nine going on twenty. I have read my past years’ writings about seeing Christmas through her eyes. Some of that twinkle isn’t there anymore. She still loves decorating, the music, and the holiday. It is just not NEW to her anymore. For her, this year was a transition year. She became more concerned with giving presents (just what I would want). She wanted to go shopping and do the wrapping. On Christmas morning, she took the role of the gift giver. Yes, there were smiles and squeals. There was wrapping paper flying through the air. There were hugs and thank yous. She just wasn’t that little girl anymore.

The final thing is the fact that I didn’t give Christmas my time this year. This hurt the most, and may be the true problem. I was worried about work and projects. We had work being started at the house. I had other things that in which I gave priority. I actually passed on my two-day cookie marathon with our daughter. In years past, the two of us would bake up a storm and then get my wife to help decorate and package. While it was a lot of work, it was not until today that I realized how much I missed that.

So today I woke up early. I pulled out the boxes and the ladder. I turned our front yard from a nightly display of lights back into a rectangle of cacti. Throughout it all, I wanted to feel sadness. I wanted to feel a little bit of emotion. I only felt a little frustration when those light up deer wouldn’t go back into their box without a fight – they won.

So what is the answer?

I finished my work and put everything away for next year. I sat down in the backyard and thought about what the heck happened over the last two weeks Then I could hear my mother’s voice in the back of my head.

“What is the problem?”

“I wanted Christmas.”

“You had Christmas. You just didn’t have the one you expected. It happens.”

“So what do I do?”

“First, you be thankful that you had your family. You be happy that you all had the chance and ability to get together. You realize that Christmas isn’t about you being happy. Then you remember all of those people who could not have any Christmas at all. Then you ask yourself, while thinking of them, whether or not you had Christmas.”

Mom had a way of not pulling punches. She was right. I forgot the most important part of life – being thankful for what you do have and the time you have with the family. Life changes and as we get older, it changes a whole lot faster.

I learned today that I was so trying to keep things the way they were in the past, that I forgot to be in the present. I was also avoiding the time of year I enjoy the most.

Next year will be different. I will try to keep whatever traditions I can, but I will not be afraid to start some new ones with my family. We will bake up a storm, we will open our house, and we will celebrate.

I cannot promise myself that I will feel sad next year when I put away the decorations. Then again, why would I want to?

Thanks for meandering with me tonight.

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Boys Don’t Cry

Posted on January 5, 2017 by Bob Martin

Recently, while out and about, I walked by a father talking to, what I could only believe was, his son. It was during Christmas shopping, and the store was crowded. The lines were long. You could sense more frustration than joy as you moved about the store. The young man, perhaps four, was crying. I will not know what prompted the tears. It could have been the fact that he was told no for a toy, he could have been tired or hungry, or his sibling could have hit him. Whatever prompted the river of tears happened before I was in the area. Still here he stood letting out his emotions. The father bent down close enough that he could have whispered. Instead, he spoke loudly enough for me and others to hear as he stated, “Boys don’t cry.” Those words still echo in my mind. Mom stepped in so I continued walking, still hearing the words.

As I walked I started thinking about how we raise our children and what stereo-types we use even today. Before everyone starts complaining about the father, we need to realize that he had to have been taught that phrase from somewhere. Most likely when he was growing up, those exact words were said to him by a number of people. While we would like to think that, as adults, we are always able to think before we speak – we don’t. I am sure that that father was tired and cranky himself. For all we know the little boy had been asking for the same thing one hundred times while walking the store. Perhaps the son used tears often to get his way. I am not saying that any of the above excuses the words, but none of us are perfect and we all falter. I think stress got the better of him that day. Just the same, I still go back to how we raise children.

I have racked my brain for the last couple of days. I, fortunately, cannot remember a time when my dad every told me that boys don’t cry. I do remember, “I’ll give you something to cry about.” But I was never told I couldn’t cry. Actually, the one thing I can remember my dad telling me not to do was to pinch the back side of one of my friend’s Mom. I digress.

A lot has changed since I was of a single digit age. Many of the gender stereo-types have started to fall away. I only say started since I think we still have a ways to go. Girls are no longer expected to only play house or with dolls. Boys can play with dolls – not those awesome G.I. Joe action figures, but Barbie. Children are told that they can be whatever it is that they want to be. Yet, I still notice that when it comes to emotions and actions, there is still a divide as to what girls can do versus boys and visa versa. We still hold gender stereo-types. That we includes me.

After listening to the Dad talk to his son, I started thinking about how I talk to our daughter. I cannot count how many times I have said, “A young lady doesn’t …..” I tell her every day that she can be a scientist, teacher, astronaut, bakery owner (her goal), anything she wants, and yet I tell her what is the proper way for her to act. Please don’t get me wrong and think that we should not have rules, standards, or expectations on how our children should act. However, shouldn’t that be more on how they treat others as well as themselves? I don’t want a child who thinks that she can do anything regardless of how it affects others. I will tell her no and that is not how she is expected to act, but those comments will not be based on the fact that she is a girl.

So what about boys who cry? Comments on Facebook and other social media state that we are turning into a society of wimps. I see people, men and women, talk about how we are emasculating our men and removing what makes a man a man. I guess I really have to question whether allowing a person to cry is really emasculating that person. Also, I have to agree with some postings in that I would hate to see a country where everyone cries every time their feelings are hurt or they do not get their way. My goodness, if that is going to happen, I am buying stock in Kleenex.

We need to teach our children how to work through their emotions. This includes not always acting out on them, but more understanding what they are going through. We have to allow our children to have the full gamut of emotions; this includes anger. Boys and girls must be allowed to experience anger. They have to be taught that it is okay to have this emotion and find a way to release it.

Humans are made up of so many emotions. Each one has its time and place. For us to tell a child to hide that, we are asking them to hide a part of who they are. Perhaps if children weren’t forced to hide feelings deep down, things such as bullying wouldn’t be.

I can imagine some Marine friends and relatives rolling their eyes are this. Another posting stating that it is okay for boys to cry. I get it. We need both men and women who can be tough to go out and do the jobs that most people would turn away from. We need the warriors who can push down those emotions and do the dangerous jobs. We need the men and women who will stand up to the bad guys and not show fear. That is all well and good. Just as long as when the time comes, they can show the emotions needed to keep from imploding. I have watched a Marine cry. It was probably one of the more emotional sights I will ever see. As for not being tough, I thought that Marine showed more toughness in showing that side of him than if he had sucked it up and walked away.

It is okay for boys to cry. It is okay for girls to stand-up for themselves rather than playing weak. It is okay for children to have and show a wide range of emotions. Instead of telling them what to do, more time should be spent helping them understand these stupid things inside of us that bring tears, anger, happiness, joy, and so much more. The days of “Boys don’t cry” are gone. The time for well-rounded people is here.

Thanks for meandering.

Posted in Do right thing, family, Lessons | Leave a comment

New Year’s Resolutions

Posted on January 3, 2017 by Bob Martin

Two days ago was the start of a new year. I peeked out the curtains to find a freshly-fallen, blanket of snow awaiting us. The trees were all covered in white since no winds were present. The temperatures held in the high 20’s yet with the morning sun, it felt much warmer than that.

I stepped outside to find that the snow was pure – not a single footstep of man or beast had intruded the area. I walked to the end of the front porch to look towards a cloudy sky that was being slowly forced out by a bright blue. A single bird floated in the sky high above. I truly wondered if some magic had happened over night when the clock struck twelve. It felt as if with the introduction of the new year, all of the troubles of the world had disappeared. But alas that is not the case. While our little corner of the world looked clean and pure, the world is the same today as yesterday.

As I was out for a run jog walk (everything was covered in ice), I gave most of my thoughts to this new year and how people watched it come in with high hopes and expectations. I thought about all of the New Year’s resolutions that had been made last night, and how long they would last. I thought about how we constantly hear complaints about the younger generation and wondered if our drive to create these resolutions might be part of the issue.

New Year’s resolutions started over 4000 years ago with the Babylonians. They made promises to their gods to take care of debts and such in order to have the gods do them a good turn. Today, the promises are more inward in hopes of improving ourselves. I wonder if the Babylonians had any better of results with their resolutions.

I have no issue with people trying to improve themselves either in health, work, family relations or others. The question I pose is why, 4000 years later, do we feel the need to hold all of these wants to change to a single day of the year. By doing this are we not setting ourselves up for failure? We hold the hopes that some magic will happen and that overnight, we will change.

A few years ago, I took a leap and jumped off of the resolution bandwagon. I started making it a point to look at who I am each and every day. I still believe in making resolutions to become a better person, but I stopped waiting for that magically nanosecond between one year and the next. I make the plans, lay out the methods, and then start the work. The work. Every single resolution made by any person requires work not just dreams. However, since I tackle just one resolution at a time, I find that my chance of succeeding goes up. I can concentrate on just one thing at a time, and not have to worry about trying to forge ahead with multiple goals at any given time.

This method also helps me when I do stray or totally crash and burn on a given resolution. Having one goal at a time (or a couple) makes it easier to start again when I falter. In the past, I would break one resolution and then let it go hoping that the others would make up for the broken one. By February, like most people, not only had I broken most, if not all, of my resolutions, but they were totally erased from my thoughts. I lost interest in trying to make so many changes at one time. If I did have a moment where I thought about those unfulfilled promises, I promised myself to do better next year. Poof – the burden of failing was pushed off for 10 or so months. Now, since I do not rely on the calendar, I work every day on one or two goals.

As I pondered the whole premise of resolutions, I thought about our younger generation and how so many comment about how they want instant gratification and no work. While I do not believe this is true, let’s think about it for a moment. I do not place the blame on New Year’s resolutions, I do question what we teach our young people when we get them going on the whole make the next year better. We ask them to believe that by making resolutions, life gets better. We show them that we can make promises knowing that most of them will never be kept. We teach that it is okay to have good intentions and not to worry when we do not follow through. They learn that it is okay to let promises fall aside with the thoughts that they will do better next time.

It’s funny. While writing this, I just realized that we have never brought up New Year’s resolutions with our daughter. I do not believe that this was done intentionally; it just happened. When we have conversations with her, we ask how she thinks she is doing and if there is anything she needs to work on. Sometimes the answer is no – sometimes it is yes. We have accidentally taught her to work on those improvements as she notices the need. We have somehow avoided the magic of that Nano-second with her.

So today is January 3, 2017. I make a resolution to write more of my thoughts on paper. I resolve to write for me, and, while I share my writing, write without fear of comments or criticisms. I do not make this resolution because of horns and noisemakers, I make it because I realized today, I need to work on this.

I will still continue on the resolutions I made during the past year or two. The nice thing is that these are already becoming part of me. I have worked on my fitness. I am working on helping others, I am working on finding ways to be better. It is just a whole lot easier knowing that these are not new. I have been working them each and every day.

So Happy New Day to all. For it is each and every day that we are given the chance to start anew. May you succeed on whatever resolutions you made, and if need be, pick one for this month and spread the others out. May you find success in so many ways over the next 365 days.

Thank you for meandering with me today and for the last 365 days,

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Here’s to 2016

Posted on December 31, 2016 by Bob Martin

For the last six months, I have seen a number of people posting how they wanted 2016 to end. A number of celebrities passed away this year and with each name added to the roster, more people jumped on the bandwagon blaming the year and cursing it. Of late, I even saw a meme stating that the poster wanted to stay awake to midnight on December 31st in order to watch the year die. I have found both the blaming of a year and the pleas to have time rush by interesting and ironic.

Now I do not accept for a moment that people are truly blaming the year of 2016 for all of these deaths, but, in a way, they are correct for it is time that will kill us all. However, it is not planned by the calendar. In talking with friends, I am told that the sadness comes due to the fact that with each celebrity passing, we lose a little part of ourselves. People have memories within their own lives that involve different songs, movies, shows, etc. So when a celebrity dies, so dies a little part of us.

In doing a little research, I did find a number of articles that stated that we did not lose more celebrities this year than others. Perhaps it was just the status of those who passed that make it so. Perhaps it is short memories of who we lost in the past. Either way, I do believe that my generation or the one just prior gives much more notice these passings than past generations. One of the reasons might be is that, as a society, we have made more celebrities. Therefore, it only stands to reason that we would be losing more as time goes on. I also wonder if the sadness of their passing might be a hint that we are all moving towards an end that cannot be avoided.

So with all the wishes of 2016 to come to an abrupt end. I am left with two thoughts.

Are we idolizing the wrong people? Each and every day, we are losing people in this country, in this world who have done so much more to make this a better world. They gave of themselves in so many ways, and yet they slip quietly away with little more than a line or two in the local paper. Some of those people are veterans both young and old. I am currently reading All the Gallant Men. If you want to see why we should mourn the passing of each WWII veteran, pick it up and have a read.

However, it is not just veterans for whom we should mourn. Each and every day in our world there are people out there working hard to support their families and work within their local communities. They struggle to make ends meet and yet still go out and help others. What we should be doing is looking around our little small corner of the globe and find those people. We should be writing articles about them, celebrating their lives, and mourning their passing.

The second thing I have learned through this year is that, perhaps, we are looking at life in the wrong ways. This is coming from a person who suffered a loss as well. While grief needs to happen and there is a place and time for it, we need to be looking for the good. Instead of mourning the passing of a celebrity, we should be celebrating the joy and happiness that they brought us. Dance another dance to a song they gave you, cry to a movie that they shared, laugh at some comedy that was given to us. Celebrate them.

More importantly, celebrate 2016! Good things did happen this past year. The Olympics brought us a new gymnast that gave people something to smile about. Panda Bears are no longer endangered. Measles have been wiped out of the Americas. If you are a Cub’s fan, you really have something to cheer about.

Bad things did happen this past year. Some came by choices of people. Some came through nature. Some a combination. Just the same, we shouldn’t ask for life to hurry up and let a year pass. For then, we are just asking for our time to end sooner. Instead tonight, don’t cheer that the year ended because it was so horrible. Take a moment and list the good things that happened to yourself or others. If you can’t then thank the year for letting you realize how good other years were. Yes. I will say a little prayer for my mom tonight and her passing. Then I will have a smile as I remember every moment I had with her.

So thank you 2016. Yes. I saw some lows, in those lows, you made me realize just how good the highs are.

 

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I Stood and Saluted

Posted on December 28, 2016 by Bob Martin

Over the past two weeks the world lost two celebrities and a hero. While it was sad to hear about George Michaels and Carrie Fisher, for my wife’s family it was more the passing of Harold Mufford that made the impact – a hero has passed.

We have lost another of the few WWII veterans. Today, it was my honor to stand in a small crowd to say good-bye. Most of the crowd was made up of Harold’s family. Considering the man was survived by his wife, four children and three children in-laws, six grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren, just the family filled many of the chairs. I attended with my wife, Harold’s cousin. His youngest daughter and my wife have been good friends for almost 40 years. There was no way we would miss this send off. Family takes care of family.

I had the honor of meeting Harold about five years ago. I spent time talking with him while he shared his stories of his life. The stories covered so much of his life. I was in awe of this man and all that he had accomplished in his life. I learned a little as to why his generation was called the greatest. Here was a man who had served his country, his family, and his town. This man was a husband, father, veteran, mayor, council member, and community member.

Last night, I had the chance to read some journal entries from Harold’s missions in WWII. I read events of a twenty year-old that gave me goosebumps. I read about Harold being held by his feet at 30,000 feet as he dangled out of the bomb bay in order to bring up damaged doors. The book was filled with a list of every single mission and trials and tribulations that a young man should never have to face.

It was the news article to the side that really caught my eye. Last January, Harold and his wife passed a mile stone of which I have never known another to reach. Harold and his wife celebrated 70 years of marriage. These two people had gone through every high and low imaginable. They stayed together through it all and managed to do it with love.

This morning, Nancy and I, along with many others, came together for a final send off. We listened to the family share stories of this man. We heard how he managed to get through life with humor. His children told how he taught them right from wrong, to do right, and that parenting isn’t always fun and games. It is about making the tough choices.

After the funeral home, we moved to the cemetery. However, first the procession took a tour of town. As we passed his favorite restaurant two servers stood outside to say their good-byes. We passed his house. We pulled into the cemetery to find two soldiers standing at attention in honor of one of their own coming home to rest. We huddle in a small group as the two soldiers took up their posts. One marched about twenty paces away and picked up her muted bugle. There in the silence of the morning with a cold wind gently blowing, the flag in the distance at a full wave, Taps blew. The haunting sound drifted across the air. My days of old came back to me as I stood a little taller, my feet came together, I dropped my wife’s hand, and my right hand slowly came to the rim of my cap. I, along with two others, gave a final salute to Harold. A man who deserved to be saluted.

Over the last two days, I have had a chance to visit a time when the young people of this country came together to stand united. I am not going to say that things were perfect or great back then – they weren’t. However, we were attacked and the people said no. I was given the chance to wonder if I could have or would have done the same. I saw a glimpse of a generation that only has a few that remain. The sadness was almost complete. Almost.

The real sadness came when I started watching a little bit of news last night and then today. I saw what has been happening at malls across the country. I saw the stories of how young people have been getting into huge fights in food courts and stores. I sit here and watch how police are having to go store by store to find people that are involved and remove them from the malls. From the stories I have seen and read, there doesn’t seem to be a reason for these fights – it is just people wanting to fight.

As I see each story, I think of Harold, his peers, those with whom I served, and those who serve today. Those people didn’t want to fight, but were called to for a reason. Today, people want to fight, but don’t seem to have a reason. I don’t know how to fix what is happening. Perhaps no one does and it is something that will need to play out. I hope, pray, and believe that this current generation can step up and be just as good as Harold’s. Time will tell.

So goodnight dear Harold. May you rest in peace. You did your family proud. Taps is still echoing for you. You set the example for many to follow. I pray that we do.

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Posted in death, Do right thing, family, Generation Z | 5 Comments

I am no Longer a Kid

Posted on December 25, 2016 by Bob Martin

This Christmas has been different. The entire year has held a number of events that make me take pause as I sit here in the dark staring at the Christmas lights fill the corner of the room. Like every year, there have been ups and downs. The downs however have been a little lower than most years. This Christmas I am no longer a kid.

I look at the lights. I let my mind wander to Christmases in the past. I can remember the Christmas in which my brother and I got in trouble for spying and discovering our presents. Memories stream by of Christmases in which my brothers and I would sit and play with our gifts – I still can feel the Goodyear Blimp model in my hand as the messages rolled past. I can hear the whimpers of a small, young Old English Sheep dog as she lay in the GI Joe tent. My dad woke us so early that I couldn’t even register that it was a real dog. Meals, families, trips, celebrations, and so much more come to mind. In the end, they are just memories. I am no longer a kid.

It may seem odd that at 51 I am stating that I am no longer a kid. Actually, those who know me probably would state that I wasn’t a kid even when I was a kid. I was old even when I was 10. This year is different.

As most who read my posts already know, we are only three months from saying good-bye to my mom. This is that dreaded first holiday after losing a loved one. We have all gone through it. So many of my friends have already lost both parents and spent many a holiday with just memories. That first one is the strangest. This was that year. We have gone 36 Christmases without my dad, but in all that time, having my mom around still allowed me to feel like a kid at holidays because she was there. This year I am not a kid.

I need to break at this point and state that this is not a plea for sympathy or sadness. I am just stating what is going on. I celebrate my mom and the time I had with her each and every day. Today, I held her even closer to my heart. It is only now as the last few moments of the holiday tick away do I really take in the fact that this year is different.

Leading up to the holidays, life was so busy that I never really had the chance to think about the hole that would be there for the family celebration. The universe kept me hopping and that was okay with me. I didn’t want to go down that tunnel. Life gave me a detour. Eventually, life quiets and you have no choice but to face reality.

Last night we had our family celebration at my brother’s house just like every other year. When you put that many people into one house, it is loud, busy, and chaotic. Quite honestly every time I tried to think of my mom, something happened to keep me from allowing the thoughts to grow. In hindsight, I think she had a hand in this since that would have been the last thing she would have wanted. This morning was even faster as we woke, unwrapped the presents, and ran out the door for a two-hour drive to Pennsylvania to be with more family.

We spent the day with a wonderful group of family that included a three-year-old and our nine-year-old. No time for sentimental thinking. Then the drive home happened. After two whirl-wind days, the conversation was light to non-existent. I drove in silence listening to Christmas music (something I do all year long). As we reached Western New York, Christmas Shoes came on the radio – you know the song about the little boy trying to get that last gift for momma before she meets Jesus. That is when life no longer tried to keep me from thinking. I started thinking about all the things my mom did when we were growing up to make Christmas special for my brothers and me. I would never be able to count all of the cookies we made together during our early years. We were never banned from helping out, as a matter-of-fact it was expected. I remembered my dad filming the presents being opened on a camera that included a 3-foot light bar. My mom cooking dinner filled my senses. All those times, after losing my dad, that my mom hid her own sadness and loneliness to ensure that happiness filled the house on Christmas day. Everything came rushing back as I imagined her being with Jesus tonight.

I think the moment when it really hit home came shortly after coming back into the house. I went to pick up the phone to call my mom to let her know that we had arrived back safely from our trip. I wanted to ask her how her Christmas had been. I picked up the phone and realized that her number is no longer there. I was no longer a kid and that would never be again.

I have already stated that this is not about sympathy for I was with my mom tonight. I put our daughter to bed and thought about the day. I could hear my mom telling me that now it was my turn to ensure that our daughter continues to have those types of memories that she had given to us. She told me to not be sad for her because she is no longer alone or sad. She commanded me to give our daughter the gift of me more than gifts under the tree. I sit here and watch her sleep under the tree by her bed and pray that I can give her Christmases that will only bring good memories when the time comes when she no longer has me.

I miss my mom. There is no denying that and any attempt to do so would just be lies. However, sadness is not in my heart. Thankfulness is in my heart. Love is over flowing from every vein. Smiles fill my face. Arms that cannot be seen rest on my shoulders and give a squeeze every once in a while. I had 50 years of Christmases with my mom, for that I cannot be sad for there are so many who do not get that chance. I am thankful for each and every Christmas. I am blessed with memories that will come to me each and every Christmas. I would give anything for her to have been here this year, but I will be grateful for the years that we had.

Tonight I am no longer a kid. I am only a parent. I pray each and every second of every day that I can do half as good of a job as my parents. I realized that I am still opening presents from my parents for they set the bar high for me. They taught me how to do this right. Without the love that I still receive from them, I could not, would not be me.

For those who have lost a loved one this year. I know the hole you have in your heart. It will never close, but it will get better over time. For those who have lost one or both parents, I pray that you can find peace with them being with God. For those who still have one or both parents with them, give them an extra hug. Pick up a phone and check on them. Make memories so that when you are no longer a kid, you have memories to fill the void that will be there.

I hope you all had a good day be it Christmas, the second day of Hanukkah, or just a day. Thank you for meandering with me.

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