Locking up the female child (’til she’s 30)

Posted on October 9, 2010 · 5 Comments

I don’t know when it happened that I got so old… but there are times that events remind me that I am starting to think and act like an old guy and that I am just not a kid any longer.  Case in point was this past Friday.  I was in Dallas for a trade show, and the last day of the show, most of the people from the event checked out and left, but we did not have a flight out until Saturday.   Thanks to that, while we were closing up our booth, our hotel transformed while we were gone.

Gone were the show attendees, and in came many, many (I mean MANY) kids (and some families) from the University of Texas (Hook ‘Em Horns) and the Oklahoma University (Boomer Sooner).  Awash in a sea of Orange (Texas) and Red (Oklahoma), I watched somewhat amused at first seeing this group of kids acting like a bunch of country bumpkins in the “big city”  (Side Note:  Being from the NY area, I guess I have much higher expectations of what to find in “The City” and Dallas was sorely lacking in this regard).

But as night fell, my amusement shifted a bit.  As I watched them get dressed up and head out for a night on the town, my amusement changed to somewhere between disbelief or dismay.  I watched as normal young girls turned into Bratz Dolls.  I say that because, it was so stunning that I couldn’t believe it was real, it was more like a campy 80′s comedy sort of slutty, trashy look that was so far over the top that it was almost (I said almost) comical.  As I saw one walk out of the hotel to meet with her friends wearing 4″ (or better) clear platform shoes, I couldn’t help but utter to my parter, “When did this turn into hookers on parade?”

And then I thought about my little princess.  And a cold chill ran down my spine.  ”Oh, hell no,” I said to nobody in particular.  She is not going to be anywhere near something like this.  I am locking her up and bringing in tutors.  Perhaps I should take her to see Tangled when it comes out this fall… this way she has an idea of how long I expect her to be locked up.

I went to college in the 80′s during the era of Madonna, and mini-skits, and falling of the body oversized sweatshirts, and still by our standards, “these kids today” seem to be out there.  I don’t know.  Am I just getting old?  Are you afraid of what it is going to be like “out there” when your kids are ready to strike out on their own?

Filed Under: My Princess, My So Called Life

Taking back the vacation part of a vacation

Posted on September 6, 2010 · 1 Comment

I know it is not (just) me, since I have heard similar complaints from others.  I’m not exactly when it happened, though I suspect it was when I started doing things on my own and away from my parents, but somewhere along the line a vacation stopped being about going somewhere to relax and recharge, and instead turned into something that I needed a vacation from when I returned.

My parents were not really beach people, and I think there was a grand total of one time that we actually went to the shore, and that was only because my uncle lived near the beach on Long Island for a brief time.  So, when I started to drive, my first and almost weekly summer destination became the Jersey Shore.  But of course in your late teens/early 20′s sleep is not something you are all that concerned about.  Hitting the beach, roller blading on the boardwalk, closing clubs as many nights as possible..,. it was all about fun (not that there is anything wrong with that) but typically meant I was no more rested then when I left.

Later, when we could afford it, the trips moved from the shore to the islands.  Aruba (honeymoon), Bahamas a couple of times, etc.  But since (except for our honeymoon) we couldn’t afford full weeks in these locations, we would jet out for a 4 day weekend, Leaving Thursday and returning on Sunday.  Other than the location though the routine was very similar.  Lots of swimming (with swim up bars), night life, casinos, and then zip back home.  On Monday when I got back to work, I needed a vacation to recover from my vacation.

Of course, once the princess came along it became all about her.  Sesame Place, Hershey Park, Disney,and of course back to the Jersey Shore, since I was not going to keep her away from the beach like my parents did to me.  But as anyone who has to deal with a little one on vacation knows, relaxation and little ones do not go hand in hand.  It is all about keeping them occupied and entertained.  It is about crafts, and rides, and I wanna do this, I wanna do that, I’m bored, and the like.  While I was no longer staying up until all hours of the night, I was no more rested than I was on any other vacation.

Now I have written about our vacations about Chestnut Grove in the Poconos before… here (and here and a couple of more), so I won’t rehash the details of it again (Your Welcome).  For the past 5 years we have gone there, and I realized this year (a little dense maybe) what it is that is so really great about it.  It is not the accomodations (they are very basic), it is not the activities (though I enjoy them, I know the schedule like the back of my hand), it is not the food (which is good, but again, more homestyle than 5 star).  It is about 2 things.  The first is that as luck would have it, we met some really great people  the week of our vacation.  And since this is a place that people return year after year, we get to enjoy our vacation with these same people every year (and LatteGirl has friends that she has made and kept over those years).  It is all very predictable to an extent.  The way I described it to one person is that it is a vacation that is a lot like a Yatzee Cup.  Much like you have 5 dice, all the same, the vacation sports the same people, the same food, the same location every time.  But like when you shake that Yatzee cup and roll the dice, despite everything being the same, each year like each roll, brings different results.  We interact more with some people and less with others.  There are variables out of our control like the rain we had this year for the first 3-1/2 days.  Getting calls from work that briefly interrupts my activites, and everything else.  So while everything seems to be the same, the results come out different.

But the best thing of all is that I come home relaxed.  When I get home, I feel a bit nostalgic and sad about saying goodbye to the friends I will not see for another year (well, except perhaps on Facebook), I feel recharged.  I feel rested.  I feel ready to take on the world again.  And isn’t that what a vacation is supposed to do?

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret any of the vacations and trips of the past, and certainly seeing new places and things is good.  I’m not saying that this vacation is for everybody.  And I am certainly going to be going on vacations like the trip to Disney World we are planning for 2011 where I will be more worn out (and broke) than I am now, but if you haven’t done so, I highly recommend finding a vacation that is about recharging you… whatever that means to you.  If it surfing great.  Hiking in the mountains.  You don’t have to be sedentary to be rested.  But you do need something that will allow you to be yourself.  To forget about the trials and tribulation of the everyday.  Go ahead… find your smile.  That is after all what it is all about.

Filed Under: My So Called Life, Trippin'

From the mouths of babes

Posted on July 15, 2010 · 3 Comments

Well, she is supposed to be my baby… but at 10 years old she doesn’t like to be called that any longer.  I accept that I have to come to terms with that.  But worse than that (for me), she acts and speaks a whole lot more mature than even her 10 years!  What do you think?  Let me give you some examples:

Exhibit 1 – After taking her to a Newark Bears Game (her 1st baseball game), that the Bears lost (by a lot).

Me:  I hope you still had fun even though the Bears lost.

Her:  I had a GREAT time.  I got to spend time with family and friends, and that is always fun.  The final score doesn’t matter.

Exhibit 2 – After I try and select a movie to watch for Daddy-Daughter Night

Me:  What do you think of this one?

Her:  This is PG-13… are you sure it is age appropriate for me?

Exhibit 3 – After her aunt asked her if she still was watched Hannah Montana

Her:  The show isn’t entertaining any more, and her music isn’t as good as it used to be, so I’ve moved on to other things.

Aunt:  So what do you like now?

Her:  Bad Romance  by Lady Gaga (this one just about killed me on multiple levels)

Exhibit 4 – After seeing a commercial for Zhu-Zhu Pets

Me:  Have you ever seen them before?

Her: (Unenthusiastically) Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em

Me:  Not interested, huh?

Her:  Nah, maybe when I was younger, but now I don’t think I would play with them enough to justify the expense.

So, like it or not she is growing up… far faster than I would like… but fortunately not as quickly as her maturity level would suggest.  Is it just her?  Is it just me being in denial?  Do your kids act far more mature than you would expect for their age?

Filed Under: Family, My Princess, My So Called Life

The Bears, the Pitch and the Foul Ball

Posted on June 8, 2010 · 1 Comment

Edgardo Alfonso playing for the Newark Bears

I am… in general, a sports fan.  Except possibly for hockey, I am not a sports “fanatic” (much to my wife’s appreciation, and probably to the chagrin of many major sports and their advertisers).  No place has my hot and cold fickleness been more apparent than it has been with baseball.  Baseball has broken my heart (not in the “my team lost” kind of way), disgusted me, annoyed me and turned me off to their product more times than I care to count over the years.

Now, in fairness, I guess some of it does have to do with “my” team.  A fan of the New York Mets (on again and off again), I have watched an organization assemble a team  that has had the character of a hot steaming pile of garbage (more than once).  Bobby Bonilla, Vince Coleman, Bret Saberhagen to name just a few from “The Worst Team Money Could Buy” club. Sure, there are players like that in every sport, those types quickly fade away and are out of the game, not given additional lucrative contracts.

But it goes beyond just “my” team. Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco, Mark Maguire and others that ran up home run totals as MLB looked the other way, allowing the long ball to try and bring fans back after the 94-95 baseball strike. Oh, and yeah… baseball work stoppages. Does any “union” have less of a reason for its members to go on strike than Major League Baseball Players? (And yes, I blame the owners as well, this is not just the players, but the teams themselves willing to shell out millions of dollars while pricing fans right out of the game in favor of corporate sponsorship and high priced suites, etc).

Armando Benitez

So, I have been in my “off again” part of my relationship with baseball, for what has been probably the longest stretch of time, somewhere around 7 years. As part of a writeup I was (well I am still am technically) looking to do on New Jersey sports, I went to see and photograph a Newark Bears game.  Never did I imagine that one evening in a ballpark would remind me about every single factor about what I used to love about the game on so many different levels.

The evening was a perfect storm of things that roped me back in.  The last time I was at a baseball game, which happen to be a Shea Stadium, some of the best players on the field that day included Edgardo Alfonso and Armando Benitez and much to my surprise, those two players were there… sporting Newark Bears uniforms, in fact the Bears have no less than 5 former major league players on their roster, adding for Angel and Cardinal Scott Spiezio, former journeyman pitcher Willie Banks and Daryl Ward who was most recently played with the Chicago Cubs.  The remainder of the team is made up of players that never quite got their shot, or perhaps haven’t gotten their shot yet for one reason or the other in the “big leagues.”

Now without trying to make people out to be more altruistic than they really are, I am sure that their is certainly some money factor involved.  Every one of these guys would, if the opportunity presented itself, to jump (or jump back) to the MLB level and the payday that could involve, but their is still something different about players at this level of baseball.  When all is said and done, these players are playing with pride, with determination, with heart that far exceeds whatever nominal salary they are making at this level of play.  They have to play that way if they want to get noticed.  It is palpable, you can “feel” the difference in effort, and while it is true that the level of play may not be quite as high as the majors, the hustle and effort factor, for me more than makes up for it.

I watched not only the game on the field, but the few fans that made it out for a game on a weeknight while school is still in.  It was a very sparse crowd watching the game, and so far the Bears are sitting in last place, but that did not affect any of the young kids (or even the adults) in attendance.  They cheered their team, they begged players for autographs, took photographs with the mascot, and chased down foul balls into the stands. You couldn’t tell by the enthusiasm and excitement in their eyes that this was a “lesser” game than one in an MLB ballpark.  Seeing the kids enjoying this game, brought back some really great memories of going to baseball games with my dad when I was a kid.  We went to games both at Yankee Stadium as well as Shea, but there was no difference between those games for me, than when we went to Roosevelt Stadium in Jersey City to see the Oakland A’s Double A team play.  It was very cool to watch these kids with that excitement.

I even got a little bit of excitement of my own.  Like any kid that has ever attended a game, I always wished for that opportunity to catch a ball hit into the stands, but it never happened, and as I sat there, I watched one young boy that dutifully attempted to dash from his seat and try and run down any ball hit on his side of the stadium (did I mention the crowd was sparse this day?).  But other, older and faster kids always beat him to the ball.  They were roaming free around the stadium, while he sat next to his dad right behind the visiting team dugout (it was a very sparse crowd), meaning he really had no shot, but he got his hopes up each time, only to have them dashed, and walk dejected back to his seat.  I knew that look… and that feeling, all too well.  I remembered being that kid.

One happy kid

As we went to the home 6th inning, I was once again on the visitors side of the field so I could get some pictures of the lefty hitters due up at the plate.  The first player up was Scott Spiezio.  After getting several pictures with my camera, I quickly switched over to my phone so I could share a picture via TwitPic as well.  As I snapped that shot, he fouled off the pitch, and it was headed straight for me.  With my camera in my right hand, I stood, and reached out with my left.  At 44 years old, I caught my first foul ball at a game.  Almost directly below me, I saw the young boy (who was now being aided by his father in his quest to get a baseball hit into the stands) looking up.  He was, he felt thwarted again and began to make his way back to his seat.  I beckoned to his father, pausing to speak to him first and to get his approval (sadly in this day and age, such steps I feel must be taken), and gave the ball to the boy who was a mixture of elated… and stunned.  I posted about it on twitter, and received some nice comments from people about how nice I was to do such a thing.  But, for me, I think anybody with kids, in the same circumstances would do the same.  Besides, I think I got more out of it, than if I had actually taken the baseball home.  I got the memory of catching that ball.  I got the memory of how thrilled that kid was to get that ball, his smile as he grabbed and stared at that baseball will stay with me longer than a dusty baseball on a shelf.  To top off the evening, the last place Bears went on to win 4-2.

So, I got to see some players I used to love to watch in “the pros,”  a night a great baseball, the first baseball I caught in a game, some great memories, and my love of baseball back.  Quite the bargain for a $10 seat, don’ t you think?

Filed Under: My So Called Life, Randomness

Mother’s Day, One Adoptee’s View

Posted on May 9, 2010 · 3 Comments

First of all, Happy Mother’s Day to all the Moms out there.  New Moms, Old Moms, Grand Moms as well as the soon to be Moms.  But, for a bit of a change-up here, I want to throw out a special Thank You to two other Moms that often get left out, or worse get somehow “downgraded” by uncaring, unfeeling or just folks that aren’t thinking too clearly.  Those are the Moms that knew enough that they were unable to take care of a child that they had brought into the world and made the very difficult and unselfish decision to give that child up for adoption, and also for those Moms that, whether they couldn’t or simply chose to go the adoption route, gave homes to those children.

I have to admit, it took a lot of soul searching on my part, as well as finally getting to know some people on the other side of the equation to really appreciate the plight of the mother that has given up a child for adoption.  I was going to say “every adopted child” but I really can’t speak for others, so I will say “I” with the understanding that I don’t think that I am really all that different from other adopted children… anyway, I went through a time of wondering “why.”  Why didn’t my mother want me?  What was wrong with me?  And similar questions.  Combine that with many in the general public that seem to think that the only children that are given up for adoption are from people that are shirking their responsibilities as parents, or are “lazy” or “don’t care” or other more hateful things, and it is not difficult to draw a picture in your mind is rather unpleasant.  (Perhaps it is a way of coping… it is easier to think bad things about somebody else, than to question if it is you that is the problem.)

Are situations like that sometimes true… of course. But in all actuality, that is not always the case.  Circumstances are what they are.  Things happen in life. And a woman gets pregnant with a child.  One that she knows damn well she is not in a position to raise properly, and rather than “dragging up” a child though a bad situation, she makes the rather unselfish decision to allow that child to be put up for adoption.  That certainly can’t be an easy decision to make.  And from the few women I know that have done this, it can be (and usually is) quite anguishing… not just at the time of the decision but for years to come (if not forever).  So rather than pick on or chastise or ridicule somebody in that situation, I think it is better to say “Thank You.”  Thank you for being wise enough to know that you would not be able to handle the situation.  Thank You for being unselfish enough to try and make something work that you know would not.

Now follow the strange path that is my brain to the other side of the equation.  The adopting mother.  There are few things in life that annoy me more (which is sort of counter-intuitive to what I just wrote), than to have somebody ask me (and I can’t tell you how many times I have been asked, I lost count long ago) if I am going to try and find my “real” mom.  To this my answer is always the same, “I know where my real mom is, she still lives in the same house that I grew up in.”  Though my mother skirts the issue when asked about it, I know there were people in the family that scoffed that mother was not able to “give my father children.”  There were riffs in the family that lasted many years.  My mother actually went on to forgive one uncle (though I never did).  I find this sort of sentiment unacceptable.  What is not “real” about an adoptive mother?  She is the woman that sacrificed for me, got up to feed me, dealt with illnesses, and driving me to Little League games, always made sure I had a healthy and nutritious meal.  She loved me when I was good.  She loved me when I was a complete and total screw up.  If you think a maternal bond can only come with an umbilical cord, you are sadly mistaken.  I have seen plenty of mothers that had less instincts and love towards children that they gave birth to, than my mother showed to me.

I no longer harbor any resentment or questions (other than health related ones, an issue any adopted child has to deal with) for the woman that gave birth to me.  I wish her well, and an appreciative Thank You.  I don’t know how my life would have turned out if she had not put me up for adoption, nor do I really care.  I know I wound up having a simply wonderful mother, one that loves me, and I love very much.  And in the end, that is all that really matters.  Happy Mothers Day.

Filed Under: My So Called Life Tagged With: , ,
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