Seasons, chapters, whatever you call them; those chunks of life define us: Infancy, Youth, Puberty, Adolescence, College, Career, Marriage, Parenting, Grandchildren, Retirement, our passing. Beginning, middle and end, we only get our short few years on this planet. How we live those years, every choice, changes our path, our possibilities.  Our lives are never ending change; a constant flux of intertwining events, leading to endless possibilities. A mere wrong turn can lead to fortune or death. Whatever else we think or believe, we all agree. There just isn’t enough time.

Roger McGuinn and the Byrds serenaded us with a lyrical adaptation of Ecclesiastes:

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to

David Gilmore and Pink Floyd gave us the haunting words:

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day 
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way. 
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town 
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way... 

…Every year is getting shorter; never seem to find the time. 
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines 
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way 
The time is gone, the song is over, 
Thought I'd something more to say.

Time, is our most precious commodity. We gain knowledge daily, we can beg borrow or steal more money. We can find new friends, gain influence and power. But time; time is in control. We get what we get. We can’t buy it, barter it, trade it or create it. We are utterly at it’s mercy.

I find as I get older, that the clock seems to move faster. The days on the calendar slip by quicker than ever. The shorter the candle, the faster it burns. “It’s not fair!” we lament. Give me just a few more years of health; time to enjoy children and grandchildren. We crave more years of seasons. Season of our world, seasons of our lives, seasons of the lives around us.

“Time Marches On” “You are about out of time” “Time’s up!” “All in due time” “There’s no time like the present”  “In the nick of time” “Time flies when you’re having fun”.  Our culture revolves around time. We obsess over it, we are short of it in all things. We rush, rush, rush. Seldom do we “take our time” or “stop and smell the roses”. We are so busy keeping up with time constraints upon us; appointments, getting to work on time, breaks, lunches, overtime, travel schedules (late flights, Grrrrr), that we miss many opportunities that time affords us. We fail to literally stop and smell the roses, or the fresh cut grass; the myriad smells of the woods or a field, so different with each season. How many sunrises and sunsets do we savor? Even for a few minutes. Rain and snow, those incredibly fresh unmistakable aromas of our world.

Our food goes over lips teeth and gums in a rushing waterfall of meal after meal. How often do we eat slowly; really enjoying the experience? Those few moments when as a parent you pause at your child’s door as you leave the room, having just tucked them in. That is time well spent indeed.

Seasons change, and time marches on; as inevitably and inexorably as death and taxes. Take stock of your account. How much time do you have? Poor health empties the account quickly. Stress does the same. Count your days, count your blessings and don’t let time get the best of you; get the best from what time you have.

We are born and raised by our parents. Those precious few years of play and discovery, then off to school, and eventually; we are on our own. Wild oats are sown, we find the love of our lives and get married. Then we have children. It all seems so different; no longer the child but the parent, fully responsible with your mate for their precious lives. Each day we work, worry, play, guide, teach and protect. We cheer for them in their triumphs, comfort them in their pains and defeats. They fill our world with challenges and joy. Then, one day, they are gone.

Peace, quiet, solitude. Emptiness; that nagging pit in the stomach on those first days and weeks; remembering that our youngest has left home. I think I’ll pop in to his room and… he’s not there, no one home but mom and dad. It feels strange; the lack of busyness, chaos and activity. The two of us adjust slowly, the stilted awkward phone calls become easy conversations, filled with laughter and questions, lots of questions. We still worry, and via phone, email and text we guide and teach as we had before. Then its time for a visit; whether here or there matters not, once together, it is as though we had never been apart. We talk and share our jokes and jibes; we are one, we are family.

The trouble with writing is, well, writing. Getting started writing to be more specific. Once I sit myself down in front of the keyboard, mind cleared, thoughts focused; the words just seem to appear, as if by magic. It’s the getting here that’s the trouble.
I haven’t written, for the sheer pleasure of it at least, for quite some time, and that, I must admit, I regret. There is something wonderful and freeing about writing. Frankly, I’ve missed it. With that said, here I am, pen in hand (well, keyboard actually), ready to ramble for your reading pleasure (or dismay). I will post what I write with the hope that some of you will enjoy my efforts. Your comments are appreciated. 
Before I get back to it, one final note. I am at heart a political animal. I have very strong beliefs, and am very passionate about them. However in the words I write here, I will not travel down that road. As in the past, THIS writing is for pleasure, mine, and hopefully yours. I will write about whatever interests or amuses me; whatever moves me, the things we all experience. 

Those who live in the Northern half of America’s heartland will tell you how much they love the change of seasons. I have sung that song for many years. There is nothing quite as exhilarating as that first fully thawed spring day; birds singing, the steady drip of ice and snow melting. Spring is after all the beginning of the four-season-cycle. It is birth, growth, movement and light. After a long, cold, dark, winter, the day lengthens, the sun moves north to warm us. 

In the far north, we do our best to embrace winter; indulging in every sort of winter sport: skiing and snowboarding, snowmobiling, ice fishing, cross country skiing, and lots of winter walks. We beam at the winter wonderland of fresh snow, enjoy cozy days at home with the kids when the schools close for a winter storm. A beautiful White Christmas is the capper. Nothing is better than inches of fresh snow, blanketing the landscape, aglow with Christmas lights as we scurry about in preparation for our time with family and friends.

And yet, no matter our best efforts, winter begins to wear us down. Is it the cold? No, not at all, we shirk off the cold; we know how to dress for it and by mid-winter, we skip gloves and hat when the temperature hits the teens. Is it the snow? It can be, when we are buried under the snow of massive winter storms. But what is it really, what really wears us down? THE DARK.

For those with early work schedules, leaving in the dark and arriving home again in the dark becomes a depressing, drudging ritual; like some low budget sci-fi flick where the sun has been removed forever. We long for the light; we HUNGER for it; longer hours of daylight and the holy grail of winter relief: The Return of Day Light Savings Time! By the time it comes, we have enjoyed our lengthening days, ever warmer sun and rising temperatures. Then it finally happens, we arise on Sunday morning, one hour short of sleep, knowing that the sun will set an hour later. This simple thing, adjusting the clock, lifts our spirits. We smile more easily and begin planning for the spring and summer ahead. The simple fact is this: without our season of darkness, spring would never be so sweet. 

Quite some time ago I started writing about being a DAD. I created  my own blog, Real Talk With D.A.D. 
Life got busy and as with many things, Real Talk got put on the back burner. Well, it is time to dust off the pen, grab some paper and get back to work. So why Real Talk With D.A.D.? Simply put, I just wanted to share my ramblings and musings; my journey through the trials and travails of parenting.
Being DAD or MOM is the most daunting thing. What? ME, responsible for this helpless little child?
That first moment, right after birth, you hold your newborn, awestruck; time stands still for a bit, the center of the universe is in your arms. Joy, fear, thankfulness and the beginning of the never ending journey. You are now a parent.
Everything I have written up till now is posted on Real Talk. I will post my new writings on Real Talk, with links on facebook as well. Here is a taste of my first writing:

http://www.realtalkwithdad.com/1/post/2010/04/worlds-greatest-dad.html

We live in Wisconsin and it is the day after the Packers failed to advance in their run for back to back Super Bowl wins. So let's not talk football. Or on the other hand, Let's Talk Football!
Football indeed, but not the pro's, oh no. Let's talk about College Football.

As My son continues his Junior year in High School, the search for a college begins. Well, at least that is what you would think, but in his mind, the search is over. He clued me in on his parameters for a school late this past summer: Pretty far from home, warm weather, and a Division I school with great sports teams. I knew where this was headed. He and I have traveled to Oklahoma and Texas for the past five years over spring break to give him an early start on the motocross season.

Of all the places we have visited on those trips. none is more a true home to motocrosss, than Stillwater Oklahoma. Just by chance this is also the location of Oklahoma State University. It is a great school, has excellent programs in his area of study, and yes, it is a Division I school with excellent teams. Football, Basketball and Wrestling top the list. So on a three day weekend fall trip, we did the power drive from Northern Wisconsin to O.S.U. for a little motocross riding, and if my son has his way, his one and only campus visit. He was bent on it before we got there and nothing we experienced changed his mind. To the contrary, the campus is gorgeous, the staff and students excellent hosts and the facilities, well, flat out amazing. T.Boone Pickens, oil billionaire, is an alum of O.S.U. and has dug deep in his pockets to support his alma mater. One of the tour highlights is the football stadium. Seating 60,000 plus, this is exactly what he was looking for; the quintessential college experience. Huge crowds, a winning team, marching band and all.

The trip was a total success, and academically, it works very well, acceptance seems likely and the costs; well let's just say we can get it done. Gulp. At years end we were able to watch the OSU Cowboys win over Stanford in an absolutely crazy overtime game. He didn't just enjoy that game. He climbed right on in; might as well have been there. Just over a year, one last year, then off to college he goes, I'll be sad to see him go, but I am so proud that he is ready.

Another Father’s Day has just passed, the day when all of us who have the name DAD receive gifts and cards from our children. On this day the focus is on us and the accolades are heaped upon us, often in the guise of baseball hats and tee-shirts emblazoned with slogans like “World’s Greatest DAD”.

On this, our one special day, we bask in all the attention and love, thinking that we have been “pretty good dads”. Few of us would dare to think we are the greatest or the best. I myself often feel I have fallen short. There never seems to be enough time for each child, and work, and church, and chores, and projects… You get the picture.

I myself have tried to put my children first, embracing their hobbies and sports and whenever possible, doing things together as a family. With three children, two grown and gone, the last in high school. I can look back on good times and bad. I have my regrets as do we all. Harsh words spoken, moments we missed due to scheduling conflicts and travel.

Every Father’s Day, I think of those DADS that have been so selfless, so strong, and so brave. They do deserve the title World’s Greatest Dad. This past year I have traveled extensively. Whenever I meet our brave service men and women I thank them for their service. Many of them have children; Mom or Dad, halfway around the world, battling for freedom, heroes all.

This year three days before Father’s Day the following occurred in Wadena, a small town in rural Minnesota; a father there was concerned about the bad weather and the safety of his daughter. He owned a small business and it was his day off. His daughter was running the store that day. He stopped in several times to check on her as the weather worsened, just as a good worrisome father is expected to do. His last visit, sirens blaring he rushed into the store, moments ahead of a terrible tornado. He guided his daughter and the one patron present into the cooler and covered them with his own body. They both survived. He did not. The greatest gift a father could give to his child, his life, willingly given for theirs. We would all hope that if faced with similar circumstances we would act in kind. I pray that day never comes, but that I will be ready if it does. In the midst of their loss and grief, his daughter and his entire family, so sad for his passing, must be so proud of his gift of life, his ultimate sacrifice.  A true hero, a true World’s Greatest DAD.

Earth Day was recently in the news as we passed yet another anniversary. The first Earth Day is spoken of with reverence; as though it was the first time that mankind grasped the nature of our planet and our tenuous existence upon it. The notion that there was no awareness before this first great day seems a bit ridiculous to me.

I remember with extreme clarity, a day in third grade in 1963. This was years before the first Earth Day. The teacher was talking about natural resources, you know, one of those topics that are listed when you look up the basic stats of any country along with population, terrain, climates etc. This particular day we were talking about natural resources around the world and how the United States had an abundance of many things that were scarce in other parts of the world, Gold, Silver, Copper and Iron Ore to name a few. As she spoke, I remember this bad feeling coming over me, a feeling of foreboding and ill. Much as if your mom had announced her impending arrival to your room to check that you had tidied up and made your bed, when indeed you had not.

We had terrariums in most of our classrooms back then and the teachers had explained to us that it was a closed system. One of them actually had a lizard inside to balance the oxygen and carbon dioxide so that it could be truly sealed. Our earth is no different, just a matter of scale. My eight year old brain grasped this instantly. As she talked about our use of natural resources I was overwhelmed with one distinct thought: The Earth is a closed system and we will eventually run out of all of it.

The word that should be in front of all natural resources is limited. None are limitless save the air we breathe and the water we drink, going through their endless natural cycles, oxygen to C02 and back again. Water on the ground or in our oceans and lakes, into us, animals and plants, then out again and back to the sky, over and over.

At this tender age and every day since, I think how we must be good stewards of this planet. We have all seen the slogan “Save the Planet”. This is really a misnomer, the planet will survive. If we blew ourselves up today, the Earth would be here until consumed by our Sun when it goes nova millions of years from now. What the slogan should be is “Save Life”. That is the real focus here, how we use those resources, how we care for the fragile ecosystems that make up this giant blue marble, this largest of terrariums, hurtling through space.

I have to admit that the feelings on that first day, that epiphany of understanding of our world and its limits, have diminished greatly since that day. That was my first Earth day. No marching, no angry talk. Just a profound sadness over the fact that we aren’t doing a very good job as stewards of our planet.

The current disaster in the gulf is the first time that my feelings have returned to what they were that day in third grade. How is it that the most powerful nation on earth can’t plug a hole in a pipe less than two feet across? That this has continued to spew, unabated this long is unconscionable. Where is the Army Corp of Engineers, where is the outcry and the effort to fix this and fix it now? All I see is talking heads on both sides pointing fingers. We need to put all possible effort into this and find a quick and complete solution and we need to do it now.

It seems of late that wherever you turn, the phrase “in this economy” comes up. Glad to hear your busy “in this economy ”we say to the local merchant. We hear and see constant reminders of the high unemployment and uncertainty of the times. This focus on belt tightening and tough times got me to thinking about the first few years of marriage.

We waited a bit longer than some. I was 32. Seems so young now, looking back, but at the time it seemed I had waited till my life was half over to get started with marriage and kids.

Once we got married we didn’t wait long for kids and not only that, we had the first two, the girls, fourteen months apart. My wife worked part time so that she could spend a good amount of her time at home with the kids. Lean times back then. We really had to watch what we spent. I had no idea how expensive kids are. In the brief period of our marriage before the little ones arrived, we would go to a high end grocery store near us and buy all sorts of exotic goodies for a home made gourmet meal. Dining out was a regular habit.

Then things changed, drastically changed. The first thing to go is sleep, but that is a topic for another time. The second thing is money. Diapers wipes and formula were near the top of our list of monthly expenses. With one, it was a bit of an ouch, but of course as they grow, they eat more, hence, more formula and well, more diapers too and let’s not forget wipes, powder, zinc oxide and  the clothes that last for 30-60 days. The worst of it was when we had two in diapers and drinking formula at the same time. The cost of diapers and formula for each was the equivalent of a four-pack-a-day smoker chuggin’ down a half a bottle of Black Jack a day. They grew, they ate more and more. It seemed as though you could almost hear the sucking sound as the money left my wallet each time I stepped into the infant aisle at Target to restock on formula and diapers. Let’s not forget you had to lug this stuff around with you all the time, everywhere you went. To the store, church, daycare, playdates. My life revolved around formula and diapers. Livin’ the dream man, livin’ the dream. As with all things, you adjust and become accustomed to circumstances and life goes on.

But then it happened, I knew it was coming, but I hadn’t thought about the impact, the import of this moment, this life changing event. Our first child weaned off formula! We had just gotten a raise! This was an epic moment and an epiphany all at the same time. Not only was this a sizeable raise (reduction of expense to be honest) but it was only the first of four. Remember, we had two on formula and in diapers at the same time. Two to wean off diapers, two to potty train! This drain on the budget, this devouring expense was going to end! I could see the light at the end of the tunnel! I didn’t hear choirs of angels but it was close. Sure enough, time passed and we got another raise, and another, and another. With these historic changes came other benefits. I no longer walked like a hunchback with two girls in my arms and a diaper bag over one shoulder. They walked, they talked, they ate the same food we ate. But alas, the raises were short lived. Soon we discovered sports, and dancing, and gymnastics. Sigh, it was good while it lasted but at least we were done with diapers and formula! Or so I thought. I’m Pregnant! She said. My fortieth birthday present.

  By D.A.D.

 

The other day Anika reminded me that I had been using the term “Man Card” for quite a few years. The context is very important. I have almost always used the term in a humorous and somewhat sarcastic manner. “That guy doesn’t have a clue…they should take away his Man Card”.
So, what exactly do I mean by Man Card? You must have a bit of a glimmer from the line above. Let me give a better example. Anika had met a strong strapping young man in his mid-twenties. He had volunteered to help her move and did a fine job with the heavy lifting, quite literally. However things took a bad turn when it was time to get the new place set up.
She asked him to hang a curtain rod. This has to be one of the simplest tasks you can imagine. An electric drill, a tape measure, a pencil screws and anchors and you’re done in a jiffy. As in like five minutes. It is the simplest of tasks that a man with any mechanical abilities should be able to perform. He did not have a clue. Did not even try. I would have to guess that McGyver was not one of his favorite shows.

The parade of young men that have vied for my daughters attentions rarely deserve to hold a Man Card. What the heck is up? Did they take shop class out of the schools? Nope, both girls and recently my son the freshman all brought home well crafted projects. My girls and my boy get this. How is it then that so many young men out there are clueless when it comes to the skills that would earn them a Man Card? You doubt my concern? Okay, here’s a clue, Cup-Stacking is now considered a sport, no really, I’m not kidding, they teach this in Middle School Gym class. If your child is a national level competing Cup-Stacker, I make no apologies, not even to you. Cup Stacking, not cool. Lacking basic man skills, way not cool. So seriously, how did it come to this, so many men in the current generation so undeserving of a Man Card? Ready for this? Our generation has made it way to easy for our kids. Hire the carpenter while we take Billy to the Cup Stacking competition instead of Father and Son working on a project together. Many schools have dropped wrestling, gymnastics and other sports. Working with your hands is not respected any more. How many plumbers, electricians and carpenters are doing better financially than their white collar counterparts? Many, trust me on this, many.  We have had this shift of thinking that somehow actually doing things is, beneath us, a less than desirable pursuit. This spells trouble, serious trouble.

Now realize there are other qualifications and disqualifications for a Man Card. Being a bully, no card, never ever ever. Being rude and disrespectful to women. Definitely no card and a nice long session out back of the wood shed is in order. Being polite and respectful to your peers and elders, bingo, good points towards your Man Card. Treating a woman with kindness and respect; ah you’re catching on, Major Points for the card. So here’s the deal Mom and Dad, take a pass on the Cup-Stacking, get the little guy working with some tools and teach him manners. My son knows the only things that might ever make me raise a hand to him are being a bully, or in any way hurting a woman. Kind of old fashioned I know, but honestly, he knows I will never raise my hand to him. The good news though, I'll never have to face that dilemma. Yup, he’s earned his Man Card.

By D.A.D.

The empty nest; all parents joke about it, hey they’re gone! Hurray! Sleep, privacy, a clean house, all those things we have been missing for so long. We’re sure it will be new found FREEDOM.

Our second child my daughter, left for an overseas trip the other day. Six months she’ll be gone, after living with us at home again for the past year and a half. We all have our ups and downs, our points of contention, but gone is gone. I have to admit that although I’ve been through this so many times in the past; trips to camp, off to college and the dorm, school in another country, etc. I always find myself aching with a sense of loss, each and every time.

Anika has been on her own for a while and when she hasn’t visited for a time, it’s kind of like we all need a fix, as though we’re slipping out of control until we connect again. The frequency of phone calls outbound and inbound seems to increase as the time since that last visit falls further into the past. The same happens with her sister when she is gone. She has planned this departure for some time, but still, the ache is there. It’s like I wasn’t ready. Just like every time before.

This is the first time that both girls have been a good distance from home at the same time. Our nest is now two-thirds empty. Little brother remains, a freshman in High School. I thought today about his future, when he will be off on his own. His sports put us on the road together week-end after week-end much of the year. It’s a rare thing for Mom, Dad and son to spend so much time together. I cherish it, because I know that it will end sooner rather than later. The completely empty home, I know it’s inevitable, but I am not eager for that day to come.