We had s’mores last night. Set off a few fireworks. Tried to catch lighting bugs. Watched our neighborhood firework show. Then went to bed. This morning we had cinnamon rolls. While we were eating, my youngest daughter said that last night was fun. Everyone agreed.
One of the things I am proud of is the sense of home we have. My wife and I work hard at creating a home that is warm and safe for our children. When I became a dad, I wanted my children to know that they had a loving place in this world. I wanted a home filled with laughter. Filled with love. A place that my children could find reprieve from this world.
I grew up in houses that I felt alone in. Scared in. There were houses where I found ways not to spend time in… luckily the library was across the street from that house.
Our home is part of the fabric of our family. We have movie nights, dance parties, blueberry muffins and simply some good days.
Of course we have had our troubles, rough times. But the heart of our home is love. And I have to give credit to Oprah Winfrey for some advice early in my days of being a dad.
Does your face light up when your children enter the room?
As Oprah says, it was a light bulb moment for me. I remind myself of this everyday.
Now, I might have taken the idea to the extreme. Especially in the mornings. My kids hate my energy in the morning, but part of the reason for that is that I want them to know I am excited to start the day with them. To let them know they are loved. The teen years are the toughest in the mornings… they do not want to talk when they first get up. But it is all good! It is funny to listen to my sons, who are both out of the house, about how I used to wake them up. But they remember it!
I do my best to let my children know I love them each time they enter the room. I am not perfect. No one is, but I am proud of how I’ve created a home I never had. I look forward to all the good days ahead.
Do you get frustrated when you have to wait for a train? What happens when a second train comes across on the other set of tracks?
We have a double set of tracks we have to deal with on our most convenient route from our neighborhood. And yep, have had the situation where a second train comes speeding the other way as the first train passes by the crossbars.
I’ve had to take a deep breath to keep the frustration from spilling into the air of the car.
But I haven’t gone through that routine in a while, my third daughter changed my perspective on the moment. And now, I enjoy being stopped by a train because it means more time…for music!
About two years ago we were headed home from school. As we approached the railroad crossing the red lights started blinking and the crossbars slowly came down. By chance a song my girls liked (I don’t remember what it was) was playing on the radio. They were singing as they still do, and my third daughter noticed the crossbars coming down. In flow with the song she said,”Yes! More time to listen to music!”
I had just taken that first frustrated breath, but held it for a second, then just let it go and sang with my daughters. When we are stopped by a train now, I sometimes say, “Oh, more time to listen to music!” If there is a good song on, I turn it up and we sing.
This morning I saw five, five cars run red lights. Three of them at our major intersections. (Where, yes, most of the accidents happen in our town.)
I wonder where people are going in such a hurry. On the street with the railroad tracks, you see people turn around and find a different route when a train comes. Honestly, most trains are through the intersection before you can get to the overpass route.
My daughter reminded me that we are in control of our response to time. How we decided to respond to small moments. How we spend, even a few minutes, watching a train go by. We will be singing to the radio.
My mom passed away at home as dad held her hand on June 9. Just four days from her 69th birthday. She battled cancer for five months, but we didn’t know it was cancer until April. My wife and I made a quick trip home in April. I wrote a tweet to share with my Twitter friends that my mom was sick and that my engagement on Twitter would be erratic.
Over the last few months I gave quick updates for my friends and colleagues of my mom’s journey.
My wife and I again headed home on June 3 because my mom was in the hospital. Again, I sent a quick update for those who know me. I also recorded my poetry lesson for Move Me Poetry on the way home. I was scheduled to provide the lesson for Tuesday. My mom was released on Sunday, things were looking good. So we headed home on Monday.
My dad texted me Friday morning (June 9) that she had passed. I called my brother, called my two sons, and broke down sharing the news with my four daughters that afternoon. Then I tweeted the news on Twitter.
Why am I sharing this? Because something powerful happened.
As I am writing this blog, that tweet has been seen 15,684 times. It has been retweeted, liked, and commented on thousands of times. What happened? Why did this simple tweet make its way to so many people and why did they care enough to interact with me? I have some thoughts…
First, and the most important thing, is that some aspects of life connect us on an important level. Grief, heartbreak, but also joy and love are emotions and moments we all share. The stories are different, but at some point we have to deal with the loss of someone important to us. We all grieve, yes in our own way because of the uniqueness of our stories, but we feel that loss.
Some of the interactions with my tweet were of the stories of people losing their mothers, some just as recent as mine and others were years ago but they still missed their mom.
I tried (and I think I did) to respond in some way to everyone that left a comment or an emoticon for me. There were some small but powerful conversations because of sharing the pain of the moment.
For a few days, I have connected with strangers because we shared a common moment, understood a powerful emotion. For others, they simply wanted me (a stranger to them) to know that they understood and cared.
That’s a powerful thing. I wonder what this world would be like if we could do this in the real world, on an everyday basis.
The second aspect isn’t about the tweet, but the stories, including mine and my family’s.
I mentioned that people did share their stories, as best they could in the space Twitter gives us. And life is not that simple, and neither is death.
As a dad I broke the news to my children. The three oldest took it the hardest because they have had their grandparents involved in their lives for over 19 years. Summer vacation, Thanksgiving trips, graduations and other big moments.
My youngest three have had their grandparents in their lives too, but that relationship has been different and less interactions. (We now spend Thanksgiving at our own home instead of traveling.) I realized that they all had their own story with their grandma.
My dad lost his wife. He held her hand as she passed, married over 40 years.
She was one person, who played so many parts in different life stories… her death is just as complex. As is our lives.
My wife has said a number of times that life never lets you handle just one thing. It doesn’t. As my mom’s health declined, my oldest daughter was graduating and we had college orientations. My youngest had art camp the week of my mom’s death. We moved our oldest son to his new town as he starts his first year teaching, then moved my wife’s parents into assisted living and then headed home to see my mom the first week of June.
Life will not allow us to handle just one thing at a time, it is a complex mix of joys and heartaches. Stress and good music. Eating on the road and tweeting to friends. But it is also, just sitting, holding the hand of your mother, trying to give her all the love you were going to share with her in the future.
At the end of the tweet, which is now at 15,753 views, I wrote that we should say “I Love You” more, laugh more, and that life is a gift.
I hope that message goes viral for everyone today, and each day they are given to experience this life.
Life has been busy, to say the least. There are some heavy moments going on, and sometimes you just need a soundtrack to get through the days. Honestly, I like writing these types of post. Music is an important element in my life, has been since I was about seven years old. I had a basement bedroom and I played the radio all the time to help with my fear of the dark.
Life
But now I have a fear of time. Of losing important people. The first song is from one of my mom’s favorite bands, Simply Red. The song is in honor of her as she deals with some serious health issues.
Memories
The second song has a little bit of a story. My wife and I did a quick visit home to see my mom a couple of weeks ago. We listened to some of the music we use to listen to when we were younger making road trips. One of the albums was Jo Dee Messina’s first album with the song, “Heads Carolina, Tails California”. On the way home I was channel surfing the radio and Cole Swindell’s song, “She Had Me At Heads Carolina” came on. We had never heard the song (or artist) before. But it made us smile:
Defeat
I have adventured out of my comfort zone with my poetry. I participated in a slam poetry contest where the winner would represent the state of Nebraska at Nationals this summer. I worked on my poems and my delivery for months. Felt like I had a real chance at winning. I didn’t make finals… I haven’t felt the pain of defeat like that in a long time. I know that I improved in different aspects of my poetry, for that I am grateful. But maybe it’s just everything combined, I feel like I won’t ever achieve my writing goals. “Born and Raised” by John Mayer reflects this emotion…
Makes me dance and sing
Now, life still has joy and wonderment to it. This next song has been my jam for awhile now, “Remind Me” by Tom Grennan just makes me dance… and my daughters hate it when it comes on my playlist when I am washing the dishes because I have to stop to sing and dance to the song (and maybe to tickle them or get them to dance with me). This is also the first song I used for my podcast For Love of Lyrics.
Last Words
Life, when fully lived, is an adventure filled with days that hurt the heart from joy and sadness. But there is only so much time we are given. We spend too much time on things and people that don’t really add value or depth to our hearts. Yes, I have regrets, but I also still have big dreams for the time I have left. I try to add something to everyone’s life that I get to be a part of… and I am trying to simply love more… so this last song, “Where the Heart Is” by Haevn is my little bit of inspiration for your day!
Just a forewarning… this post will probably be all over the place, and that’s OK.
Today is May 1, 2023. I am starting a photography challenge for this month. In January I completed a drawing challenge. February I wrote a letter or email to someone each day. March I did yoga everyday (which I need to get back to). April was poetry month, so I wrote a poem each day. You can read this years (and past years) poems at my blog, Creative Corner.
I also have a reading challenge with my youngest. We are reading every Curious George book. We have read 25 books so far.
These challenges are part of my word for the year, Moment. The challenges gives me a focus for each month, but really remind me that life is more than a screen or the routines we have. Life is a crazy mix of heartache, joy, work and excitement to live.
Even with the hard emotions provide a depth to the moments in our lives. However fragile they are…
Last month I sat holding my mom’s hand. We quietly talked, but lost more in the precious minutes we were together, hand in hand. She is fighting a losing battle against cancer. And I am sharing our moment as a reminder that nothing stops time and that no notification on a phone will fill your heart. An icon is not the same as feeling the warmth of a loved one’s hand.
And that no matter the outcome, chase your dreams. I competed in a poetry slam last weekend. The winner would represent Nebraska at nationals this summer. I practiced every day. I got feedback from a number of people. I worked on my cadence, my pauses, and voice inflections.
I didn’t make it to the final round.
I drove home hurt, mad, and disappointed. I saw this as a chance to do something really different with my poetry, but also to finally be seen as a poet. Didn’t happen. So now what?
First, I improved my skill set. A lot! From understanding pauses and inflections, to writing the ideas and words in a way that flow well together, to create natural breaks. I am thankful for that.
Second, it was a cool moment. I shared poetry with people who had never heard of me before. After my first poem, an audience member got up from their seat to tell me that they enjoyed the poem.
Third, I was an example for my children. I want them to go after their dreams. Plus, nothing is guaranteed, no matter how much you work. The hugs they gave me when I got home were better than winning.
So today is May 1st. I posted my picture for this month’s challenge. I texted my family. Called my internet provider about a problem. Handling the last little details for graduation. I’m living life, one moment at a time… the difference is that I am trying to feel the moment, be aware of the moment, and not just let time go by…
This weekend is girls state basketball. The girls team from my current school and the team from a past school are both playing in their class championship games today. Regular readers know that my second son played in the state championship game two years ago.
Today will be filled with joy and heartbreak. Only one team in each class ends their season with a win. One team will fall just short of a state title. But today will be remembered by all who were there. And that is what makes these moments important, for two reasons.
But before I dive into those reasons I want to share a snippet from the movie, The Replacements.
Athletics are the most common example of achieving greatness, but greatness is expressed in many different ways in life. From being a strong mother, to writing your first poem and sharing it at an open mic night. This is the first point to consider about the moments in our lives that allow us the chance to do something great, whether we win or lose (and yes, we don’t always end up on top). As Coach Jimmy McGinty says in the video clip:
No matter the outcome, these moments stay with us. They give us more than memories, they give us depth of emotion and meaning to our lives. The experiences teach us about how well we have worked for our goals. Even through heartbreak, great moments take us to a richer level of life that fills our hearts, shows us who we are and what we are capable of. These moments are a joyful contrast to the routine of life. Each time we get a chance at doing something great we add a string to the fabric of who we are.
The second aspect to great moments is the connection to others. Today, the stands are filled with family, friends, and fellow students. Coaches will walk the sideline, student managers will fill water bottles. No matter what team wins the state title, there will be hugs for both teams. All seniors will be awash with the knowledge that they just played their last high school game. There will be tears, win or lose.
Each person involved will have their own personal memory and emotions today. The same holds true for any great moment. Great moments are shared. They build a bond with everyone involved. Stories will be shared years from now, pictures brought out to reminisce with. Great moments build relationships, even community. Our lives are not lived alone, we share this life in the routine but we experience it, together, through the great moments.
A few days ago we were talking about karma, about why it seemed that people who do bad things always seem to win. To be popular. Last night you opened up about the friendship situation. I connected the dots.
Junior high is a minefield. It is hard to judge what the next step will bring. Add the state of our society, social media, and the challenge of just being a teenager, and it feels like the world is in chaos.
There is nothing I can do or say that will change the outside world. I hope that maybe this open letter can help you navigate the next couple of years and help you discover the beautiful soul that you are.
First, friendship is one of the foundations of who we are. But it is also fickle and can actually be destructive. Our friendships make or break us. Even after all these years, and our own rough spots, my best friend is an important part of my life. But many of the other friends I’ve had over the years are not a part of my everyday life. Right now, it feels like you should have a huge group of friends. I understand the need to feel “liked” by everyone. To be honest, even adults have that desire, but real friendship is a serious relationship. And it is hard sifting through the fake and real relationships in junior high, let alone the rest of your life.
Real friendship is earned. If you find yourself asking for friendship, that person is not a friend. Let them go. Know that honest friendship builds you up, supports you. You should never have to ask to be loved. This is a hard truth, but it’s true.
Second, guard your heart, but never close it. This is hard to write as a father because I want this world to be a beautiful place for you. But there is so much pain and hurt in this world caused by people who want to do bad things. Oh how I wish this wasn’t so because there is such beauty and joy to experience in this life. We have experienced it! But our hearts are the most important aspect of who we are. Our hearts are strong, yet can be damaged with a single word or action… and that damage is hard to heal. I know, even now I deal with the pain everyday from the wounds people inflicted on me.
Guard your heart, just don’t close it.
Third, mom and I are always here. Home is our sanctuary. If you simply need a hug, find me. I love you.
Today the snow was perfect for making snowballs. After my walk I took on two of my daughters in a snowball fight. We used the piles of snow on each side of the driveway as our defense. I lost. In my defense, I didn’t have gloves, so I had to take breaks to warm my hands.
Afterwards we ate Dilly Bars. We stood among the shattered pieces of snowballs on the driveway, soaking in the sun and just talking.
In the midst of this crazy time we are living in, we enjoyed a Sunday afternoon. For those who are regular readers of this blog, you know my word for this year is “Moment”. This afternoon was a great moment. It was a moment of living, of fun, of family.
I don’t know if it is because of my word, or just me getting older, but I notice that what too many people call living is just enduring life, or simply being entertained by a screen. Even in the simplest moments, there is a depth of joy to be experienced that you can’t get from a screen.
The snow is perfect for a snowball fight today. And Dilly Bars can be held with frozen fingers.
First a warning, this blog post will ramble because it was written by me… it is centered around the idea of what Artificial Intelligence’s (AI) effect is on our society.
The spark for this post centers around a number of articles about ChatGPT and its ability to write essays for students. One article used the example of a literary criticism essay covering the works of Emily Dickinson’s work. ChatGPT did a fine job, but of course it did.
Honestly, there are only so many ways to write a literary criticism over a single poem. I actually use poetry to introduce the literary criticism essay. We discuss a number of poems, breakdown how elements like similes, personification, even rhyming is used in the poems. Then the students write their essays. At the heart of a literary criticism is the idea of teaching the reader something about the poem.
So, many of the students’ essays read about the same. The introductions and conclusions are different, yet the body of the essays center around what anyone can learn if they analyzed the poem themselves.
I’m not especially worried about ChatGPT writing essays, or even its own poetry. AI will never be able to write a narrative essay, at least not a real one. A narrative essay is about the meaning of a moment for the writer.
AI doesn’t deal with the complexity of living. It will never be hungry. Or feel the joy of a great meal. AI will never open an unexpected present that fills their heart. Or deal with the bad mood of a loved one.
I do worry about us giving our lives over to technology in general.
I see too many students just consuming their screens. At the moment it is TikTok. They watch all these people doing different things, while they just sit there. I actually encourage students to make their own videos (yes, I’ve been in a few).
Also, the idea of just letting technology tell us what we should listen to or watch next; from products on Amazon to a playlist Spotify thinks we would like. Yes, we do tend to enjoy certain genres of music, but there is so much of our human experience connected to media that an algorithm can never give us a perfect recommendation.
As an example, I will listen to a song or watch a movie that I do not like because someone I care about likes the movie or song. I usually find something interesting from the media, even if it doesn’t get saved to a playlist.
Yet, we can just let technology live for us… that is what I am afraid of. What’s so funny is how we keep advancing technology to be more human. We marvel at how close we can get AI to write like Edgar Allen Poe, yet here we are trying to be human but addicted to the technology.
What I know for sure is that AI will never enjoy the tradition of making blueberry muffins for breakfast every Sunday morning. And that I will always write my own stuff.
I am unsure how this blog post will go, it might end up being poetic, and if so, cool.
Today I had a workshop as a dual credit instructor. I hurried after school to the college to make it on time. I was mostly excited to see my former colleagues that I worked with for three years. I sat patiently through the presentations, completed the tasks I needed to be ready for the second semester, then got to talk to my previous coworkers for a few minutes before I headed home.
I put on my coat, slung my computer bag around my shoulder and chest then headed down the hallway. It was quiet in the building. I was thinking of my time working with the college. At the end of the hallway was a row of large windows. The doorway was around the corner to the left. It was dark outside, so I could see a shaded reflection of myself walking. My footsteps soft but distinct because I was the only one at the time in the hallway.
I stopped three fourths of the way. As a wave of melancholy washed over me I stared at my reflection in the window. My face shadowed, my shoulders still broad, my computer bag on my hip, hands stuffed in the pockets of my coat. A stance I recognized because I’ve stood like that for decades… suddenly 51 years of living fell on my spirit.
It was only a few seconds, but it felt like eternity as my heart somehow felt every minute of my life pulsate through my chest into my mind. On one hand I felt grounded to the moment, my feet securely holding me up, but on the other hand I felt the wind of purpose, of meaning, blow right through me, as if I was the reflection I was staring at.
What had I really accomplished in 51 years?
Too many times I had been on the cusp of doing, what I felt would be great things, only to turn the wrong corner and start all over.
My name felt fragile at that moment.
I understood that on the scale of time, I wouldn’t even be recorded.
I took a step forward, the melancholy turning into deep rooted sadness with each step. The darkness outside eclipsed my reflection as I approached the corner to turn toward the exit. The winter wind reminded me that I was here.
I texted my wife to let her know I was on my way home.
When I got home my youngest daughter wanted to show me her new shoes and to dance in them with me.
I found myself lost again, but this time in the music of my daughter’s laughter (it was hard to spin her in new shoes on carpet).
It is all Connected 