Mental illness

This is a special post for those of you who are either followers or have randomly found this. I am not posting this one anywhere.

I wrote last week about the shooting in Connecticut: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/12/it-could-have-been-me.html If you don't want to read it, the message is simple: there but for the grace of God, I could be Adam Lanza's family. But that is not the whole story.

I see people talk about mental illness as if it does not affect them. They say these folks are monsters or mean or bad. They talk about them as if they don't know mental illness. They may not want to, but if you are reading this, you know it..........you know me.

About 10 years ago, a guy in our regular Sunday Soccer game died. He was in his early 20s and he committed suicide. I don't know the details. Its none of my business and I don't want to know. I know he was a good guy who I liked and who may have had the most natural soccer skill I have seen in almost 40 years. He seemed to be happy. Clearly, he had other issues that we did not know about. I am sure, knowing this group, that had any one of us known, we would have stepped in to do something.

I have thought about that kid often, especially when I was at my low. You see, I have depression. That's right, my name is Jon and I suffer from depression. Sure, its not horrible - usually. But it has been bad, bad enough that I have thought about it. I have been lying in bed thinking about what life would be like without me. I have thought about what it would be like if I were dead. And I have contemplated it. I admit it.

I am not there now, but I have been there. I understand. I know not everyone can understand. I just wish people would take a minute to stop before they condemn those of us who have been there. We aren't bad people. I promise.

It could have been me

I have been reading about the shooting in Connecticut. Let me start by saying that this is a horrible thing and I feel so badly for everyone. Read that again: I feel badly for everyone. There are 26 families whose lives have been ruined. No, make that 27.

Adam Lanza did a terrible thing. He killed 26 people. 20 of those were kids, the most innocent. No one can explain this as anything other than terrible.........but let us not forget his family.

There but for the grace of God go I. And in this case, I can see myself as one of the parents of the victims. I have 4 kids, all of whom are school age. Well, my youngest is in pre-school. But that is still school, right? Its not far fetched to believe that what happened in Connecticut could happen in California or Texas or anywhere else.

But, unlike most people, I can see myself as Adam Lanza's dad. I have a son with significant mental health issues. I can't even go into how significant they are, but suffice it to say, I don't think the doctors have a handle on how bad it is. How do you explain an IQ that has fallen 40% in 5 years? How do you explain outbursts of violence? I am sure there is an explanation, but what is it? I don't know and I don't know that anyone else does either. In fact, I am convinced of it.

For now, we have him in a place where he is relatively safe. And everyone else is too. But for how long? I don't expect anyone else to understand. After all, you haven't walked a mile in our shoes, and I don't think you would want to walk 528 feet in my shoes. It is beyond no fun. It is simply going from one problem to the next.

What happens when we continue to cut mental health services? What happens when he turns 18? 19? We can only do so much to keep him in a safe place. I am not sure how long such an existence can last.

But what happens if he turns 18 and the state says he has to leave? Where does he go? Does he come home to a place where we cannot keep him safe when he will be significantly bigger than all of us? Heck, at 13 he is almost as tall as me and almost as heavy. And he is strong as an ox.

Does he wander the streets? Does society just say "Sorry, we don't have a place for you, so good luck?" What happens to these people?

I don't keep guns in my house, but I understand why some do. I also know that this could happen without owning a gun. People with mental health issues don't just use what is in their home. They can be very smart and creative when it comes to getting what they want, or think they want.

I don't excuse what Adam Lanza did. But, I also know that he was not a monster or an animal or whatever words people have used. He had some significant mental health issues. And before we all jump up and down yelling for gun control or we start blaming the parents, lets take a good long look in the mirror and figure out where society has failed those people who have such significant mental health problems that, for them, life seems like a constant nightmare.

Adam Lanza did a terrible thing, but is not a terrible person. Sadly, I could see myself in his dad's position one day if we continue down a path where we fail to have a comprehensive plan in place to provide mental health services.

No More Tears

Its a great concept. It doesn't work in reality. (Okay, so it does, but that is only in my world. I still say No More Tears shampoo doesn't make you cry, but more and more people seem to disagree with me. Maybe its nostalgia on my part?)

Today, we went to the cemetery. Cemeteries are interesting places. First, I stopped to see my grandparents. My grandmother passed away in 1992. She was in her early 80s. My grandfather lived to almost 94. He passed away two months after my dad did. I had no idea he lived to be that old. I mean, I knew he lived until 2002, but I didn't realize he was that old when he passed away. I stood with my boys for a minute and Miles rubbed my back. He is a good kid. I told them a bit about my grandfather, but none of the good stories yet. They are probably too young to hear mafia stories or about my grandfather eating horse. Maybe they are old enough to hear about his boxing days, but I wasn't in the mood for that.

Then we went to visit my parents and my sister. My sister passed away 5 years ago. I guess I forgot when that was. It sounds weird, but for my family, it is normal. I miss her, but not in the usual way. I think if she was still here things may be different with my brother. But, probably not. Interestingly, she was 39 when she died - my age now. So young..........

Then I went to visit my parents. I have been to my dad's a few times. My mom is buried next to him. This was my first time back in 18 months. My brother apparently had an unveiling, or at least he put a gravestone up. It was different. I wasn't invited and I didn't really expect to be. But it would have been nice.

My boys were sad. They both said they wish they could have gotten to know my parents. It just wasn't in the cards, although I am sure my dad would see a lot of himself in Miles. I think my parents would see a lot of me in Kyle and that would have caused some frustration for them. Sad, but true.

There were tears today. I cried. My boys both had a few tears. But we left the cemetery and went to have lunch at a place my parents liked. Then we went to the beach, where I learned to boogie board 25 years ago. It brought back a lot of memories. I know I cannot go back in the past. I just need to move forward, remembering it, cherishing the memories, passing on the traditions and the story, all in time.

For now, its no more tears...................

Today's tragedy and what we should learn

I have tried to stay out of the tragedy that happened today in Connecticut. I don't know those kids. I don't know the adults. I don't know anyone. At least, I don't think I know anyone and I can only hope and pray that I don't know them personally. I also pray for their friends and families.  But...........and you knew there was a but........... (By the way, if you are sensitive, don't read it.)

What I see on social media is not the America I know. In the America I know, we stand up and help each other in time of need. We stand, arm in arm, showing the world that America is still the greatest country on God's planet. Today, not so much.

What do I know about today? Not much. I know that this was a horrible tragedy. I know way too many people lost their lives. I know moms and dads are going to go the rest of their lives having lost their children, something that should never happen and I can't even pretend to begin to understand that pain.

So what do I know? I know that this is not a liberal versus conservative thing. The liberals want to talk about how if there was gun control this kid would not have gotten a gun. The conservatives want to talk about how if we had fewer gun restrictions maybe someone else would have had a gun and stopped it from happening. Do you know what I think about maybe? Maybe if my aunt had a penis she would be my uncle.

I know this is not a "bad person." This was a bad act. Was the kid bad? I just don't think so. Look, normal people don't do this. Even murderers dont do this. Ask guys in jail and people who hurt kids are different than they are. Clearly there was some other issue with this kid. Its a horrible event. But lets stop the nonsense of blaming his parents or saying he is an evil person. He had issues, that is clear.

I know this is not a sign that we are in trouble in our country. This happens everywhere. Maybe not this event, but every country in the world has its issues. Some countries just do a better job of hiding it - or maybe of providing help to those who need it most.

I know that if you are even thinking about unfriending someone on Facebook as a result of something they have posted, go ahead and unfriend me. I don't want friends who are so closed minded that they cannot see another point of view.

We had dinner tonight with some friends. I was talking to the husband. He and I probably could not have had more different upbringings. I grew up in New Jersey, in an upper middle class neighborhood where dads worked, moms stayed home and everyone had 2 cars, if not 3. I was the son of a PhD and a businessman. I didn't realize it then, but I had every possible advantage to succeed. He was born in another country, came to the US, grew up in a lower socio-economic class, and had to bust his tail for what he has. I am Jewish. He is Christian. I don't think I have a friend from a more different background.

But, tonight, we sat, we talked, we drank root beers and ate latkes. We lit candles. We enjoyed each other's company. We talked about religion and God. We talked about football and soccer. We talked about tragedy. And, we both came to realize that we aren't so different. Sure, I am a state school guy and he is a UC guy. But, we are both husbands and fathers who believe in some higher being. We believe in taking care of our families, in working hard, in playing hard, and in enjoying life.

Tonight, while some on social media were spewing nonsense and hate towards each other, we were talking about our commonalities, sharing our differences and, at least for me, as Fat Albert would say, learning a thing or two, if we aren't careful.

We can all agree this was a tragedy. We can all feel sorry for the parents and kids. We can hug our kids tonight and sleep knowing, despite this tragedy, we still live in the greatest country. What we need to stop is the hatemongering, the fearmongering and the idiocy that is going on.

Goodnight and God Bless.

We celebrate more than Christmas

Dear Steve Detrick:

We celebrate more than Christmas in this country. In fact, we celebrate a lot of holidays. There is Hannukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, and my favorite, IOB.

What, you haven't heard of these holidays? I know. Let me start with my favorite. IOB - Ignorance of Other Beliefs. Yes, that is when you live in such a small, narrow world that you believe everyone must think like you. Signs of this include assuming everyone is like you, working for a bank or an insurance company, or being a douchebag.

Festivus started out on Seinfeld but some people celebrate it now. They celebrate it primarily to mock how commercialized Christmas has become. There are feats of strength. My feat of strength: I put up with folks like you who seem to think Christmas is the only holiday.

Hannukah is the festival of lights. Instead of one day of presents, we have 8 crazy nights, with apologies to Adam Sandler. Its celebrated by those of us who are called Jews. We don't just celebrate your holiday. We celebrate our own holidays. You should try looking this up.

Sincerely,

Me

PS Why did this come about? Oh yeah, on the 2nd day of Hannukah, I got a letter wishing me a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. You want to send out a mass email? Fine. But what happened to Happy Holidays? Is that too hard to do? I will NEVER vote for you again since you clearly believe the entire world thinks like you. You celebrate IOB and I don't. I believe in diversity and think it makes our town, our state, our country and our world a pretty interesting place. You should try it sometime.

More WTF

Warning: I am in a bad mood. And that means I am about to rip on someone or many someones. If you are easily offended, don't read this. If you think I am about to rip on you, you are probably right and you probably shouldn't read this. And if you think I care that your feelings may be hurt, then don't read this - or don't comment when you do. In fact, don't comment at all. I don't really care.

I have 464 friends on Facebook. I have 750 followers on Twitter. I was not a math major in college but that is 1,214 fucking people who either think they are friends of mine or think I have some bullshit to say that is interesting enough that they read my 140 character crap. 1,214 people. Keep that number in mind.

I started a page on Facebook called the 31 days of giving. Let me explain: during November, or Yesvember, as we call it around here with friends of ours, these morons on Facebook post something that they are thankful for every day of the month. Day 1: I am thankful for our freedom. Great. They don't actually thank the servicemembers who keep us free (thanks Joe and your colleagues), they just thank freedom, as if freedom cares. By day 20, I see crap like this: Day 20: I am thankful for coffee. Seriously? You are thankful for a fucking cup of coffee? Really? What the hell has coffee done for you to make your life a bit better? Nothing. Is it the caffeine that you are thankful for? Is it the flavor? Is it your mocha syrup? Thank fucking Starbucks, but don't tell me you are thankful for coffee. Thats garbage.

Anyway, I got tired of reading what all of these people are thankful for. No one actually does anything about it. They just post what they are thankful for. By the way, if you want a list of what I am thankful for, you can get one: wife, kids, good friends, clients who appreciate me, my parents who taught me to bust my hairy white ass to support my family, my grandparents who taught me that its not what you have in life, but that you have life, my doctor, the servicemembers who are actually keeping me free, the cops who keep us safe, the firefighters who run into burning buildings when the rest of us run out. And that is in about 10 seconds without even thinking about it.

So, what good is being thankful if you don't back it up. Its one thing to say you are thankful. Its something different to show you are thankful. I think its shit. It doesnt matter what you say. Whats the old expression: your actions speak louder than your words. So put up or shut up, right? I put up. I started this group. Every fucking day I go out and do something to give to someone else. Then I post about it. Its nothing major. And its something I try to do when I can anyway. I volunteer at my kid's school. I help the elderly. I will buy a cup of coffee for someone when I can. I do the Untied Way (google it and spell it properly, its not the United Way, its the Untied Way) every year.

But I was trying to make a difference. If I do 31 things this month to make the world a better place, I have helped 31 people. If 1,214 do 31 things this month, its 37,634 people who have been helped. Yes, that is 1,214 times more people than if I do it by myself. I get the math. But what if each of those people who were helped, did just one thing this month to help someone else? Then, I would be able to help 62 people by myself, but together over 75,000 people would be helped. Now, imagine that the 1,214 people, as one of their acts, write about this program. And then they get 1,214 people to join. That is 2,428 people. Then we help that same 75,000 people. But, we then can reach 150,000 people because every one of those 75,000 people has helped someone else.

Do you know why pyramid schemes fail? Its the fucking math. Look, I start a scam and get 10 people to join. They each get 10 people to join. We are now at 100 people. They get 10 people and we are at 1,000 people. They get 10 people who get 10 more people and we are at 100,000. They each get 10 people who get 10 more people and we are at 10,000,000. 7 levels in and you are at the size of New York freaking City. 8 levels and you are at 100,000,000 people. 9 levels and you are at India's population. It is not sustainable. There is no one to sell your crap to because everyone is in your group. Make sense?

Well, think if you did it the opposite way? Think of what a difference 1,214 people can make. Lets be more realistic. Half those people don't like me. So I have 600 people. Those 600 people each have 10 people willing to do this. Those 6,000 people then get 10 more each. Now I am at 60,000 people. I am at 1,860,000 good deeds done during December. That is not a typo. Do the fucking math. Over 1,000,000 good deeds in a month if just half of the people who know me did something. How much better of a world would this be?

But do you know what happens? 29 people join. 29 people, most of whom I assume like me, join in. Yay 29 people. I'm sorry. You can post about how fucking thankful you are for coffee or your piece of crap DJs in the morning, but you cannot join a group and do one nice thing for someone else each day? In the amount of time you spent in November wowing us with your thankfulness, you could actually do something to help someone. To help 31 someones. Is it really that hard?

So, 1,185 of these people have absolutely no interest in my idea. Fine. Some of these people don't want the world to be a better place. Some of them are just assholes. Some of them don't care. Some of them, probably a lot of them, think I am an asshole. I am fine with that.

But please understand the next time you need something and suddenly my phone doesn't get answered, your emails don't get returned or your text messages are responded to with silence. You don't have to like this. You don't have to get involved. And I don't have to help you. Maybe quid pro quo isn't the right way to go. Maybe many of you, all of you even, are going to be offended by this. Fine. Be offended. I don't really care anymore.

I listened to fun the other night. Some nights came on the radio. Go to Youtube if you don't know what I am talking about. The lyrics:

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure, what I stand for oh oh oh
What do I stand for? Oh what do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know anymore

 

As I heard it, I thought about it. What do I stand for? I know what I stand for now. And this was my little way of taking a stand for what I believe in, helping other people, caring for one another as human beings, making the world a bit of a better place. You don't have to agree. That is your right. Its just my right to say fuck off. 

Politicians

An open letter to politicians - profanity included:

Dear Politicians:

Fuck you. You are weasels. No, that gives weasels a bad name. You are worse than weasels. At least weasels admit to being weasels. You actually think you are doing some good in the world. Stop the lies.

Look, politicians are simple: they will say or do what they think will get them elected. Then, once elected, they will say or do what they think will keep them in office. Does anyone actually think differently?

Case in point: Californians passed Proposition 30 that raised taxes so we wouldn't need more cuts to services. Guess what? They are going to cut another $200 million from the courts. Huh? How does that work? So we voted to raise taxes because the politicians said we needed to raise taxes or cut services. Now, they cut services anyway. Jerry Brown is, quite simply, a liar. Liar, liar pants on fucking fire.

Lets think this through a bit. Politicians actually refuse to make marijuana illegal. Yet, we all know people who smoke, regularly. Hell, go to any law school, where most politicians come from. Pot usage is like breathing for most students. No one wants to admit it, but its true.

They fight over gay marriage. Seriously? We can't have two men or two men get married? Why? Who does it hurt? Seriously. If they can live together, have sex, support each other, then why the fuck shouldn't they get married? It is no skin off my back if they want to get married and join those of us who can marry. I mean, really, what is the problem? Its simple: if they support gay marriage, they are afraid they will lose votes. So they do the coward thing instead of the right thing.

The list goes on and on. Politicians try to make abortions as difficult as possible. Look, I love kids. I have adopted 3. I totally understand that if their birth mother had made a different choice, I would not have three amazing boys. But, I also understand I have a penis. I don't grow a person in my body. If someone thinks its the right choice for them, I am not going to stand in their way. I may not agree with it, but I am not going to back away from letting someone else make a decision that they think is right for them.

By the way, don't think these are just liberal views. What is this nonsense with putting so many limits on guns that normal people can barely buy one? I am not sure I could even pass a background check for one these days. I have made a decision not to own a gun. I don't think I need one in my house. Besides, you should see my right. I knocked a guy OUT of a building once. Really. But, I am not going to sit here and tell you that you cannot own a gun. If you think its necessary to protect your family, and you can be responsible, then you should have that right.

Oh, and unions are getting out of control. Lawyers have a union. Did you know that? State lawyers are in a union. What the hell? Since when do lawyers need better working conditions? If you think you do, try getting a real job. And now fast food workers in NYC want to make $15 per hour. Um, that is all union driven. If some guy making my Big Mac is making $15, I can no longer afford that Big Mac. Just ask Hostess how well unions work. There is a time and a place, but this is out of freaking control.

The problem is that politicians want to conform to whatever party they belong to so that they can have a base of voters. Then they take no position on the rest of the issues. Be a man. (Or a woman.) Take a position. And don't avoid it because you don't want to be out of a job. You can find another one. Most of those of us voting for you have had to find real jobs. You can do it too, once you stop pandering to whoever has the bigger check for you - or whoever provides better oral service.

I am so tired of you folks. You give when you can benefit. Then, when you no longer see benefit, you give people the big fat finger. Well, here is my finger to you. FUCK OFF! Man up. Do the right thing.

A weekend lost

Last weekend was supposed to be a big weekend for me. At least, that is what I thought 13 years ago. (Okay, so more like 12 years and 8 months ago, but who's counting?) I guess I should explain. Tyler, my oldest, came home at 4 months old. Hence, the 12 years and 8 months ago. That makes 13 for those who were liberal arts majors and are reading this.

13 - I remember 13. It was a year. No, not the year 13. I am not that old. 13, for Jewish kids anyway, is a big year. You become a man (or a woman). (Time out: if you have no idea what I am talking about at this point, go watch Keeping Up With the Steins. Its funny. Trust me.) Its your Bar Mitzvah or Bat Mitzvah. Literally, you become a mitzvah, a good deed. Its a big deal. There is a service followed by a party. I remember both of mine.

My service was myself with 2 other guys. I went to a big Temple. We had to share dates. It was also my actual 13th birthday, which is unusual. I am pretty sure I screwed up. I know I didn't chant properly. I sucked at it. And, honestly, I didn't practice that hard. But, it is what it is.

My party was fun. There was a soccer theme. Who woulda thunk, huh? It was a lot of my dad's business friends and associates. I had my friends there. After the party, we went back to my house. We stayed up until 2am playing football in the backyard. It was a good day.

Last Saturday should have been Tyler's Bar Mitzvah. It was the first Saturday after he turned 13. It was the day my oldest was supposed to become a man. It didn't happen. You can't have a Bar Mitzvah when you are in a "treatment facility." (That is a rant for another day.) Instead of becoming a man, he was playing basketball and watching Bear in the Big Blue House. Fuck me!

Yes, instead of becoming a man, my son was watching Bear in the Big Blue House. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Can you fathom how much that sucks? I don't know if I can even express it. I won't even try.

When I was growing up, we had a family tradition. At my brother's Bar Mitzvah, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I holding a cigar still wrapped. At my sister's Bat Mitzvah, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I with an unwrapped cigar in our mouths. At my Bar Mitzvah, wait for it, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I smoking a cigar. The common theme? The cigar.

As dumb as it sounds, and it sounds dumb, I wanted that. I wanted those pictures. But there isn't one. There wasn't a Bar Mitzvah. (Oh, and my boys, rightly, think smoking is horrible, but I still wanted it.) A weekend lost...........one of those things I just can't get back. One of the losses of raising a kid with such significant special needs that the state just throws up its hands and says "I dont know what to do to help you."

This month, in honor of Tyler, I am going to light up a cigar. Even though we missed the service and the party, I will still have Tyler's cigar. Why? Because I love that kid to death.

To my  Tyler:

On that day Jacob blessed them, he said, "In time to come, Israel (the Jewish people) will use you as a blessing. They will say, 'May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe'."

Who helps those who cannot help themselves

I really tried to go with funny tonight. I did. Go read my song. I thought it was funny. At least cute, if not funny. Its not ha ha funny. Its just chuckle funny. I think. Anyway, I was sitting here and I was wondering........who helps those who cannot help themselves?

Stop and think about that for a minute. We are a country of hundreds of millions. I don't know how many. I am too lazy to look it up. But if you are reading this, you are either reading it on a tablet, a smart phone or a computer with an internet connection. I have a sense of who reads this. You are probably a native English speaker, more likely than not college educated, or you went to a good high school, you live in a middle class to upper middle class area and you make a good living. You may not be rich, but you are more likely than not comfortable.

Have you thought about what its like for the people who aren't reading this? The people who can't read. The people who don't have the education to find this or have a language barrier. Maybe the people who have low IQs or educational needs that make it impossible for them to read this.

I was talking to a client tonight about something. And I posed the question "Who helps the people who don't have the same resources?" And there is no question.

Yes, we have social aid. We have agencies that give aid. We have food banks. We have job training. We help the people at the lowest rungs of the ladder. And that is a good thing. But, what about the people who aren't quite there. What about the family where mom and dad both have blue collar jobs, didn't graduate from high school or barely did, and have a kid with special needs but can't get the help for their kid? Or the guy who is working 2 jobs to pay his bills but falls behind and gets harassed by bill collectors when he takes out a payday loan and cannot repay it?

Don't tell me that these people aren't screwed. Every day I see it. I hear it. We all have. I sat there as I was told my autistic son had nothing wrong with him - just bad parents. I listened as I was told her didn't need help from the school. I have seen grown men cry because they do not know what to do for their families, they make too much for government assistance but not enough to get professional help.

Those people seem to get lost in the system. There is no advocate for them. Who is going to take that family and explain to them that there are agencies whose sole purpose is to provide services to their children? Who is going to tell the dad that he can help his child, even if help means having someone else teach his child? I know how hard this is, I live it every day. The difference: I know how to work the system and advocate for my child.

I wonder where we are as a society where we take those who aren't poor and aren't middle class and just ignore them. We don't provide services for them. Maybe we don't need to. Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime, right? Maybe we don't need to give these folks the help. Maybe we just need to teach them how to find the help, how to advocate for themselves.

Advocating is complex. Its not a matter of demanding. Its a matter of massaging. You have to play the game. You do things you don't agree with to reach a great goal.

I don't have the answers. I know that. I do see a problem. I do wonder what happens as the group below middle class and above poor continues not to be able to get access to services. Somewhere, someone must have an answer on helping these folks. I will leave that for those smarter than me.

A song

Okay, I have been serious for a while here. I haven't ripped on anyone or made fun of anyone. Mainly, because life has sucked for a while. But I decided I needed a break. Don't worry, there is more venting and ranting about life coming. But, this is an attempt at humor. Lets see if it works...........

You remember when music actually told a story? It was about something. Just think back to the artists who made real music, Don McLean, Simon and Garfunkel, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel. I could go on and an on. But you get the idea. These guys wrote songs that talked about something, about life. Today's music is about..........well, here is my version of a modern song:

I went out today
It was a day, day, day
I found some 420
I then ran into a chick named Jenny
We went back and smoked our stuff
It wasn't very rough
I think its clever that I call it 420
I think I came up with that term with Benny
No one knows what it means
They think I am talking about beans

CHORUS
I like sex
I got big pecs
I call women names
I play lots of mind games
I think drugs are cool
I aint not no fool

I think calling women names makes me a stud
I dont get why adults think I am a dud
I wear my pants down low
I just go with the flow
I think my bling makes me hot
I dont care that drugs make my brain rot
I can barely spell condom
STDs are fake is my anthem
If my girl gets pregnant
I will find her repugnant

CHORUS
I like sex
I got big pecs
I call women names
I play lots of mind games
I think drugs are cool
I aint not no fool

You adults are all losers
Me and my boys are users
You think you get me
I dont get my pee
Musicians are smart
We need to impart
This is how you kids should be
The adults just dont agree
We should rule the world
Then our great ideas will be unfurled

CHORUS
I like sex
I got big pecs
I call women names
I play lots of mind games
I think drugs are cool
I aint not no fool

You think I am making this up? Listen to the lyrics of these songs that kids listen to. Its obnoxious. Every other song is about sex, drugs or how cool these kids are. I just put it all into one. Now I just need to get some no talent act like Chris Brown or Ja Rule or Keenan to sing it. I will be famous for spending all of 3 minutes writing done some stupid words that rhyme.

Heros

I am pissed. I was going to write this last night but I bit my tongue. That's hard to do. My tongue sticks out pretty freaking far. Not as far as my ears stick out, but close. (That's classic Rodney Dangerfield and if you don't laugh at that, you probably don't laugh at Who's on First.)

Yesterday, News10 in Sacramento ran this story: http://www.news10.net/video/default.aspx?bctid=1972605695001 They call him a Super Hero. They also call him a vigilante.

Lets start with this: being a vigilante is not a good thing. People shouldn't want to be called vigilantes. Do you know the most famous vigilante? Lets try it. Word association, style. I say vigilante, you say: Bernie Goetz. Dude shot a couple of kids. In New York. On the Subway. Google it if you don't know what I am talking about. So now we are writing news stories about vigilantes who are walking the streets. Nice.

But this is worse. They called dude a hero. He is not a hero. He is some moron dressed up in a costume pretending he is 8 and thinking he can be Super Man. I know a few cops. I am pretty sure they all agree: if you see crime happening, call them. They are trained professionals. Do not think you are a Super Hero. You are not. Super Hero's are fake. You know what is real though: pretend Super Heros who get the crap beat out of them by actual criminals.

Look, I am not the biggest guy in the world. I have been in a few fights in my life. But, I can handle my own. I am going to call 911 if I see a crime in progress. Now I see some dude hurting a kid or a woman? Yes, I will jump in and help. But I am not walking around the streets in a Halloween costume pretending I am freaking Super Man. Thats just idiotic.

I keep losing my place. They call dude a hero. Do you know what a hero is? This is not a hero. My dad was my hero. He was the big strong guy who always took care of his family. A hero is the guy who has to work two jobs to support his family. A hero is a guy who does something nice for someone, not because he has to, but because he wants to. A hero is a guy who steps up and helps his community. A hero is someone who does the right thing.

Lets just be clear: this guy is playing Super Hero. That is so far from being a hero. The news is doing a disservice to our kids by calling this guy a hero. Heck, they are doing a disservice by even airing a story about this guy. Lets see stories about real heroes doing real things helping real people.

Sunday Soccer

Its interesting. Regular readers of this will know that I am not close to my family. No, not my wife and kids. My brother, two aunts, two uncles and 4 cousins. (Thankfully, one of my aunts never had kids. Some people just shouldn't have kids.) I feel like an outsider. I don't like most attorneys. I wouldn't hang out with them if I had the choice. (Some I would, most I would not.) I don't feel the need to hang out with people based on sharing a common religion. I don't have a ton of friends. But, I belong somewhere.

For me, that somewhere is Sunday Soccer. Yes, it gets capitalized. This game started 20 some odd years ago in Elk Grove. A group of guys wanted to get together and play soccer with their kids. Slowly, word of the game spread. For the last 13 years, I have been fortunate to be a part of this game, although it is more than a game. I am one of the "old timers" now along with a handful of much younger guys!

What is it? I don't know. We aren't family. We aren't quite friends. I mean, some of us are. Some folks come because their friends come. But we are us. And, we happen to like us.

I can't explain it. I look around this group and over the last 13 years we have had new people come, old people stop showing up, some people who stay and some people who leave. We have our rules and our personalities. But we have each other.

I remember last spring. We had a group of guys show up (we play co-ed but these were all guys). They didn't like our rules. They didn't like the way we played. At some point, it ended up as us against them. A beat down is the only way to describe. And no, not by them. By us. It wasn't pretty. I haven't seen those guys back since then.

Some of our guys are real soccer players. We have guys who have played professionally. We have some kids, and these guys are still kids in my eyes even in their mid to late 20s, who have played high school soccer and could have played further. They will never admit it, and that is one of the great things about the game. The egos are checked at the door. You think you are hot stuff? Come out and watch some young kid nutmeg you. It doesn't matter who you are. They manage to do it.

Some of us have played all of our lives, even if we are step (or six) slower. Some are guys who come out with their kids who play, even if dad hasn't played before because he wants to learn the game. (Okay, one guy I can think of, but he knows who he is.)

We have been through happy times together. I brought out See's cigars when my Brooklyn was born. We have had guys get engaged, get married, have babies. One guy is engaged now (or is it two?) and one guy's wife is pregnant.

We have been through sad times. My mom passing away. One of us who committed suicide. And we supported each other. I remember when Troy died. This kid could play soccer like nobody's business. He may have been the most natural player I have ever seen, no offense to any of the guys reading this. When we found out, we had a moment of silence. After our game, there was a prayer circle. It doesn't matter that we aren't the same religion. What mattered was that we were there for each other. Later that week we all showed up for his memorial service. 

I don't know why we all go out there. I go to play. I go to burn off stress. I go because on the soccer field, whatever problems I am having that day, that week, that month, disappear. I can't possibly worry about those while playing. I go because soccer is part of who I am. Its a bond between my father, who taught me the game, and myself. Its a bond between myself and my kids, who I taught to play. Its a bond between me and a group of guys (and women) who I would stand up and call my friends, be it guys who I actually like or guys who may rub me the wrong way, but are part of who we are.

I want to thank everyone who shows up on Sundays. I may not be there every week (and I will miss the next two), but the game, the people, they become part of who we are, part of our families, even if no one will man up and admit it.

I belong.............

Repeating the past

I was cleaning the house today and I realized what's wrong. I am repeating the mistakes of the past.

I was 16 years old. I was talking to my girlfriend (now my wife) and I told her something that was probably the most honest thing I could say. I didn't want to go into business because I didn't want to be compared to my father. I would do ANYTHING but have a career in business. And guess what? I run a business.

He was the smartest man I ever knew. How on earth am I supposed to compare to that? I can't. He had a fucking PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. He flew around the world buying and selling businesses for a fortune 500 company. He had patents, inventions. He was a fucking genius.

I once told someone it was hard to be the son of a genius. I said it in a funny tone. Its not funny. I do everything I can to not be compared to him. Do you know how old it gets to hear "You are just like your father?" Im not. I am not half as smart as him. I havent done half the crap with my life that he did with his. I just haven't done it. I don't understand why anyone thinks I am like him. I don't see it.

So, here I sit, 9 1/2 years into my 2nd career and wondering what else I can do with my life. How do I get out? What can I do? Anything that doesn't involve business. I still run from it. I still try to hide. I pretend its not there. But it is...............

Then I look at my sons. I realize that they are turning out like I did. Is that good? Probably not. I don't talk to my brother. No one called me when my sister died. No one in my family talks to me. Is that what I want for them? But how do I stop it? How do I change it? Can it be changed? Would they be better off without me?

I don't know. I just don't. I wish I had an answer. I wish this was a simple problem. But its not. It appears that even if we remember the past, we may repeat it. I wish that wasn't true.............

What a weird day

It was such a strange day for me today. And that doesn't include my work. That's just life stuff.

Easy garbage: today is my brother's birthday. He is 8 years older than me. We haven't had a conversation in about a decade. Well, he called me and gave me updates when my mom was dying but other than that, we haven't talked in years. Its probably been more than a decade.

When I was with my mom watching her die, I promised her that I would try to talk to him. I have tried. This year and last year I have sent him a text on his birthday. The response? Silence. Not a single freaking word. Okay, fine. I don't actually expect him to stand up and act like a man at this point in his life. My wife told me I have hope. I don't think its hope. I think its a desire to keep my word to my mom. It doesn't seem to be working, but I guess I will just keep trying. What else can I do?

Hard: It was a rough day dealing with my oldest son. The call came last night that he had to be restrained. Fine. That doesn't surprise me anymore. The phone rings after 9pm and I will make a wager that that is the phone call I am going to get. I can deal with that.

But today was insurance issues. And people not doing what they said they would do. And just making it more complicated. Then my middle kid gets home from school where he was on a week long field trip. YAY! I see a boy there who is on the spectrum and he went on the trip and I think "Fuck." Yes, that is actually what I thought.

I just don't get it. I mean, I get it. Life isn't fair. God doesn't give us more than we can handle. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. None of that changes this. My almost 13 year old can't do most things a 13 year old does because he has so many issues. And this little boy just reminded me of that.

I am glad this kid can do these things. His parents seem like nice people. I just want, for once, to be able to hang out with my son and do father son things. It just isn't in the cards.

It was a day. I know people have it worse. I just want a fun day once in a while. I don't think that is asking too much.

They grow up fast enough

I will preface this with the following: this may offend some of you; this may annoy some of you; some of you may disagree. That being said, I don't ever hide what I think so here goes.

One of my favorite songs when I was little, and heck it still is, is Cats in the Cradle. (If you don't know it, a) what planet are you from and b) you can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c) Its about a dad who sings of his son who was born and learned to walk while he was away. Then, the child turns 10 and wants to learn how to play catch, but dad can't teach him. The kid comes home from college and wants to borrow dad's car keys. Then, dad retires and calls his son, but his son is too busy with his own life. It turns out the son grew up just like the dad.

I would listen to this song and, to this day, it causes me to tear up. I had my boys listen to it today. I don't know if they understood it, but it was something we could do together. I never wanted to grow up like my dad. Heck, I never wanted to grow up. But here I am, an adult, with kids of my own. And I realize that my kids, all kids, are growing up too fast.

My oldest is going to be 13 in less than a month. He has so many issues that it is just tough. Its hard. I can't explain it. I grew up in a house with an older sister who had some issues, but not nearly as bad as my son's issues. I remember going to doctor appointments, running all over town (and half the state) with my mom and my sister.

My middle son is 11. He is in 6th grade. Although, it feels like high school. At back to school night, the teacher had to announce that the girls cannot wear makeup. Really? That had to be announced? Apparently, it was more of a problem than I realized.

For his birthday, we got him a cell phone. He can call us and send text messages, although he is limited to 300 messages a month. He has also been told he cannot delete messages. I plan on checking up on him. This, I am told, is strange. So, today I checked his phone. My, oh my.

I found him texting a girl. This girl is, um, advanced. She went to the halloween festival in tight jeans, a top, makeup (including bright red lipstick) and a cowboy hat. That, my friends, is not a costume. That is like my dressing up in a polo and jeans and saying I am a lawyer. It just doesn't pass the smell test.

She was talking about what  boys like what girls and how she doesn't understand why the boys all like a certain girl. WTF? 

Look, maybe I am old fashioned, or an old soul, or just plain old. I get that. But I don't think my 11 year old needs to have these conversations. I can count on one hand every girl I had a crush on - ever. Is that strange? Maybe. I also married my high school sweetheart, so what the heck do I know. I am sure this girl's mom knows about it. I am sure most of the parents know about it.

Apparently, this is fine with some parents. Okay, they can raise their kids any way that they feel is appropriate. I will raise my kids in a way that I feel is appropriate. Thats how it works.

But don't our kids grow up too fast already? My dad used to sit me down and tell me that each generation has it harder than the prior one. When my dad was 15, they were just getting rock n roll. When he was in his 20s, there was a war going on.

When I was 15, there was gangsta rap. In my 20s, we were in an almost constant war - a war that hasn't ended in my 30s. My kids are 12, 11, 8 and 3. I know my boys are exposed to more profanity in a day then I was in a year. The songs on the radios talk about rolling joints, disrespecting woman. And somehow we find that appropriate.

I wish we could all slow down and realize that our kids are still kids. My boys still do things that are very boy like. I am glad. I want them to be boys. The longer they are boys the better. Because, as a man, as a father, I know that life isn't as easy as it is at 11 and 8. I know that things will only get harder, decisions will be more difficult, life choices are forced upon you.

Remember Jack and Diane: Hold on to 16 as long as you can..........(For those of you who do not know, its here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h04CH9YZcpI) I want my boys to be boys. I want the talk about who likes who, and the makeup, and the pressure to just stop. It wont, but I will do my best to keep it in check.

A challenge

As I was driving home from camping this weekend, I had two ideas. First, I could come here and vent. I need to vent. Look, my oldest boy turns 13 in just over a month. I should be preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. Instead, I am happy to just see him on his birthday, even if it means I will drive for 10 hours to get home on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I could be mad and upset and sad about this.

But...............as I was starting my drive, I stopped at Starbucks. There were two Army servicemembers (soldiers?) behind me. I ordered and then saw them. As the first ordered, I told the barrista (isn't she just an employee?) to not charge them, I would pay for it. These guys were very happy and told me they are getting ready to go to Afghanistan. I thanked them for their service.

I was in a Starbucks full of 20 people. I could have done as the other 19 did and ignored them. I could make up excuse after excuse and not feel bad. I don't roll in the dough. I give clients time to pay me. I have 4 kids, a wife, 3 dogs and a house to pay for. I spent some money this weekend on my trip. I was tired from drunks keeping me up. I am sure the list could go on and on.

But, someone, at some point, has to stand up and say "I will do what others won't." I decided to be that guy today. I have done this before and I usually don't say anything about it. But I am tired. I am tired of people always having an excuse for not doing something. Someone has to be the guy who stops and says "Now is the time for change." If not me, then who? If not now, then when? Fine, they are cliche, but they are true.

So, here is my challenge to you. The next time you are at a Starbucks or any other coffee shop, the grocery store, the fast food place, a restaurant, and you see a police officer, firefighter, servicemember walk in, pay for their meal. (Fine, you are anti-war, anti-police and anti-firefighter, than do it for the person behind you.) Maybe its a $4 coffee. Maybe it is a $20 dinner. Maybe you can make 1,000 excuses like I could have today. But, maybe, just maybe, when you are done, you will feel better about yourself. And maybe, if we are lucky, someone else will see you do it and will decide to do it.

I have 800 followers on twitter. I have over 400 "friends" on Facebook. That is 1,200 people. If half of you step up and do it, 600 people, just buy one cup of coffee, that is 600 people who will have their days bettered by a simple act of kindness. I always asked my dad why pyramids don't work. He explained to me how you had to continually have more people involved. This is why this works - it starts with 1. Then 2. Then 4. Then 8. If 600 people do this. then we can get 1,200, then 2,400, then 4,800, and do the math. It grows exponentially.

So, who is in? Who is willing to spend $5 to buy a cup of coffee for someone and meet my challenge?

In defense of us

I was going to call it in defence of us as if I was British or an academic or someone who did better in school than barely graduating. But, I figured that would make me look pretentious and I don't do pretentious. By the way, if profanity offends you, either accept this as my apology or don't read the rest of this. Either way, I won't be offended. Promise.

I am fucked up. I know it. I even know why. My entire family is fucked up. Well, was fucked up. Lets see, my dad was so driven to work that he took so much medicine and died at 62. My mom didn't call me when my sister died. My sister got married and didn't tell anyone or about the SOB who gave her HIV. I still want to kick the living shit out of that piece of crap. My brother is the only one alive and he doesn't talk to me. I fucking tried. My cousins think my mom dying was harder on them than it was on me. My dad's brother thinks I am an asshole. Maybe I am. My mom's sister hates me and told me it was a blessing when my dad died. Oh, I could go on. But suffice it to say that I am pretty fucked up and I know why.

I have my own family now. A great wife who I have known since we were freshmen in high school and dated since we were juniors. I have 4 great kids who I would do anything for. Just so we are clear, you hurt my kids and I will get revenge. I have friends. I have a good job. And yet, I am still fucked up. What the hell?

You know what, though, we try. It sucks and we try. And I am so fucking tired of people criticizing us and what we do. You think its easy to make the decisions we make? Try it. I lost a lot of my relationship with my mom because I refused to burden her with how bad Tyler was. It was my decision. And, as I have said before, its a decision I would never change. People want to judge me for not dropping everything and going to visit my mom when she got cancer AGAIN? Fine. Judge away. You don't know what I know. You don't have to make the decisions I have to make. Because as fucked up as I am, my dad taught me to be a man. That doesnt mean I can run around and screw a woman. It doesnt mean I can smoke or gamble or vote or any of that shit. It means I have to do what I think is best for my family. I did. You don't like those decisions? Fuck you. You don't have to live my life.

You think its easy to have him living 500 miles away? For 18 months? Really? Do you have any fucking idea what stress that causes in a marriage? In a family? In a man? Whats my first job? To take care of my family. Oh, I can sit here and justify this until I am 108. Its better for Tyler to be there. He has to be there. We cant take care of him. He needs a safe environment. BULLSHIT. Its all fucking crap. I could find SOME way to make it work. Its my job. But somehow, through all of this, not just the last 18 months, but the last 6 years, I havent been able to make it work. And do you know what that does to me? It eats me up. It eats me from the inside. It kills me. And dont tell me to talk about it. Dont tell me I need counseling. Fuck that nonsense. No counselor, no friend, no one knows what its like unless you have had to do it.

Do you think we dont want him home? I would do anything to have him home. I would give it all up - the house, the cars, the neighborhood. I would go live in South Central LA taking public transportation to be the garbage man or the dude who cleans up crime scenes to have my son home every night and hold him and hug him and teach him how to be a man. I would walk 1000 miles every single fucking day if thats what it took. I would give my right leg and never play soccer again to have that kid with us.

And I know Alison would too. I know she wants him home more than anything. And we simply can't have it. Its not fucking possible. He is our first born. I dont know the exact nature of the relationship between an oldest and his mother. But I do know the relationship between a mother and a son. I can only imagine how much this hurts her. And there is not one single fucking thing I can do to help her. Nothing. And as much as we talk about it, and I hold her, and I love her, I cant take that away. I cant make that type of pain go away.

Then we have to listen to people criticize us. Why arent we doing this? Why arent we doing that? What about this option or that option? Do you think we dont spend every single day thinking about options? Do you think we havent considered every option? I called in every favor I can think of. I even called in favors owed to my dad, and he hasn't been alive for 10 years.

Do you think its easy? It kills us. We are doing the best damn job we know how to do. There is no book on how to be a parent. There really is no book how to be a parent of a kid like Tyler. And the piece of crap books about how to deal with your special needs child don't even scratch the surface of what we are dealing with.

Look, I get it. There are people worse off in life than us. I feel bad for those people. I try to help them. I really do. Every single chance I get, I give back. Someone needs help and can't afford it? Fine. I will do my best to help. Someone needs a cup of coffee on a cold morning? I am good for that too. We do what we can to help others.

But I am so fucking sick and tired of the assholes who want to run around and judge us or complain about us or criticize about us. You don't like decisions I have made in my life? Fine. I don't like every decision I have made in my life either. I know Alison doesn't like every decision she has made in her life either, like marrying me. (What, a little humor isn't allowed? Screw you. That was funny.) But we are good people doing the best we can in a life that we didnt plan for, we didnt ask for, and we dont know what we are doing.

I grew up religious. I stopped practicing 10 years ago when my dad died. I started practicing again almost 4 years ago when we found out Alison was pregnant. I know God doesn't judge us. I know God doesnt give us more than we can handle. Fine, its a cliche. Bite me. Its my cliche right now. I know there is a plan and we are supposed to just go with it. I get that.

What I don't get is why people think we arent doing everything humanly possible to get Tyler what he needs? Why people think we are bad people? I have screwed up. I admit it. I confess my sins. Don't judge me by my sins. Judge me by whether I have learned from those sins and made myself a better person. Judge me by whether the world is a bit better because of things I have done right, not what I have done wrong.

Look, we are human. We try. We do the best we can. I know God knows that. I know we try to remember that. But lets go back to the Golden Rule: if you dont have something nice to say to us, dont say anything at all. Life is hard enough without you judging us too.

39 Acts

I posted a video to Facebook and twitter last week. It was my birthday topic. I don't know if topic is the right word. It was my birthday idea. Its what I did for my birthday. And it was simple (and borrowed): I did 39 acts of kindness for 39 people. Pretty simple. And it recently got me thinking about this.

My dad taught me about doing good deeds. He made sure he helped other people even when he may not have always had time. Maybe it was just a kind word to someone. Maybe it was slipping someone $20 because they were short. Maybe it was mentoring a young employee, even in a different company. Maybe it was spending time with a reporter to provide them with background so they understood a topic. He always tried to do good deeds.

I learned from that. Sometimes, however, I forgot it. It is easy to forget this. It is so simple, yet how many times do we actually do it? So I spent my birthday doing acts of kindness for others. It felt good.

As I sit tonight at home, after a long drive, and a lot of time to think, I wonder how many of us would spend our birthdays, or any day, doing things for strangers? Maybe its giving someone a $1 scratcher or buying a cup of coffee for them. Maybe its volunteering at your kid's school and filing papers for the office staff. Maybe its bringing balloons to the nursing home. Its easy to give these things lip service. Its harder to actually do them.

And I wonder, how many of our "public officials" would do them? Sure, they put on "events" but these events are election stunts. They do these things when there is a camera around or a newspaper reporter or a blogger or ..........well, you get the point. How many of them would do it just to do it and never say a word? Other than my wife, my neighbor and the principal of my kids' school, none of the people who received an act of kindness have any idea who I am. 36 people who received things without knowing who I am, why I did it or that it was something that was important to me. And that is how it should be.

I think I spent last week making the world a bit better. I know I made my town a bit better. I think that is what is important. I think my kids will be spending their birthdays doing it as well.

10 years

10 years ago today I got one of the two worst phone calls of my life. My mom called. My dad had died. He was in the hospital for a bowel obstruction. He called me and left me a message. I didn't call back because he was going to be home in a few days. It wasn't a big deal. Except, it was.

Since then, I have had two children, one, Miles, named for my dad. He reminds me so much of my dad. He even talks about getting his PhD. (Okay, so he doesn't call it his PhD but he wants to be Dr. Stein.) And, of course, my Brooklyn, my baby, my sweet girl.  My dad would like her so much.

So much has happened in the last 10 years. While he saw me graduate from law school, he died before I was admitted to the Bar. He wasn't there when I opened my own law firm. He missed the birth of my baby.

There have been good times and bad times. But, tonight, its not about sadness. Its about honoring my dad. I tried to make today a good day. I spent the day with my kids. I enjoyed their company. And, tonight, I will have a cold one for my dad.

To the best man I ever knew....to the smartest man I ever knew...to the man who taught me that being a man isn't about being the toughest guy or the biggest guy or the strongest guy, but being a man is about taking care of your responsibilities, be it your wife and kids, your friends, or, rarely, kicking someone's ass, about doing your best work the first time and about living your life according to what is right........I love you dad and I miss you. And this one is for you tonight.

God Bless you, dad.

On being a parent

I write this tonight at a strange point in my life, while I listen to Simon and Garfunkel, The Concert in Central Park. I watched this with my dad, every single time it was on PBS. I owned the tape, then the CD. Its on my iPod. I watch it, well listen to it, on Youtube. Thanks to whoever uploaded it in 5 easy to listen to parts. Why do I tell you this?

Lately, there has been this kid in the news, Tyrann Mathieu. They call him the Honey Badger. Seriously. That is his nickname. He is a football player, or was a football player, for LSU, that state school that is constantly competing for national championships in football. You see, Tyrann screwed up. He did something wrong, exactly what, we don't know. But he did something wrong. It probably involved drugs. He didn't do it once or twice, but three times. He got kicked out of school. He went into a rehab place. He has now re-enrolled in the school that kicked him out.

Let me get a few things clear from the beginning. I don't know this kid. Never met him. Watched him play football once or twice. He seems like a good kid. I think he is a good player. I believe in second chances and even third chances. I dont think LSU did anything wrong expelling him. I dont think the coach did anything wrong for kicking him off the team. I dont think his family did anything wrong getting him into rehab. I dont think the school did anything wrong in letting him back in. Give the kid another chance. He is just a kid, after all, and a kid who, if he screws up on a Saturday has to hear about it on tv, on the radio, in the newspaper, etc... all weekend. If he plays great, he hears what a hero he is all weekend. I cant imagine being him and that pressure.

So whats my beef? The media. Everyone from some podunk reporter in Louisiana to ESPN, the worldwide leader. Its not that they are covering this. I am sure its news, somehow. A kid in college who does drugs and gets kicked out? Sure. That doesnt happen every single day of the school year. It must be news. Oh wait, he plays football. So that makes it news. Yes, I get it.

What I don't get is why the media keeps calling his mom and dad his "adoptive mother" and his "adoptive father?" I have asked. Really. Check my twitter feed. I blasted people yesterday. I put it out on Facebook yesterday. Nothing. Not one single person got back to me with a real explanation as to why these folks are continually labeled with adoptive. Is that some sort of issue?

Seriously, I checked ESPN. 20 articles in the last couple of years describing people as "adoptive" parents. Zero describing someone as a biological parent. ZERO! That isn't twenty times more. Its an infinite number of times more. Do the math. Divide by zero. It doesn't work.

So I looked some more. Sylvester Stallone has lost two children. How many news articles referring to them as his biological children? ZERO. Over 500 referring to Tyrann's parents as his adoptive parents. You can't do that math. It just doesn't happen.

James Holmes murdered people in Colorado. How many news stories were there about his biological parents? None. Over 17,000 stories and none talk about his "biological parents." How many stories about murder talk about adoptive parents? Almost 1,000. Are adoptive parents second class citizens? Are we different?

We? Yes. I have 4 kids. I am the 3rd child of my parents. My mom and dad passed away. My mom died 18 months ago. My dad died almost 10 years ago. My parents had 3 kids. My brother and sister were adopted. I was a biological child. You know who my parents liked best? None of us. Okay, my mom probably liked my brother and sister better than me, but that had zero to do with how we came into her lives.

Of my 4 kids, three were adopted. All of my boys. My youngest is a little girl and is our biological child. You know who I love the most? All of them. Yeah, its cliche, but I love all of my kids the same. They are all my kids. And if you hurt any of them, I will hurt you. If you make them cry, I will make you cry. I don't care if its my special 12 year old, my mini-me 10 year old, my musically inclined 8 year old or my little princess. You hurt them and I hurt you. Is that clear?

Oh, and while I am at it, if any of my kids get in the newspaper and you call me their adoptive parent, I will make sure I call you every name in the book. Clear?

I just simply do not get it. I am a parent. I have the same obligations to my boys as I do to my daughter. I love them the same. I take care of them the same. I would do anything for any of them. I am sure Tyrann Mathieu's parents would tell you the same thing. They don't think of him as their adopted son. He sure as heck doesn't go around and say "I love you adoptive dad" or "I love you adoptive mom." He says "I love you dad" and "I love you mom."

So, dear folks in the media, why, oh why, do you try to create a difference? Its a difference that does not exist. Its a difference that you have made up for no reason. Its a difference that just creates differences. It serves no purpose. I think words should be used when they have a meaning, when they add to a story. What is added by calling his parents adoptive parents? Absolutely nothing. Its like calling someone a white running back.

Lets please stop with the nonsense. Tyrann seems like a good kid. His problems have nothing to do with being adopted and his parents are his parents, not his adoptive parents. Lets just call it like it is: he is a kid going through a rough patch and his family is there for him. I dont care if his parents adopted him, hatched him or found him on Mars. I am glad his family is there for him.

Parents are parents. As a guy who misses his parents, trust me, it doesnt matter how they become your parents. Once they are gone, you miss them tremendously.

Baz Luhrmann was right

Well, for the most part he was right. I was driving today and this song came on from 1999. I probably haven't heard it since 1999 either. But it stopped me and made me think. Here is the video, if you want to see it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQlJ3vOp6nI  So let me jump to the things that stuck out at me.

1. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. How truth this is. Isn't it like youth is wasted on the young. I remember making a comment to my dad about old dudes driving convertibles. Of course, at the time, he was 51 and had 2 convertibles. I had impeccable timing. Anyway, he told me that when we are young and want a convertible, at least a good one, none of this Cabriolet crap or whatever nonsense they are making, we can't afford them. By the time we can afford them, we can't really appreciate driving them. I am glad my wife let me buy one when I was still in my 30s.

We don't really appreciate the power and beauty of our youth. We don't have the experience to appreciate it. And when some old fart like me tells some 16 year old to enjoy it, they look at me like I am crazy. Hell, my own kids look at me like I am crazy when I tell them to slow down and enjoy being a kid. I don't have a solution. I do, however, recognize the problem. Kids, really, you only get to be young once. And as much as I can still act like a kid, I can never BE a kid again. I have all of the problems and responsibilities of being an adult. And it isn't that much fun. Trust me.

2. Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. I don't think I can change my future. I think it just is what it is, to borrow a stupid, overused expression. My future is going to happen. There will be more good than bad. There will be more happy than sad. I don't have the ability to avoid that. Bad happens. Sad happens. You want proof? Go back and read the prior posts here. I don't think worrying makes it any better.

You know what does help? Preparation. Usually, the bad crap doesn't happen out of the blue. We have some preparation for it. When you can prepare, you realize its not quite as bad as you think it is going to be - at least, that usually is true. Take a deep breath and realize that you can overcome the bad. Someone once told me that God never gives you more than you can handle. I am not sure that is totally accurate, but I think humans have a capacity for absorbing more bad than we realize. We find a way to handle it, grow from it, and move on. You have to. The alternative just isn't worth the pain it causes. I know that too.

3. Do one thing everyday that scares you. Okay, so everyday may be overkill. But do one thing everyday that pushes your comfort zone. Take on a challenge that you didn't think you could do. When I play my soccer games, I like the challenge of defending the best guy on the field, the best guy on the other team, the bigger guy. Am I going to succeed? Probably not. I am at least a decade older than those guys, shorter, slower. I get it. But I am going to push it. I may grab a shirt now and then. I may get the shoulder into them. But I am going to do it.

My buddy Mike Fitzpatrick reminded me once of the Untied Way. It was really outside of my comfort zone. Get some money and give it to the homeless folks you run into, whether they are going to buy a cup of coffee with it or snort coke. Its not up to you. I do it every year now. It has made an impression, not just on my kids, who go with me, but on me as well.

4. Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours. You know what the greatest gift you can give is? Its not money. Its not a toy. Its your heart. Its your love. You can't give it to everyone. You don't want to give it to everyone. You find someone special and give it to that person. (Or persons, since there are parents, kids, siblings, weird plural marriages that I still don't understand.) No one can make you give it to them. No one can take it from you.

But if you give it and someone is reckless with it, screw them. Because with the great gift, there is great potential for hurt. That hurt is unlike anything else. Be careful with it. Be safe with it. And do not let anyone tell you it is anything less than the most amazing gift people can give.

5. Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how. So true, so simple, so hard to do. Look, I run my mouth more than anyone else I know. I talk smack like its breathing. But, 95% of it is in good fun. 5% of it is because I am pissed. You know the difference. I know insults hurt. Its why that 5% exists.

I have had a young associate tell me that I wasn't smart enough to work at his law firm. Talk about an insult. I have also had other attorneys hire me to do things they could do for themselves. Talk about a compliment. The compliments mean so much. Most insults, especially the idiotic ones, come from someone else's rage. I admit it - sometimes mine do. I know. The ones where I mean to hurt you come from a different place. But those are infrequent. We need to remember the good that people see in us and take those compliments as a source of pride.

6. Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.  This is my dad personafied. (I may not have spelled that right, but screw it. Its my blog.) He always wanted to be a pharmacist. So he got a degree in pharmacy. Then he got a master's degree in pharmacy. Then he realized he hated being a pharmacist so he went back to school to get his PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. And the world is a better place because he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life at 22. The world is a better place because he wasn't sure what he wanted to do even after getting his PhD.

I dont know if I have ever told this story before. But here goes. I was 14 years old and an underachieving freshman in high school. My guidance counselor told my parents to take me to a psychologist. So I met with a psychologist. At the end of the meeting, she called my parents in. She announced her rocket scientist like findings: I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I was 14 years old. Of course I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. My dad stood up, told her that she was a nut job, and we left. I never went back again. I still underachieved in high school (although I did better after I started dating my wife) and I underachieved in college. I finally started doing well when I was 22 and figured out what I wanted to do with my life. There is absolutely no need to worry about what you want to do with your life. You will figure it out. I am sure of it.

7. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.  Be happy with your body, whether you are 5'2 and 100lbs or 5'2 and 200lbs or 6'5 and 100lbs. It doesn't matter what other people think if you are happy with your body. They don't have to live in it. You do.

And use it. Try new things. I never thought of doing martial arts until my son started. Then I busted my butt at it until I got good at it. It was new. But don't give up the old things. I still play soccer every week (or almost every week). 34 years now. Sheesh, pushing 35 years. That's a long time. But it is what I do. I am a soccer player, still, after all of these years.

I am going to retire my shoes from last week, however. I wore them on the day my wife's grandmother passed away. 3 goals that week. I wore them a week later, after we had to bury her. 3 goals that week. Done. When a wrestler retires he leaves his shoes in the middle of the ring. I am leaving these shoes in the garage never to be worn again. Its a tribute to grandma, who never saw me play, but who deserves a tribute and its the most fitting tribute I can come up with.

8, 9 and 10: Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.  This is a 3-fer. I would call it a 3-peat but then I would have to pay Pat Riley a couple of bucks and its simply not worth it. (Honest, Pat Riley has a copyright on the expression 3-peat. Such nonsense.)

Goodness, how I wish I had followed the first part of this more closely. Get to know your parents. You know, I can't complete my family tree because I don't know enough about my family. There are gaps that are missing. I never have the chance to fill those in. I know my dad was writing a book about his life. I also know that book was never finished and is gone. His thoughts, his notes, his ideas. Gone. I don't get that back. Your parents, the people who raised you, may be the most important people in your life, at least for the first 18 or 20 years and possibly longer. My dad was the most important male role model in my life. He was my hero. Its been almost 10 years of not having that person in my life.

Siblings, however, are another story. My sister died. No one told me. Well, after the funeral my mom told me. But no one told me when she was dying or when she died. My brother doesn't talk to me. My mom asked me, as she lay on her bed, dying, to call and make up. I called. I left a message. I tried during the next 3 weeks as she suffered while she was dying. It was never reciprocated. I guess its not my fault. But it doesn't always feel like it. I wish my brother would talk to me. But I can't make him or force him. Kind of sucks.

Friends................they do come and go. I have 439 "friends" on facebook. I have had more at times. I would ballpark it as 600 "friends" who I have had at one point or another. But the precious few? A dozen? Maybe. I have a friend or two from when I was growing up. They know who they are. I have a few friends now. But the number of friends you can count on when the chips are down? Its very few. Do a simple test. Unfriend a dozen people. See how many notice. I had one "friend" who didn't notice for 6 months that she was unfriended. I guess we weren't really friends at all. After all, wouldn't you notice if someone just disappeared? Maybe not. Maybe that is the problem.

Maybe Facebook or Myspace or these other sites have made it too easy to have "friends" but havent changed what a friend is. Maybe we should call them "people we used to know" on Facebook and leave friends for those people who would drive 500 miles to help you or kick the crap out of someone who hurts you. Maybe a friend is someone who you can call and cry to, even if you are a guy. Do we really have friends like that? I am sure but they are precious few. And when you find them, hold on to them.

I don't know Baz Luhrmann from Bath Salts. But dude was not an idiot. He had some ideas that really make sense. Sadly, I think most people, me included, forgot these basic lessons. I think its time for a reminder. I am glad this came on the radio tonight.

Its hard

Okay, I will preface this with its not whining or complaining. Its just my thoughts. And if you don't know that by now then a) you shouldn't be reading this and b) you don't really know me.

So we are 3 days from the worst month of the year. Yep, September. Green Day was right: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NU9JoFKlaZ0 I really do not like the entire month. One of the reasons is that it is the anniversary of my dad's passing. Less than a month from now. I was in my 20s. It wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to anyone, but it sucks when you are in your 20s. And then add my aunt saying it was a blessing (more on that another day), and it sucked - big time.

Add to this my wife's grandmother passing last week. It all adds up to a lot of thinking. Especially on those 4 hour flights to and from Chicago.

Where does this all lead? My dad was a freaking genius. I know, we all think our dads are the smartest men in the world. Its a good thing to think. My kids think I am Superman some days. I love them for that. Great kids. But what happens when your dad really is a genius? How do I live up to his standards?

My dad has a PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. I don't even know what the hell that means. Seriously. I would have to look it up to tell you and I don't look things up when I am blogging. I know he has it because I saw his diploma. Hell, I have his PhD thesis. I can understand the dedication. Past that, it might as well be written in ancient Greek or Guamanian. I have no idea what it means or what it proves.

But I do know that he turned that PhD into a research position with Johnson & Johnson. And they wanted him so badly that they gave him a down payment on a house and paid him well for what he did. He worked on two products that most of us use every day. (Maybe for another day.) And heck, if my dad was a research scientist, it wouldn't be so bad. But he went on to do product development, then international mergers and acquisitions, then ran operating companies, then worked on development of a wheelchair that would go on sand and upstairs. So, lets see: chemistry, marketing, product development, management. I am sure he did some things that I don't even know about.

So, I was 16 and scared of growing up. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I knew what I didn't want to do: I didn't want to go into business. I didn't want to compete with that history. I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to compare to that.

Sure, I don't have to be compared to him, but how can you not? MJ's son is always going to be compared to MJ. Griffey Junior is going to be compared to Griffey. Barry Bonds to Bobby Bonds (sure Barry is a cheater, allegedly, and Bobby wasn't, but have you considered that Barry cheated so he could exceed Dad's success and make sure he succeeded). You see how this works.

So I avoided it. I went away from it. I am a lawyer. I didn't go into law with some grand ideas of making the world a better place or representing death row inmates. I know work to make the world a better place, but looking back, it was more of an escape than a desire.

And as I start pushing 40, I realize I was wrong. Sure, I would be compared to him. But I could have succeeded as well. I could have met those expectations that I know he had for me. Sure, no PhD in strange chemistry and no patents in my name. But I could have gone into mergers. I could have done product development. What I didn't know then that I know now is that I learned from him. I sat in on some amazing dinners, took him to the office and heard things most 16 year olds don't get to hear. It was an experience you don't get anywhere else.

I failed, I guess. Maybe I have not lived up to my potential. Maybe I could have done more. Maybe this is how it was supposed to work out. I don't know. I just know that when your dad isn't a billionaire but is a genius, it really is hard to live up to the standards. I wish I would have known that 20 years ago.

What the hell do you say?

This has been a long 8 days. First, my wife's grandmother died. Then, a friend called me to tell me that his daughter passed away at the end of last week. Fuck. What on earth do you say?

My wife's grandmother was 100. She died peacefully. You know what, that doesn't make it suck any less. It still sucks. I knew her since she was 78. Damn, my parents didn't even live to be 78. Yet, I met her when she was 78. She was a great lady. She always knew what was going on and always wanted to know. She was active and alert. She was just a really cool grandma. And by the time I met her, I had already lost two of my grandparents and lost another just 2 years later. I always called her grandma. That is what she was. So it was sad.

Then my friend called me today. He knew last week was a long week and he had a minute today. So he called me to tell me his adult daughter had passed away. I didn't know what to say. I said "I am so sorry." The circle of life has been disrupted. Parents aren't supposed to outlive their kids. What the hell? I didn't know what to say.

What makes this worse is my friend lost his wife earlier this year. Two in a year? My mom went through it. My dad and her dad died two months apart. They were in their 60s and 80s. My buddy's wife was in her 60s and his daughter was about my age. How do you explain that? What sense is there in that?

I don't know what to tell him. I offered to do anything, but we all do that. We know its something you are supposed to say. And we all know no one ever takes you up on that. But what else do you say? Here is what I think I say:

My friend, I am sorry for your loss. I can't begin to understand how much this hurts. You, amigo, are tougher than most. I don't know how you deal with this, but you do. You are a good friend, a good human being and a good guy. You are a role model and an example to us all. I cannot take away the pain or make it feel any better. I can only offer you my friendship, an ear to listen when you need to, and a promise to always be here for you.

What the hell?

So I have a client who has a small dispute with another person. The other person, lets call this person, idiot, sends me a letter that I get on Friday. I had a chance to review it. But I haven't really had a chance to do anything with it. Idiot calls me today and this is our entire conversation:

I: This is Maria *****.
Me: Hi
I: Did you receive my letter?
Me: Yes.
I: What are you going to do?
Me: Well, I need you to give me a couple of weeks. I have had a family emergency. There was a death in the family.
I: So what are you going to do?
Me: I don't know if you understood me. There was a family emergency. I can't do anything until I get back.
I: That is not my problem.
Me: Let me see if I understand this right. You sent me a letter. I just told you I had a family emergency and you won't give me two weeks to deal with it?
I: Yes. That is not my problem:
Me: Let me be clear. I just told you that I have a family emergency and you have such little compassion that you won't give me a couple of weeks to get this resolved. I hope your life is so perfect that you never have someone die because you clearly are too small minded, too idiotic to deal with something like this.

That was it. Who the hell doesn't give someone extra time to deal with something because of a death in the family? I have now had it happen - twice. What the hell is wrong with people? You know what I do for a living? I resolve disputes. Sometimes its over $900 (as in this case) and sometimes its for a lot more money. But its never a life and death issue. If you cannot find it in your heart, assuming you have one you low life piece of crap, to give me some extra time, then I cannot find it in my heart to ever care what happens to you and your scumbag life. I hope you never have to deal with the crap that I have had to deal with, but if you do, I am pretty sure it will break you as a person. Sad. Sad. Sad.

The worst racist ever

Okay, so I was called a racist the other day by the neighbor from hell. At first, it really bothered me. I was like "What the hell?" Me? Racist. I was ready to follow the lead of Oran Juice Jones. (Okay, too obscure a reference? I was ready to do a Rambo, jam you (her) and flat blast both of you (her). But, I didnt. Then, yesterday, the same crazy lady said it again. (Among other things which I can't write because it even makes me blush and you have read what I can write!)

Then I was thinking about it. I might be the worst racist ever. No, not might be. I am. I showed up in court one day after shaving my head. A friend of mine is a deputy district attorney and said to me that I look liked a skinhead. We had a good chuckle and when he saw my client was an African American, he thought it was even funnier.

So, lets see. How bad of a racist am I? Lets start with being a minority. Yes, religiously I am a minority. I would be odd for a minority to be an "ist" against another minority, but it happens. We all know it does. So maybe that isn't the best evidence.

Lets see. My 3 boys? All Hispanic. Yes, I would have to be the worst racist in the world to be a white dude who adopted Hispanic kids. And its not like they are pasty white like the wife and me. You look at them and you can tell they are Hispanic. So, chalk that up to me being an idiot.

Oh, these boys, they go to a school where whites like me are a minority. The school has more Asian kids and Hispanics are a close third, followed by African Americans, mixed race kids and American Indians. Yep, I am the racist who sent my kids to a school with diversity.

My best friend? Filipino. Don't tell him that. Not that he is Filipino, that he is my best friend. He may not know it. Its not like we walk around calling each other BFF or anything. Hell, I took his 2nd youngest son to soccer practice last week. Bad, bad racist.

Oh yeah, I play soccer every week. Lets see, we have the dude from Mexico and his sons who play. We have the African guy who plays (actually from Africa) along with the dude from Jamaica or the West Indies. I don't know because I don't ask. Dude can kick the ball in the right direction. Its all I care about. How about the dude from South Africa? Actually, I play with two of them. One is black and the other is white. Then we have the Asian guys from all across Asia. We are the most diverse soccer game west of New York City.

I have coached soccer since I was 20. Lets see, I coached a team from South Sacramento that included several African American kids. I coached high school with a team that had kids from every background and I still talk to some of those guys, one of whom is, ready for it, African American. Dude even has a name that isn't Bob or Mike or something boring like that. His name is African. And he is a pretty cool guy, although don't tell him that.

I have clients who are from all over the world. I literally have clients from Mexico, Canada, Africa. I have clients whose racial background is everything you can imagine, including Guamanian. I can barely spell Guamanian, yet I have a client who is a really nice lady and Guamanian.

So, I have concluded I am like the worst racist ever. No, not like. If I were to be racist, I would be THE worst racist ever. The racist pieces of crap would kick me out for being such a bad racist. I would probably get my lily white ass kicked up one side of Broadway and down the other, assuming that these racist jackasses would go to Broadway. Maybe they would kick my lily white ass up one side of Loserville and down the other. Thats probably better.

So now I laugh at the crazy lady who called me a racist. I think its one of the last words someone would use to describe me. She can go take a long walk off a non-existent pier in the middle of nowhere. Maybe we can ship her crazy ass to Mars.

Yodle law sucks

Devan Callahan called me this morning from Yodle Law. Maybe the dweebs name is Dev-on. Pronounce it slowly. His message was that he had some questions. The entire message:

"Hey Jonathan this is Devan Callahan. I have some questions for you. Please call me at 512 730 4413."

When I hear that message, I think its someone who actually has some questions for me, right? Isn't that what everyone thinks? Apparently, not these douches. These douches think that this is acceptable marketing.

I have had jobs where I was selling crap. I can sell ice to Eskimos. I can sell sand to Egypt. I can sell water to dolphins. I never, ever, ever once left a message that wasn't perfectly clear as to what I was doing. Ever. If the person wants my product, they will call me back. If my product sucks, then they won't call me back. Its that simple.

But, if I spend my time calling some idiot who tells me he has questions and then does not tell me on the voice mail that he is selling something, then I can only come to one conclusion: his product sucks and his company sucks more. (Oh, this is my OPINION!) I mean, seriously, is it that hard to tell me that you are calling from Pieceofcrap Law, er, Yodle Law, and you want to sell me something. After all, if your so good at whatever the hell you think you do, it should be an easy sell.

I simply don't get these folks who have to be deceptive to sell their product or service. I dont like it. I think its lame. I think it tells me more about your product and you then it does about anything else. You are so unsure of your sales skills and your product that you think people will only call you back if you dont tell them where you are calling from.

Guess what Yodle Law? We aren't idiots. If you can't sell us based on telling us who you are, maybe you should go find a different crappy service to sell.

Who is rich

This is adapted from a talk I gave on August 3, 2012. (Trust me, the talk was better than this blog post.)

I was asked to give a talk and had about a month to come up with a topic. It took me until the week of the talk to come up with a topic and even then, it wasn't just me.

A friend of mine sent me an article from Atlantic Monthly. The article was about a woman with a special needs child who was grateful for what she had, even though she couldn't do things that a lot of her friends could do. I shared the article with my wife who then shared with me a quote from the Talmud (you can figure out what the Talmud is here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talmud): “Who is rich? The one who appreciates what he has.” (Pirkei Avot 4:1)

So, what does this mean. I have two stories about people who may be unappreciative. We have all heard of the Olympic Badminton scandal. This isn’t the badminton you learned in gym class in high school. These folks hit the shuttlecock, yes, that is what it is called, at like 100mph. They are some of the best badminton players in the world. And what did they do? They tried to lose. They wanted to lose. You are an Olympic athlete. You are the best of the best at your sport and you want to lose? I don’t understand that.

Then there are those parents. You know the type. “My kid wont sit still” or “my kid is the biggest brat in the world” or “my kid wont sit in the car.” We all know the type. Those folks are never happy and their kids are always wrong. These folks aren’t happy with their kids unless they are perfect, going to Harvard (or Yale or Princeton), and do all of their hobbies perfectly. They have to be the star and have the best manners.

In the Old Testament, there are prayers that are to be said every day. Very few people actually do this, but they are there. The day is supposed to begin with a series of simple blessings thanking God for things that we take for granted. These are : 

•  “Thank you, God, for giving me life.”
• “Thank God I can see.”
• “Thank God I can use my hands and feet.”
• “Thank God I can think.”

A close reading, shows that none of these prayers are about material things. There is no prayer thanking God for a house or food or even our children. These prayers are about being alive, about the gift of sight, use of our hands and the ability to think, an ability that separates us from some animals.

Judaism recognizes that true happiness comes from appreciating and consciously enjoying what is already good in your life. There is no focus on what is missing in life. It’s the missing that brings the sadness. When we focus on what we have, we have true happiness. 

You see, God gave us gifts not just so we have these things, like birds, trees, flowers, and animals. That is only half of it. The other half is making ourselves aware of these gifts. That means we stop and smell the flowers, we appreciate the birds chirping (maybe not at 3 am outside of our bedroom window), we appreciate the fact that we are alive. 

I talked with a client on Friday. I asked him how he was doing and he said “I am breathing and on this side of earth. Its always a good day that way.” It made sense. It worked well with my theme and I am glad I talked to him on Friday. 

I think its simple. The parents who constantly complain about their kids, the Olympic athletes, they are both missing this. They do not appreciate what they have. They are always thinking about what is missing. What my kid does not do right, what deficiencies my child has. The badminton players were thinking about how to create a better matchup in the next round and not thinking about the fact that many of us would trade anything to be an Olympic athlete. That is what makes the Paralympics and Special Olympics so great: those athletes appreciate what they have. 

My oldest son has been in LA for 15 months now. He hasn’t lived at home in 7 years. I could complain about this. But my son was adopted. My other two sons are his biological brothers. If I never had him, I would never have the other two. Without those two, we never would have had our daughter. (Trust me, it runs in my family. You have to adopt before you can have a biological child.) So, while I could whine and bitch and moan about what is missing, I would rather appreciate what we have – 4 kids who I love and adore. 

I think the important thing is to notice and appreciate what you have. Once you do that, then you will always be happy.