So How Was Your Thanksgiving?

My Mom told me that 45 minutes would probably be all my Dad, or the rest of us, could handle. I never would have imagined I'd want to leave after 30 seconds. 

My Dad had a heart attack in 2007 and things have been deteriorating ever since. It's to the point I don't even tell people my Dad is doing badly - because it's getting old. I mean - those of you who were concerned about how my Dad was doing in 2011 are probably wondering how much longer I'm going to work this. 

I haven't had the misfortune of watching many people deteriorate in my life. Call my lucky - but it also makes me naive. Every time I am convinced my Dad couldn't get any worse he manages to deteriorate even further. 

I thought it was bad when he couldn't do anything without a walker. I thought it was bad when he did a complete faceplant at the viewing of a friend of his a couple of years ago - making no effort to break the fall. I thought he had to be dying soon when he inexplicably got in a car and started driving around the neighborhood - slamming into two other cars and into a curb before police got control of the matter. When he drove his scooter into the wall at the assisted living facility it was bad. Seeing my Dad wearing Depends made me sad. But I'm only scratching the surface of all of the things that have gone wrong over the past few years. 

I saw him less than two months ago. It wasn't pleasant. He went in and out of coherency. At different points in the day he looked at my daughter and asked her point blank "how long have you been looking like a boy?" He got tired quickly that day - we were celebrating my Mother's Birthday. But at least he had moments of lucidity. 

There were no such moments on Thanksgiving. 

He's been removed from the assisted living facility and he's now in a place designed for Alzheimers patients - but NOT designed for patients that need the kind of care he does. 

The first thing I noticed was his spine - he was hunched over like a C. It wasn't like that 7 weeks ago - I would have noticed. He's 72, he looked past 90. He couldn't sit himself up. 

I didn't have to worry about him insulting my kids (albeit with no malice) - because I'm not sure he recognized them. He sat in a chair and yelled. "WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME" and we'd try and rearrange him and he'd say it was better and we'd sit down and he'd yell it again "I NEED HELP! CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!" and my Mom would tell him we're doing all we can and he'd yell at her like a baby "NO YOU'RE NOT, IF YOU WERE I WOULDN'T FEEL SO BAD." She told him we'd be leaving soon and he could sleep..."YOU'VE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR AN HOUR NOW - CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME?" There was no rationalizing - there was no conversation. He didn't understand that Jocelyn made National Honor Society or that Jojo made Honor roll. He didn't understand the music Jocelyn was working on for her philharmonic group - even though my Dad had been playing that type of music most of his life. 

He had scars and bumps all over his face - I assume from falling out of bed but I didn't ask. His color looked awful. 

It ended mercifully after 39 minutes. We took him back to his room - past an area where it smelled putrid because another resident had made a mess on the floor. This is NOT a low-rent facility mind you - there's just no way anyone could keep up. His room was nice - and it is a single room. But he's beyond appreciating anything. This is a man with zero quality of life. I wouldn't wish what he's going through on anybody. 

I'll never take my kids to see him again - they don't deserve to have such awful memories of their grandfather - and he doesn't seem to recognize them anymore. 

We left and had a nice dinner at a local restaurant. I was too shocked to process what I had just seen. I heard my Mom say that today was tame compared to other days - that she hears him screaming from outside the facility sometimes. That he's horrible with the staff and to her. I heard it - but it didn't stick. 

It didn't stick on Black Friday either. 

But today I finally broke down. I was making pasta and meatballs...I thought it would be nice to put my mind on something. Then I just started crying. 

I cried because my Mom is dealing with this pretty much alone - I feel like I should be doing so much more - but I don't know where to start. 

I feel bad because my relationship with my parents is so damn stiff. We don't hug - we never have. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I hug my Father or my Mom?

I'm sad because this can go on for a long time. His vital signs - their fine - his mind is gone...His body is completely failing him - but he's not facing imminent death. We could replay a similar scene in a year..in two years. And I cried because I just want to believe that there's a God that's going to spare him any more suffering - but there's nothing but silence at the other end of the prayer line. We have mercy on animals whose body is failing them - but we let people wither away for years. My Dad is leaving with no dignity. 

I cried because my Dad has never been a very happy man.

 He's hated himself - and he never learned to cope well with stress. He would fly off the handle so easily - but rarely was the anger directed at anyone in particular. He had a pure heart. He gave quietly and regularly to charities. He did a million thankless behind-the-scenes job for the church and never asked for nor would he accept praise. He wasn't a perfect Father - but who is? And this much is certain: I NEVER wanted for anything. 

He could speak to almost anything my Dad. He had a PHD in Astronomy but for the most part he hated mentioning it, he certainly never asked anyone to refer to him as "Dr." - because he felt like his career was a colossal failure. He paid his bills on time. He worked at jobs he hated because he had a family - just like a lot of people do. He was brilliant - smarter than I could ever dream of being. But his brilliance only made  him miserable - he always felt he should be more. He never felt comfortable around most people. He had few friends. He wasn't very good with kids - it's not that he didn't like them, he just wasn't comfortable talking at a lower level. He had trouble concentrating - so loud kids got him angry. He spazzed out at a few of my friends - but he always apologized. Still - I largely kept my friends away from home. It was easier than explaining that my Dad wasn't angry at anyone but himself. 

I wanted to talk to him for years. To tell him that I thought he did OK. That I never saw him take short cuts, that I never saw him do anything dishonest, that I admired his willingness to fly in the shadows. He put my Mom through seminary so she could have a second career. He put me through college without loans. He helped me more as an adult than I care to admit. I did OK when they passed out Fathers. I did damn well. He deserved to hear that. 

But I never said it - and for the life of me I can't explain why. And I cry hardest for my missed opportunity to do the right thing. 

On Monday a lot of people are going to ask how my Thanksgiving was, and I'm going to smile and say "it was nice." Because that's what you do. 

Why am I blogging this? Because when I looked at Facebook on Thanksgiving it hurt. The truth is I feel like I'm failing most of the time I look at Facebook but I've worked through most of my inadequacies. But this Thanksgiving - I just wanted to be living the life that so many people were portraying - I never know how "Real" the posts on Facebook are. 

I know I'm not alone when I say I had a pretty shitty Thanksgiving. I know that 75% of the world would trade life situations with me in a heartbeat. I know people have parents who are in situations similar to my Dad - or God forbid have sick children. 

And if you're Thanksgiving sucked - I'll say it once again. You aren't alone. 

I hope it helps in some way to hear that. 

Going Slumming or Doing Right by My Son?

Dear friends, old and new, 

I want to pick your brain on something. With that said I won’t be mad if you don’t reply. There are only so many hours in a day – and man I do know how they fly!!!

I’m also not so ignorant as to expect you to speak for anybody but yourself. You aren’t representing a race, a class, a gender, a Mom,  you’re representing all of those things and none of those things – mainly you’re representing you – a person I respect.

 As you probably know, my son plays travel soccer.  He’s good. Darn good.  Definitely among the top 5% or even 2% I’ve seen – and I’ve seen a lot. He’s got the stuff you can’t teach – he can fly.

The travel soccer world is white – lily white. It’s like the Suburban parents couldn’t stand seeing their kids getting beat out by minority children in sports like football and basketball so they decided to make high-level soccer as out of reach for the poor and lower-middle class as possible. There’s a simple reason why the US Men’s national team will never be among the world’s best – a significant amount of kids just don’t have access to the sport. (I won’t get into why the women’s team CAN be elite – but for now just keep it at the women’s landscape is a lot different and tailor made for the US. There’s no equivalent of NCAA soccer for women for other countries).

I coach my son’s team. I still don’t know how it came to be – except they needed someone.  I’m not a great coach – I’m always blown away at how little I know – but I am getting better. Still – I don’t feel qualified to be coaching the more talented kids on the team – including my son. They deserve someone with more knowledge.

We do OK. We win more than we lose. I’d say if there are three classes of teams in terms of ability we are in the upper-second tier. I don’t know if I have the know-how to get them to the highest tier. To sum it up – we get by on being a very athletic team and we have a couple of very good players. Skill wise – we lag – and that’s partly on me. I’m not trying to shirk responsibility but most of the kids learned bad fundamentals and are pretty stubborn about relearning how to do it the right way.

The kids on my team are good kids. I like them and care about them – they’re going to go on to be great men long after their soccer days are over.  I also like their parents. I’ve made a lot of good friends through this.

And yet ...

There’s a club in Allentown. For those of you who don’t know Allentown is the poorest city in our area – and one of the poorest in the state. A lot of kids in their club have cleats donated from other programs.  Up until this season they wore plain cotton t-shirts instead of the expensive jerseys of other teams (I believe a business bought their kids some jerseys).  A lot of the parents don’t speak English – and when one of their kids foul another player you hear a lot of grumbling about how” dirty” they play in Allentown – it’s crap – the “dirtiest” teams I’ve seen are the slow white teams who push because they can’t keep up.

They have all races represented.  Their coach is a strong black man who I’ve always seen carry himself with class. The type of man I was told to make sure I had around when I adopted Jojo.

A big part of me wants my son to play there.

It would mean a lot more commuting to practice – but that’s because where I practice now is so incredibly close.  It would mean removing my son from a team he knows well. It would mean Mary and I getting away from some great people. It might even mean some people feeling betrayed because I left them.

Not surprisingly, my son’s best friends in school are bi-racial. It’s almost like an immediate bond forms. I’m not sure who he considers his “best” friend now or if he even has a ranking system – but not  long ago his best friend was another bi-racial boy named Dashawn.  Dashawn is everything Jojo isn’t. He’s not an  athlete, he has a horrible time making friends because he tries so hard, he gets in trouble in school, not many people have much good to say about him. But Jojo has his back – he’s not going to end the friendship – it’s like they have a bond that is unbreakable.

I’ve never gotten the impression Jojo’s ever been excluded by white kids – his teammates all embrace him and the parents have always been good to him.  But he can play. I don’t think for a second that racism would take over if he couldn’t play – but sometimes I wonder if Jojo feels that way.  It’s an odd thing I really can’t describe – it’s like he doesn’t fully trust them. A part of him seems to wonder “what would you guys think of me if I couldn’t score?” He knows Dashawn doesn’t care – he knows his other minority friends don’t care.

While there are three other minorities on the team (two are Indian), there’s an economic gap between him and the rest of the team.  We do OK – we certainly aren’t anywhere near the poverty line – but nobody else on the team lives on “our” side of town.  I can’t afford team pictures all the time, we don’t have a $200 team bag.

I asked Jojo how he’d feel about playing for another team – and he didn’t hesitate to say that he was fine with it. Mary opined that Jojo would be up for whatever I suggested – and maybe she’s right. But I don’t think it’s that simple. He’s played with some of these kids since he was 5 years old. I gave him every opportunity – almost begged him – to say he’d be really sad to leave this team and his friends. I got no such indication. It’s almost like he wants to play somewhere else.

Jojo is a lot of things but “deep” isn’t one of them. He doesn’t know what day it is some of the time. It’s not that he’s stupid, he just doesn’t give a shit. He gets up in the morning and rolls with whatever the day brings him.

 But lately I’m starting to realize by things he says and does that he’s taking in a lot more than he lets on. I have to wonder if he’s starting to feel that as nice as his teammates are to him, that he really isn’t one of them. I don't know how he sees the world - I don' t know what it's like to be a minority. 

There are four middle schools in our district. Two are in the nicer box house areas, the one that Jojo goes to is in the middle class area but also takes kids from one of the areas biggest projects, and one is almost exclusively poor. Our team breakdown of schools: 75% go to the “better” Middle schools, 14% go to VERY expensive private schools, and Jojo and one other go to the lower/Middle-class school. The other kid’s house is on the market.  None go to the poor school.  Bethlehem only has one travel team – it’s hard to believe the talent is so skewed to one side of town. There is one elite academy team in the area and several Bethlehem kids are on it. Trust me when I say they aren’t raiding kids from Bethlehem’s South side either.

I don’t get it but I can’t escape it.  I want my kid to go to a poorer team – to a team where all the kids live in neighborhoods most people try to avoid. I want my kid to play on a team where they love just having a uniform and being part of something. . I want my son to play for someone who isn’t me – I want my son to have a black head coach.  I don’t know how to explain that to parents – many of which took a big chance on me when they had their kids sign on to play with us.  I consider many of these people friends – I like their kids. It doesn’t make sense to want to leave.  But it doesn’t make sense that Jojo is seemingly indifferent to leaving. He’s familiar with the Allentown team – we’ve played them a couple of times. They are about equal to us in terms of talent – they’ll be better than us with Jojo.

Is this about him or about me? Am I trying to carry on my little vendetta against what I think is a horrible system of US soccer? While Mary and I aren’t rolling in dough – we aren’t poor. We can afford cleats and the multiple tournament fees and camps that playing at this level requires. I don’t want this to be some kitchy thing I do to prove a point – another one of my bipolar benders I will regret in 3 months.

So I need validation – or I need a reality check.  Is it bigoted because I am tired of my son being on a team made up almost exclusively of rich white kids? Is it bigoted to choose one team because of the race of the coaching staff?

For some reason this decision is weighing on me – more than it should. Feel free to comment or PM me.   

Election 2016 Preview: It Will Be as Bad as You Think

Thank you Donald Trump for delaying the inevitable nightmare this election season is going to become.

Oh he’s an ass. But at least he’s different.

Trump isn’t a Republican, he’s donated heavily to Democrats in the past and he certainly hasn’t put any thought into a comprehensive ideology. He is racist – the asinine demand for President Obama’s Birth certificate told me all I want to know. His rants against Mexicans (and women for that matter) resonate heavily with a small part of the GOP. Most Republican’s aren’t racist – but  when you’ve got 30 people on the ticket it doesn’t take much to make you a “frontrunner.” The Donald is an entertainer with a shitload of money. Should this bender of his not end in a parade in 17 months  he’s going to parlay this into something only he could dream up (Congressional apprentice anybody?)

Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders is doing his part to try and liven up the snoozefest that is the Democratic race. What’s not to like about a guy who has no problem describing himself as a Democratic Socialist and who is one of the leading white voices on income inequality issues despite coming from a state that is essentially a living Gap commercial?

 He has a social media engagement strategy that any marketer would be proud of – his message resonates with Millennials, and minorities – not something you’d expect from a guy who could certainly be living a beautiful life on Lake Champlain. Bernie cares about poor people – and us true progressives love the man.

But he’s too far left. This country isn’t ready for a guy who has no problem describing himself as a Democratic socialist.

No my left-leaning friends – we are stuck with Hillary.

She’s not in her husband’s league as a politician and though she has a firmly Democratic pedigree she doesn’t appear genuine enough to have the kind of credibility with the “everyman” that Bernie has. The unwritten motto of her campaign is “it’s MY turn damn it!” A La Bob Dole, another cure for Somnambulism.

The main appeal of Hillary – besides the secret desire we all have that her husband will assemble a staff of supermodels to assist him in performing his first man duties – is that the mere mention of her REALLY pisses off Republicans.

We all have that friend who posts the memes from Fox News daily on Facebook and you bite your tongue in response because you know darn well they want to start a fight. (I do understand the irony of most of you having come to this link from Facebook). To many Republicans – identifying yourself as a Democrat makes you a commie pinko who sits around and collaborates with his friends for new and inventive ways to get money from Government. We don’t work. We don’t contribute anything, and we basically hate America.

And we’re stupid…don’t forget stupid…

And..who is this Bill?

So we’re getting a grand chance to piss off our “friends” and in the end we’re going to take it. Republican’s emboldened by their wins in mid-terms need to remember that it’s not only the gray-hairs that vote in the big one. She has a very realistic chance – despite her continuing blunders – to go back to the White House and leave many American’s stewing. History hasn’t been kind to black people – but black men made it to elected office and the voting booth before white women. It may be Hillary’s “time.”

The GOP isn’t going to stand idly by and let us have all the fun. Once amateur hour is over we’re going to have the ultimate dream matchup as Jeb Bush will get the nominee and Republican’s will be able to remind us that his dumber brother managed to get TWO terms.

And make no mistake – Jeb is the “better” Bush. He’s far more articulate and has a much greater grasp of the issues than President W. One major thing he has is that he won’t completely take the Latino vote off the table for the GOP. He’s a formidable candidate. He’s much more like his Father than his brother – and that’s a good thing. George Sr. is a brilliant man who got caught paying the bill his processor left.

Decent candidates? Maybe. One has to wonder why this job has to be so focused on two families – but the fact that Hillary and Jeb are on a collision course speaks volumes about where we’re at in this country: Both parties are set to nominate the person who the other side hates the most. There will be no dialogue on issues that actually matter. There will be no progress in uniting this horribly divided country. 

Mitt Romney was right: 47% of the people aren’t going to vote for a Republican – but the other side is there are a similar number who won’t vote for a democrat. 3 to 5% of the people have the true power in  this country – the marginalized and never addressed independents.

No I won’t vote Republican – I’ll explain someday.

But for now – I just want to get this blog going again!!

Soccer tournament this weekend – should be good for some material!

One of my favorite moments in movies

There are some scenes that  no matter how many times I watch it - I get chills. It's been almost 30 years since Dead Poets society came out. I used to cry when I watched it. Part of it was because I was kind of a mess. Part of it was feeling for the characters who could never be themselves.



I cried because I understood Neal's suicide - what was the point of living if you couldn't be who you were really were?



But this small scene maybe explains why Neal didn't get it right - that the human spirit can't be crushed.

Or maybe I'm just sentimental for the 17 year old boy who saw this in awe.

Dewey's Movie Reviews: Jurassic World

Okay, everybody knows this movie is making money faster than it can be printed, but is it any good?  

Yes, yes it is. 

 I was never that big of a fan of the original Jurassic Park--parts of it were too sentimental and over-engineered for me.  But I was keen to see what director/co-writer Colin Trevorrow (Safety Not Guaranteed) would do with the franchise.  His idea?  Make a true sequel to the first film.  The park has become a going concern, a working (and safe) tourist destination.  But like all theme parks, there are stockholders to please, and the thrills need to get bigger and bigger (if you think this plot point is a satirical barb aimed at summer tentpole films, you would be correct.) 

 So, with the bottom line (and with a military arm of the In Gen Corporation in play), they have created a brand new dinosaur by use of transgenics--modifying and combining DNA from different sources to create a brand new animal--Indominous Rex.  

Park Director Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) is dealing with getting the I-Rex ready for display (they call it an "asset"), at the same time her nephews Nick and Gray are visiting the park.  Claire does not have time for them, and pawns them off on her assistant. 

 Meanwhile, animal trainer Owen (Chris Pratt) has had success training the deadly Raptors to obey his commands, and to treat him as the pack leader--a development that excites the military liason (played by Vincent D'Onofrio.)  Owen is skeptical about using the Raptors as soldiers, and he is really skeptical when In Gen asks him to check out the genetically engineered I-Rex.  

Before he can get a good look at the beast, the big monster tricks everyone, and suddenly chaos (and a really toothy, bad attitude, genetically modified dinosaur) is loose in Jurassic World.  Claire has to find a way to save her nephews, and the nearly 20,000 other guests at the park, as the I-Rex sets off a deadly chain of events.  Sure, we have seen this kind of thing before, but Trevorrow and his screenwriters have approached the "and then things get worse" credo with a great deal of wit, invention, and childlike enthusiasm.  

Anyone who ever had dinosaur figures and had them fight would have a lot in common with the filmmakers.  Pratt reinforces that he is a movie star--Owen is manly, fun, and fairly serious (he has some jokes, but he plays it pretty straight--and his performance here will do nothing to dispel those Indiana Jones rumors.)  Claire is more than just the corporate, cold businesswoman--she cares for her nephews (eventually) and has as many bad*** moments as Owen.

  I just had a blast with this film--it dodges a lot of what made the first film not work for me, and it shows such great command of action, and suspense (and some really horrible deaths--how did this get a PG-13?)  At the end of the day, a good summer film should be fun, but not insult your intelligence.  Jurassic World succeeds on both counts, as it is much smarter and fleet of foot than some are giving it credit.  

Grade:  A-

Deweys Movie Reviews: Ex Machina

And here is another story with robots, but very different. 

Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) is a young programmer at a huge tech corporation, and he wins a company contest--the prize being a weekend with the company's founder--Nathan (Oscar Isaac)--at his remote, isolated home.  Nathan is a tech genius, and it is like getting to hang with Steve Jobs and Stephen Hawking at the same time.  

Nathan is a bit of a drinker, and a little eccentric, and he drops a huge bomb on Caleb: He has been working on artificial intelligence, and he has a robot that he wants Caleb to meet.  As Caleb and Nathan debate and kick around the concepts of artificial intelligence, and the nature of humanity, Caleb understands that he will be running a Turing test on the robot--to determine if she has a personality, and is "human," and should be shown to the world (or if she should be scrapped as a flawed prototype.)  

Yes, the AI is a "she"--Ava (Alicia Vikander)--and she is a marvel.  A lithe figure that is part human (her face has perfect symmetry) and robotics (like she had rolled out of an Apple lab), Ava presents an alluring and otherworldly presence.   Caleb sits down with Ava, and he is drawn to her, and she to him.  He has many sessions to determine her emotional intelligence, and he marvels at her ability to draw beautiful pictures. 

 Meanwhile Nathan keeps running mind games on Caleb, and soon he begins to doubt his boss' intentions.  Rolling power blackouts effect the house, and Caleb has to make a decision on how much of a prisoner he wishes Ava to be. 

Writer/director Alex Garland has made a fascinating science fiction film here, steeped in intelligence--you have to keep up with the film; not just for the philosophical and technical debates of Caleb and Nathan (and Caleb and Ava), but in the plot twists, as everyone is hiding their true motivations and true intentions.  The film counts down to an inevitability, and I was somewhat let down by a more conventional ending than I was expecting, but movies don't get more intelligent and challenging than this one.  Gleeson is a fine young actor, doing great work here, holding his own with the force of nature played by Isaac (who may be my favorite actor right now.)  Vikander has a tricky role as Ava, and she nails it.  

Ex Machina is not a light exercise in cinema this one, but an incredibly rewarding one to the viewer looking for something more meaty than the average fare.  Grade:  B+.

Dewey's Movie Reviews: Tommorowland

Apparently, I was too much of a sucker on this one--as I fell for it hook, line and sinker. 

I consider director Brad Bird to be one of those genius filmmakers whom has yet to make a bad film--so I was pre-disposed to like this one.  Add to Bird's resume, that I was in the mood for a hopeful futuristic movie, using as a launching board the famous Tomorrowland section at Disney (Land and World), and with the participation of co-writers Damon Lindelof (Lost) and Jeff Jensen (Entertainment Weekly) and George Clooney, how could I not be on the movie's side?  The filmmakers took as their remit that we have fallen too much in love with dystopia and post-apocalyptic fiction, and where has the wide-eyed, hope-for-the-future, we-can-fix-this-world drive gone? 

 Inspired by Walt Disney's vision of a great big beautiful tomorrow, Tomorrowland tells the somewhat convoluted story of a group of dreamers that built--in an alternate dimension--a city of the future, where new technologies and new solutions could be created outside of the normal capitalist (and governmental) systems.  Young Frank Walker attends the World's Fair, determined to win the inventor award for his jet pack (which does not work exactly right.)  When the officious Nix (Hugh Laurie) rejects his jet pack design, a dejected Frank is given a special pin by Athena (Raffey Cassidy) a young girl who appears to be Nix's daughter.  This pin--when Frank rides the "It's a Small World" ride--transports him into Tomorrowland, where he perfects his jet pack, and joins Athena in inventing many wondrous things.

And then something goes wrong, and Frank is thrown out of Tomorrowland.  

Many years later, a fellow young dreamer--Casey Newton (Britt Robertson)--is fighting the forces of entropy in her own way.  Her father works for NASA and he--an engineer--is tasked with dismantling the launch pads; the space program is over.  Casey chooses to sneak onto the base to sabotage the equipment, and set back the attempts to take down the launch pad.  These actions put her in hot water with the authorities (and her dad), and then Athena--still appearing as a young child--gives her a pin like the one she gave Frank.  Whenever Casey touches it, she is shown visions of Tomorrowland (the special effects and editing here are awesome.) 

 Consumed with the promise of Tomorrowland, Casey finds herself pursued by killer robots, and Athena places Casey in the path of an older, very bitter Frank (Clooney.)  Frank has given up--not with inventing things--but on the future.  But Casey has a mysterious effect on his countdown clock (countdown to what?) and he takes a chance on her, helping her escape the robots, and making their way to Tomorrowland.  Can he and Casey save the future?  And why was Frank banned from Tomorrowland in the first place? 

 I have heard commentary that the structure of this film is a bit off, but man, scene to scene, this movie shows such imagination, drive, and wit, that I didn't care.  Bird and his co-writers have a very definite take on our fascination with dystopia, and roundly embrace optimism.  Clooney is very good as the embittered but still open to hope Frank, and Robertson perfectly embodies Casey's optimism and intelligence.  Cassidy is a standout as Athena--I won't reveal her role in the story, but Athena is a wonderfully funny and--eventually--touching presence.  I guess people were not in the mood to get lectured about the world, and our dour attitudes, but I found the film to be bracing, fun, and hopeful.  

Sue me; it worked for me.  

Grade:  A-

Dewey is a friend of mine who regularly shares his movie reviews - they are printed here with his permission! 

Special Guest Blog: Loving a Soccer Coach

Written by Mary -  who I couldn't do it without! 
On our first date I should have known

Aaron called me to tell me he was running late as I pulled into the parking garage in downtown Bethlehem on my way to the Brew Works. “Practice went a little long and then I had to wait a while for one of the kid’s parents – this girls parents are ALWAYS late,” he explained frantically. He told me to go in and get myself a drink and he’d be there soon.

He arrived a bit later (I’ve since learned to add 20% to whatever time frame he gives) in a nice button down in dire need of ironing and khakis. The first concern of all women who date online was assuaged – he definitely wasn’t married. No woman would let her husband stroll around with those kind of wrinkles. But he was clean, polite, and in a goofy way, charming. “Sorry about that” he said again explaining his lateness. “This is my last season coaching” he said.

Before I completely lambast that statement I will say that there was a period where he didn’t coach after that season. However he’s now coaching his 6th team since that night and there is no end in sight – so his retirement seems long ago. Even when he wasn’t coaching he was more than active – he basically did whatever the coach needed or wanted. If that meant running balls on the sidelines he did that. If it meant running drills he did that.

But back to our initial meeting, my first impression. He was coaching his daughter’s soccer team. It soon came out he had another child, a son who was four years younger than his daughter. “Does he play?” I asked – you talk about anything you can on these first dates – but to his credit Aaron kept it interesting even though the topic wasn’t my favorite thing. “Oh he plays,” he said with a smile, “but he’s too good for me to coach.”

 I didn’t know what he was talking about – but with Aaron you smile and nod a lot. We had a nice time that night in September, 2011. Aaron would quickly become an integral part of my life.

 So would soccer.

 “Find something you love” Aaron tells his kids at the end of every season he coaches. “It can be sports, music, art, writing, gardening, calculus – whatever, but find something that makes you happy and do it.” He practices what he preaches. He loves coaching, loves working with the kids, loves soccer (and basketball – which I am sad to report manages to take up our Winter months while the grass is not playable.)

 I wasn't a soccer fan before him. I watched it, my children played it but my interest was in supporting my kids, not in the game. This has changed with Aaron in my life. I now know way too much about this silly sport he told me was “the beautiful game.”

“Did you know if the wind blows the ball backwards into the goal without anyone touching it on a goal kick, it’s NOT an own goal but a corner kick for the opposing team?” He asked me this one morning out of the blue. He found this fascinating. Since I didn’t meet this statement with an appropriate level of awe and wonderment he went downstairs and went about trying to recreate the scenario on the Xbox FIFA 14 game. “I’ll bet EA Sports gets this one wrong” he said excitedly while telling Jojo to figure out how to make a ball go backwards with the remote control.

 Whenever I object to the insane demands this places on his time, OUR time he dismisses it with “it’s not all glamour being the partner of an e-licensed soccer coach babe...this is the life we’ve chosen.”

Glamour? Chosen? What’s he talking about. Aaron has this amazing ability to walk the line between serious and levity almost all of the time. Part of you knows he really isn’t that self-important, part of you wonders if he’s really isnane. “We’re Eagles Mary” he says – referring to the name of his team – as if that simple statement explains everything.

 It explains nothing.

And yet I smile and drive to practice because I am an Eagle. Or at least I love two of them, Aaron and Jojo. I often come home wanting to talk about my day just to be sidetracked by Aaron’s newest plan to make the team better. I don’t know how he does it. I’ll talk about how I had to work a case I wasn’t that comfortable with because I was the best available option and Aaron will take that in, stare off into the distance and mutter…”You know you’re right, Jojo needs to start playing defense. That’s what the team needs him to do right now.”

 I found myself near tears a few weeks ago for reasons I won’t bore you with. I will make clear, however, my being upset had nothing to do with soccer. Aaron, however, wasn’t so sure. “What’s wrong?” he asked me as I sat in our living room fighting back tears. Then Aaron’s face lit up as if he got it…”I understand” he said reassuringly…”That was a bad call giving them the penalty kick. It killed our momentum.”

 Maddening to be sure – but it’s Aaron so there’s an even chance he was kidding.

 This past Spring season was brutal and the last three games were probably the toughest. The Eagles played in extreme temperatures with no subs. They lost all three, but they played their hearts out and left everything on the field. One of Aaron’s favorite quotes is “You learn from winning, you learn something different but equally valuable from losing. You don’t learn anything from not trying.”

His kids seem to get it. And in those moments I realize why he believes so much in this. It’s doubtful he’ll produce a single soccer pro, or basketball star, but it’s a definite fact that all of these kids will go on to become adults. The things he preaches the loudest – demanding that all of his kids be leaders, that they carry themselves with pride and class, that they never stop fighting – the messages resonate far beyond soccer.

 Most of the kids Aaron coaches come from good homes and have plenty of role models. This isn’t a Hollywood story, Aaron isn’t a father figure to anyone but his son. But he does want the best for those boys – I don’t think other parents realize how much he cares about their welfare.

I’m not the fanatic Aaron is – but I can say I “get it” now. I’ve made friends through this, I’ve watched these kids grow and I’ve become quite fond of all of them. Every once in a while a girl who played for Aaron 5 or 6 years ago will come up to say hi to him. It always makes Aaron happier than words can say.

 And it won’t last forever, in fact it will be over all too soon. It may be a year. It may be two or three – but it won’t be that long in the scheme of things. I know in the end Aaron won’t regret the time spent doing it – and I can’t argue with him as I know how fast it ends.

 So I look forward to another season of Aaron scouring the internet, Amazon, and wherever else for the latest drills. Another few months of Aaron becoming an expert in meteorology who can explain in ridiculous detail why the thunderstorm headed to this area is going to affect everything but his practice field. Another season of watching Aaron always one step behind on the mountains of paperwork and other stuff needed to play games and enter tournaments. I’ll get another few months of Aaron waking up early on game day and dragging everyone downstairs to watch motivational videos because “we need a culture of winning in this house so that the Eagles can win more games.”
(Again – I have no idea if he’s serious, I smile and nod).

 He’s not a great soccer coach. He’d hand it over in a second to someone who could do it better – because he wants what’s best for the kids. He gets a LOT of help from other parents – and he knows he couldn’t do it without them. But he’s passionate about it – and there’s something contagious about it.

 Jojo – he’s passionate too. And he could be great. Not a bad sideshow.

Finding Our Groove on Lake George

The scenic view from our "Lake front" cabin

We arrived at the Diamond Cove Cottages in Lake George as excited as four people could be. We had a wonderful vacation in Vermont two years ago and  I was under the impression - now proven to be somewhat wrong - that Lake George, NY would be a lot like North Hero, VT only a little closer to a grocery store. As vacations go, we're duds. We move fast throughout the year - not as fast as some but faster than many - and our primary goal on vacation is to slow it the hell down. We have little in the way of itinerary. We like beautiful scenery, quiet, and water to fish in. Anything else is a bonus.

Or so we thought - we also kind of want a nice place to stay. 

Nice for a college dorm?

The ENTIRE "game room"

Our parents vacation with us and they hadn't arrived yet. We figured we'd just stroll the premises and take it all in. We wanted to see all the amenities this place had that made the "resort" - it is actually called a Lakeside Resort - something even better than our Lakefront Cabin. There was a basketball court, a game room, an exercise room and of course, a nice beach and dock off of which we could fish. Boats we could take out! It was going to be amazing!!!

They had all of that stuff - just not how we pictured it. We didn't expect a full sized court, a basket and 20 feet of safe area would work - but what we got was a basket leaning over with cones on both sides of the court which separated the court from a road to the main cabins..Oh - the court tilted pretty heavily. 

As for the game room - we had modest expectations as well, ping pong, foosball, maybe a miniature pool table and a couple of outdated arcade games would have been fine. A pinball machine would have been cool. They had four "games" - but only one was a real game. 

The cottages - well - do you remember the fight scene in Dirty Dancing?

All I can say is I was waiting for Patrick Swayze to jump out of one
of these things and beat me up. 

The beach... Very small, the dock wasn't horribly sized but was it wasn't configured so anyone could cast a line. The boats looked dumpy. They had a playground. Our kids are too old for playgrounds - but it didn't add to the charm of the place - I've seen much nicer ones in neighborhood back yards. 

And while we hadn't entered our cabin yet - (it was at least separated from the row of cabins that conjured up Dirty Dancing)  we had seen the outside and had definite reasons for concern. 

Home sweet..,.. (That's a pretty busy road in the back and this
story doesn't even mention our neighbors who had a brawl
after we went to bed. 

I didn't want to say it - but I knew we were in trouble. The place may have been less than we expected but we could have made it work if it were just Mary, Jojo, Jocelyn and I. But we had two more coming - and I wasn't optimistic that my parents would take to the place's rustic charm. 

I called over Mary - who was doing an amazing job of keeping it positive and trying to point out the good things to the kids.  

"I don't want to put a negative spin on this" I said quietly, "but this place is a dump." I wasn't sure what she'd say - we kind of balance each other on the optimism front and I thought she might give me reason to believe that my eyes were deceiving me. 

But even she couldn't pretend that we had found a hidden gem.  

"I know." She said. 

"My Mom is going to die when she sees this."

"I know." She said. 

So I called my first family meeting...You haven't lived until you experience one of my family meetings. "This place isn't quite what we expected and your grandparents might be a bit disappointed. PLEASE try to keep it positive this week. We will have fun and if you seem happy we have an even chance of them being happy."

They assured me they would keep it positive - and I was certain they would. Jojo actually thought the place was OK, and Jocelyn is old enough to understand things like that. 

So we walked to the cabin...My parents had arrived in the interim. 

I knew my parents wouldn't like the place - but I didn't have the foresight to predict the scene that awaited us when we walked in. 

My Dad was seated on the couch. I took a quick look around and realized that the cabin was every bit as dumpy as the grounds. "Hi," he said, "you're Mother's a little upset that there's only one bathroom." 

On cue my Mom stormed into the "great room" - this was a 12X10 room that served as a kitchen, living room and dining room complete with a 14 inch color tv! She was in hysterics - "THIS PLACE IS NOT NICE!!! I AM SO SORRY! I AM SO SORRY! I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW BAD THIS PLACE IS!!!" 

She had no reason to be sorry. We had all chosen the place - Travelocity had such loving reviews on the place you would think it was anointed by JC himself. But man was she pissed....

We tried to rally - but by the next day we had to move. The week was paid for in cash and we didn't get a dime of refund. THAT is how much it sucked. 

But it's not that simple. 

My Dad is in horrible health. It can take him five minutes to move 40 feet with his walker. He's frustrated and occasionally loses his temper..."I don't understand any of you people" he growled at dinner one night..."You carry on like idiots all the time and you're just so damn annoying..."

Nobody - besides my Mom - got upset with him. He's going through hell. We all hope we can exit the stage of life with dignity - and he's not. He's peeing in bed, falling regularly, unable to sit up for prolonged periods of time. He can yell at us, we're family. 

My Mom didn't quite see it that way. She went off on him in a huge way and then returned to our loft (our new accommodations at The Juliana  ) and told Mary and Jocelyn that my Dad was a horrible person she should have divorced 40 years ago. 

And you thought YOUR family vacations were fun!!!

All we wanted!!! And we finally

But it's turned around a lot the past couple of days. My daughter had her first college visit and it was so much fun to see her so excited. We spent some time in downtown Lake George and there's quite a bit to do. 

But most of all - we've finally relaxed. We found our peace. Jojo, Jocelyn, Mary and I -  we've kayaked, canoed, laughed and just been a family. We've endured - and we're better for it. 

We're dysfunctional as hell. But we're doing ok. 

The "It" Factor in Youth Sports

A couple months ago I got an e-mail from our soccer club commissioner indicating someone had contacted him to see if her son could play on the team in our age group. I'd been that this road before - I wasn't optimistic.
My first conversation with the boys Mom did nothing to stir my enthusiasm. The kid had played one season of organized soccer in a low-level rec league.I assumed this was another Mom with an unrealistic view of her son. His experience was one step up from "he's never played organized before, but he loves it, he's always playing in the backyard." I coach a travel team made up mostly of kids of kids who have played for 5 or 6 years.

 However, half my kids were going to be playing a lot of baseball this Spring and I figured it wouldn't hurt to contact his coach from the Fall. He was good enough to write me back and tell me the young man was worth a look.

So he "made" the team. I figured he'd be a nice benchwarmer.

The first time we played a game - we didn't have any practices before we played in a friendly tournament - I put him in after a few minutes. My main assistant asked who the heck that kid was... I said - I don't know, I figured we needed another body. My number one - who knows a hell of a lot more soccer than I do said "he's got it."

And he was right.

He's raw. He needs a lot more touches. He gets caught out of position sometimes. It's all to be expected from a guy who played his first game 8 months ago.

He's also one of the best kids I have - he blows away kids that have been playing for years and have attended the camps, gone to the clinics, done all the things that are supposed to produce talent.

. He has "it."

"It" is footspeed., agility, vision and aggressiveness.It is also intangible - "presence" if you will.  It can be taught to a degree, but to overuse the word, for the most part you either have it, or you don't.

There's nothing wrong with a kid playing a sport for years - if he/she loves it. I believe in everything that sports teaches - no matter what the talent level is.

But I laugh at the notion that a kid needs to specialize in one sport at an UnGodly early age - in the name of scholarships. Scholarship level athletic talent is overwhelmingly God given, or for my agnostic friends - genetic.

Allow me one example.

I went to a middle school football game this fall. I saw kids who have played football for six years lined up as defensive backs, and they don't have any recovery speed. There are kids all over the city playing Xbox who could be taught to break on the football faster than these experienced kids...If one of them decides in high school..."what the hell, I'll go out for football" they're going to beat out these kids - you can't teach recovery speed. The parents of the kid who has played most of his life will go ballistic because the coach was so stupid to take a kid who hadn't played.

The coach can teach how to play. He's got 5 days/week and 2 hours a day to do it. He can't teach recovery speed.

Basketball might be even worse, In my sons age group they had 50 kids - most of them won't make their middle school team. When you play basketball, height  is part of (but certainly not all) having "it."

Yes - years of work getting a head start is going to make you better. It can take good and make great - but it can't compensate for slow feet, poor vision, and all the intangibles.

 I guess you can send the kid to speed and agility training...but one thing I've never figured out...If a slow kid goes to speed and agility training and a fast and agile kid goes to speed and agility training..., Who is going to be faster and more agile? What's the use?

This is not dissuade anyone - no matter what their level of ability - from playing an organized sport. But if you're spending thousands to get kids to camps so he can have that edge, and he's still a "pretty good player" but nothing special. If he's still bringing home 3rd place ribbons on field day, - don't blow the kids college fund on a new car just yet.

Missing My Religion

I miss being a Christian.

Not long ago we were watching Hoosiers and the obvious reference to David vs. Goliath was mentioned. I looked at my son - who has spent some time in Sunday school but is anything but "well-churched."

I asked him - "Do you know about David and Goliath?"

"No," he answered, "were they good basketball players?"

Did I mention my Mom is a Lutheran minister? We won't be sharing that anecdote on Easter Sunday.

Last week I decided I needed more confirmation that I have completely ignored my vows when I baptized Jojo.

"Do you know what happened on Good Friday?"

"Yeah...no...I don't know" He was on this obnoxious headset that makes him look like a fighter pilot playing Mortal Combat. Those of you who have dubbed me a good parent should be having serious doubts right about now.

"Well - Jesus died on Good Friday."

"Oh yeah - I heard about that. Why'd he die?"

This was an asinine time to have such a conversation, but I pressed forward. "Um...to redeem us for our sins."

"Oh...were people bad back then?"

What the hell...I opened this can of worms, "Well no, um...yeah, they were bad but he died for us too. Because we are sinners just like them."

"Even me?" he asked. Let me state for the record there was no wide-eyed interest in the whole thing - he was just killing time until a friend logged in so he could shoot up enemy villages with a partner.

"Yes, even you. We're all sinners. We all do things wrong."

That seemed to resonate..."Like that time I shot the penalty kick over the goal?"

OK...He didn't say that - but trust me that the conversation wasn't resonating. He certainly didn't come any closer to understanding a key message of Christianity through this conversation. Maybe he felt better knowing that even know he pisses me off when he plays bad defense and doesn't rebound in a basketball game that some guy died to take care of it.

My spiritual friends - particularly those that met me in church - are probably taken aback. And I hate to add to it - but I still don't feel much desire to roll back into church.

My daughter is confirmed and at least knows her way around a church - she's got the basics down. She doesn't thank Jesus for forgiving her when she blares a note on her French Horn on a rest, but she's not lobbying us to go back. Then again - not many teenagers would.

I'm not an Atheist. I am not that arrogant. Hard core Atheists are every bit as annoying and arrogant as the religious fanatics they dismiss as deluded or arrogant. I may agree with some of what Bill Maher says when it comes to politics, but I can't watch him anymore because he never misses a single opportunity to take a cheap potshot at anybody who believes in an entity beyond themselves.

I'm open to such an entity - but at the end of the day, I just don't know.

I guess that makes me Agnostic - but to me that label is little better than Atheist. I don't like to identify myself that way for reasons I can't explain.

I don't consider myself smarter than people who practice a religion - many of whom are brilliant. At the same time I don't want to be misunderstood as someone who never tried. I can school plenty of people on the Bible and argue a case for Christianity with the best of them. I have gone to plenty of Bible study, adult Sunday school, and I have read scores of books by Christian authors to grow my faith. I have come to this conclusion after years of trying.

Years ago I wrote a blog on MySpace (wow!) where I made the case that God's omnipotence was not a matter of knowing that I plan on mailing it in today at work and that tragedies like Sandy Hook were happening under his watch. I made the case that God had a learning curve - and cited the Bible to make my case. I argued that God understood that in the end good would win out over evil - that the human spirit would prevail. I essentially argued that if the story of humanity was a football game, God wouldn't be able to explain why the hell a team called a draw on 3rd and 18, but he would know what's most important: the final score.

My Christian friends wholeheartedly dismissed my theory with a heck of a lot of passion. And while they argued their case eloquently - but in the end I held to my theory. My friends didn't understand - I was trying to reconcile a loving God amidst this world - I didn't need a speech on predestination anymore than a Mother who watches a child suffer with cancer wants to hear that the whole thing is part of God's plan.

Suffering of children is one of my main problems with Christianity. I'm not the first that came up with this. In Doestovsky's classic The Brothers Karamazov - for my money one of the best pieces of literature ever - the character Ivan spends a lot of time explaining his lack of belief, but reconciling a loving God with a child's suffering was at the core of it.

I have other issues. The Bible doesn't add up (for me) in a lot of places. As Christians we like to skip over a good part of the Old Testament. The draconian and unreasonable laws laid down by God in Leviticus, the stories of horrible massacres - all orchestrated by God - in several books...Basically if the Israelites pissed off God they got routed in battle, if they acted right they would be able to kill 60,000 people at a clip. I can't get excited about Passover. With all due respect to my Jewish friends the God who swept through Egypt and took out every first born son isn't a God I want to align myself with.

But I'm not arguing anything new - and I know there are eloquent and reasonable explanations Christians (and Jews) can make to explain all of my "issues." But in the end, I can't call myself a Christian anymore.

That doesn't mean I don't miss it.

I love the idea of Jesus - the king who came in and spent most of his time with those that society snubbed. He fed the poor, he forgave the underserving, he loved and laughed and cried and remained true to his mission. For the life of me I can't understand how Conervatism and Christianity seem to go hand in hand (in many cases.) Jesus is probably the biggest factor in my identifying myself as a liberal. To me he was the ultimate liberal.

OK - I SWEAR this chapel had a bench outside the entrance
when I was a cadet!

I miss praying and believing that God heard. I miss the 17-year old boy who was facing dismissal from his high school and sat and prayed for hours outside the school chapel one night and when the decision came down that not only would I not be dismissed but that my punishment would be little more than a slap on the wrist - I celebrated God's love for me.

I miss church camp. I would go every Summer in the mountains of Virginia and laugh and grow close to people who probably wouldn't give me the time of day in the real world.

I miss the young man that prayed for hours that I would get a job and I woke up the next morning to a phone call telling me the job was mine.

I miss the guy who was battling his first bout of depression and had thoughts of suicide and after a Good Friday service in 1995 I sat alone in the church and cried and asked God for something, ANYTHING, good to happen. A few weeks later I met my wife at a gym a block away from said church.

But praying also led me to start a ridiculously stupid business that never, ever, was going to make money. I thought it was God's will. I also thought it was God's will that led me to write a condescending column in my church newsletter lambasting the membership for what I felt was an inadequate reaction to Hurricane Katrina - I still shudder at my arrogance. The marriage I thought God had sent to me wound up in years of misery for both of us and ended.

In short - believing in the loving God of the Bible and trying hard to be what I considered a good Christian left me incredibly depressed a good amount of the time. While I have far from beaten my depression - I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be when I was trying hard to be "right" with God.

No - I just can't believe anymore. I'm not alone. Religion is dying in this country - in a big way, particularly mainline Protestant churches. The congregations are dying and there aren't people replacing them. One of the largest churches in Bethlehem (that's PA - not overseas!) can seat hundreds but most of the seats are empty. The Sunday school has about 10 kids. Total.



And yet.

I believe in the overall goodness of the human spirit. I think there's a reason that true evil can be recognized and that collective consciousness can not be explained simply by Science. Why do I care at all about children dying in Connecticut? Why would so many of us cry over it. On a logical level it doesn't make sense - on a spiritual level it does.

I've spoken of Christianity because that's all I know. Sure I can explain the basics of other faiths - but I haven't practiced them. Maybe I should give them a try.

Or maybe I'm like the prodigal son. Maybe I'll return. I haven't given up on God, but I don't know when, or if, I'll return to the flock.

I was looking for an image of Jesus for here - but I only
found pictures of white guys!

I'll miss going to church this Sunday and belting out beautiful hymns like Thine is the Glory and Jesus Christ has Risen Today. Maybe I will go - but I feel bad going for ceremonial and nostalgic purposes.

Thanks for reading.

Happy Easter.

Dear Hero: Let's Talk

So you're gay.

 I guess that's a hard thing to tell your Dad. I get that. But your Mom? It wasn't that long ago you came and asked me the biblical position on homosexuals. I pointed out that the same verses where the "practice" (a really bad choice of words but like most blogs I'm doing this one at 3am) was forbidden comes among a whole slew of verses where the standards are so high (and the punishments so severe) that were we to follow the rules as layed out in Leviticus we would all be walking around with nails in our tongues, or not walking around at all.

I pointed out that Jesus never spent any time condemning homosexuals, rather he chose to spend his efforts on loving society's outcasts. I told her Jesus didn't say anything about homosexuals - but he had plenty to say about the righteous.

I don't even know what I believe anymore - but I think I did OK on that one. I made her feel OK without slamming the door on Christianity should she ever decide to explore again.

But you've never told me. You seem to have told everybody but me. I like to think you just assume I know and I'm OK with it. I hope my rant last year about not wanting to go to Rehobeth Beach on vacation didn't upset you! :-)

Maybe it was when I realized you were following gay support groups on Twitter. Maybe it was when you took the "Day of Silence" to a degree bordering on silly. Maybe it was your eloquent and passionate speech about the Kurt character on Glee. Maybe it was when you joined Young Marines.


It was probably when you started talking about a new friend you met last year. It was quickly obvious she was a lot more than a friend.


None of these things in and of themselves was anything that made me sure you were gay. I never was sure. You threw some stuff at me with a couple random boyfriends. I hope you didn't bring them around for my benefit.

My friends tell me that  a girl your age shouldn't get caught up in labels - and that girls area a lot more fluid sexually than boy and that it's not unheard of for a girl to experiment and in the end choose boys. And that's fine. But it's also fine if you stay where you are. I need you to understand that.

As sort of a sidebar - let me just say that I give major kudos to kids today for being so accepting of people with different gender orientations. Oh I'm sure it's not easy - but nobody was admitting these things when I was in school. I went to a small high school and college - but I went to school with at least 5,500 different people over the years and none of them were openly gay. Many have come out since then - but back then it wasn't an option. Pop culture from the 80's and early 90's is full of disdainful references to gay people - we weren't ready for it.

I wasn't ready for it in high school - but I think I had a pretty good reason. It was a Southern baptist military academy. The very first night as a cadet I stood at parade rest in a steaming hot room while two guys riffed on how none of us better be gay...That they'd run us out if we were - that there was nothing worse you could be - at Fork Union or anywhere else. It was asinine. With the edict on homosexuals came the rule that masturbation was the way they'd know if we were gay. So we had 500 teenage boys pretending not to masterbate. It was at FUMA where I discovered nocturnal emissions. I even felt guilty about those - it wasn't until college I learned that I was normal - at least biologically.

But any homophobia I had ended when the AIDS quilt came to Lafayette. I spent hours in the schools field house looking over as many patches of the quilt I could find. I remember Freddy Mercury's tribute was there as well as some other celebrities - but for the most part I remember the quilts of regular people. It was obvious they were no different than me - that gay people weren't trying to pervert society - they were just trying to be themselves.

This was 1992. As a society we weren't quite ready. The evangelical Christians were still relevant - and vocal. Even in 2004, the Democratic Presidential candidate - the most boring man alive - couldn't even stand up and support the gay population. Give the Democrats credit - they managed to throw out the one guy in America lacking the charisma to defeat President Bush - and even then he lost by a single state.

But I digress as I often do. The point is - what was a modicum of acceptance a decade ago has turned into an avalanche. Mainline churches are dying - but open homosexuality is accepted. As it should be.

My daughter, my hero, do you think I can't handle this? Do you think I'll dismiss your feelings as a fad? Or try and "bring you back" to my team? You have to know me better than that. Please tell me that's the case. I know I don't always give you a tower of strength - but my shoulders are wide enough for this one.

I can help you. I can help you find colleges where you'll feel accepted (although to their credit - her friends know and are largely standing with her. To those of you beating up on kids today - stop it! I'm amazed at how much smarter and culturally sensitive kids are today. We aren't better than them).

Mental health issues run in our family. I can help you recognize and treat them if they come up.

Your friends Mother - a woman you knew and loved - died way to early a few days ago. You're attending your first funeral today. I'm sure you're asking why? You may be asking what the hell is the point of it all? I remember my first existential crisis and it wasn't pretty. It plagued me for years.

I can help you.

I haven't forgotten one iota about how hard it is to be a teenager.

It's obvious you aren't going to come to me. Oh to most of the world I'm a good Father. I am there for your events. We have a good relationship. I help you with your homework. I encourage you to pursue your passion and be proud of who you are. I guess I do the right things - but in this case I'm not doing enough. Not nearly enough.

Let's talk. You and me. maybe I'm not present enough lately. Maybe you think I don't have time and that your brother is my "child of choice." But your brother is my gift. You are my hero. You always have been.

Don't worry about coming to me. I'm the adult. I'm coming to you. Soon. And if you aren't ready to talk we'll just hang out and be completely unspectacular with one another - but you need to know I'm available. You need to know that for all the things I can't do - this is one I can handle.

I love you. More than words can say. I'm coming to help.

Weather One-Liners I Wish Would Die

Winter is down to the home stretch (although right now it's putting up a last gasp) and that means for nine months we won't have to hear the stupid zingers that the weather obsessed love to trot out every Winter. Here's a few of the most common, and thus most annoying:

1) "Weather forecasting is  the only profession in the world where you can be wrong all the time and still have a job!"

I sort of get it.

We live in an age where we can pretty much manage our entire lives with a 5 inch "phone."  If you wake up at 3AM and decide that you're paying too damn much for car insurance you can call Geico and they'll be happy to help you. Jeff Bezos talked openly about having your Amazon order delivered by drones in 30 minutes and there are some smart people who think driver-less cars will be the norm in 10 years.

How could weather accuracy elude
us when we've invented something
 like this?

Sometimes it's hard to understand how Suzanne Sommers can solve the problem of women having to get dressed every day but the world's leading scientist can still screw up the damn weather!

But weather forecasts have been damn accurate lately. They nailed Hurricane Sandy, Hurricane Katrina and virtually every snowstorm over the past few years. This year they missed on "Juno" - but you'd be foolish to plan a bar-b-que if the forecasters are calling for 6 inches of snow.
Of course - every office has the weather experts who take the worst possible forecast (in our area we get New York and Philly stations as well as local so the doomsayers have a lot to choose from) - so they can always find a way to complain.
But next time you decide weather forecasters are dumber then hell - please advise me when they got it wrong on heat - or when they were off on the temperature more than a marginal amount.

2) There's nothing on the ground! How the hell can the close school for this?

Apparently when I grew up we were walking to school in blizzards, monsoons and sub-zero temperatures. I just don't remember it. What I remember is getting annoyed listening to my parents complain about how they close the schools too much and we are "coddling" our kids. I made up snow days in Summer and I definitely had days off when it was cold (I specifically remember they called school on the day of President Reagan's second inauguration due to snow - but there were other days). No Gen Xrs - we weren't that badass. We made up snow days in the Summer too.

The Superintendent of our school district kindly Tweets school delays and closings and consistently gets lambasted no matter what he does. If it's a delay there's a group of parents saying he doesn't care about safety. When the schools are closed a bigger group starts the "kids today are lame" argument. Some of them are very disrespectful - but for whatever reason people think because they pay .002% of the school districts budget they should raise holy hell over anything anybody does.

Why am I paying taxes if they can't plow my street?

This one's simple: because if they added more resources for snow removal you'd pay MORE taxes and complain about that too.

How can anyone park in my spot? I shoveled it damn it!!

Yes - there's widespread conviction that you own a public parking spot if you shoveled it until the snow melts. Except...You don't. By the "I'm going to put my patio set in the street" logic nobody should ever be able to have visitors over until all of the snow melts.

Compounding the problem is those that dig out their spot tend to pile up the snow in front of and back of their cars, thus reducing the amount of cars that can park on the street. Sometimes it's unavoidable to do anything but make a special embankment for your car - often it isn't.

And finally my favorite:

Global warming my ass..F'ing Al Gore..

Yes - another way to say this is "Damn it, I'M COLD, thus the whole world is cold."  I see this logic all the time..Last year it was frigid where I lived, bringing out the "I don't believe thousands of scientists because I'm a conservative and I don't like Al Gore" crowd...Who ignored the irony that during this period they were struggling to keep the Winter Olympics going in 60 degree weather.

Yes - there are some funny anecdotes - a couple of years ago a ship went into the antarctic to study the melting of the polar ice caps and wound up getting stuck in ice - but fourteen of the fifteen warmest years have occurred since the turn of the century. That doesn't mean YOUR .003% of the world was necessarily warm in any given  year - but I'm not going to bet against these numbers.

To those of you who insist on sticking your head up your ass on this - I ask you...Who is making it big on this?

I hate to mention politics - because I do know that nobody is going to change their mind based on the ramblings of an insignficant blogger - but I wish we'd find a way to come together on this one...And hey - if we are wrong and everything is fine and dandy - at what cost? If we're right - it's going to be ugly before too long. And frankly I'm skin cancer waiting to happen as it is!