The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for March 2012

What A Father Knows

Father and son learning to ride a bike!

What a father knows is the sort of headline that I love for it offers a million possibilities and you know that I hate being restricted by anyone and anything. I should take this moment and create some sort of poster board with a list of things fathers know that we need to teach our children about.

It would be perfect for Pinterest and with all the traffic that is generating, well it might be the kick that this joint needs. You know what I mean. That is your humble servant saying that maybe it would be the place that the agent who is looking for a new writer would be hanging out in. And he or she would see that poster about What a Father Knows and follow it back here.

Oh My!

Can you see the possibilities? Can you imagine what it could mean. They might sign me up right then and there to write a book about being a dad. Don’t tell me that the market is saturated. Don’t tell me that there are a ton of those books out there because I know this and it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter because people like choices. It is why you can drive a Honda/Toyota/Ford/Mercedes/Lexus/Hyundai/Kia/Dodge/Chevrolet sedan.  Don’t get side tracked by my having placed luxury next to the average Joe manufacturers because you’ll miss the point.

And that point is that there often is a minimal difference in reliability and quality between these cars. Compare a Toyota Camry to a Honda Accord and you’ll find that the reason many people choose one over the other comes down to brand preference. Is there a real difference between Time and Newsweek.

People will read what this dad has to say. Much of the success will come down to proper marketing, but that is a separate topic.

Words Left Unwritten

Or maybe they’ll move from Pinterest to here and onto Words Left Unwritten. Maybe it will happen because they’ll stumble onto An Uncertain Certainty and New Year’s Eve and be compelled to find out more. They’ll read those words and scour WUL and then come back determined to find out more.

And I’ll write about how I got caught up listening to Fleetwood Mac sing Silver Springs over and over. I’ll talk about how it made me think of a million stories and how I remembered a few of my own. I’ll write about how Stevie Nicks sings “Was I just a fool” and “Give me just a chance.” Every one will wonder what the connection is and I won’t say more than I understand this.

But that will be enough. That will be enough for most of you.

What a Father Knows

What a father knows is that sometimes life decides to give you the sort of beating that makes you wonder what the hell you did wrong. But you have choices, oh do you have choices. You can lie down and let yourself be kicked into submission. You can roll over and just give up, or you can laugh.

You can laugh because no bully can continue to administer that sort of beating when they are being laughed at. It frightens them and gives you their power. The question is what do you do with that power afterwards, maybe you turn around and kick that sucker in the balls or maybe you just keep laughing. Maybe you laugh because it is disconcerting and there is power in the mystique you create.

What a father knows is that success is based upon what you see when you look in the mirror. Your own happiness is based entirely in your self perception. Those don’t have to be just words, they can be your own truth.

And that is part of the journey of life, the search for our own personal truth.

Who Am I & What Am I

My children and I are talking and they want to know what my life was like when I was not quite an adult but not a boy either. That is a 7.5 year-olds way of trying to figure out how I could have lived before I became a father. She knows I had a life, but it doesn’t quite work for her yet.

We talk about my old apartment and then they ask what happened in Jerusalem. It is a long story that they don’t know and that is ok, but they know pieces of it. I tell them a few funny stories but another memory flits through my mind that I don’t share.  I don’t think that anything has registered on my face but girls pay attention to facial expressions in ways that boys don’t.

“Daddy, why did you look sad?” I am surprised that she caught the twinge but I am not going to tell her that sometimes I feel regret for not chasing that particular dream. I smile and tell her that it must have been something I ate.

She laughs and says “dad, your farts are terrible. You better go to the bathroom now.” I laugh, that girl just makes me smile.

What a father knows is that we pay a price for every choice we make. Sometimes it is bargain and sometimes it is a ripoff.  That doesn’t change the need for us to decide whether we choose to laugh or cry.

But what a father teaches his children is that the people we surround ourselves always make a difference.  Don’t let go of those who make your spirit soar and don’t hold onto those who crush your heart.

My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams

It is getting late and the kids haven’t finished their homework yet, scratch that, the dark haired beauty has, but her big brother hasn’t. In a perfect world he’d be working at his desk and she wouldn’t be able to try and torture him by flaunting her freedom, be we don’t live in that perfect world.

No, we live in the one where his desk is covered in Legos, not loose pieces, but the models he has already built. So instead of being downstairs he is at the kitchen table working hard on some pre Algebra that makes my eyes roll. It is not because I can’t figure it out, because I can. Thus far I can hang with the 5th grade math, every problem I solve is correct.

The issue is that I can’t figure out how this “new math” the teacher has is using so I can’t really help him as much as he might like. I leave the room and all of a sudden I hear them screaming at each other. I don’t have to go in there to know what happened. She is singing Sexy and I know it.

He hates the song and she knows it. Can’t tell you when she learned the words or where, but I suspect it was at her friend Mikayla’s house. Good old Mikayla and her parents have funny ideas about what is appropriate for children. I am not what you call prude, but they have no discretion or judgment.

My kids are really tight with both of theirs, but I can’t have this kind of nonsense going on. This song isn’t the worst thing and frankly most of it goes over my daughter’s head, but that doesn’t fix things. I have other issues with them and we are going to have a conversation about monitoring what our children watch online and elsewhere.

I try not to be that parent but when it comes to my children I don’t care if you like me.

“I’d like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It’s hard to say that I’d rather stay
Awake when I’m asleep
‘Cause everything is never as it seems”

Fireflies– Owl City

Both of the kids like this song but they don’t sing it as much as they used to. I kind of miss it. Now we have all sorts of different songs coming from their mouths. They really like Paradise and have a list of requests for other artists like Simon & Garfunkel, Johnny Cash and Ray Charles. What can I say, dad likes to influence their choices.

But there are others. Some of them are things that they have heard here and others elsewhere. I do a partial rundown in my head and find Numb/Encore, Resistance, Mr. Brightside and a smattering of Lady Gaga.

I look at these songs and give it my gut check to decide if I am ok with it or not. Does it fit with the What’s In a Name  theory or am I a hypocrite for complaining about one parent’s lack of judgment while ignoring my own. Maybe yes, maybe no.

What I know for certain is that any parent who doesn’t question their parenting skills scares me. It is also different when I choose to expose my children to something that might be advanced for them. Is that rationalizing bad behavior? Again, it might be, but they call me dad and not you.

Father/Daughter Dance At The Prom

It is 4 or maybe 5 o’clock and I am sequestered in my office. I am trying to figure out what to write at Words Left Unwritten and listening to music that I think will set the mood for me. Silver Springs comes on and I close my eyes.

My daughter walks in the room, takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. She smiles, climbs on the chair and puts her arms around my neck, “time for the Father/daughter dance at the prom.”

I smile and tell her that she doesn’t want to take me to the prom. She smiles back and says we can practice for her wedding. Dark eyes stare intently at my face and I wonder what she is thinking, but I don’t say anything because she has caught me again. She is daddy’s girl and even though I know I have years to go it is hard.

Her brother was born last week and his Bar Mitzvah is next year. Since they refuse to stop growing I know that means that I only have a few months before this wedding crap might happen.  She has a million different questions and wants to know how many times I have been in love.

I look at her and shake my head. It is only a few weeks ago that she told me she didn’t want to break his heart  and now she wants to talk about my dating history. She really isn’t asking for details, just wants to a simple answer. But it throws me, I am still picturing the girl with dark eyes, freckles and braids talking to me about getting married. It is like a scene from a movie.

I could show her It Burns  and  All I Want Is You or I Had A Dream. But why would I. That is not right for her. I would certainly be that parent again except most definitely on the wrong side of the fence.

The song ends and she hugs me. “Abba, I have a question. Will you buy me an iPad?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“Please don’t make me wait until I am married. That could be a 100 thousand years from now and you’ll be dead. Don’t be dead because I’d let you use it.”

“Darling, you need to work on your sales technique a bit.”

She giggles and runs out of the room.  A deep sigh sneaks out of my body and I smile. Just as sit back up to begin work on what is certainly the greatest idea I have ever come up with I hear, “I AM SEXY AND I KNOW IT!”

It is followed by a loud roar, giggling and the sound of footsteps chasing each other. Even though I am irked by the chaos I don’t mention to either of them that I kind of appreciate their chaos. I am a big brother after all and it reminds me a bit of the kind I once caused.

Still, I can’t let this go on so I wander out and get things settled down only to find out that still can’t figure out how the teacher is solving these problems. Maybe I am not as smart as a fifth grader after all.

What Happens When Nothing In Your Life Goes As You Planned It To?

English: Los Angeles skyline and San Gabriel m...
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It is mid afternoon in Los Angeles and I am staring out the window at familiar blue skies and thinking about life. Got a desk with more clutter than I like and papers piled at my feet.

They are part of a file I am using for a work project and in a short time will be returned to the manila folders in which they live. Drank too much coffee and have tried to compensate by drowning it in water.

There are weights behind me and assorted other pieces of gym equipment that are calling out to me. I have shushed them more than once, promised that I will make use of them…soon. Can’t do it now, want to, but can’t. The moment I get up from the desk and get the blood pumping will be a good moment, necessary. But I require a longer workout today and I can’t devote the time yet. That doesn’t mean that I am not going to follow through because I will and it will happen today.

Right now I have but 15 minutes to spare, if that.  Fifteen minutes that I am using here to try and clear my head of a million different thoughts, ideas and memories.

Dude, I Am Getting Divorced

We’re seated at Nat’s Early Bite, one of our favorite hole in the wall diners and I am listening to Mark tell me about the end of his marriage. It is not really a surprise and I don’t want to tell him that we never liked his wife.

“Dude, I am getting divorced.”  I keep a blank expression on my face and just listen. Mark doesn’t speak like this, dude isn’t part of his everyday vernacular. He is not an intellectual snob nor does he sound like the caricature of the “Harvarhd Man” but dude isn’t something that I normally hear him say.

“It is a funny thing, because you never know if last night, this afternoon or this morning is going to mark the last time you sleep with your wife.” I nod my head at him and he continues. “Actually, the last time was probably among the best we ever had. I think it was because we both knew it was over and it was just a big relief.”

“Well the good news is that you are young and you live in a place where the women are plentiful. Liz Taylor isn’t dead yet, if you work hard you could be number 9 or is it ten.”

The conversation is interrupted by the arrival of our food. In between bites I follow up with ideas for other women he can marry and divorce. “I think that I am good now, you really don’t have to offer any more suggestions.”

“Ya know, Don is on his fourth wife. I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“True, got to tell you that I really don’t plan on getting married ever again. He is welcome to the title. Hasn’t someone told him that in the 21st century women will sleep with you without ring on their finger.”

It is not as snarky or sarcastic as it sounds. We have been friends since we were in junior high so there is a comfort level that only develops with the kind of time and experiences we have shared.

Time Is a Bitch

Sometimes I look back on that lunch as the moment I realized that life is nuts. It is kind of a funny thing to me because I had plenty of prior experiences that had proven this to me already. I have been through earthquakes, riots, buried friends and seen a lot of crazy stuff that doesn’t get mentioned on the blog.

But for some reason until that moment I kept a bubble around my head and pretended that things never happened. And then the bubble popped and I began to notice how many things were different than I had expected them to be. Some were different “good” and some were different “bad” but they were there in large numbers.

And now I look around with some regret and some optimism at a life that really isn’t quite what I expected. It is part of why I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I want and what I need. Part of why I have tried to figure precisely what changes I wish to make and how to make them. Can’t stand still because stagnation is death.

I attribute some of the “pain” and “frustration” to being a part of change and growth. Attitude, it is all attitude and I have plenty of it. Haven’t been able to play ball this week. The realization breaks across my consciousness like a wave crashing into shore (wish I was at the beach) and it hits me- not enough exercise. I just haven’t gotten enough this week and that always irks me.

It just drags me down. Got two minutes left on the timer and I feel better. Words bring clarity, but I need action to bring results. Don’t have any music playing right now but I hear Robert Plant singing about being a traveler through time and space.

Check back in with me in a year and let’s see what things look like then, something tells me that more will be settled.

Writers Sometimes Lack Perspective

  1. I Can’t Make You Love Me- Bonnie Raitt
  2. Someone like you live at Royal Albert Hall-Adele
  3. Age– Jim Croce
  4. Silver Springs– Fleetwood Mac
  5. Dreams– Fleetwood Mac

Five songs that may or not may not be connected. Five songs that help create a sound, a feeling and a moment. Set a tone and draw a scene so that the writer remembers feelings that he may once have had and in reliving that experience he tries to share recreate the storm

A storm can be dangerous and it can be destructive. But it doesn’t always have to be either…or. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. It doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive…or does it.

You can stand inside the eye of the storm and see things that you can’t find anywhere else. You can walk at the edges and have an experience like no other. That is where I often find myself and whether it is because I create it or because it finds me I can’t say for certain.

Writers lack perspective.

I was a teenage boy when I first read this or maybe I was a preteen, I truly can’t remember. What I do know for certain is that it killed me to see the fellowship split apart. I didn’t like watching Frodo and Sam walk away. Didn’t like it all.

But I remember it. I remember it for a million different reasons not the least of which is that as a writer I want to create that sort of connection and feeling. I read the book but I SAW what happened. And I felt a loss. When Gandalf fell fighting the Balrog I felt a sense of loss and outrage.

If you haven’t read the books or at least seen the movie that won’t make any sense to you, but here is the point. I have an imagination and memory that operate in bright and vivid colors. When I remember victory I feel my heart soar and when I remember sorrow it sinks.

I really don’t know if I feel or see things more strongly than anyone else but I know that my goal with my words is to create the sort of connection I have experienced. I want you to connect with my heroes/heroines. I want you to root for them and I want you to despise my villains.

It is a secret world that we try to create. Every time I write here I encourage you to come talk to me. Create connection, build a foundation and start a relationship. That is what writers do or at least what we hope to do. But we lack perspective. There are moments where I am confident that I have written something exceptional, but no one comments and no one reads it.

I stop, stare and wonder why it is that this has happened. Do I blame it on bad writing, bad headline, poor timing or something else. It is always possible that I have failed to capture the interest and attention of the reader. Sometimes I think it is because I didn’t provide enough substance to comment upon or I have left them in shock.

And sometimes the post that I hate is the one that garners the most interest and attention. The rhyme and the rhythm are odd and confusing.

I usually determine this to be related to writers lacking perspective. It is the same reason I use for why I don’t get hired for certain jobs or asked to write for certain publications.

On the other hand I could be wrong and the drinks I had earlier this evening could be coloring my perception and my perspective. To be clear, I am not drunk blogging- but I might be buzzed or overtired.

I’d write more but something just happened that blew my mind. I can’t explain it but I can tell you that just proved to me that I must be stone cold sober. The universe just lobbed a hand grenade at me and the pin was already pulled.

Dammit, I am wondering if I am typing this in my sleep because it would make far more sense if this happened in a dream.

Circling Back

While I try to figure out what the hell just happened I am going to circle back and pretend everything is normal. So let me share something important with you. Power in social media is derived from whether people respond to your call to action and now I am going to call upon you.

I respectfully request that all who read this please leave a comment. It doesn’t have to be anything exceptionally long, just let me know your are out there. Thank you for your time, I appreciate it.

 

The Time That Jack Got Drunk With 613 Rabbis

It is almost time to celebrate the Jewish holiday of Purim. If you don’t want to use the link you can rely upon my trusty cliff notes on why we celebrate

They tried to kill us

We survived

They Lost

Let’s Eat.

My kids had great fun giving out Mishloach Manot which did not look as nice as those below, but that is ok, because the point isn’t to pass out the best looking, most expensive or most incredible baskets now is it. On the other hand I wouldn’t complain if we had the best Hamantaschen, because let’s face it that would be pretty cool, or maybe not.

Gaily wrapped baskets of sweets, drinks and ot...
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My friend The Rebbetzin’s Husband has a post about drinking on Purim that is worth reading.  I know, not all of my readers are MOT (members of the tribe) so you aren’t familiar with the drinking that goes on. Nor are you likely to be conversant with discussions of how drunk Jews are or are not supposed to get on Purim.

Suffice it to say that I am not in favor of underage drinking nor will I be so drunk that my children wonder how dad can walk. I will however have more than a sniff and perhaps a snort. Rumor has it that a couple of the boys have a special bottle that we’ll enjoy after the Megillah reading and I can’t deny that I am sort of looking forward to it.

At the same time I don’t feel a need to be hungover later so I’ll be measured in my consumption. Nor can I tell you whether I will be in costume or not. I might. I know a few people who like to go in their pajamas but I don’t think that is me.

Loaned Hef my smoking jacket and never did get it back.

Anyhoo, it is almost time to run and some of you are going to ask about the time that I got drunk with 613 rabbis and yes, I have some stories. Hell, I have more than a few stories but I just don’t have time to tell them now. Perhaps I’ll share more later.

In the interim here some past posts about the holiday:

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