Are centipedes scary? Sure they are creepy and appear out of nowhere, but scary no. A few paper towels and a quick arm movement can take care of that. Are snakes scary? Maybe a little. Out in my kayak in the middle of a lake and a water snake swimming nearby! You do the quick math and geometry…can that thing really get in this boat.  Are bats scary? Oh yeah!!!  Their wicka wicka wicka flapping wing sound and their unpredictable flight paths. Stay as far away from me as possible!

But to me, the scariest thing in this world is being the father of a teenage girl!!!

It’s scary because of the world we have created for her. It’s scary because I can’t be watching her 24/7. It’s scary because I was once a teenage boy.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being the father of a teenage girl. The rewards are amazing. The challenge is well worth it. Maybe in the 21st century, it is a little archaic to say that I look at my role as one of protector. I take that role seriously and with love. But there is an alternate role and that is empowerer. Keeping the balance between protecting and empowering keep me up at night. Keeping that balance sometimes makes me physically ill. Keeping that balance fills me, at times, with self doubt.

My biggest fears for her are drugs, sex, and rock and roll. No, not rock and roll. That just seemed to flow. Drugs, sex, and a world that still treats women like an inferior gender. I want her to be whoever she wants to be and I want her to be able to do that on her own merits and talents. I once read that the three guaranteed predictors of a life of poverty are getting pregnant before you are ready to be a parent, getting too involved in drugs and alcohol, and finally, not finishing your education. That’s some scary stuff right there.

Sex today is everywhere and statistics show that kids are having sex at earlier and earlier ages. Earlier ages means less maturity and more bad decisions. How do  I protect against that? Educate, educate, educate!

Drugs today are everywhere. Just look at the opioid crisis. My daughter goes to Parkland High School. It’s a richer school known for a higher class of drugs and pharm parties. How do I protect against that? Educate, educate, educate!

It is still a man’s world in spite of incredible progress made by women over the last few decades. My fear here is that that progress has slowed under our current political environment (no rant coming, I promise). How do I protect against that? Educate, educate, and vote!

So I guess what I am saying is that I need to be not just a protector and an empowerer, but an educator as well. To perform those three roles to the best of my ability and infuse them with unconditional love, is my best hope for a great future for my daughter.

Enjoy your Friday!

 

“He’s a little backward. ” “He’s  just a little shy. ”   This is what I heard throughout my childhood.  What a message to send to a kid. Because you are quiet, because you like being alone, there must be something wrong with you. Actually, when I think about it, I have been sent this message my entire life.

It was much later in life that I learned about the true difference between introverts and extroverts. Extroverts gain energy being around others and introverts lose energy in similar situations. The experts say that the world is sixty percent extrovert and forty percent introvert. But, when you are an introvert, it seems more like 90/10. That’s because you extroverts are always out there doing your extrovert things in public. While us introverts are quietly observing and keeping a much lower profile.

This introvert doesn’t like the spotlight. I don’t like to have attention focused on me. That is why, in high school, I ran for vice-president of student council instead of president. The presidential candidates had to make a speech in assembly. NO thank you!

This introvert doesn’t like going to parties. When you are quiet, at a party, inevitably an extrovert will point out how quiet you are. Thanks. I already knew that. Sometimes, at parties, you may be expected to dance. I am not speaking for all introverts, but I would rather just listen to the music.  Since we are living in an extrovert’s world, parties and/or public announcements are how we celebrate success.  He’s retiring after forty years…..let’s throw him a party! We achieved corporate goals….let’s have a party! Perfection for me in those situations…. retirement, give me a pile of books. Corporate goals….a party for those who like to party and a nice gift card for the rest! But, that’s just me, and it doesn’t mean I do not appreciate invitations and recognition. Just that I prefer to be recognized in a way that means something more  to me personally.

My being an introvert is such an integral part of who I am and how I move in the world.  I could go on about this topic for pages and pages but I try to limit my rants and keep blog posts to about a two minute read. Let me end this blog post with an example of how extroverts gain an unfair advantage in the schools. Class participation as a percentage of one’s grade.  That always frustrated me and always will!

So enjoy this beautiful Spring day. Celebrate it by dancing in the streets or by reading a book under a tree. There is room in the world for both.

I mentioned in a previous post that I once ran a marathon and my goal was 5 hours. My finishing time was 5:10. Ten minutes past my goal. I still made my goal and here is why.

In Spring, 2001, I realized I was about to start the last year of my forties. I wanted to do something symbolic, something to laugh in aging’s face. Crazy me decides to sign up for The Steamtown Marathon in Scranton, PA, home to the famous Dunder-Mifflin Paper Company!

The race was scheduled for October 7. I had just short of six months to train. I signed up to train with the Leukemia Society Team in Training. We met every other Saturday In beautiful Lehigh Parkway, which has a really nice six mile loop. The first Saturday we ran, in a loose group, six miles. That was the most I ever ran at one time. Every other Saturday after that we added two miles to our total. By the end of September we were up to 22 miles. They figured if you can run 22, you can run 26.  We had our own training to do within the two weeks. It was A LOT. But I was ready for race day.

They loaded all the runners onto buses and took us 26.2 miles away from downtown Scranton, the finish line. Everyone was nervous. Everyone was excited. Everyone was freezing! It was a few weeks after 9/11 so there were a few politicians making speeches before the start. Come on, let’s go, it’s freezing!! The gun sounds and we’re off.

The plan was to run with my training partner, Jess. We chatted and joked and generally supported each other. We ran into snow around mile 10. Just flurries, but did I mention it was freezing?  We were doing pretty well, walking only through water stops. By mile 17, I could tell Jess was holding back for me. I told her to just run and I’d see her at the finish line. Now I am alone. I was near the back of the pack so there weren’t too many people to chat with. I remember about mile 23 being passed by an old lady fast walker! That’s okay, I am still on pace to make it in 5 hours.

That’s when it happened!! I had to go to the bathroom so bad…..and I am not talking pee! I was now in Scranton and everything was closed for the race. I had passed the last portapotties a mile back. I couldn’t run or I would have gone in my pants. That was not happening!  Luckily a guy saw me in distress. I told him what was going on. He told me about a Wendy’s open about three blocks off the race course.  Here is a time where being a rule follower goes out the window. I finally make it to Wendy’s and the men’s room is closed for cleaning!  Nooo! I go in the ladies’ room just as a woman is coming out. She looked surprised to see me. Then, ahhh relief!!

I run back to the course and finished the final mile and a half. 5:10 was on the sign as I passed the finish. I immediately begin the calculations:  three blocks off course twice, going to the bathroom, the rest room mishap. My calculation is that that took about ten minutes and one second! My time for the marathon 4:59:59! I made my goal. I hope you agree with me.

Running that marathon was one of the most difficult and rewarding things I have done in my life. At least that day, I was able to laugh in aging’s face. I recommend a marathon for anyone else in a similar situation.

Enjoy your day! It’s a great day for a run!

 

It’s Sunday morning and if I were back in junior high I would be going to church. St. John’s UCC, Slatington. I rarely missed back then because it counted toward getting confirmed. I always enjoyed Confirmation class. It was kids I went to school with and knew really well. I also belonged to the Youth Group of the church and look back fondly at going on paper drives almost every week. Charlie Carlton was our leader and he drove the truck while the rest of us sat on the paper piles in the back and sang and joked and sometimes huddled together in the cold.

This Sunday morning I am not going to church. My spiritual journey has taken me in a different direction. No, not Satanism!  But if that’s your thing, be the best Satanist you can be. I always have been fascinated by religion. How a kid growing up in Libya will most likely be Muslim. Thailand, a Buddhist. Israel, a Jew. India, a Hindu.  Slatington, a Christian.  My thought was that something so important and so personal should not be accepted just because it is what our parents believe. So. I’ve done the reading and I’ve done the research, and I have found what works for me. I consider myself a Buddhist. No, you won’t find me in a flowing robe and a shaved head! But you will find me thinking about impermanence, how everything has a lifespan and how everything is constantly changing and you should appreciate what you have in this moment.  You will find me thinking about reincarnation. I’d like to think that my daughter is out there living some fabulous life rather than hanging around in heaven playing a harp and waiting for her mom and dad and brother and sister.  When I say that, I am not dismissing any one else’s beliefs. I , and no one else, knows the truth for certain. That’s why it is called faith! When the Dalai Lama was asked to explain Buddhism he said “It’s very simple. My religion is kindness.”  I’m going with that!

Enjoy this beautiful Sunday that lies ahead,  whatever you belief system! Namaste’.

 

 

I remember when Emma was in elementary school a few years ago  I attended a program where all members of the faculty and administration were introduced. I remember thinking to myself that it sure seems like a lot of administrative positions, for an elementary school.  Then I heard introduced the Dean of Students. Dean of Students, really? What could this guy possibly do all day long?

Admittedly, aside from being a student, I have never been in the education profession. Maybe a Dean of Students is a very good thing. Maybe a Dean of Students increases the chances of kids getting into a good college. Who knows? I grew up without a Dean of Students and I turned out ok. Uh oh, that sounds like cranky old man talk. Sorry.

I get that things are now way more complicated and that  maybe it isn’t fair to compare. But it got me to think about my elementary school, Lincoln Elementary, in Slatington, PA. It was a two story brick building. Before it was our elementary school it had been the junior high and before that Slatington High School. We had a principal, Mrs. Rex, who also taught third grade.  Yes, the principal had a full-time job as a teacher. There were one or two classes per grade, Kindergarten through sixth.

We had a gym teacher, a music teacher, and an art teacher. They rotated among the four district elementary schools. Outside was the metal playground equipment on black top surfaces. Ok, we know why a school nurse was necessary. Some years we had a school kitchen where we picked up our trays and brought them back to our rooms. By sixth grade we walked, in all kinds of weather, a short distance to the junior high to get our food.

It was a good time to be that age. It was a much simpler time. It was a time when a Dean of Students was nowhere to be found.

 

I miss them. I miss them everyday. I know they still exist, but where did they go? I can’t be the only one who wishes they were back in our lives on a daily basis. Maybe they are poised for a big return in the next decade? Maybe they are gone forever?

Have you figured out what I am referring to? No, I am not referring to the hairs on the top of my head. Though I do miss them too!  No, I am not talking about snow fences. Remember those?  I am talking about manners. Manners, and decorum, and gentleness.

The world has become very coarse. The world is not gentle at all. Look at the bumper stickers you see on a daily basis! Listen to the language at the mall on a Friday night! Listen to our political discourse!

I remember learning manners in Kindergarten and early elementary school. We learned how to introduce people. We learned, to show respect, that males take their hats off when entering a building. We learned to hold doors open for others. We learned to wait patiently in line. We learned to focus our attention on someone when they are talking to us. We learned the magic words: please, thank you, and you’re welcome. Basically manners were a way of showing respect for others and for ourselves.

If manners, comportment, and gentleness are to return it has to begin at home. Then it has to be bolstered in school. Then our leaders have to lead by example. Wishful thinking? Maybe. I will continue to fight the good fight and I hope a lot of you will join me. In high school, I was voted the most polite boy in my senior class. I still wear that as a badge of honor. I remember telling my dad and him saying he is more proud of that than if I had been named valedictorian. But, here’s the thing:  Being polite is easy. Valedictorian, not so much.

Enjoy your Friday, politely.

 

There is a popular song today called Him and I. It’s by G-Eazy and Halsey. Every time it comes on the radio, when I am in the car with Emma, my head nearly explodes! Emma waits for it……”it’s He and I, He and I!!”.  Arghhh!! I know it is just a song, but that glaringly bad grammar really bothers me. But the artist spells Eazy with a Z, so why should I be surprised.

In another song, I can’t remember the artist or song, the chorus goes “If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lie with me, and just forget the world”. They got that one half right!

So I am trying to figure out why these bother me so much. I get it, they are just songs. I know about poetic license and all that. I also know that there are bigger problems in the world than bad grammar. And I am sure, even the Beatles used bad grammar occasionally in their songs. “Got to Get You Into My Life” comes to mind. I also know my grammar and word usage is less than perfect. There are probably mistakes in this blog post.

I think it is this. I think it is just an example of the degradation of standards and the dumbing down of America. Words are important! How we communicate with each other is important! Before this turns into a political rant, which I  promised wouldn’t happen, I’ll end with a classic example of punctuation being important, as well as grammar.

Let’s eat Grandpa! vs Let’s eat, Grandpa.  See, commas save lives!

 

 

“Our house is a very very very fine house, with two cats in the yard….”.  This is Crosby Stills and Nash talking about home as a physical place.  “Wherever we’re together that’s my home.” This is Billy Joel talking about home as a concept, an emotion. Which one is correct? Maybe both? I am still trying to figure this out for myself.

I am in the middle of a short line of wanderers and gypsies.  My dad never owned a home. That was probably a good idea because he liked to move… a lot. He and my mom lived in many houses and apartments, all in Slatington, PA. I heard that, before I was born, they once moved from one end of a row to the other end, just because the light was better. My dad was proud of saying that the only real estate he ever owned was his burial plot.

Recently I counted the number of homes I have lived in.  Nineteen! Unlike my dad, I have owned some of my homes. But even living in a home I owned, I would be constantly on the lookout for something else to buy. I wanted the change of scenery, the different way to work, the different view from the kitchen window. I am different from my two living brothers. They both built houses in their late20s or early 30s and both still live in them today. Yikes!

So home as a physical space doesn’t mean that much to me. They all have kitchens, bathrooms, and bedrooms. As a physical space, they are easily interchangeable. So is home for me the emotion, the concept?  Maybe because I have been married more than once, and have often been a part-time dad, I never had the home situation that would lead to a strong emotional attachment to any one particular living space. That is a regret that I have. The other regret is never having had a home on a lake, a goal in my life. Now there, I tell myself, I could have stayed. Well, maybe.

So my question remains, mostly, unanswered for myself. I hope all of you are happy with the choices you have made in life. Today, if you live in the Lehigh Valley, it’s a good day to stay warm and dry in the place you call home.

 

 

 

 

No, this is not a political question! I am talking about running… real running….the kind we do if a bear is chasing us, or if we forgot to put our car in park on a hill, or we if we are just trying to prove something to ourselves. I have had, all of my adult life, a love/hate relationship with running.

Let me start by saying that I have never been, and never will be an athlete. In high school I played football one year only. I got in one play as a running back, in a junior varsity game, and promptly fumbled. Thank you Davey Kuhnsman for recovering it! I wrestled all four years of high school and had a record of something like 2-40. Ha! Sure, I lost almost always but I was hard to pin. But running, anyone can run!

My running started in my early twenties when I worked for Pfizer Inc. in Easton. They sponsored a five mile race called the Pfizer Pfive. Clever, huh?  Over the years, I competed in 5ks all over the Lehigh Valley. One of the first was the Towpath Trot in Walnutport, which was interrupted by a train!

When I worked at Crime Victims Council, the executive director formed a relay team to compete in the Via (almost marathon). She told me she liked to have me run the first leg of the race and her in the second. She said she knew I would come in close to the back of the pack and she would have fun passing people. Great!

I had a great experience running the Steamtown Marathon in 2001, a nod at soon turning fifty. My goal was to finish in less than five hours. I finished in 5 hours and 10 minutes. I still say I made my goal. There is a reason why, but that is for another blog post.

As I have gotten older, of course my times have slowed. I used to consider my goal, a 5k in under 30 minutes . Then it became 35 minutes, now it is 40 minutes. So when is it time to stop?  It is harder to train and stay motivated. Injuries are more frequent and long lasting. It is still fun, but only when the weather is perfect. I am currently training for a 5k on June 3. It may be my last one.

But in my head, there is a little voice telling me that if I stop running that means I am officially old. We can’t have that now, can we??

One of the advantages to not working as much is the ability to take my daughter, Emma, to various doctor appointments, school events, and soon, her job.  Emma and I often talk about school and the differences between her high school and mine. There are differences in size, demographics, and socio-economic statistics. Of course, there are also fifty years between our high school careers, so a lot has changed regarding school culture.

Emma is a freshman at Parkland High School, arguably in the best school district in the Lehigh Valley. Her class is just short of a thousand students! It is made up of all races, all religions, and a plethora of ethnic backgrounds. It is known as a rich and snooty  school, but there are trailer parks  as well as McMansions in the huge geographical district. It stretches from Laurys Station in the east to Fogelsville in the west and from Neffs in the north to Breinigsville in the south.

I went to Slatington High School, now known as Northern Lehigh. Our graduating class was 121. We were all white, probably all Christian, and all middle class. Our district stretched from Friedens in the south to Lehigh Gap in the north and from Slatedale in the west to Walnutport in the east.

We all knew and, for the most part, liked each other. Emma knows only a small fraction of her fellow freshmen. So which is better? I loved my school and still do. I have great memories. I go to class reunions to see people I grew up with. I keep in touch with more online. Thank you Facebook! I doubt that Emma will go to reunions. I hear that from people who went to big schools.

So, again, which is better? My lily white middle class school was nothing like the real world. Emma’s is exactly like the real world. I suppose they both have their advantages and disadvantages. But, I wouldn’t have given up my wonderful high school experience for anything. My classmates are like family.