I was on the freeway when I received the call. I was about three quarters of the way through my morning commute, and in the middle of a teleconference. I couldn’t tell who it was…the caller ID displayed my office phone, which had forwarded the call. I almost ignored it and sent it to voice mail, but I just had that feeling. I knew I had to answer the phone. I could feel my body tense up as I pressed the answer key. I said hello… the caller identified herself, and began to state the nature of her call. She said my son’s name… I am not certain I breathed again for the next 10 minutes. My head was in a fog… I felt physical pain, like I’d been trampled and kicked by horses. I vacillated between rage and despair; consumed by fear for the future of our child. I somehow managed to conduct the conversation and navigate across several lanes of traffic towards an offramp while I slowly felt slip the grip I thought I held on my world and my reality. Bleary-eyed and shaken, I turned the car around and headed towards home. Read more…
I can remember moments in my childhood when I was doing some bizarre thing or another and I would happen to catch my parents watching me. They wouldn’t say anything; maybe chuckle or smile. I’d ask “what?” but they’d never reply. They would just have that look. I now understand that thoughtful gaze. I look at my boys the same way sometimes and I just think, “Wow… What lies ahead?” I wonder what paths they will choose…who they will become… what kind of lives they will lead… but most often, I wonder what fire will burn deep inside of them. What will be the thing that drives them? What will be their great passions in life?… Will they pursue them?
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Dillon resigned as my illustrator the other day. He said he was retiring, getting out of the game… or something like that. He’d gone through about 5 pages of illustrations, and the mood suddenly left him. He was tired of carrying the weight of the team…now I’ll have to farm it out somehow. It’s a shame, because they were good pictures too… he translated the activities in the story perfectly and caught the main focus in each section with his renderings. Where am I going to find another illustrator that can bring my words to life like he did? and one who will work for snickerdoodles and pez? Dang child labor laws. Alas, another talent burnt out at an early age.
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One of Kendra’s favorite movies is the Shawshank Redemption. It is a great story… well written and laid out, and the fraternal themes within the film make it all the more compelling to me. There are several memorable lines from that movie, but one in particular comes to mind when I find myself caught up in the frantic pace of things. The character Brooks made an observation in a letter to his friends at Shawshank that “The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.” His period of reference was Maine, in the 1940’s. If Brooks thought the string of automobiles up and down main street signified haste, he would surely agree that the speed of life has increased exponentially since then. Better technology brought quicker and easier access to information and people. Transcontinental and international travel is rapid and readily available to the general public. One can accomplish more in a day and from multiple locations than ever before. Since more can be done in less time, more must be done to fill the time. We continue to push the envelope. The quality and speed of information and access has increased. But as we hurry along to the beat of the world, I am not sure quality of life necessarily has. Read more…
I am not much of a conversationalist…not really adept in the art of small talk and casual verbal exchanges. I am much better at one-way communication (I deliver; you receive; questions afterward; thanks for playing), and I thoroughly enjoy a passionate debate. But…these are often not the best communication styles when dealing with children. Especially teenagers. It is easier when they are younger. The conversations can be about anything and can (and often do) spring up from out of nowhere during the most unexpected moments. Their interests are innocuous, so there is no reluctance to say whatever is on their minds at the time, and there is no perceived threat when asked about their day or when pressed for details. You can be silly and ridiculous and it’s appreciated, it’s funny. When they break into the teen-years though, there becomes a sudden need for privacy. They want to introduce boundaries to conversational topics. Simple questions can be viewed as interrogations. The nonsensical things that were once hilarious are now lame. The rules seem to change; and the communication approach has to change along with them. I knew I would have to adjust my style or risk widening the communication gap I could see developing between me and Logan.
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