November 4, 2014

Do the Right Thing: An Apology 30 Years Too Late

“Dad, what was the meanest thing you did when you were a kid?” That simple question by my ten year old son set in motion an apology that was 30 years overdue. It was really an innocent conversation last month with my son while we made some cookies together in the kitchen. He asked me that question and immediately I thought of the only time in my life when I was truly mean to someone else. I shared with him two incidents from when I was in sixth grade. Upon hearing the stories from my past, my son immediately asked, “Did you apologize to her for that?“. I told him that, well, no, I hadn’t apologized back then because I never admitted to her what I had done. “You should do it now, Dad.” I agreed and told him that I’d try to find her on Facebook and see what I could do about it. After all, it’s never too late to try to make things right…even if it’s 30 years later!

So, I checked on Facebook. No Kelly. I Googled her. No Kelly. I looked on whitepages.com. No Kelly. As a last resort, I posted on Facebook to see if any of my friends from high school knew of her now. To my surprise, a few of them knew of her whereabouts, as she was still living and working in the area. I reached out to one of the people who had responded, Carrie, my childhood friend and next door neighbor, to see if she would be willing to deliver a letter from me to Kelly. Thankfully, Carrie agreed and I composed my letter and emailed it across the country from Washington to Wisconsin. I’ll admit that I was more than a little nervous about actually contacting Kelly after all these years. Was I going to cause her even more pain by bringing up the past? Would she respond? If she did, how would she respond? I told my son (and my other kids, for that matter) that I had sent the letter and that Carrie was going to deliver it a few days later. Here’s the letter that I wrote.

Dear Kelly,

I’m writing you today as a result of a conversation I had with my ten year old son a few days ago. He asked me to tell him about the meanest thing I did when I was a kid. Without hesitation my mind raced back to a couple of choices I made as a twelve year old at Wilson Elementary School in Neenah. I shared with him two stories of how I mistreated you. Actually, I didn’t just mistreat you, I was downright mean, cruel and hurtful. The first incident I recalled was how I purposely left you behind when my mom was driving a group of us to Neenah High School for a district-wide choir rehearsal. In an attempt to gain favor with the “popular” kids I lied to you about where to meet so that you wouldn’t be in the van with us. At school the next day I had to lie to you again to cover up my original lie. The second incident was how I discovered your locker ajar (it was next to mine, I think) and saw a tampon on the shelf. Instead of simply shutting your locker I took the tampon and placed it on your desk for everyone to see upon our return from lunch and recess. Again, I chose to purposely embarrass and hurt you. Even putting these awful actions from 30 years ago in writing makes me feel like a huge jerk all over again.

And that brings me to the present. My son was shocked that I could have been so mean, cruel and hurtful. Quite frankly, so am I. He asked me one question, “Did you ever apologize to her?”. Regrettably, the answer to that was “no”. I told him that I was so ashamed of myself that I never admitted to you that I had lied to you about the choir trip or confessed about putting the tampon on your desk. I decided that I needed to own up to it and, through the connections of old classmates on Facebook, I found you. So, Kelly, I want you to know how sorry I am for making those awful choices. Will you please forgive me for choosing to be mean, cruel and hurtful to you. I know that I cannot erase the hurt that I caused years ago. I’ve taught my children the importance of both apologizing and seeking forgiveness and this is an opportunity for me to do that, albeit 30 years too late.

I understand if you don’t want to contact me about this. If you would like to contact me you can call or text me at xxx-xxx-xxxx or email me at xxxxxxx@gmail.com. I live in Washington state with my family (wife and six kids) and get back to visit my mom in Neenah once in a while. I’d love to hear about how you’ve been if you want to reach out. I wish you and yours peace and joy.

Sincerely,

Carl

Kelly responded a few days later in an email.

Dear Carl,

Imagine my surprise at your letter being delivered to me at work today. I hadn’t thought about those things in many years. Of course I forgive you. The reason being Jesus forgives me my wrongs against others as well. While I cannot deny those things hurt, and yes some one told me in a rather mean way I had been left behind a bit later. I know that the in crowd can be a huge pressure at that age. After a time you learn to be yourself no matter what others do. School that year was rough but it was used in ways that built a heart of compassion within me. That awkward kid figured out that God loved her very much as the years went by, no matter what others may have done. Even then I knew God saw the tears I tried so hard to hide from others. It built in me compassion for others, to treat others as I wish to be treated.

Fast forward to now. Twenty-one years of marriage, a son soon to be twenty-one, an eleven year daughter. Life is never boring here. I work my secular job while being an assistant pastor at a small church for the past few years.

May God bless you and keep you well.

Kelly

When I received that email I was snuggling my 16 month old daughter in my arms as she was falling asleep. Through tears of joy I said a silent prayer of thanks to God for such an amazing response. Later that evening I replied.

Dear Kelly,
Wow. I am completely blown away by the grace and kindness of your message. I’m so thankful that God was able to turn such a difficult time in your life into something positive for you. I actually learned a similar lesson about compassion and kindness for others as a result of being mean to you. Reading about how God has used you for his good despite hard circumstances makes me think of how God used Joseph for His greater purpose after the terrible treatment he received from both his brothers and Potiphar’s wife. I’m glad that you have such a strong faith. And, honestly, I’m even more disappointed in my own shortcomings from years ago because I, too, grew up in a Christian family and I knew that what I was doing was wrong.
I told my kids yesterday that I had written you a letter and that Carrie had delivered it before getting your response. I’m excited to share it with them because it’s really why I did this in the first place. To show that it’s never too late to do the right thing, even if it’s 30 years later. I’m also eager to show them, through your gracious letter, how God can turn hardship into a beautiful testimony to His enduring love and faithfulness.
Blessings to you and your family,
Carl
As I shared with my children that next day about Kelly’s amazing letter I realized that I wanted to blog about this experience of seeking forgiveness but would only do so with Kelly’s permission, which she graciously granted. I’m glad that my son asked me that question last month because, without it, I probably wouldn’t have sought out Kelly to apologize for my poor choices 30 years ago. I didn’t share this so that you all would think that I’m some sort of saint because I apologized for something I did a long time ago. Nope, I’m human and just as flawed as anyone else. I shared this because it shows that it is possible to try and make amends for mistakes from the past. I would encourage you to not wait 30 years, though, before seeking forgiveness. However long it takes, it’s never too late to do the right thing!
November 1, 2014

Sometimes You Need A Jellyfish

I’ve been a parent for almost twenty years and have read hundreds, if not thousands, of books to my six children over those years. My wife and I have placed a high value on reading to our children so that they can not only learn how to read but also to love to read. Our personal “library” of children’s books is large and includes classics like Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Gorilla, 10 Little Rubber Ducks, Dr. Seuss, and many others. As a Stay At Home Dad I make it a priority to bring my kids to the library so that they can choose books for themselves. It helps to give them ownership and builds excitement and anticipation for when we return home and snuggle up on the sofa to read together. We can travel to many wonderful and exciting places through the pictures and words in those books. There’s nothing quite as sweet as the feeling of your children nestled into your lap, heads resting against your chest as they contentedly connect with the book.

Despite all of these lovely sentiments and feelings surrounding reading to my children I have one major issue. Some of the books that we own or check out from the library are really poorly written and/or illustrated. I’ll admit that my formal education is not in Art or Literature or Writing. The extent of my education in those areas came from a few School of Education courses while I was in college. I guess my “qualification” to write a book review comes from a limited formal background combined with pretty extensive field (or couch) experience as a parent. Like most parents, if the book I’m reading to my kids is hard to follow or uninteresting for the kids it’s going to be even harder to read with much feeling or interest on my part. (Yeah, I’m talking to you, Barbie and Clifford books.)

What if I told you that there’s an opportunity for you to get your hands on a fantastic new book that’s not even yet published? Would you consider supporting such a venture? It just so happens that my friend and fellow SAHD, Christopher Routly, is back at it again with another book. Last year I met him at the National At Home Dad Network annual convention in Denver, Colorado and I was thrilled to win a paperback copy of one of his children’s books, The Animalphabet, which he authored and illustrated for his own two boys back in 2012. I liked his colorful and vibrant illustrations and, upon bringing the book home, my kids agreed. Well, this time around, in his yet-unpublished book, Sometimes You Need A Jellyfish, Chris has taken a simple and slightly silly sounding statement from one of his kids and created a picture book that tells the story of two brothers who are packing for a trip. One of them packs a jellyfish and the story goes from there. Chris was kind enough to send me a link to a digital copy of his book and a few things about it caught my eye. First, his illustrations are engaging, colorful and simple. The text flows nicely between the brothers while sneakily introducing new vocabulary to the unsuspecting reader. Do you know the proper term for a group of jellyfish? I didn’t. But it’s in the book. (Bloom, in case you’re wondering.) Sometimes You Need A Jellyfish is also uses humor to draw in the reader. I showed the book to both my four year old daughter and ten year old son and they both loved it. When asked why he liked it so much, my son said “I think it’s pretty cool that he wrote a story about what his son said. And I liked the part about having a jellyfish clean up your messy room. That would be fun.” My four year old mostly laughed and giggled and said that it was silly…before requesting to read it again. It’s one of those books that I would enjoy reading right along with my kids. Even multiple times in a row!

Jellyfish

What’s especially cool about Chris’s book is that it’s not even published yet. It’s pretty much ready to go to the publisher but there’s one catch. Money. (It’s always that, isn’t it?) This time around Chris wants to raise $10,000 to properly launch his book. He actually made a short video about his book and related fundraising campaign. Please take a moment to watch it. He explains it far better than me. Plus, there’s some nice music in the background of the video clip to cheer you up. Interestingly enough, after reading the book and watching the short video my son asked if he could donate to Chris’s book campaign from the money that he’s saved from allowances and doing extra chores. I’m also making a contribution. But, here’s the deal. It’s not like you’re just giving Chris your money and you get nothing for it. There are rewards for making a contribution. In essence, you’re pre-ordering the book since most of the rewards include getting a signed hard-cover copy of the book. It’s not often that one gets a chance to help “kickstart” a project like this. Please, check out Chris’s video about his book or his blog, which is Daddy Doctrines, for more information.

Finally, don’t just take my word about this book. Check out a review from another friend named Chris, who is also a SAHD and blogger at DadNCharge, living in Philadelphia, PA. Neither one of us was compensated in any way (now or in the future) for our reviews. We’re simply passing along an opportunity to help launch a wonderful children’s book while simultaneously encouraging Christopher Routly to keep on pursing his passion for writing and illustrating children’s books.

October 26, 2014

Do you play basketball? Tall Tales from the world’s tallest SAHD

“Do you play basketball?” is probably the second most common question I’ve been asked in my life. I guess it’s just part of the territory that comes with being a giant in the eyes of most other people. I’m 6’8″ tall. 80 inches. 2.03 meters. “Five-foot-twenty” if I’m feeling snarky when asked the most common question. This is my 14th year as a Stay At Home Dad and the one year anniversary of being a “dad blogger” and I’m laying claim to the dual titles of “Tallest SAHD” and “Tallest Dad Blogger” in the world. I’m friends with a couple of SAHD/DB guys who are 6’7″ but have yet to meet a guy who is taller. Please, prove me wrong. (Actually, don’t. I like my self-proclaimed titles!) At any rate, now that I’ve established my stature for you, let me tell you about some of the joys of being tall that you might not have ever considered.

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I didn’t fit under the eaves at this tourist spot in Germany, much to the delight of the rest of my tour group.

How tall are you? Seriously. I get asked this question a lot. Maybe not every single day, but a lot. Complete strangers will see me and and feel free to inquire. I’m not ashamed of my height. In fact, I love being tall. But, could you imagine if people felt compelled to ask or comment about other bodily traits as freely as they do about height? How much do you weigh? How short are you? How big are your feet? Oh, wait, I get that last one a lot as well. Size sixteen if you’re wondering. It’s not that big considering how silly I would look with tiny feet. Makes going as a clown for Halloween much easier. I remember when I was 18 and at Opryland USA, a now-defunct theme park in Nashville, Tennessee, having my first experience of a complete stranger tapping me on the shoulder to ask about my height. I ended up chatting with the elderly couple for a few minutes while we waited in queue. Afterwards, my friends who were there with me (we were part of a Spring Break trip for our high school symphony) were incredulous about that exchange. Little did I know that it was the first of thousands of such experiences. It even transcends languages and cultures. Just this last summer, while on a three week trip to Europe with my daughter, a man came wandering through the platform in the train station in Munich, Germany, asking everyone for money. When I responded no (pulled the “I don’t speak German” excuse) he moved on but a moment later came back to me and gestured wildly about my height with a silly grin on his face.

Do you play basketball? Not every tall person is also gifted with coordination. Or a competitive nature. Or coordination. Or desire to play sports. Or coordination. But, yeah, I do play basketball. And thanks, to my older brother who was always older (duh!) and a little taller than me (at least until I was 16 or so), I developed a decent outside shot. Which means I’m that big man who thinks he should step outside and shoot three-pointers instead of staying in the lane close to the basket where I belong. I really do enjoy playing basketball. But, due to a back injury from 7th grade football, I couldn’t play competitively in high school. In fact, I never played any sports in high school. Yet, while in college at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I played pick-up games several times a week with and against many of the guys who were on the Badgers basketball teams (men and women) as well as football players. I love to play hoops. I even used to be able to dunk before I got arthritis in my knees and left foot. One time I even broke both my arms after making a dunk. (I’ll have to blog about that. It’s a good story.) But, back to the question. If you ask me if I play basketball, is it okay for me to ask if you’re a jockey or if you play mini-golf?

School. Just because I’m tall doesn’t make me blind or deaf. I especially love walking into schools with my kids. The reactions of the other kids is hilarious. They see me and immediately start to point and then realize that might be rude. So, then they start to whisper to one another. He’s soooo tall! How tall is he? Is he (name of my kid)’s dad? Look! He had to duck under the door! It cracks me up because middle school kids are many things, but quiet isn’t usually one of them. Even high school students have weird reactions. Years ago I was a football game, waiting in line for concessions behind two girls who were getting their food. Upon completing their purchases they both whirled around quickly and started to walk only to notice that I was standing there. Instead of saying “excuse me” or something like that one of them exclaimed “Holy S#%& you’re tall!” and then ran off. I looked at my buddy and we both laughed it off. I’m mostly immune to it now, but if you’ve never walked next to a freakishly-tall person before you’d be surprised at how many people point and gawk at you as if you had a unicorn horn protruding from your forehead. Before my SAHD career I was a teacher. During my first day teaching 7th grade, a girl name Celia, a self-confident redhead, proclaimed that I looked just like the BFG. Since I hadn’t read the classic book by Road Dahl I didn’t know that the BFG was a “Big Friendly Giant” and that she meant it as a compliment.

How’s the weather up there? Yeah, that’s original. How’s the weather by my armpits? I’ve been tempted to spit and say it’s raining. But, I’m not mean. When riding trains and buses in which I need to stand I am reminded that being tall can have its advantages. In many of those instances there’s a slight breeze of fresh(er) air that I can enjoy because I’m literally a head taller than everyone else. I remember a bus in Rome this summer that had one of those air vents on the ceiling and I got to stand directly underneath it. Actually, it was because of the extra few inches of that vent that I was able to actually stand up straight without hitting my head. Headroom is really a major issue for us tall people. When I’m driving I have to lean forward sometimes to see if the traffic light has changed since my eyes are much closer to the roof of the car than you normal-sized people. Doorways. Standard door frames are 80 inches. Yeah, I’m 80 inches tall. Without shoes. So, I pretty much have an automatic head-bob whenever I walk through a door. I’d rather bob and look silly than not bob and whack the top of my head. One time, about 10 years ago, I was bringing a basket of laundry to the basement when I forgot to bob. I literally scalped myself on the exposed beam. After spending a few minutes on the floor I finally stood up and saw a nasty collection of skin and hair that had previously been on the top of my head moments earlier. I wish that was my only story of head whacking on door frames or beams.

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Standard “legroom” for me when riding in an airplane. This was before the person in front of me leaned their seat back.

Public transportation. Not designed with the freakishly tall in mind. Buses. I cannot sit on a standard school bus and face forward. The length from my hip to my knee is usually greater than the distance to the back of the seat ahead of me. Coach buses are not much better. And those seats recline. And you’d better believe that I’m calling shotgun if we’re taking a car somewhere. Unless there’s a bench in back that offers more leg room. And don’t even get me started on airplanes. Headroom? No. I usually have to walk to my seat hunched like Quasimodo so I don’t whack into the EXIT signs or overhead storage doors. I will always check to see who is seated in the emergency exit row seats and it seems like it’s almost always people who are short. And by short I mean anyone who is less than 6’3″. There should be a rule that tall people get the exit row seats before anyone else.

Yeah, I know I could pay extra so that I could get that seat. But, I’m too cheap. Besides, it’s fun to sit on the aisle seat with one leg blissfully stretched out into the aisle…until it’s rammed at full speed by that bloody beverage cart. Excuse me, sir, please put your legs under the seat in front of you. How much time do you have? Since my leg won’t fit under the lowered tray table I have some rearranging to do. And those bathrooms. Do you have any idea how hard it is to try to pee standing almost sideways because some genius engineer thought it would be a brilliant idea to have the bathroom ceiling slant like that. And no, I can’t sit. My legs are too long to fit with the door closed. Good thing I don’t need to go #2.

Theme parks. I waited with one of my daughters to go on a ride several years ago at the Mall of America. I think it was called Paul Bunyan’s Axe, but I’m not sure. Don’t even know if it’s still there. At any rate, for this particular ride, you had to sit down and a harness of padded metal bars came down over your shoulders and locked into place. Only, not for me. My torso was too tall. The bars hit my shoulder and there was no way for me to slouch down so the harness would fit. In countless roller coasters I’ve had the pleasure of contorting my legs uncomfortably so that the lap bar would hold me in place. None of that is as terrifying as riding a roller coaster and feeling the need to duck every time the coaster goes into a tunnel. Even though I know it’s not going to happen, it feels as though I’m going to get my head whacked off when the track goes under and through the wooden trestle. You better believe I’ll keep my hands in the car at all times. It was also pretty uncomfortable to ride some of the small kid rides at DisneyWorld with my daughters when they were younger.

Hiking. You want me to be the leader. Not because I’m blessed with some superior skills. Nope. One word. Spiders. Okay, maybe two words. Spider webs. I clear the path of all spider webs. I catch the ones that most of you miss. You know, the big ones that drape across the trail between trees, about 75″ above the ground. I call that eye level. Nothing quite like walking through the woods and having to wipe off spider webs from my face and head. And, no, it doesn’t taste like cotton candy. On the other hand, spelunking may not be the best activity for me. I recently went with two of my kids to Ape Cave, a lava tube near Mt. Saint Helens in Washington. At several points during the hike I realized that I almost didn’t fit through some of the openings in the rock. I’ve been in other caves that had similar pinch points and/or low ceilings, which are far less forgiving than wooden door frames. I think caving is cool (cool, get it?) but I realize my limitations.

Around the house. I’m your go-to guy if the lightbulb needs replacing. Or you need something from that top shelf. Or anything that would require a ladder or step-stool. Just call the tall guy over. He’ll be more than happy to assist you. I normally don’t mind helping you vertically-challenged people out. Just don’t be offended if I ask you to get something from a lower shelf, okay? I will admit that painting can be pretty fun because I don’t need a ladder to reach the ceiling of standard rooms. That said, I once broke a ceiling light fixture with my head. I mean, who puts a light directly outside of an elevator? I ducked my head to exit the elevator only to raise it into the fixture. Granted, it was on a cruise and not at home, but, still. If I recall, the cruise staff were pretty impressed by how I broke the light and several even posed for pictures with me. Counters are too low. Kitchen and bathroom. Cutting food for meals means that I either sit on a stool or risk making my lower back sore from bending over so much. And yes, like many tall people, I have back and knee issues. It’s the blessing and curse of being tall. My wife, a physician, says so sympathetically, “The human body wasn’t designed to carry such a large load.” Um, thanks, honey?

In the bedroom. Not like that. Don’t be rude. I’m talking mattress size here. At 80″ tall I’m too long for a King size bed, which is also 80″. Instead, we have a California King, which is 84″ long. And we still don’t tuck in the sheet on the end so our feet are free from pinching. You can imagine the fun whenever I sleep in a bed not my own. I barely fit diagonally across a queen. Standard twins are a joke. The funniest was just last year when I volunteered as a cabin leader for my church’s week long junior high camp. Thanks to a triple mattress stack I was able to hang my feet over the end of the bed despite a short footboard. A close second was our wedding night. We were gifted a stay at a lovely old B&B mansion and were excited to check out the in-room jacuzzi and King size bed. Only the jacuzzi wasn’t really long enough to actually get my whole body in the water and the beautiful “sleigh” style bed frame meant that it wasn’t long enough to sleep in. No big deal, it was my wedding night, after all. (nudge-nudge, wink-wink…)

Dating. When I was in high school I was researching for a report at the local library. (For those of you not old enough to remember, before the internet and Google and computerized everything, students had to actually go to a library to do research. We used things like card-catalogs and actual books and note cards. And microfiche machines.) While I was quietly minding my own business an elderly man (guessing mid-70s) approached me and looked me up and down and leaned in real close and half-whispered to me, “I suppose you go for tall girls, right?”. I kid you not. I didn’t know this guy and he was really asking me about my preference for tall girls. I think I stammered some sort of “Yessir” response that was enough to send him on his merry way, chuckling to himself for being so clever. I also recall the awkwardness of dancing with girls who were not very tall. At one camp in particular, a week-long co-ed camp for high school seniors-to-be who were interested in becoming teachers, there was a dance on the last evening. Of the nearly 100 attendees that week there were only about a dozen of us guys. Talk about the odds being ever in my favor! Needless to say, I had girls asking me to dance with them. And anyone who knows me knows that I can’t dance. I’ll try. I’ll embarrass myself. But. I. Can’t. Dance. But I can slow dance. That’s relatively easy and hard to mess up. Except if the girl is 5’1″ and the guy is 6’6″. (I grew 1 1/2 inches in college.) Then it’s a little on the weird side. Tough to dance without looking inappropriate. I love that my wife is 5’11”. Interestingly enough, people that knew her before we started dating thought that she was tall. Until they met me and saw me next to her.

Guess what? I'm in the very back row!

Guess what? I’m in the very back row!

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One of these is not like the others!

Pictures. I’m always in back. I could probably wear only underwear and no one would ever know by looking at 95% of all group pictures in which I’ve been a participant. (Why can’t I write like I talk and not care about using a dangling participle?) “Line up shortest to tallest” is the easiest directive for this guy. Walk to the back and laugh at everyone eyeing up who is taller/shorter. I’ll be in back. Always. I also sometimes forget just how big I am compared to “normal” sized people. Just last month at the NAHDN Convention in Denver I had the opportunity to mingle with over 100 other SAHDs from around the U.S. and Canada. My buddy Chris (SAHD and blogger at DadNCharge) is 6’7″ and we decided to take a picture with our friend Lorne (SAHD and blogger at Raising Sienna) at the request of his family. Lorne isn’t tiny as much as Chris and I are really, really tall. We literally dwarfed poor Lorne. After more than 20 years of being so crazy tall, I guess I sometimes forget that I’m probably the tallest person most people actually know. Sure, you might see a random really tall person somewhere or on TV, but to actually be right next to that person and interact with him/her is a bit different.

I hope you don’t get the wrong message about being tall. I absolutely love it. Sure, there are challenges in being crazy tall. I didn’t even discuss stuff like buying clothes, driving cars, finding “hidden” junk on top of people’s fridges, accidentally crashing into others with my long limbs, having tall kids, and the expectation of leadership just because I’m tall. It comes with the territory, I suppose. As a people-person I love that my height can serve as an ice-breaker and I often see the humor in such encounters with people I might not otherwise interact with. (I left it dangling!) I know that this post was really long, but, considering the source, you would’t expect anything shorter, right?

If you made it this far and found this post even remotely entertaining and worth your time, please consider leaving me a comment, liking it or, gasp, sharing with your friends. Thanks!

October 14, 2014

Spanking the Time-Out Away?

Another Stay At Home Dad that I’m friends with posted a link to a TIME magazine article entitled Time-Outs Are Hurting Your Child, which essentially makes the case for eliminating the use of the popular child-discipline technique of the time-out. You can read the article for yourself by clicking here. That got me to thinking about all of the news over the last month covering Adrian Peterson’s arrest and indictment on child-abuse charges for beating his four year old son with a switch. Peterson has publicly stated that he uses that form of discipline because it’s the same thing he endured as a child growing up in East Texas and that it taught him discipline. Of course, there are plenty of studies that decry the effectiveness of physical punishment. In an article from the American Psychological Association it was noted that

Many studies have shown that physical punishment — including spanking, hitting and other means of causing pain — can lead to increased aggression, antisocial behavior, physical injury and mental health problems for children. Americans’ acceptance of physical punishment has declined since the 1960s, yet surveys show that two-thirds of Americans still approve of parents spanking their kids.

Interestingly enough, just last week I had a conversation with six other friends about this exact topic. I mentioned that I was spanked as a child and it didn’t cause me to become aggressive, antisocial or develop any other issues mentioned in studies like the one above. Interestingly enough, the five men and one woman in the group also all experienced some form of physical punishment as children and none of them (to my knowledge) had experienced problems related to their punishment. In fact, most shared stories of a parent or teacher or coach who laid down the law in a manner that wouldn’t be tolerated in 2014.

In my house on Quarry Lane my parents had the rod. It was a 2-3 foot long wooden dowel, maybe the diameter of a dime, that sat atop the refrigerator in the kitchen, ominously peeking at us from above. My parents believed in the Bible verse that says

Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them. (Proverbs 13:24)

When I was a child, I got spanked. Not often. But for the big stuff. Maybe a handful of times my whole childhood. And every single time I deserved it. I learned from it. I stopped the behavior that warranted the spanking and made better choices. I did not become physically aggressive as a result. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m anything but antisocial. But, that flies in the face of the quote above. So, why did that physical punishment not affect me so negatively? I’ve thought about this answer quite a bit, especially over the last month or so since the Peterson story broke. I think it’s because my father, at least when he spanked me (I cannot speak for my three siblings), did it the right way. He never did it out of anger or in the heat of the moment. Instead, what usually happened is that my mom (who was a SAHM) would catch me doing something really bad and I got sent to my room to wait until my dad came home from work. Once he got home my mom would talk to him about what I had done and then he would come get me from my room and we’d go to my parents’ room. Sitting on the edge of the bed my father would instruct me to lay over the flat area of his quads. Before he spanked me he told me a few things. “Carl, I’m doing this because I love you and want to correct  (fill in the blank bad behavior) . I know you’re probably not going to understand this until you have children of your own, but spanking you hurts me more than you.” With that he would tell me the number of spanks I would get (usually 5-6) and do the deed. He never pulled my underwear down and he never swatted my bottom more than the number of times he told me. And I never saw him spank me in anger. In fact, after the spankings, while my butt was still sore, I would give him a hug and then go and apologize to my mom or whoever I had wronged. Once that was completed my punishment was over. (Except for the one time that I was grounded for 10 days for making a fire on some rocks so close to the house that some of the aluminum siding was warped. But that’s another story.)

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From my spankings I learned a few things. First, I learned that what I had done was wrong and needed to never happen again. I needed to change my behavior. Second, I learned that my parents loved me enough to discipline me to correct my behavior. And third, I learned that I still needed to apologize for my actions after receiving my spankings. I didn’t learn that it was okay to hit other people or be physically aggressive toward them. I didn’t learn that “might makes right”. I didn’t learn that violence was the answer. I wasn’t damaged physically or mentally because of the spankings. But, here’s the thing. Even with my positive experiences with spanking my wife and I chose years ago to not spank our children. She didn’t have such a glowing experience with corporal punishment as a child and I also saw my dad spank my little sister one time the wrong way. She was a toddler and he was spanking her to try to make her stop crying. Obviously, it didn’t work and all it did was send him into further anger. Thankfully, he stopped before taking it any farther, but it was enough to scar/scare me to really question its effectiveness. Obviously, it was his problem and he wasn’t doing it properly. But, I believe it goes to show the slippery slope of physical punishment on children. All it takes is one time where the parent loses it – just for a few moments – and the spankings become beatings and a situation like the one Mr. Peterson is facing.

Please hear me when I say that in no way do I support what Peterson did to his son in beating him so severely with a switch that he left cuts on the boy’s back, arms, neck and testicle. I understand that he had good intentions but he lost it as a father when the discipline transformed into child abuse. He’s a small and very strong man who gets paid millions of dollars to play a violent sport. I’m a tall and very strong (not the same as Peterson, of course) man who gets paid millions of kisses to be a SAHD. Yet, I’ve come to realize that I can discipline my children without spanking (or beating) them. I think that the key to the success of my father’s spanking is the same as my success of not spanking. It’s relationship. Even while being disciplined, I knew that I was loved and could trust my father to not hurt me. Like my father, I’m not perfect. Sometimes I yell at my kids. But I don’t hit them. I love them. I take the time to correct their behavior when needed. We’ve used 1-2-3 Magic Parenting with some success since my oldest was a toddler. She’s now 19. I look at her and my other kids, ages 15, 12, 10, 4 and 1, and note with a great deal of humility and thankfulness that they’re all pretty good people. Sure, they have their moments of sibling conflict, but they’re all pretty polite and kind and helpful most of the time. I love them and I even like them! I’d like to think that being at home with them for the last 14 years has had an impact in shaping them as the individuals they’re becoming today. Helping to guide them through conflict into a place of peace can be difficult. Tiresome. Yet, in the end, it’s worth it. My kids are living proof of it.

October 3, 2014

I’m not babysitting…I’m parenting!

While watching the last few minutes of a lopsided victory by the Green Bay Packers over the Minnesota Vikings I heard the announcers talking about the short break the players were going to have this coming weekend since their game was played on a Thursday instead of the usual Sunday or Monday. One of the guys, Phil Simms, a former quarterback for the New York Giants, mentioned that the Vikings’ QB, Christian Ponder, was going to be “babysitting” his daughter, Bowden, since his wife, Samantha Ponder, is a host for ESPN College Gameday every Saturday. The banter between Simms and his broadcast partner, Jim Nantz, continued as they enjoyed a little chuckle discussing Mr. Ponder babysitting his 12-week old daughter. Did you catch what they did there? While trying to sort of compliment him for caring for his own child they made a little bit of a dig at fathers, even if it wasn’t intentional or malicious. Dads and moms don’t babysit their own children. Never. What they do has a term already. Yeah, you guessed it. PARENTING!

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Samantha and Christian Ponder and their infant daughter. She’s an ESPN reporter/host and he’s an NFL QB for the Minnesota Vikings.

Some of you more cynical types might be wondering why this is an issue to me. After all, who really cares? Glad you wondered. What Simms and Nantz basically did was further the stereotype that dads who care for their own children are nothing more than babysitters. It’s an insult for any parent to be called a babysitter when he or she is actually being a parent. I did enough babysitting in junior high and high school to know the difference. Based on the reactions I saw on Twitter after the game finished I wasn’t the only one who noticed the babysitting comment. Other people were quick to point out the poor word choice by Mr. Simms. On a personal level, this is important to me because for the last 14 years I have chosen to be a full-time Stay At Home Dad for my children. I’m not a babysitter. I’m their dad. I “retired” from my teaching career after six years to move into an even more challenging career as a SAHD. Yes, I said career. This isn’t some part-time gig I do to make extra money to go out with my friends. I don’t get paid. At least not in cash. This is what I do. What I choose to do. What I get to do. I parent. All day. Every day. 24/7/365. Even when I’m not physically with my family I still parent through the wonders of modern technology like texting and FaceTime. Yet, I continue to love my career choice and thank God every day for the opportunity I have to be at home with my children. It’s not a chore. It’s my choice and my passion.

Yet, I’m not offended by what they said. I’m a pretty laid back guy. This wasn’t offensive. Offensive is using derogatory terms that I’m not comfortable saying or typing. What I’m feeling is disappointed. I’m disappointed that these guys chose to use that term to describe something that is so near and dear to me. About the only good thing is that they stopped short of using that hilarious term “Mr. Mom”. When they had the opportunity to recognize and applaud Mr. Ponder for spending his upcoming days off with his infant daughter they instead diminished it with a single ignorant word. I’m not demanding or expecting an apology from those announcers. That would be ridiculous. But I am calling them out on their choice of words. Such ignorant comments are way beneath them. This is, however, an opportunity to educate them and everyone else about the difference between babysitting and parenting. Babysitting has an end point. The parents come home, you get paid, and then you go home. It’s not parenting. Parenting starts the moment you first realize that you’re going to become a parent and then it never ends. Once a parent, always a parent. To paraphrase my fellow SAHD, blogger and friend Doug French, We still have much work to do. We need to get the message out that being an active and involved parent is a good thing. It’s what should be the norm. It should be celebrated and not mocked. Being a parent is the most rewarding and frustrating and exhilarating and awesome and terrible and joyous experience all in one. Keep calm and Daddy on!

September 20, 2014

The Brotherhood of the NAHDN Convention

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I’m currently in Denver, Colorado, attending the 19th annual convention of the National At-Home Dad Network. This is my second convention, having attended my first one last year, also in Denver. While my experience last year was incredible in and of itself, attending this year as a returning member has taken it to another level. I looked forward to attending again this year because of the Stay At Home Dads that I met last year who became my friends at the convention. Unlike summer camp experiences I had as a kid where you’re buddies for that week but that’s it, there’s been a kinship building that extended throughout the year. There’s a private SAHD-only online group that exploded in membership over the last year that allowed us to continue to build our friendships that started in Denver in 2013. It also afforded me the opportunity to virtually meet other SAHDs and encourage them to attend the convention this year. That online group deals with some pretty heavy topics (shockingly, most are NOT sports related) that are important to dads in a safe and supportive environment. Guys have shared about marital troubles and successes, births of children and loss of parents or other loved ones, cancer diagnosis and treatments, school issues and child-rearing challenges. While that online support is nice, what really is important is making the personal, face-to-face, in-person connections. And that, in a nutshell, is what this convention is all about. This is a brotherhood of such intimacy and transparency. My only regret is not knowing about the NAHDN convention for the first 12 years of my SAHD career.

The cynic might suggest that this so-called convention is just an excuse for dads to drink beer, play golf, take in a baseball game, go out for dinner (without kids!) and drink beer. While all of those things have happened these last few days they all lead to what keeps guys coming back. The brotherhood of this group is the real thing. Last year I came to Denver not knowing a single guy here. I left with a few new friends. This year, almost every single guy greeted me with a hug. Not one of those lame “man” hugs. A real, genuine, bear hug that expresses the emotion of the bond of this group. And it’s not at all weird. At least not for us. Last night after the opening afternoon session closed and our Dove Men+Care sponsored meet and greet finished we headed out in smaller groups to local restaurants for dinner. Some guys continued on to local establishments while others returned to the hotel to get some sleep. I was in the latter group, looking to take a shower and get some extra shut-eye…or so I thought. Instead, upon entering the hotel lobby, I noticed an empty spot on the sofa among a group of guys that I hadn’t had the opportunity to catch up with in person. Our conversation lasted for over two and a half hours. And I don’t think we talked sports at all. We talked about marriages. Children. Challenges. Success. Failures. Real stuff. We listened. We shared. We supported. We cared. As we parted ways at almost 1:30 am I realized that this, THIS, was exactly why I needed to be here again. This group of guys gets me like no one else on this earth. We all face the same challenges and the fact that we can share the burdens of one another while celebrating the successes together encourages me that I’m normal. I’m not alone. And that it’s all worth it.

I woke up Saturday morning ready to write this blog post about the brotherhood while kind of listening to the keynote speaker. I got as far as the title before I realized the mistake I would be making if I ignored Barbara Colorosso’s presentation entitled “Kids Are Worth It“. She’s an author of five books and speaks around the world about parenting, teaching and social-justice issues, drawing on her own experiences as a parent, classroom teacher and university instructor. She skillfully drew us all in with her rapidly-paced (she’s an incredibly fast talker) presentation that included a lot of audience participation. We enjoyed her humor and style of delivery and her message. But it got really intense in a very good way when one of the guys, Lorne, had the courage to reveal that he suffers from clinical depression. While Lorne is an amazing blogger, he is a first time attendee and doesn’t know that many of the 106 guys in the room, yet he bared his soul for us. He made himself vulnerable because he knew the strength and support of our brotherhood. I think most of us were brought to tears not only by his courage and candor but also by the response of other guys in the room. No less than six other guys spoke up to say that they, too, face that same challenge. They told him that he’s is NOT alone. Not a single person judged him. It is these types of real moments that make this convention truly special.

While having fun is an important part of this weekend away from our families it is more an opportunity to strengthen the bond of the brotherhood of this remarkable group of guys. I’m a better husband, dad and man for knowing them. And for that I am truly grateful. Thank you, gentlemen, for allowing me the privilege of calling you brothers.

September 15, 2014

Happy Birthday to Me! (42 Things For Which I Am Thankful)

It’s almost 1 am here in Washington and my four year old is still going strong thanks to a long late-afternoon nap. If you’re a parent you know the double-edged sword of such a nap. My wife told her that she could watch a movie if Daddy stayed downstairs with her (um, thanks?). She unloaded the dishwasher and practiced writing her name (part of the deal) and ran to the sofa, requesting me to get Netflix on for her viewing pleasure. While she’s snuggled in her sleeping bad watching My Little Pony I decided to make some late-night Mt. Dew lemonade out of these here lemons. Oh, and it happens to be my birthday today. Thanks, Mom, for having me on this date in 1972, just a few miles away from where I now live. Crazy how life works like that! Back to my lemonade. I’m going to try to stay awake to compose a list of things for which I’m thankful, one for each year I’ve been alive. The order is going to be pretty random as it’s now past 1 am.

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Just past midnight birthday selfie. That’s our family’s birthday hat. (Obviously.)

Forty-two things for which I am thankful.

  1. My parents. Duh. They had me! Thanks.
  2. My wife. She’s put up with  loved me for over half my life.
  3. My children. All six of them. They fill every day with so much love and laughter.
  4. Being tall. Usually a pretty good thing. Except when I hit my head on a door frame. Or take out a light fixture on a cruise ship.
  5. My English teachers (I must be tired) who told me that I wrote well and encouraged me to write. Even if it took me over 20 years to heed their advice and start writing regularly here.
  6. Netflix. I’m too tired to actually parent right now. Thanks for the small break.
  7. Headphones for my iPhone so that I can listen to my music instead of the awful music and dialog of My Little Pony.
  8. Sunshine. You won’t hear me complain about the sun and heat (even now in mid-September) because I know the cloudy and rainy season is coming soon enough.
  9. Rain. Seriously. I don’t have to shovel it like all that snow that I had to take care of when we lived in Wisconsin.
  10. Football. I know, there’s been a lot of bad press lately about some awful actions by some players. But, I still love to watch my Green Bay Packers. Glad my kids like to watch with me as well.
  11. Christmas music. Guess what I’m listening to right now? Pentatonix PTXmas. Amazing any time of year.
  12. Trains. Just heard one blowing its horn. Reminds me of growing up in Neenah, Wisconsin, and hearing trains at all hours of the day and night.
  13. My bed. Where I should be now. It’s so comfy and warm. And long enough for me. Unlike this comfy sofa.
  14. My sense of humor. I crack myself up daily. I’m hilarious. Seriously. (See what I did there?)
  15. My church. I look forward to going every Sunday and am so glad that my kids also are excited to go with me. Speaks volumes about the kind of community and ministry there.
  16. Leftovers for dinner. That means that we are so blessed to be able to have extra food from a previous meal. It also means that they kids are guaranteed to complain about the menu of “leftovers for dinner”.
  17. The dishwasher. It was broken for six weeks when we first moved here almost three years ago. Enough said.
  18. Dishes, pots, pans, or knives that can’t go through the dishwasher.
  19. FaceTime. It’s not the same as in-person, but it’s a great and affordable way to catch up with family and friends.
  20. Indoor plumbing. I cannot imagine how horrible it would’ve been to have to use an outhouse every day. I mean, where would I find any private time to read? (I’m laughing. Told you I was tired.)
  21. Camping. Ususally at a state park. Although, my son is currently in our large family tent just outside our house. For the 10th night in a row. Accompanied by our dog.
  22. Sleep. Yeah, I went to bed. Well, fell asleep on the sofa while my child watched My Little Pony. Woke up at 4:39 am and trudged up to my comfy bed for two more hours. Hopefully the crink in my back and neck from sleeping on the sofa goes away in a day or two. At least I made it halfway through my list of 42 before crashing.
  23. Reliable transportation. I take it for granted that my car will start every time I turn the ignition. Except that one time that one of the kids left some of overhead interior lights on overnight.
  24. A pile of laundry that needs folding and a dish full of dishes that needs to be loaded into the dishwasher. Even on my birthday, I’m thankful for these things because that means we are blessed enough to have a dishwasher and clothes washer/dryer.
  25. Safe travels. Driving my daughter to school this morning we saw an SUV blow through a stop sign at about 35 mph. Had we been about 5 seconds farther along on our way to school that vehicle might have ended my life. Thank you, Jesus.
  26. The National At Home Dad Network (NAHDN) and the upcoming convention in Denver later this week. Looking forward to seeing my fellow SAHD brothers again. The support and friendship from that group of guys this past year has been nothing short of amazing. My only regret is not knowing about such a network for the first 12 years as a SAHD.
  27. Mountains. I love going to the mountains for recreational purposes. I also appreciate their beauty on clear days as we have a beautiful view of the Olympic Mountains across Puget Sound from our house. I love how the rising sun wraps them in a blanket of pink.
  28. Siri. Yeah, that sometimes annoying iPhone/iPod voice. She’s hilarious. Especially when she mistakes a request to play Jingle Bells and states, “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with Vagina Bells.” Actually, neither am I.
  29. Good health. Ever since I was a child I’ve been blessed with a strong immune system. Even now, as a long-time Stay At Home Dad who gets exposed to all sorts of germs and such I seldom get sick. I joke that I have a deal with God. In exchange for not complaining about caring for or cleaning up after my wife and kids when they are sick, I don’t get sick.
  30. Computers and technology. Sometimes it seems like we depend on them too much, but overall I enjoy having them in my life. And I’m not even that tech-savvy. I’m sure I’m just using the tip of the technological iceberg, but it sort of works for me.
  31. Credit cards. Really. I use them for most everything that I don’t carry much cash around. So convenient.
  32. Airplanes. Making long-distance travel so much easier. Even if I often feel like a sardine squished in my seat I still don’t mind it.
  33. America. Or ‘Murica. Despite being a flawed Republic with a messed up political system that can’t get out of its own way, there are still a lot of great things about our country. We enjoy a lot of freedoms and privileges that the rest of the world envies.
  34. Being a SAHD. Despite basically working 24/7/365 I love my job. And, for the love of everything, don’t call me “Mr. Mom“. Really. It’s not as funny as you think.
  35. Words With Friends. Scrabble. I enjoy playing word games. Keeps my brain working. I think.
  36. The Bible. God’s word. I’m constantly challenged and encouraged by His words. They’re just as relevant today as they were 2,000 years ago.
  37. Music. I love to sing, play/perform and listen to music. Still cannot dance. And I’m okay with that.
  38. Facebook. Yeah, they keep making those annoying changes. Why can’t we just go back to the 2007 settings? Really, though, I enjoy keeping in touch with all of you. Okay, maybe not all of you, because of the weird metrics that screws up my newsfeed so that the sponsored stuff gets shown more. But you know what I mean. The love I’m feeling today from all of the birthday greetings is so uplifting. Yeah, that was a little cheesy, even for me. I really do appreciate the friendship,networking and support from social media.
  39. Netflix. Thanks for the quality shows to watch when I’m cleaning the kitchen or folding laundry after everyone else is asleep. Did I mention that I finally watched LOST last December? Only a few years too late.
  40. The silly humor that my kids inject into my daily life. Like my 10 year old son. This morning he came into the kitchen (while I was making his lunch sandwich) and sat at the table. He set his iPod down and asked Siri, “What is my name?”. Her reply made me laugh until I cried. “Your name is Cornelius. But since we’re friends, you asked me to call you Junio Ten Why Cheo.” WHAT?! (I might still be a little slap happy from the lack of sleep. But that was crazy.)
  41. Perspective. Counting my blessings instead of my shortcomings. Over the last year or so I’ve known far too many people who have gone through some tough times, losing loved ones to cancer, car accidents, and other causes. Life is too fragile and short to focus on anything else.
  42. Friendship. Not just the virtual kind but the people I see in real life. Just this summer I was able to reconnect with a few friends that I had not seen in years, in one case it was a friend who I hadn’t seen since 1991. Even if I have not seen my friends in person I love being able to call or virtually reach out, knowing that our friendship remains. And, I do not mean to ignore the new friends I’ve made since moving here almost three years ago. My life is so much richer for knowing all of you.

I look forward to whatever God has in store for me this coming year. In parting, I leave this passage I just came across last night while finishing my Bible study. I hope it encourages you as much as it did me. It’s from Isaiah 43:1-4, paraphrased by me.

This is what the Lord says…Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze…Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you.

If you’re bothered because this is a “religious” quote from the Bible, I would encourage you to reread it, but this time think of it as a father (or mother) talking to his (her) child. The love that drips from that passage is what I’m striving for with my own family. While I’m certainly not perfect, I am trying to be the best husband and father that I can be for them.

September 11, 2014

9/11 Memories

West Pierce (Washington state) 9/11 memorial

Thirteen years ago today, September 11, 2001, I woke up early before work to play basketball with some other men at my church. After basketball was over I drove to Kromrey Middle School in Middleton, Wisconsin, where I was a 7th grade science teacher. I taught periods 1, 2, 3, 8 and 9. In between I had meetings, supervision and planning time. At 7:50 am the bell rang and the students entered the building and made their way to their first period class. In Science that day I was giving them their first quiz of the young school year and then preparing them for the next day’s lab. Since all of my science classes included children with varying special needs there was an adult para-educator present each hour. As the 8 am start of the day neared the “para” for 1st hour asked if I’d heard the news about an airplane hitting the World Trade Center in New York City. I was shocked that something like that could happen and had not heard the news since I’d been playing basketball or at work since 5:15 that morning. After the bell rang to start the day and the Pledge of Allegiance and announcements had finished over the speaker I welcomed my students to class and handed out their quizzes. While they were quietly working I quickly retrieved from my storage closet in my classroom the TV/VCR cart that the other 7th grade science teacher and I shared. I placed it near my desk, facing me (away from my students) and turned it on. I was curious to see what was going on in New York. What I saw on the TV screen horrified me. By that time, maybe 8:15 am Central time, both of the WTC towers had been hit by jetliners and black smoke was billowing out of the buildings. The para and I stood there speechless as the network announcers tried to keep their composure, watching along with the rest of us at the unfolding spectacle. Little did we know how much more would happen over the next 90 minutes. We had no idea we were witnessing one of the most significant events in the history of our nation. As my students turned in their completed quizzes they started to watch the news along with me. Once all of them were done, I turned the TV off for a moment and explained, as best I could, what had happened in New York that morning. I made the decision to scrap the rest of that day’s lesson plans and allowed my students to watch the news, as that was clearly of great interest to all of us. Just before the class was to be dismissed American flight 93 slammed into the Pentagon. I think I had NBC on, and they scrambled to show footage as best as they could of both the twin towers and the unfolding scene at the Pentagon. At this point I knew that this would be a day that none of us would ever forget.

8:50 am. Second hour kids entered more quietly than usual. Word had spread that something was happening in New York…and that Mr. Wilke had a TV in his room showing it. Once passing time was over I turned the TV away from the kids and told them that we were going to still go ahead with the quiz but that the rest of the lesson for the day had been scrapped so we could focus on the current events. They seemed to understand and started their quizzes. That gave me an opportunity to glance at the news again. It was about 8:55, and the crew was still in disbelief over the three hijacked planes and the subsequent attacks. They were trying to calmly talk about the rescue efforts going on in both locations when suddenly the South tower of the WTC collapsed. I’m pretty sure I made some sort of gasp or whelp because my students all looked up at me at the same time, wondering what I had just seen. I wondered the exact same thing. What had I just seen? Did that massive building just disintegrate before my very eyes? Oh, dear God, please help them. This is beyond terrible. All I could do was robotically turn the TV to face them so that they could see for themselves what had just happened. The sound was off but the picture was clear. This was destruction that none of us could ever comprehend. I collected their quizzes (I guess, although I don’t really recall doing it) and we all watched together. Then, not even 10 minutes later, United Flight 93 crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. More chaos on the TV. I was only 28 at the time and couldn’t make sense of it. I knew that my students couldn’t either. As the time wound down for second period I did something that I had never done before. I encouraged my students, “If you’re of the persuasion that believes in the power of prayer, now would be a good time.” I told them that I was not saying this as their teacher, but rather, as a fellow human being who was having trouble understanding what was going on. I don’t know if any of them prayed or not. I know that it’s all that I could do at that moment. As that class was being dismissed the second WTC tower collapsed. We all just stood in place for a few moments in stunned silence. Trying to process.

Third hour arrived and quietly took their seats. I made the same announcement as before about the quiz and change of lesson plans. While they worked on the quiz there was a knock on my door followed by a student handing me a note from the office. Apparently, the principal had decided that the tragic events in New York were too much for the 6th, 7th and 8th graders to watch. The note was to all teachers in the building, asking us to refrain from talking about it any more. Don’t show it. Just go about business as usual. Stick to your lesson plans. I ignored it. For the only time in my six years of teaching, I purposely disregarded the wishes of my administrator. There was no way that I could possibly try to stick to my original lesson plan. Not with what was happening. This was historic. This was, in my mind, on par with the Kennedy assassination. Bigger than the Challenger accident. Bigger than the original Gulf War “shock and awe” in 1990. I wanted my students to see this in real time. This was an event that would change America. I showed the para in my class the memo and she agreed with me that we should keep watching. I told my students what the principal had written and explained why I wasn’t complying with his wishes. They began to cheer but I quieted them with a reminder that this wasn’t about me being a rebel but rather about the significance of the moment. I told them

Remember where you are right now. Your kids and grandkids are going to ask you about this some day. 

The principal never showed up to check on my classes the rest of the day to see if I was obeying him. That’s not surprising since he only actually came to my room maybe four times in my five years at that school. By the time my 8th hour class arrived there had been no new attacks or developments like there had been in the morning. The kids were still unusually quiet. I believe that the severity and significance of the events earlier in the day were beginning to register with them. The school day ended without anything more significant happening and I was eager to get home to my family.

At that time we only had two daughters, ages 6 and 2. My wife was six weeks from completing her final rotation of Medical School and eight weeks from her due date with our third daughter. As a first grader, my oldest hadn’t heard anything about the day’s events and I was glad for her continued innocence. I guess she picked up on a little bit of the news so we tried to explain to her what had happened. I remember holding my two year old a bit longer that night when I rocked her to sleep in my arms. I’m pretty sure I sang God Bless America while holding her body, tears streaking down my face. Mourning the events of the day, the loss of so many innocent lives and  loss of innocence and security for people. We all know how much has changed as a result of the attacks on September 11, 2001. Whether impacted directly through the loss of a loved one to the attacks or indirectly because we’re all part of one country and the human race, we must never forget what happened on that terrible Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Like I told my students 13 years ago, if you’re of the persuasion that believes in the power of prayer, now would (still) be a good time. Please take a moment (or more) today to honor the memory of those who perished, whether they were in the towers, on the planes or on the ground trying to help the victims. Even if you think it’s all too dramatic for your taste or that it somehow doesn’t affect you, at least have the courtesy to be quiet and allow others the space and freedom to remember in their own ways. If you have a memory of that day or a story to tell, please feel free to leave a comment. I’d love to hear what you experienced on this day 13 years ago.

God Bless America

 

September 9, 2014

Dear Kids…A Letter About Ray Rice

My dear children,

You kids know that I love to watch football, both college and the NFL. It’s something fun that we do together, cheering on our favorite teams and players. I’m so thankful that my passion for football is wearing off on you. Most of the time this is a good thing. Well, on Monday something bad happened in the world of football that spilled over into the “real” world in a messy way. You see, last February this football player named Ray Rice and his then fiancée, Janey, were at a hotel and got into an argument. As they got into an elevator their argument escalated and they got physical with each other to the point that he punched her with his fist and knocked her out. Cold. After she fell to the floor, he tried to carry her limp body out of the elevator into the hotel lobby. The police were called and they both got into a bit of trouble. Mr. Rice avoided legal problems by agreeing to undergo some counseling for his anger. The two of them got married a short time later.

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Ray and Janey Rice and their daughter, Rayven

The guy in charge of the NFL, Commissioner Roger Goodell, suspended Mr. Rice for the first two football games of this season. When the story first broke it generated a bunch of negative publicity as many people thought that the two games wasn’t enough of a punishment for a crime that violent. There was even a security video from the hotel that showed Mr. Rice dragging her limp body from the elevator. On Monday morning TMZ’s website obtained the entire video of the couple’s altercation, showing them entering the elevator, their ride down and their exit (which was already published). It was very difficult to watch the two of them in that elevator, clearly upset with one another, knowing what was about to happen. Seeing it unfold like that was simply shocking and disgusting. It unleashed a whole new level of public outrage against Mr. Rice, the NFL and his team, the Baltimore Ravens. Seeing what had happened removed any doubt about how it all went down. By the end of the day, the Ravens had fired Mr. Rice and the NFL announced that he was suspended indefinitely. Even the White House released a statement about it.

“The President [Obama] is the father of two daughters. And like any American, he believes that domestic violence is contemptible and unacceptable in a civilized society. Hitting a woman is not something a real man does, and that’s true whether or not an act of violence happens in the public eye, or, far too often, behind closed doors. Stopping domestic violence is something that’s bigger than football – and all of us have a responsibility to put a stop to it.”

Please pay attention to what I’m telling you here, kids. Hitting another person is wrong. Whether you’re a man or a woman, you have no business hitting another person. That is why I’m so serious about you not “playfully” hitting each other when you’re at home. It is a big deal. There has to be zero tolerance of physically violent behavior and it starts at home. I know that I’m not a perfect parent and that sometimes I even raise my voice and get impatient or irritated with something you’re doing. I’m sorry for that lack of self-control at times. But you’ll never see me hit you or Mommy or anyone else. And I won’t tolerate you doing that either. Hitting is not okay. Not even pretend. This isn’t just a “real men don’t hit women” kind of statement. While that is certainly true about men, I also want you, my daughters, to not hit other people when you’re angry. Don’t do it.

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Mr. Rice is a strong man. He is not very tall like I am, but he is very, very strong. While I may not be as strong as him, I am a foot taller than his 5’8″ stature. That said, I have to always be very careful of my body because I could injure someone with it because I’m so big, even if I’m not trying to hurt that person. Ask your mother how many times (mostly when we were first married, but still happens once in a while) I would “bonk” her with my arm or leg because I’m so freakishly large. I sometimes forget how strong I am compared to others. I’m not bragging. It comes with being a “giant” among “normal” people. I have to be careful not to hurt other people, especially little kids when I’m with you at the park or the YMCA. You kids are not small people. To my son, at age 10 you’re taller than many adults. By the time you’re fully grown you’re likely going to be close to my height. You’re going to have to show a lot of self-control with your strength. It is not okay to use your strength and bulk to intimidate other people. That would make you a bully and I won’t allow it.

To my daughters, I want you to know that it is never okay for your boyfriend or husband to hit you. Ever. Not even on accident. If that should ever happen I want you to get away from him right away. Call me. True love will never motivate someone to hit you. If he hits you he does not love or respect you as a person. He is toxic and will end up hurting you. He is not the kind of man you want to be the father of your children. Run away. Far away. Never look back. Don’t fall for his “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I promise it will never happen again. I love you.” If he really loved you he wouldn’t have ever laid a finger on you.

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Finally, let this awful incident be a reminder that our actions have consequences. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rice have made public apologies for their actions. Mrs. Rice even went online to defend her husband the day after this latest video surfaced. Yet, it is really a case of too little, too late. There is no amount of apology from either of them that can change the public perception of Mr. Rice as a violent man who knocked his wife unconscious with one punch. He may well be a good guy. He’s probably involved with charities. He even has a young daughter. Heck, he might otherwise be a good husband. But, right now, none of that matters. What matters to the public is that, in one awful moment back in February, Mr. Rice lost his cool and hit his wife. He lost all that he had worked so hard for over the years in just a few minutes. Let it be a lesson to you about the importance of always having self-control. All it takes is one moment out of control for you to experience some truly awful consequences.

Love,

Dad

August 29, 2014

Fail Mary Was Called Correctly

Almost two years ago one of the most bizarre and controversial endings to a NFL game took place at CenturyLink Field in Seattle, Washington. The last game of Week 3 of the 2012 season featured a Monday Night Football showdown between the Green Bay Packers and the Seattle Seahawks. The Packers came back in the second half of the game to lead 12-7 with :08 left on the clock in the 4th quarter. Seattle had the ball, 4th & 10 from the Green Bay 24-yard line, needing a touchdown on the game’s final play to win. I was at the game with my daughter and we were among the thousands of Packers fans in attendance that evening who were loudly cheering and chanting “Go Pack, Go!” as the ball was snapped on that fateful play. Everyone in the building, player and fans alike, knew what play was going to be called and that the odds of Seattle completing a “Hail Mary” pass in that situation were very low but still, the play must be run. The day before a game had ended with a Hail Mary TD completion, so it could happen. The ball was snapped, Russell Wilson, the Seahawks QB ran away from some pressure while his receivers ran toward the end zone. From about 40 yards out Wilson tossed a beautiful spiral to the left corner of the end zone where two of his receivers and five Packers defenders were gathered. What happened next was crazy and seemed to defy logic.

My daughter and I at the Fail Mary game

My daughter and I at the Fail Mary game

Before I get too far into this post, I should disclose that I grew up in Neenah, Wisconsin, about 40 miles south of Green Bay. My parents were both Packers fans and I have been a cheesehead my whole life. Since I grew up in the 1970s and 80s I missed the glory days of the Lombardi championships that my dad told me about over and over. Nope. I got to watch Lynn Dickey get clobbered because he only ran fast when it was back to the sidelines after failing on 3rd down. For several years in the mid-80s the preseason papers declared “The Pack is Back” in vain. I had to endure 8-8 seasons and the hated Chicago Bears’ Super Bowl Shuffle and the Fridge on their way to the 1985 title. I was happy when Don “Majik Man” Majkowski became the QB, thrilled when Brett Favre led the Packers to sustained success (4th and 26 notwithstanding) and the 1996 Super Bowl title, and ecstatic when Aaron Rodgers took over and they won it all in 2010. I’m a die-hard Packers fan even though I now live deep in Seahawks country, about 40 miles south of Seattle near Tacoma, Washington. I was fortunate enough to be at that game nearly two years ago. If anything, the admission that I’m about to write should be more surprising since, as a Packers fan, I should feel like the replacement refs screwed the Packers on the last call of the game. But, I just can’t do it.

Pre-snap view of last play from my seat.

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Back to the game. The ball’s trajectory was perfect, heading toward Seattle’s WR, #81, Golden Tate, yet the Packers were in place to defend it. As the ball was nearing, Tate shoved the back of Packers CB, #37, Sam Shields, with two hands, forcing him to the ground. Shields would’ve been in perfect position to bat the ball down. Despite that obvious offensive pass interference (which wasn’t called; almost never would be called in a similar situation) another Packers defender, #43, M.D. Jennings, timed his leap perfectly and cradled the ball to his chest in mid-air among the other hands reaching for the ball. As Jennings fell through the air Tate reached around Jennings’s body and put his hands on the ball. Since Jennings had jumped the highest, he was also the last to come back down to the pile of players on the turf, both of his arms still cradling the ball. As the players reached the turf they continued their struggle for possession of the ball. The outcome of the game was hanging in the balance of this one decision by the referees. In case you had forgotten, the regular NFL referees had been locked out by the owners and commissioner so this was the third week of the season in which replacement refs were used. The players, coaches and fans were all upset by the poor quality of officiating since it wasn’t nearly the same quality or consistency as with the regular refs.

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With that as context, it wasn’t shocking to see the two refs in the area give conflicting arm signals. One indicated time-out (for an interception) and the other a touchdown (for a reception). Pandemonium ensued at the game, both on the field and in the stands. The Packers players argued with the ref that it was a pick. The Seahawks players jumped around joyously at their fantastic finish. Those of us in the stands stood bewildered, not knowing what we had just seen. The head referee announced that the play would be reviewed but had been ruled a TD on the field. There was no replay shown on the JumboTrons at the game. Just an uneasy feeling among the Packers fans that they had just been robbed of a hard-earned win. The MNF telecast on ESPN showed the replay several times, with commentators Mike Tirico and Jon Gruden sharing their feelings that it was an interception. They even consulted a retired ref, Jerry Austin, who confirmed that he felt it was an interception. “This is the most bizarre sequence you’ll ever see at the end of the game” said Tirico. Added Gruden, “For the life of me I don’t know how M.D. Jennings doesn’t have credit for the interception”.

After further review the call stood and Seattle won the game. After a brief delay the meaningless extra point was kicked and the fans left the stadium in shock. We still had not seen a replay like the TV audience had. I used the bathroom on the way out and a Seahawks fan told me that he was sorry. His friend had called him to tell him what he had seen on TV. A few of my friends texted me or posted on Facebook that they thought the refs had screwed up that last call. I listened to post-game talk-radio and heard dozens of people rail on the refs for that terrible call. It was all over the internet that night and in the weeks to follow. Some people even called for the NFL commissioner to reverse the call and give the win to Green Bay. Since I live in Washington state not too far from Seattle I was able to listen to the Seattle-based sports talk radio guys the next day. Every single one of them agreed that it was an interception and that Green Bay should have won the game. One of them went so far as to say that any Seahawks fans who seriously thought it was the right call should have their heads examined. They even laughed about it on air. I guess I was sold that this was a bad call. Packers should have won the game. Case closed. Move on.

Not so fast, though. A few days later I happened to see this picture from a different angle that made me reconsider.

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What I saw was two players who were both fighting for the ball. Tate’s arms were not wrapped around Jennings. And guess what else? Tate has two feet on the ground with two hands on the ball. Jennings has no feet on the ground yet. And then my mind began to question what my eyes and ears had been telling me. Q: When is a player given credit for a reception? A: When he has control of the ball and two feet in bounds. Q: Who has possession of the ball first in this photo? A: Tate! I was mortified. No way. No how. I’m a Packers fan. This cannot be. While my eyes were done my brain wasn’t. Q: What is simultaneous possession? A: When two players gain control of the ball at the same time. Q: If Tate had possession of the ball first, even if partial, does that make it simultaneous? A: Yes. UGH! In the NFL, a simultaneous catch goes to the offensive player. So, in my mind, I believe that the decision to call the Fail Mary pass a touchdown was the correct call. I have shocked many Seahawks and Packers fans over the last two years with this explanation. I have yet to hear a rebuttal that isn’t based on emotions or what the guys on ESPN said during the game. If you have one, I’d love to hear it.

Before you tell me I’m an idiot (and maybe I am, but that’s not for this discussion, please) and don’t know anything about football let me share some more observations about this game with you. Since I’m a Stay At Home Dad I have the “luxury” of spending a lot of quality time cleaning the kitchen and folding the laundry, usually at night when everyone else in my family is asleep. This has afforded me the opportunity to not only obsess over think about this game too much but to also watch the game replay on www.nfl.com multiple times. I’ve come to the conclusion that the refs were horrible the entire game and made a couple of significantly awful calls that cost the Packers the victory prior to the Fail Mary play. In fact, had the calls been made properly earlier in the game, the Fail Mary play probably wouldn’t have happened. The first such play happened on Seattle’s first play right after the Packers had scored their only TD to take their first lead of the game. With 8:44 left in the 4th quarter, on 1st & 10 from their own 20, Wilson took a play-action fake and was flushed back and to his right by #93, Erich Walden. As Walden dove at him, Wilson threw the ball slightly behind his receiver, who tipped the pass up into the air, where it was snatched by as Packers player. Interception. Packers take over just outside of the red zone with a chance to put the game away. Nope. The referee decided that it was a penalty on Walden. Roughing the passer. 15 yard penalty against Green Bay. It was Seattle’s first first-down of the second half. Both Gruden and Tirico question the call, particularly because Wilson was out of the pocket and had already shown his ability to extend and create plays with his running ability.

The second play happened just two and a half minutes later, with 6:10 left in the game. After consecutive offensive holding penalties Seattle faced a seemingly insurmountable 1st & 30. Wilson tossed a pass toward his tall WR, #18, Sidney Rice, who is running a go-route down the left sideline. Only he is matched step for step by Sam Shields, Green Bay’s CB. The two of them made some contact as they ran, with Rice clearly grabbing and pushing Shields in his back while they run and then going over and through his back as the ball dropped from the sky to them. As the pass fell incomplete to the ground the referee tossed his flag at their feet. Before the call is announced, Gruden stated, “It’s on Rice. I don’t even believe they’re going to call this on Sam Shields.” So, of course, it’s on Sam Shields, defensive pass interference. A 32-yard penalty that gives Seattle the ball at the Green Bay 35. Referring to the botched calls, Tirico added, “It’s making it hard to watch every game.”

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Gruden concurred, “I’m about to jump out of the press box here.” While it’s possible that Seattle could have still gotten a first down on that drive, it probably wouldn’t have happened if there had been no penalty or if it had been ruled offensive pass interference. And I won’t even go into any debate about the blatant offensive pass interference on Tate on the Fail Mary play. Both Gruden and Tirico referenced it during the final minutes of the ESPN telecast.

All in all, the game was a microcosm of what the league was experiencing with the replacement refs. Complete frustration with the poor quality and terribly inconsistent (and sometimes incorrect) enforcement of the rules. Because of the bizarre finish to the MNF game and comments made by many players, specifically those by Packers MVP QB Aaron Rodgers the day after the game, the regular refs were reinstated for the games in Week 4. Despite the poor officiating and the questionable outcome of the game, both the Packers and Seahawks made the playoffs that season. If the outcome had been reversed, the Seahawks would still have been the #6 seed in the NFC, but the Packers would have been the #2 seed and had a bye week instead of being the #3 seed. While it would be easy to blame that on the Fail Mary game, the reality is that the Packers lost several close games that season (at Indianapolis two weeks later and at Minnesota in Week 17) that would have also secured the #2 seed. The improbable come-from-behind win for the Seahawks was the first 4th quarter comeback for their rookie QB Russell Wilson and helped to boost his popularity among fans as some of them had been grumbling about the offense’s lackluster play over the first few weeks of the season. Obviously, things worked out pretty well for Seattle with Wilson as quarterback over the following 16 months. Just ask the fans of the San Francisco 49ers or Denver Broncos.