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.