by Richard Timothy | Jul 20, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Mini-Smirk, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
In the spirit of yesterday’s Smirk I felt compelled to share this little story about an experience a friend of mine had with his youngest a while back, and by while back I mean anywhere from 6 months ago to 2 years ago. Out of respect for my friend, I will omit the names of him and his family members, unless of course he chooses to out himself in the comments.
It was during the school season and the weather was beginning to turn a bit brisk. His wife had to go to the university early that morning to take a test and it was his responsibility to get the kids ready for school. His oldest, I capable and self sufficient lad, made the process of getting ready for school a rather pleasant one. Then there was the youngest, which I’ll call Ben. Ben is the definition of the Yin and Yang… better make that an adorable sociopath. He is an angelic looking little boy with a fiery personality that is in such opposition to his innocent appearance that world domination will be no problem for this child over the next two to four years.
So as my friend is trying to get Ben ready for school he’s met by a brick wall of assistance, the kid is refusing to help. My friend’s frustration begins to grow as the arrival time of the school bus gets closer and closer. With only minutes to spare Ben is finally ready… until he asks for his coat. As the prospect of taking his kid to school starts to look more and more like a probability, and not being terribly fond of this possible outcome my friend slips out with, “Where the f*** is your coat?”
Ben stops all of his disruptive and unhelpful behavior, and with eyes full of surprise and concern looks up at his father and says, “You can’t use that word. That’s mom’s word. Only she can use it.”
All his frustration towards Ben melted away in that instant. He smiled, doing his best to keep from laughing, and replied, “You’re right. That is mommy’s word. I’m sorry. Now let’s find your coat bud.”
Ben nods in acceptance of the apology and in a sudden surge of teamwork runs to where his coat is hiding, puts in on and heads out the door and off towards the bus stop. Arriving right as the bus pulls up.
I’m not saying swear at your kids, fact is if you swear the kids will pick it up, they’ll just make sure that they, like you, only use it around their friends or when they think you’re not around. “Mom’s word”… ha! What a grand way to keep the little ones from getting expelled for language… at least until get they to high school. Truly one of most brilliant little people stories I’ve had the privilege of hearing and sharing. Thanks Ben for knowing the rules about “Mom’s word” and thanks Ben’s dad for sharing it.
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: surprised kid.
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 19, 2010 | I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Parenting is one of those skill sets that you make up as you go, and they seem to evolve and deform from one child to the next. I know this not because I am a parent, but because I have parents. Some things work well enough so they stick around as parental laws. Rules like, you can’t come home until a certain time, or playing in the street unless you are wearing a helmet… or is that riding your… and I think I got that first one backwards. Yeah, actually I think it’s you have to be home by a certain time. Well, I suppose at rule actually depends on the parents and the child involved. Sometimes though, you’ll see, or hear about, parenting decisions that really just make you say, “What the fffffrankly, well, just, you know… WHY?”
This first experience I witnessed a few weeks back at the local Art Fair during a hot afternoon. As the heat began to swelter, Angela and I found ourselves in the food tent sitting at a table eating some fries and enjoying some ice cold water while enjoying the shade. As I chomped on a crunchy wedge of deep fried potatoey goodness I noticed Angela’s eyes suddenly widen. She then whispered, “Look behind you.” As I turned around in my seat I noticed a small and empty stroller. Behind the stroller was a mom, holding a small pile of clothes in one hand and using the other to pour ice cold bottled water on a little child standing next to her wearing nothing but a white diaper.
As ice water flowed off his head and onto his bare torso, he didn’t really cry, but there was a gasp with eyes full of surprise while he clinched onto his moms pants to keep his balance. The lady stopped long enough to take a swallow or two and bent over saying something to the kid. The kid just shook… all of him, he was freezing. I could even see his teeth chattering together.
A friend of the lady then walked up with a little person of her own in a stroller and asked the first lady what she was doing. She replied, “He was hot so I’m helping him cool off.” And that was it, the ladies started talking and the little kid stood shivering in the sun trying to warm up. I turned my back to the scene looked and Angela and simply asked, “Why?” She just shook her head in reply.
As we started talking about the art of poor parental decisions, she told me a little story that a lady she use to work with had shared with her one morning a few years back. Apparently, one evening as this coworker pulled up to her house she saw her husband on the roof doing a little re-shingling work. Then she noticed that about ten feet from where he was working was her four year old boy… on the roof, sitting against swamp cooler, which was attached to the roof. The boy was facing his dad just sitting there looking around. She raced up to the house, jumped out of the car, and yelled at her husband to get the boy off the roof that second.
This took a little longer than expected. The father had taken a few precautions, such as putting the kid in a climbing harness, duct taping the kid to the cooler, and then wrapping a rope around the kid and the cooler three times and then tying a knot to ensure that the kid stayed put. In short, the little one had no chance of moving from that spot until his dad undid all the safety knots and released the kid from his perch.
Once the child was safely back on the ground, she began the husband scolding process. He tried explaining that their son had refused to stay on the ground in the first place. He kept following his dad up the ladder because he was curious to see what his dad was doing. So instead of fighting the kids persistence, he just took the kid up with him and made sure there was no way the kid would be able to move until the dad wanted him to. The boy was happy and content on the roof, sitting there asking questions about what his dad was doing, followed by a barrage of “why” and once satisfied with the answers he had received he just sat there quietly, looking around the neighborhood. The wife then began to explain all the reasons why it was a monumentally bad idea to take a four year old up to the roof of your house and duct tape him to the house’s swamp cooler. As the discussion continued, the husband eventually conceded that it was probably… definitely not the best decision.
I’d have to agree, it’s a bad idea in general to take any little kid and put them on a slanted roof. However, I’ll admit I do find a tiny smile creeping across my face when I envision a little four year old kid wearing round black rim glasses contently sitting on the roof of his house, duck taped to a cooler.
What are your thoughts on this visual? Also, do you have any “Why?” parenting moments that you’ve witnessed?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: bad parents.
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 14, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
So I went to a free outdoor concert last week, which I high expectations for, but instead it turned out to be mostly obnoxious, with just a hint of tedious, and a splash of hope that all of the rude, inconsiderate, pushy kids would catch a nonfatal, yet very itchy, rash around their neither regions, which would last for a good week and a half. Typically I consider myself of the “kindness towards your fellow man” disposition. In times of arguments and grumbling I’m usually the first to start the, “can’t we all just get along?” chant of togetherness. Unfortunately though, as wave upon wave of rude people invaded my space, i.e. stepping walking through the middle of us all sitting in a blanket on a grass filled area away from the sidewalks, I admit that I did begin to lose that perspective in a hurry. It was the utter lack of mutual respect that emitted off those people like the pungent odor off an overpriced wedge of foul tasting soft French cheese, that I had the biggest problem with.
Yes I am being judgmental, but that’s the point really. Plus, I’m perfectly fine with it. Judging is one of those words that carry with it a lot of negatively charged emotional attachment. I think this is because of its use in religious text. The context is that is usually given is that judging is a bad thing that we should not take part in. I believe there was also a subtle suggestion in the text regarding this action… something about if you judge someone they’ll judge you back. Then a little while later in the book you have all these laws being shared that do, in fact, give you guidelines for judging people, and how they should be dealt with after said judgment takes place. It’s a bit confusing really.
Judge not… rubbish, I say judge, because I really do think it is part of the human condition. I know it sounds odd, but I think judging others shows you’re human. The problem is, is that people think and have been led to believe that judging others suggests negative insinuations, or unpleasantries about their character, which it certainly can, but does it always? Can you judge someone without attaching a negative perspective to it? I think you can, because I do it all the time. I’ve seen people that I thought could benefit from seeing a therapist. From that I could either mean that I think they are a crazy person, or that they could benefit and create a better life for themselves if they were to get some professional help. Both are judgments, one could be classified as a bit negative and the other is concern and not what I consider to me negative at all.
I figure the first thing we need to do when talking about this word is to define it so we know in what context the word is being used. There is the context of making a judgment due to one’s professional possession as in being a judge. Also, you may be required to judge someone’s guilt if you are assigned to a jury at some point in life. Those professional definitions aside, judging someone simply seems to mean forming an opinion about someone’s character based on one’s personal perspective, as in what think about them based on your observations. Yes, first impressions can be wrong, but first impressions are a social system for judging others. Job interviews are another socially acceptable scenario for judging others. As long as it is called something else, people seem to be fine with it.
Can judgments be wrong? Of course, that’s the great thing about the mind, thoughts, beliefs, impressions, etc. we can change them with the more information we get. We’re very clever that way. I’ve met some people that I didn’t much care for at first and whom I’ve grown to love and appreciate. The exact opposite can also be said.
Not too long ago I as this one kid get all huffy and bent out of shape because of a look they got from someone the store. They were so worked up that they confronted this person and the first thing out of their mouth was, “Don’t judge me!” I started laughing… I always start laughing when I hear that phrase. Telling people not to judge automatically gets them judging because of the judgment performed on them by the person who thinks they are judging. Also, by telling someone not to judge means you are, in fact, judging them. It’s a perfect working example of hypocrisy, commonly very loud angst filled hypocrisy, but there’s no telling them that, usually… unless they are family… or a good friend… or that one obnoxious guy that doesn’t drink, but acts drunk all night in a poorly chosen attempt to fit in and needs this explained to them in a very direct way because subtle hints are completely lost on them.
I’d really like to see all the animosity toward the word to go away. There’s really no point. People seem fine and always happy to take part in the action when they call it something else. One of the most common and favored practices of judging others is “people watching”. People love to watch other people, and form opinions about them. The one thing you can count on when you go people watching is that others are watching and judging you as well. It really is quite an even handed practice. Perhaps that’s why people seem to enjoy it so much.
I suppose the point is, it’s what we choose to do with the judgment. Some people choose to throw stones, others let it go. Some judgments make us laugh at others. Some make us laugh at ourselves. My gripe with judging others comes from people who take that judgment and intentionally belittle the person they are judging. Things designed to attack another’s self-worth and self-appreciation. I’m fine if people laugh at someone in shorts wearing black socks pulled up to the knee while wearing white sneakers, I’m fine with them telling others about it. The part I disagree with is when people go out of their way to make a bunch of noise to get the attention of the black sock person so when they look over and see others intentionally pointing and laughing at them for the sole purpose of hurting their feelings.
To sum it up in a sentence, judge all you want, just don’t be a douche bag about it.
What are your thoughts about judging others?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: judging, soap box, don’t judge, and laughing at others.
by Richard Timothy | Jul 12, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Mini-Smirk, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
This Sunday held a few hours of pick-up, move around, and plug it all back in. During last week we finally got our basement floor repadded and carpet put back into its proper place. It wasn’t until Sunday that we had the time to get everything back to where it belonged. Thus freeing up our front room and giving us access to a television again. It did seem to take a lot less time to put things back than it took to get everything moved out of there in the first place. This surprised me because when we were moving everything out of the room to save it from water damage you would think that we would have moved everything with a bit more in haste.
All speedy setting up aside, we did feel the need to reward ourselves with time… time together to watch a film and relax a bit before bed. It would mostly quite lovely. I mean picture it, there you are sitting next to your significant other, wrapped in a blanket and looking onward towards a rectangular box filled with colorful moving pictures as you sip on some wine and enjoy a little cheese with your crackers, or crackers with your cheese, depending on what part is your favorite. Oh, one last thing, you are sitting in the middle of an empty floor. Yeah, we have away our old couch and have yet to get a new, we do have it picked out, so at least we have that going for us. Still, it will be a little while before we get it.
Angela was very adamant about letting the old couch go the way of charity. It’s not that it was a bad couch, or that the flooded basement was even the couches fault, it’s just that, well, it didn’t tie the room together. I’ll admit that sitting on the floor watching a film was a little remnant of early college days when most of your furniture was a result of cinder blocks and 2x4s that you permanently borrowed from a local building site. Still, after spending two hours watching a movie about South Africa and the 1995 Rugby World Cup, your now square neither region does seem to carry a very noticeable argument as to why sitting on a couch is a much more preferred method for film watching appreciation.
On a plus note though, it is a fabulous space for doing yoga or thinking about doing yoga, which ever school of thought you adhere to on that one.
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: free couch and Invictus (film).
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 7, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
My friend Jen shared the following story with me the other day. It was about her going to the bar with her friends, mostly. Here’s what she said…
“So I’m hanging out at the bar with some friends. We’re sitting in a booth around a big round table and this one dude, Dan, is sitting across from me. He was long gone (drunk) before we even got to the bar.
He then yells at me from across the table, ‘Hey Jen.’
I yell back, ‘Yeah Dan?’
Then he says, ‘You’re the only girl I know that doesn’t get prettier when I drink.’
I looked at him a second and said, ‘What the f… Dan?’
He then went on to explain that what he meant is that he thinks I’m pretty even when he’s not drunk. Most girls he has to have a few beers in him to think that.”*
And thus ended the story.
*(On a personal interjection here, but if you have to get drunk to find women pretty, my recommendation is you either need to stop going to those kinds of bars, or you need to start dating men.)
It did get me thinking though, how many times do we think something out in our heads to form the perfect sentence to say the perfect thing at the perfect time, and when we finally share it, it’s the perfect sentence to the mental set up you gave it and a perfectly horrible thing to say when said out of context. I think it’s one of those universals in life that we all experience and that makes us all the same… even thought we are all different… which also makes us all the same. Ahh, Universal Individualism: making everyone the same since 8 million BC*, even though we are all different. You know what I think? I think that belongs on a t-shirt!
*(Which is arbitrary number that I just made up.)
I’m trying to think of some of my own “mental conversation not agreeing with the real conversation” moments. I know I’ve had them; my guess is that I am just going out of my way to not remember them. What I remember about these types of conversational mishaps is that it is much easier to forgive yourself for what you said than it is for the other person to forgive you. It’s mainly because you had the entire conversation in your head, so you know exactly what you meant when you made the stand alone statement that got the other party in such a huff.
Another thing that can happen is when you try to get creative with your vocabulary, using words you usually don’t. When you get ready to use the word, you kind of forget it in its entirety, but you still remember some of it. So you wing it, and make up a whole new word that sounds a little like the original word. The result, the other person defines this new word to mean something much worse that you would have come up with on your own. Case in point:
You are out shopping and the significant other or friend. They are trying on a dress that makes them look very regal and magnanimous and you opt to use the second word, but don’t quite remember it so you come out with, “Wow that outfit makes you look so mangansimous.”
To which they reply, “Mangasimous? It makes me look like a man with gas? What does that mean?” All the while they are slowly, yet consistently, raising their voice. And thus begins an unwarranted, yet suddenly needed apology accompanied by you offering to purchase Starbucks for the drive home.
Another mixed word interpretation that can actually get you in even more trouble is when you use a word meaning it in one very specific way, but it is one of those words that had multiple and very different definitions and the definition that the other person uses is not how it was intended. Another case in point :
Using the same situation as before, when the person asks how they look you offer this little sentiment, “You look absolutely awful!”
The response that follows is, at least in my experience, usually filled with a collection of expletives, some that suggests my mother was of canine origin, and the automatic and instant expectation that I am officially taking part, as the only contestant in a little activity called “The Silent Game.” My participation in this game continued until I offended party home. If you find yourself in a similar situation, trust me, don’t try explaining that you meant awful as in full of awe as opposed to being dreadful, terrible, appalling, unpleasant, or bad. Words are not on your side at that point and you will be deemed a liar until chocolate and wine, or flowers, or both are given from you, to them and you are dismissed from “The Silent Game” so you can begin to explain and be forgiven of the use of the word in question.
With all the internet capable cell phones out there this process may have changed a bit since my blunder. It’s much easier to look up words and get an online dictionary to assist you in pleading your case when this type of situation now occurs. Still, words can sure be tricky things sometimes. Just five years ago, instant definition followed by reluctant, yet understanding, forgiveness really wasn’t an option. For your own safety, you use to have to walk around with a pocket dictionary. You know what I learned from walking around with a pocket diction in my, well, pocket… I wasn’t going to shopping with anyone that really fancied a guy with a pocket dictionary.
The best advice I can give… nice. Always use the word nice. It will never let you over commit. It is a short and simple word that everyone knows, appreciated, and likes. It will keep you safe.
So how about you, what are some of your good words gone bad experiences?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: friends at bar, we’re different we’re the same, trying on outfits, no talking, and pocket dictionary.
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 4, 2010 | Adolescent Shenanigans, Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Utahism, When I Was a Kid
It is Saturday the 3rd of July*, which in Utah can only mean one thing… fireworks! Yes in the state of Utah any holiday that falls on a Sunday, save Christmas, is celebrated by the state on the Saturday before. It’s kind of a catch twenty-two though. (I would have included Easter in that, but Easter is a Sunday holiday so it’s not like it’s going to get celebrated in a different day for some reason.)
At one end of the spectrum it’s the power of the people controlling and choosing when to celebrate… at least it would be if there was a vote. I know it’s what the majority would vote for, which might be the rational for there not being a vote. At least I really don’t remember a vote, and democracy though assumption is not a government that I’m terribly supportive of. Hence part two of the equation, the perpetual and relentless lack of the concept, separation of church and state. I’m not saying that it’s like Vatican city… ok so maybe I’m saying it’s a little like that. There is a very strong church based control of the laws that get passed in this state.
It is getting better though, we even get the occasional alternate lifestyle supporter, and once we even had an a politician in office in Salt Lake City itself who was openly active in that alternative lifestyle. You’d never see it happen in the rural towns, still Utah is not a completely dark age state. Oddly though, the liquor stores are all run by the state. So all of these hard core religious politicians want to make sure they have control of the alcohol in this state, even though they are against the consumption of alcohol. I have heard, which may or may not be true, that it is the taxes on alcohol that helps pay for the schools, which to me means that if you want smarter children in the state if Utah, you really need to drink more. In fact I think for the rest of the wine parties we have each month I am going to start them off with a toast to the education of Utah’s children. It will be in good spirits and everyone will be drinking with intent and purpose.
I don’t believe there are any dry counties in Utah, so I don’t feel we are quite that archaic. I guess when it comes to Utah all I can do is quote the immortal words of one Bob Wiley from ‘What about Bob?’ fame and say, “Baby steps…” We’ll get there eventually, maybe not in my lifetime, but eventually. Until then I’ll keep celebrating Independence Day on the 3rd instead of the 4th during those years that the 4th falls on a Sunday. Likewise, I’ll continuing ignoring all state hosted New Years Eve celebrations that take place on the 30th of January instead of the 31st because the 31st falls on a Sunday… because that is just plain stupid and in my book utter sacrilege.
One of the things I learned today while out and about, going to a late movie during the same time that the official city run firework shows are going off is the perfect time to catch a movie. You can arrive five minutes after the movie has started and still get your choice of almost any seat in the house. We even caught a few colorful fireballs filling the evening sky on the drive home as well. It was like our own little double feature.
One thing about July in Utah is it is unofficially the official firework month. They legalize fireworks for the month of July for two different patriotic celebrations. The first is the 4th, which is the birthday party for the US. The second is the 24th, which is the day Utah officially become a state, hence the birthday of Utah. On both days there are firework celebrations and the state feels compelled to let the people of Utah light off fireworks during these three weeks without any legal repercussion… as long as you don’t set anything or anyone on fire that is. Granted these are only the state sanctioned and legal fireworks that are allowed, which are sold at the various firework booths that start popping up in grocery story parking lots throughout the month of July. For the more adventurous folks, they will drive about an hour out of their way to cross the state border over in to Wyoming were they can purchase illegal fireworks and bring them home… and quite probably
I have mixed feelings about fireworks, mainly because it’s a very literal variation of the old adage “burning your money”, which I’d like to think I’m against. Lighting off fireworks is more like lighting a hundred dollar bill on fire and watching it burn over an hour long interval, but this really only happens once or twice a year. Still, fireworks seem like a bad investment that I’m just not that interested in making.
Besides, I know that a portion of my state taxes are always going to help fund the state hosted firework shows each year, which does make me a little grumpy if I stop to think about it. Let say that the average firework show costs a hundred-thousand dollars (which is a made-up figure that I have no way of knowing is even remotely accurate). Ironically enough, well, hypocritically enough anyway, I always find it comical that it is illegal for any civilian to own or shoot off any illegal fireworks, which are the big ones that shoot into the air and make big colorful explosions in the sky. Yet, it is perfectly acceptable for the city council to bring in and light off thousands of these illegal fireworks each year. I guess that’s politics for you. The main thing I get grumbley about is that we could use that money to help people in the state that are living below the poverty line, that are homeless and hungry. Instead, we light all that money on fire so people can “Ooooh” and “Ahhhh” for about an hour.
Still, the little person inside me still remembers all of the fun I had based on bad decisions in the name of a good time. Things like holding firecrackers with my hands and throwing them into the air before the fuse ran out and they would explode. My favorite was the Roman candle wars we would have. Roman candles were twelve to fourteen inch long fireworks, about a half inch in diameter. One end had a stake that you would stick into the ground and then you’d light the fuse at the other end and ten to twelve little fireballs would shoot out of the end, burning a different color. They didn’t last that long and would burn out before it hit the ground, still you got ten of those in a row. My brothers and I would actually hold those things in our hands and then run around the back yard trying to hit each other with these baby fireballs. My dad just laughed at us and stayed close to the hose.
There is something hypnotic and inspiring about fireworks. I see it in the eyes of my niece and nephew when they watch them go off and fill the night’s sky with fiery colors. It’s kind of like watching them dream while they are awake. And there is my firework conundrum… inspiring and invoking imagination in the youth, and a huge waste of funds that could help those in need. Hopefully someday the state will find a happy medium. Until then I’ll try to keep this conundrum to myself and try to spend time with the niece and nephew when the fireworks go off and continue to donate to the food bank when I can. I guess that’s my happy medium for the time being. I hope everyone enjoyed, their 4th festivities, even if they happened to happen on the 3rd.
What are your thoughts on firework shows?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Utah fireworks, what about Bob, firework tent, watching fireworks, kids watching fireworks.
*I realize that I officially posted this on the 4th, but it was written on the 3rd. Sometimes things take a bit longer to post than I initially expected. Personally I blame hay fever and allergies, but the allergy medicine did play its role as well.
