Moving On

It’s been quite a while since the last occasional bs, but thus the name. It was October 13th and things were pretty good. I had recently gotten a job!! Sounds like a small thing but I wasn’t working for almost a year. So I’ve been busy. Right before I started my sweetie and I decided to go ahead and get married. We had been toying around with the idea of waiting for awhile and going to Vegas, but decided we weren’t getting any younger. Anyway……………we are both very happy. Or at least I am. I’m sure I’ll grow on her though. I started on my last blog on Oct 23th. The title was “When I’m President of Texas Things Are Gonna Change.” But that is gonna be in two blogs from now or perhaps next election season. My next blog is going to be about the joys and bliss of marriage. So many things have happened in the past couple of months. The joy of being married to the woman I fell in love with is awesome. I’m so looking forward to spending the rest of my life with her. But now I want to go deep. Something else has been on my mind as well. I lost a friend. Death is rarely welcome, but when it happens to someone so young and vibrant, it’s shocking. I’ve known this friend for both a long time and a very short time. Weird, huh? In the last couple of years she participated in a charity softball tournament with us and several reunions. We passed encouraging messages to each other on facebook and she would always post some kind of amusing quote that would brighten my day. When she went on vacation I asked her to bring me a surprise AND SHE DID! I just happened to come across it today as I was getting dressed. A stuffed javelin from her visit to Big Bend with her boys. I commented on her making jelly one day and damned if she didn’t whip me up a couple of jars. She was that kind of thoughtful. When we welcomed a visiting friend home this past summer, she and I made plans to fix her son up with my daughter. We laughed at the possibility of them really hitting it off and us becoming in-laws. Shortly after that I was offered my current job with a government agency. I was IM-ing with her and letting her know that I was getting off facebook due to “company policy.” The last thing she said to me was to get a phony name and to friend her as soon as I did. She then told me how much she enjoyed meeting my future wife and she really liked her. Always said she had good taste! She died and was buried the first week of my new job. I didn’t get to go to the funeral. So now, I’d like to say good bye to my dear friend. She’s moved on to a better place. And friend, save me a seat?! Love and miss you.

Next week, on to funny, happy stuff!

Going Postal

I’ve explained before why I call this “occasional bs.” Kind of hard for me to commit. So here it is about 4 months since my last blog. A lot has changed in the world. A bunch of miners were stuck in a hole for a couple of months, my college football season has started and ended, the Rangers won a playoff series! Maybe if I don’t write again for another four months I could start my next blog with “I can’t believe the Cowboys won the Super Bowl!” OK, on to reality.

Today I went with the fiancé to the post office. You would think this would be a very mundane event. You’d be wrong. Here is what I saw today at the post office……….

First, I got to open the door for the most pregnant woman I have ever seen. Something about a pregnant woman ALWAYS makes me smile. I don’t think it is the fact that I’m just being smug because I don’t have to endure the labors of pregnancy either. I really appreciate the commitment taken on by woman to have children. I do envy the bond they are experiencing with their unborn children. I am a father, and I love my children more than the world, but a mother feels it physically as well as emotionally. What a blessing to carry a life up to birth. I used to tell my children’s mother she was never as beautiful as when she was pregnant. I think most men (fathers) would agree.

Second, I witnessed a woman with four (yes, four) children all under the age of 6 give each of the children a letter so they could deposit it in the receptacle and then proceed down the long corridor to leave. She was walking. But she was the only one. One kid was skipping. One kid was kind of running. One kid was pretending to be an airplane. The last one was hopping. This brought back such childhood bliss. I remember my daughters skipped everywhere. Childhood innocence is one of God’s most perfect things. How I would love to be able to just skip somewhere. How I wish to walk thru a parking lot pretending to be an airplane. I guess I could. But what I’d really like is to have my childhood innocence back.

Third was the slightly older than middle aged man decked out in long sleeve button down shirt tucked into running shorts with black socks and brown sandals. Kind of says, “I’ve done my time, I’ll do what I want and don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think!” We all know this guy. Either from work or maybe our own father. My dad used to wear a bumble suit. What? You don’t know what a bumble suit is? It was bright yellow coveralls and black suede tied boots that went just above the ankle. On cold days there was a matching black sweater. He would wear this to the Safe-way store that used to be at Rundberg and N. Lamar (who remembers that?). He just didn’t care. When I let him know of my displeasure with the no-name brands of clothes (toughskins, trax shoes, etc) he got for me, he asked,”if you were on a deserted island, would you care what brand your clothes were?” The answer is “no” but even on a deserted island I WOULD NOT wear a bumble suit!

And finally a woman walks by who has to be at least in her 80’s. She stops in front of me and looks at me and asks, “how are you today young man?” Then she has the nerve to wait for an answer. The funny thing is, looking into her face I could tell she really cared and was indeed waiting for an answer. I told her I was living the dream and she was really happy with that. As a matter of fact she said, “well that’s just fine.” I will bet you this woman makes some of the meanest chocolate chip cookies around. She was just so content looking. As I visited with her I got to thinking about how when I am getting older I hope I can be as excited with each day as she seems to be.

So at the post office today what I saw were the varying stages of life. From unborn child, to childhood bliss, to me, to slightly older than middle aged man, to old woman. Quite an experience. As of today I’ve decided going postal isn’t such a bad thing.

Do You Really Have To Fly Your Freak Flag So Damn High?

Let’s get a couple of things straight right now! I do not live in Austin, I live in Round Rock and I am currently unemployed. I have not received a paycheck since January. Round Rock is located in Williamson County. Some may call it a backwards-ass county and I can live with that. In Williamson County if you’re caught with an illegal substance you’re in trouble and I can live with that. Here, if you drink and drive you’re screwed and I can live with that. People here seem to lean to the right. Vote republican in every election. Seem to be a lot of “rednecks.” There also seems to be a lot of people who open doors for you, wish you a good day and display common courtesy. I can live with all that. I was in Austin today running errands with my youngest daughter. We drove from her office on 6th street (the entertainment district) to south Austin to central Austin and back to 6th. Here is what I saw…….first off, the people in Austin drive like shit and are rude. Not all of them, just all the ones in cars! While waiting for her, there was a police action up one block. Several police cars screamed by. And a few minutes later two overweight Austin police officers pedaled by on bicycles huffing and puffing. How do they figure out who’s on the bike? Is it punishment for being out of shape? Where do they keep their coffee and donuts? You don’t see this where I live. We forced our way thru traffic on 6th and made our way to the highway where nobody would let us merge onto the interstate. It was then I realized that I was driving like an asshole too because I had to! We whipped into the Home Depot where all the illegal aliens wait on the curb for day labor. I guess all the folks got mad in Arizona and came to Austin? I begrudge nobody for bettering their life, but if I were to move to another country to raise my family we’d all learn the language and not get upset when others didn’t know ours. The fella at the key counter didn’t understand English. Really? We made our way through the day labor seekers and through a barrage of stop lights. At EVERY stop light was a person with a sign letting me know they were not on drugs or an alcoholic or anything like that. They just had some bad luck. They don’t have money for food, but looks like they have money for cigarettes. Thank goodness, I wouldn’t want them to do without the bare necessities. I guess if worse came to worse they could eat the dog that is always with them. I wonder if all the illegal aliens did go back if the people on street corners would go to Home Depot. The thing is, the aliens really will work for food. And I do respect that. I do not respect someone that begs for help if they aren’t willing to help themselves. Again, I haven’t worked in quite some time but I don’t foresee myself begging on a street corner in the near future. So we move forward up Lamar. Anyone familiar with Lamar knows it is a main road with lots of excitement and traffic. My mother would take North Lamar to the moon if it went. She passed over 15 years ago and I’m glad she loved North Lamar for she would take it to Heaven. Of course I know this means South Lamar must go to Hell but I’m a “Northy” so I believe this to be the case. Anyway…………Austin is the home of the cyclist that dominates the 3rd world country known as france every year so as you may expect there are many bicyclists. I do not begrudge them. I myself am a cycling enthusiast, tight little shorts and all! I use cycling as a means of exercise. Many in Austin use it as a means of transportation and I do applaud them. However at least one “man” out there with a purple mo-hawk and Daisy Duke shorts uses it as a stage. Parading in and out of traffic thinking I won’t run over him if given the chance. Surely I’m not alone? Austin started a campaign a few years back. Keep Austin Weird. Yeah, I get it. Austin is weird. Is anyone really proud that a famous bikini wearing transsexual actually gets votes for mayor every election? Are they proud of their children who are pierced to other children? Hey I understand individualism. I have a tattoo! I pierced my ear once. It may not seem like a big deal now but in Pflugerville in the 1980’s it was huge! I also understand the need for attention. I’m the last of eight kids. In my family you had to do something to set yourself apart from every other kid or you just got overlooked! I also know if I came home with a tattoo on my face my dad would have somehow scrubbed my face until it, or my skin came off! I passed this down to my kids I hope. Yeah they want a tattoo, but I don’t have to like it or encourage it. It’s not that I don’t want them to express their individualism. I just don’t want them to express their individualism because everyone else is doing it. Not only that, but do all these idiots know that they are going to have to grow up and get jobs someday? Can you imagine interviewing someone that looks like a lizard? Or explaining to your grandchildren that the serpent tattoo that goes from your hand, around your body and disappears in your ass is the demi-god of the occult that you subscribed to when you were 19? Think VERY carefully about the permanent things kids! Hey, I have to always explain why there is a cartoon tattooed on my shoulder and always include that I didn’t really think that one thru. Here’s another scenario for you………..I own a landscape company and need someone to help me for a day. Do I go to Home Depot for the illegal alien or a street corner for a mooch? If they are in the same place you can bet I’m taking the most normal looking son of a bitch. IJS. In closing I’d just like to encourage people to think it thru. Especially you almost grownups. Don’t blow it right before you go out there in that crazy world. And if you live in Austin now, you may not after you graduate from college. Don’t get used to wearing nothing but a thong to work!!

If You Give Them Everything, That’s What They’ll Come To Expect

I’d like to start today’s blog by saying my mother, Alf, worked two jobs when I was in high school mostly so I wouldn’t have to work. Alf was the model for me on how a parent should be. Please don’t mistake me as saying she was not the best mother in the world, because she was. When I was 15 years old I received my first car. I say received because I didn’t work for it. I wish I had. My mom paid for the car with the insurance money from my dad’s death. I guess I did kind of earn it in a way. Anyway, Alf got me the car. She gave me $10 for gas each week. In those days $10 got me half a tank of gas. A half tank of gas would last me a week. She also gave me money on the weekends so I could hang with my friends and much to her dismay, buy beer. Or take out my girlfriend. Or put in the collection basket at church that she would drag me to on Sunday morning. Yes, my mother worked two jobs because she said she didn’t want me to work because I was playing sports and going to school and generally a fine young man, or so she thought. Whenever I would get in trouble at school (oh sure not very often, but every now and then) she would come to my defense. Her little boy couldn’t have done the horrible things the principal was suggesting!! I did (and then some). I was never totally held accountable for my actions. I tore up that car. I guess because I had no idea what it was worth. I’d love to have that car back today! But much was given to me. Sure, I helped out around the house. I did my own laundry for the most part. I cooked some (had to, mom was at work). I did always put a weekend night aside to spend with Alf. Usually I would party with friends all week. On Fridays I went out with my friends, but Saturdays I would normally spend with Alf. I kind of knew what I had back then. I knew my mother was the finest and knew she wouldn’t be around forever. I also knew she gave me a lot. And I began to expect it. And the little things she asked for in return like going to church with her, I began to try to weasel out of. So let me fast forward a few years. After high school I moved to Dallas. Hated it. Moved back. Guess where I ended up? Right, back with mom. I couldn’t get me shit together but she stuck with me. I lived in her house, ate her food, watched her TV because I couldn’t go anywhere because the car I got when I was 15 was long gone and I couldn’t afford a new one. Thank God neither could my mother. If she could, I’m sure she would’ve bought me one. It took me longer than it should have, but I got my shit together. I got a job and started gaining independence. I bought the biggest piece of shit car you have ever seen, an old Honda civic hatchback that didn’t have brakes. I used to have to downshift and run into the curb to stop. As I could, I’d upgrade. I started getting used to getting things for myself. Thank God!! But I wonder if it would have taken so long if I was made to fend for myself in the beginning? Or at least made held more accountable for ALL my actions. Again, I’m not trying to second guess my mom. She was the absolute best. She was left with some crazy kids when my dad died and I couldn’t imagine doing half the job she did. The woman is a saint! That and…………I may have done the same. When my kids became old enough to drive, cars appeared. Amazing!! When they wrecked those cars, more appeared! When something happened to those, yet more appeared. Something go wrong at school, daddy was there to fight battles, check grades, complain, bitch, moan, have lunch, bring tampons (yes, I still harp on that!), etc, etc. We did make them have jobs and pay for gas and socializing, but that was about it. EDITOR’S NOTE: I’M NOT COMPLAINING! I’M JUST SAYING. I’ve been blessed for the last several years to have a job that provided me with the means to take care of my kids in a manner that would allow them to be pampered to a certain degree. That said, I wish it wouldn’t have become expected. EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m very thankful my children are also thankful. This isn’t a rant to complain about them! It seems to me, people under the age of 20 just come to expect waaaaaaaaay too much to be given to them. A college education is nice, but should be paid for by the person going to school. I got thru 12 years of school without ever getting an A. When I was paying for college for the first time guess what? I have a friend that will drop everything if her kid asks for a sandwich. I just kind of think that sandwich would taste better if they made it themselves. Seems like cars, computers, cell phones, clothes, every last thing is expected now. Even after they move out. I know I’ll hear a lot of comments like, “when I was 14 I was on my own” and “IF I had kids, I’d do ……” What I’d like to know is, what are parents of 18 and ups doing now? Do you pay for auto expenses? Do you pay for college? Are there any conditions to what you will provide? Is it just me? My kids think it is. I guess the proper question is, when do we stop being a parent? Of course I know the answer is never. I also wonder if it just the fact that I have twin girls and the drama is double every time? The good news is, they aren’t exactly Baruka Salt either, although one of them is always saying, “I want an oompa loompa!” Again, I’m thankful for my kids because I think they’re better than most. But that’s what all parents think!

WWMDS (What Would My Dad Say)

In honor of Father’s Day I wanted to introduce y’all to Don Schwab. My dad was a funny guy. He had a good sense of humor, but I don’t mean he was funny ha-ha. Please don’t think I’m saying he was weird, because I’m not. Don Schwab had a way about him that was different. I owe so much to this man. In the song “Leader of the Band” Dan Fogelberg’s chorus is, “…..my life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man. Oh I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band. I am a living legacy to the leader of the band.” This isn’t odd. Most men would consider themselves an extension of their father. What makes my dad kind of unique is he had four sons. The four of us are very different, yet we are all like him. There is more, but I’m going to get to that later. My dad had a quirky sense of humor. He had 8 kids which seemed to inherit this. He had some great one liners. Now I know I was his favorite. But he always said he loved all his children the same. One of my sisters he once said this to. “I love all of you kids the same. But I have to try harder to love you as much.” And then there was the time where on the way home from school one of my brothers got beat up pretty good. He went into the garage where my dad was working huffing and crying and grabbed a bat. My dad asked him what he was going to do with the bat. My brother replied he was going to hit the guy that beat him up. My dad took the bat and said, “Don’t ever hit a man with a bigger bat than you’re prepared to have shoved up your ass.” Nice. Whenever one of us kids would do something stupid and dangerous he would always tell us, “the hospital is the second place I’m gonna take you.” The funny thing is dad didn’t always tell us where we were going first. We all knew. He told us several times. When we would act up he would always tell us he was gonna take us to Breckenridge. Why Breckenridge? “….to get my foot dug out of your rear!” (That was said in my best Don Schwab voice. I know all my siblings who read this knew what was coming). There is no doubt in my mind that my dad loved me very much. But in the back of my mind I was afraid he might really have to take me to Breckenridge. I just really didn’t care to piss that man off. But I wasn’t afraid of him. He was funny. He was kind of scary. But he was the most loveable and greatest man I ever knew. And compassion?!! I remember when I burned down the barn when I was about 8 years old while playing with matches. I really did feel bad. We didn’t have a garage at the time so all of my family’s dearest possessions were in that barn. (to this day siblings with old photo albums have pictures that are partially burned). I waited in my room for the wrath of dad that I thought might just be the end of life as I know it. He actually pulled the old, “I’m not going to spank you because I think you feel bad enough.” AND HE WAS RIGHT!! What kind of parent can pull that off? (a couple of years later he told me one of the reasons he didn’t spank me was because he was so mad he was afraid he might have killed me. Talk about control!) Dad died when I was 12. He had come home for lunch and told me to clean the garage. I was pretty pissed off because I had planned to walk to 7-11 to purchase a slurpee. My last words to my father were, “I hate your guts!” His last words to me were, “well I love you.” He and mom left and were in a car accident on their way back to work. I don’t dwell on my last words to him. I know he knows how I felt about him. In the twelve years I knew him he instilled values that I still hold today. In my daily interactions with people, especially my own kids I always contemplate WWMDS (what would my dad say)? My idea of right and wrong may differ from other people, but I stand by them. Just as he would stand by his. I’ve always considered myself to be a good father. I am because he was and he showed me how.

Now for the “more.” I was telling someone the other night of one of the greatest joys I have ever experienced. This is watching my son be a father. I see him act like me. I also see his son act like me. It’s really quite interesting. I see my father, myself, my son all in his son. The mannerisms are uncanny. When my son was talking to his son this past weekend, he was saying the same things I said to him. The same things my dad said to me. I really had to just sit back and bask in the glory of parenthood and grand parenthood. That evening we were at a party where several of my nephews were. I cannot tell you how taken aback I was when a new one would come in he would say hi to everyone there, but would hug me, my brother and his male cousins. We all have that “Don Schwab connection” I wonder what my dad would say about that?
Being a father is the single most important thing I do. It is important because it has a direct impact on how my grandchildren will be treated. Granted all the stories my children tell about me aren’t good. I don’t always make them happy with my parenting, but they cannot doubt my love for them. I always like to tell them, “you will have hundreds of friends, but I will never be one of them. I’m your parent, not your friend. I love you more.” I bet my kids use that one down the road!

Happy Father’s Day!!!!

Business Ethics. What?

I’ve had several companies come out lately to give me an estimate on a new roof. What a bunch of crooks. I guess roofers aren’t interested in their reputation as a bunch of ambulance chasers? I can’t tell you what a pain in the butt it’s been. Everyone wants to know how much the insurance company will pay, and that is what the estimate is. Amazing! I’ve started telling them I’m paying out of my pocket, and they start in with, “let me talk to you insurance company and I bet we can get them to pay for it.” People wonder why insurance premiums are going up. I had one guy come on in, pull the old, “let me call my manager” and ask me for a beer. I gave him one so he would stop shaking so bad while he was writing the estimate. I told him if he said the word “insurance” one time I would throw him out. He called me back the next day to tell me he’ll beat any price I’ve gotten so far, just let him know. He’d have to pay for it out of his own pocket, but I guess since he liked me so much (even though he just met me) he was willing to do it for me. What a great guy! If I had another beer, I’d give it to him. I had a friend of a friend come give me a bid as well. This is a guy who works for a roofing company, but he and someone else are going to start their own roofing business. I would be their initial client. Now I’m not opposed to that. I’m a businessman too. I know everyone starts somewhere. BUT….if I’m your first client, you better not be my highest bid. Mutt and Jeff came out next. These guys had a hard time with the ladder. If you can’t work the ladder, chances are the roof’s gonna give you some trouble. At least they were able to break one of my gutters too. The only thing these guys had going for them is they were both fat and bald. Who doesn’t love that?!!! One guy told me he was coming out that afternoon when he got off of his real job. At this point, I was kinda interested. He wasn’t able to that afternoon because of thunderstorms. He called to say he’d be there in the morning between 7 & 7:30. “Sure,” I said. In the morning he called to let me know he was stuck in traffic but would be there soon. About 8 he calls to tell me he’s outside my house but doesn’t have a ladder big enough to get on my roof. What? I still haven’t seen this guy, but really want to because this is the kind of Einstein that you have to see to believe. I’m picturing a heavy fella with bad teeth, smoker stench and a vocabulary only comparable to a rock. I’ll let you know.
I’ve also looked for engagement rings this week. Again, a bunch of crooks. I talked to a diamond broker who swore he had a terrific diamond for me with papers. I met him at a neutral location. What he had looked real nice so I suggested we go to a jeweler so they could give me an appraisal. I told him if the diamond was everything he said it was I was going to take it. Here’s the deal….if you’re selling a piece of shit, why follow the guy to the appraiser? Especially since it was so far away. The funny thing is, the appraiser (who I know) told me when they guy walked in the door he’s a crook and told me what I can expect to see in that diamond. That’s exactly what he had. Told me the guy had been there before. Of course you can’t hardly walk into a diamond store and expect customer service. I don’t really care to ever do this again. It’s a shame something as wonderful as getting married has to be spoiled by the greed and dishonesty you have to go through to get a diamond. IJS

What I want to know is, what happened to people who tell you they’re going to do something and actually do it? Or tell you they’ll be somewhere at a certain time and are actually punctual? I work with someone who has never been on time for a meeting (when he shows). What I really like is when he throws all the blame on me. “Sorry I can’t make it. Buddy didn’t send me the email.” Let me go on record as saying if we have a 2 pm appointment, I will be there at 1:45pm. I would like to quote one of my old bosses and probably the biggest influence on my adult and professional life. Gene Seaton once said, “We work from 7am to 3 pm. That doesn’t mean we come in the door at 7, that means when I come to the back at 7, you better already be working.” I’m gonna go ahead and quote him again just because it was the best line a boss ever said to me. “We don’t call in sick because we don’t feel good. I haven’t felt good since 1967 and I’ve never missed a day of work.” I also like to throw this in because his youngest son was born shortly before 1967. I now know why he stopped feeling good. Mean Gene (this is said with the most respect) told you what was on his mind. If you didn’t like it, that was too bad. He took care of business and he worked you hard. At times you may have thought he was just plain evil, but he would NEVER ask you to do something he wasn’t willing to do. And if anyone got in your way while you were doing his bidding, well, God help that person! (Reminded me of my brothers growing up. They beat me daily. But nobody else better not look at me wrong. I remember two of my brothers playing hacky sack with a bully who was quite a bit older than me once on the bus). Gene was all business, all the time. This is the refreshing kind of punctuality and honesty that I miss. IJS.
Roofer starts on Monday. I’ll let you know if he shows.

I’m Angry! (Sorry, this gets political) (R)

I’m angry! Before I go on a rant I have to warn you this will get political. Those who know me may think they’re about to get an earful of Republican drivel, however this is not entirely the case. First, let me tell you, I am Republican. I have voted Republican in every election I have been able to vote in. EVERY election, not just for president. I believe Ronald Reagan was as close to the second coming as I will see in my lifetime. I usually lean so far to the right that I should walk around in circles all day. I believe there is much wrong with our great country today and I blame as much on the current administration as I can. That said; let me tell you what is wrong with our country these days. Political Bull Shit (oops, picked the wrong week to give up cursing). I’m not sure when the political bull shit started, but it has to stop! Here is what I’m talking about………..the health care bill. Polls showed that most of the country didn’t support this bill. People on both sides were up in arms. A majority of the people didn’t want it, were not supportive of it, called their local representative to tell them, basically a senator was elected (Brown) because he spoke against it. Yet, it was still pushed forward by a president and majority in congress who did support it. People were outraged. Republicans started acting like Democrats, whining, crying and throwing chairs thru rep’s windows. And what the people were basically told was, “sit down and hush. I know what’s good for you.” So to recap………something was being pushed that is going to cause some people to pay money, even though they stated they didn’t want it, it was still pushed and they were told to stand down. They get mad and revolt. Rewind about, oh I don’t know, say 234 years. See anything familiar that happened whenever taxes were levied against the people’s wishes, they get mad throw some tea into the harbor and they were told to stand down by the leader who sends troops over to dispel the uprising. In the old days it was taxation without representation, now it medication with poor representation. This is a classic case of Political Bull Shit.
Next issue…….The state Attorney General for Connecticut misspeaks about his Vietnam service. Richard Blumenthal did serve in the White House under Nixon (second favorite president) and was a member of the Marine Reserve. He was quoted as saying he served in Vietnam. He claims he meant the Vietnam era. He had also commented about the treatment of veterans when “we” returned home. Here it is people, HE SERVED. He was a member of the Marine Reserve. I mean no disrespect to the people who served in the actual country where the war was fought, but he served. A person’s level of service should not matter where they served it. A person enlisted right now in the US military who is shoveling shit in Oklahoma is serving just as the military person who is standing a post in Bagdad. And I am very grateful and supportive to both of you. And as far as the “…when we returned home” comment, let me just say this. When the Mighty Texas Longhorns won the national championship in 2005 I was up high fiving people in my living room yelling, “We’re number one!” in no way did I mean to imply that I actually played on the national championship football team. But you probably guessed that. The Republicans who are up in arms about these misspeaks need to relax because this is a classic case of Political Bull Shit!
Next Issue……has any of you heard about the new law in Arizona? Well actually it’s not a new law; the Governor just wants police to enforce an existing law. Huh? Well, that makes her a racist. What? Other states are up in arms and boycotting the state of Arizona. Yes, Austin too is boycotting Arizona. (I think it’s really funny California wants to boycott the state that provides them electricity. I’d pull the plug but that’s just me). One side of the political isle has turned this into a racial issue. This really pisses me off. If you come into this country illegally, you should go home. There are way too many people who have done it right to say it’s not possible. And I begrudge nobody for wanting to better their life and the lives of their family. I have much respect for them. But let’s get a handle on this people. We have too much to lose for people to be flooding across the border. And quit making this a racial issue. I was walking with the GF, I mean fiancé tonight and I had a comparison I didn’t like. Let’s go back about 150 years. This country was divided. Some states were doing things the other states didn’t like. People in the south didn’t like the way the country was being governed by the northeast. There was a civil war. We called it, the Civil War. This war is widely considered to be about slavery. Slavery was an issue, but most of the confederate soldiers didn’t own slaves. It was more about national government sticking their noses in state government‘s business. Disclaimer: I do not condone slavery. This was a very dark period of American History. But still a part of American History. You can take down all the confederate flags in all the courtrooms in the country and even from Six Flags, but you cannot change history (although if anyone is watching the news about the state school board and text book issues you would think we can). What’s going on in Arizona is classic Political Bull Shit!

Last Issue (or at least the last one I’m going to talk about today)…..The President of the United States is the most important job in the world. True, you get your job thru an election (when I’m president EVERYONE will have to understand the Electoral College). True, you are affiliated with a political party: Democrat or Republican (Can we please get a viable third party?!) However, you serve the ENTIRE country. One of the most important things you do as president is appoint Supreme Court Justices. These are people who interpret the Constitution! This needs to be someone with more qualifications than being trusted by the president. (Funny thing is I used to work for an elected official who appointed me to a job because he knew he could trust me). A Supreme Court justice should have a firm understanding of the law and more experience than anyone other than the current Supreme Court justices. IJS. This is classic Political Bull Shit!

In closing, I’d just like to say, “I want my country back!” As republican as I am, I am tired of the political bull shit. Can we get some fresh ideas? Isn’t there someone out there better suited to lead a third party than Ron Paul? Because he’s starting to look less crazy!

My Baby Tolerates

Ya know, a lot can change over the course of a couple of weeks? I’m engaged! That’s right, engaged. A friend of mine told me he saw it coming. He said everyone saw it coming. I guess he meant everyone but T and I. We were both surprised. I know you are never supposed to compare your marriages, but I have to just this once and I’ll never do it again. I never put a lot of thought into it the first time around. Just blurted out one night, “let’s get married.” Next thing I know, I was cohabitating with someone and moving on. I’m kind of a jump right in kind of guy. With T, I knew the first time I saw her I wanted to marry her. She was smart. I find intelligents (I know) very sexy. She was pretty (not that it mattered, but it’s a plus). She was funny (BIG). She was very gracious. People who know me may say I’m a little bit conservative (again, I know). She makes me look like a flaming liberal! She may be the only person in the world who loves Ronald Reagan more than me (my sisters used to call me Alex P. Keaton, from Family Ties fame). She’s also pretty keen on the Duke. She tolerates all my BS (occasional and otherwise). I’ve been working on her now for about four years. I have all these things I do with the boys that she tolerates. She knows that every January I have to go to the Brother Olympics. Every March there is the Whiskey and Whiskers. Every May is Weekend at Buddy’s. In the summer she must tolerate the Schwab Family Picnic. Every September, usually on her birthday weekend, the Guns ‘n Guts. And I will never be home on my birthday weekend because it is the opening of deer season. I’ve even thrown in a couple of pre-emptive strikes saying my son and grandson are getting older and we may have to make some weekends available to have male bonding time. She’s pretty much conceded one weekend per month I will disappear! Yet, she still loves me. She knows in the spring, I fish with my brothers on Wednesday nights. Also I fish on Wednesdays in October. I’ve always joked with her that I wanted to get married by Elvis in Vegas. I proposed on the steps of Graceland! Now I know we will have a wedding in Austin, but she’s ok with flying to Vegas right after to get married by Elvis. She called me the other day to recommend we get married on Elvis’s birthday to make sure I never forget our anniversary. I told her that this coming year it happens to be on a Saturday January 8th. She said that was fine BUT what if UT is playing in the National Championship that day, we’ll have to work around that. She KNOWS how I feel about weddings on days that UT is playing (it’s actually happened 3 times in the last 4 years and I’ve bitched BIG). And she knows we would have to work around it. She’s ok with knowing when UT is playing; there will be barbeque, and probably several friends drinking beer in the living room. She knows that whenever one of my kids calls me, the world stops and I answer the phone. I say all that, to get to this…………..she loves me completely. Even though I’m not perfect (close, but not quite). She loves the fact that I have idiosyncrasies. She loves me even though I can be anal, grumpy and even stubborn (Again, I know). She loves all of me. She even loves the bad. I know because I can feel it. It’s a great feeling. And here is the cool thing. I feel the same way. I love me too…………….just kidding. Well kind of. I do love me, but what I meant to say was I feel the same way about her. I love all of her. And once I got a hold of that concept I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Kind of makes the doubts subside. For the last several years I’ve lived life by the seat of my pants. I figured one day I’d wake up and move to Colorado or something. I’ve often talked about bugging out and just taking off. Now I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss any of the rest of my life with her.

Lost MOJO

Wow! Seems like it’s been awhile?! There is a reason I call this “occasional bs.” This boils down to my commitment issues. I couldn’t commit to do this weekly. Weakly, yes. But not weekly. But enough of this, let’s talk about this week’s topic……….Lost MOJO.

What? You’re not sure what MOJO is? Well did you ever see the episode of Saturday Night Live back when it was good where Steve Martin and Dan Akroyd played the Two Wild and Crazy guys? The time I’m thinking about the girls they were hitting on told them to wait there and they would go get their “birth control devices and be right back.” When Garrett Morris’s character told them they were given a line they moped around. The happy ending was the girls returned and they returned to being TWO WILD AND CRAZY GUYS (that is written like that ‘cuz you’re supposed to say it like them). And less we forget the Fonz! His MOJO was his cool. Do you remember when he lost his cool how nerdy he was? But again, good news…….he got his cool back and once again started the juke box by banging on it and apparently had lots of sex with Paula Petralunga. And to prove I just didn’t watch waaaaay too much TV, let’s take a look at the movies. Austin Power’s MOJO was what Dr. Evil was after. Power’s MOJO enabled him to be super social and really score with hot chics like Heather Grahmm. His MOJO was taken, he was a nerd, got it back and he was cool again. Sampson & Delilah………..the list goes on and on. I’m seeing a pattern. But this isn’t about getting your cool back and scoring hot babes. Odessa Permian has MOJO. Everyone in Texas knows about Odessa Permian. And if you’re not in The Great State you have bigger problems than not knowing about MOJO. (I like to throw stuff like that in while I’m writing this in Norman, OK).

Everyone has their own MOJO. My mother’s MOJO was being able to make you feel loved and making things OK by just talking with you. She could really bring you out of a funk. My girlfriend has the same MOJO. She makes me feel so loved and worthy it keeps me constantly smiling on the inside. My sister’s MOJO is making EVERYONE who walks into her home feel welcome. Even the people she doesn’t really like. And I’ve been on that list every now and then too! Mr. Hardeman’s MOJO was getting me to learn even when it seemed like I was refusing. I say all that, to get to this……….my MOJO is to never be too serious. Back in the day I used to be able to have a joke for everything and generally be a hoot to hang around with at parties! But I’ve noticed lately………..I LOST MY MOJO!!!!


I first noticed my MOJO missing about a month or so ago. I would go out to clubs with friends and just wouldn’t have a good time. I felt like I was forcing it. Ya know? And it carried over to my parenting abilities as well. To be quite honest, I have been just flat out grumpy! So I got to thinking about things. What has changed? Am I just going thru a mid-life crisis? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!!! I’ve become a Serious Sam! Now I’ve had a lot going on in the last few months. I’ve had a health issue, lead to a leave of absence from work, lead to a re-evaluation of work/life balance, lead to a re-evaluation of life/family balance, lead to letting go more as a father (lead to stressing more because I was worried about the kids more because I’m not talking to them as much), lead to quitting my secure job, had to evict renters, moved back into my house, started a business, started traveling like crazy with that business, blah, blah, blah. Poor me! Suffice to say, I’ve had some life changing events lately. But what about my MOJO? The first thing is admitting I had a problem (wait, I think that’s a different forum and another blog). Actually, it does apply here. So, I isolated the problem, but needed a cure. Flash forward to Thursday night (actually it was last Thursday) and I’m walking in from a long day of not working. I’ve been to Dallas, Denton, Wichita Falls, Norman and Waco this week. I get a call from a friend who asks me to meet her at Hanover’s. I say “yes” but don’t really mean it. So I’m piddling around and about 8:30-ish I think about calling her and telling her I can’t do it. I’m just not feeling it. I’m kind of mopey. At that very moment my cell phone goes off and it’s a text from her. A stupid text mind you. And that is what I’ve come to expect from this particular friend. But that is exactly what I need. So I got to thinking about all the zaniness that happens whenever we hang out. Even when I was in the deepest of funks, she brings out my MOJO. We don’t have too many serious times together. Around her, I am able to completely let go and revert to my inner 5 year old. This person gives me something I can’t get anywhere else…………total silliness. I pray my GF never gets jealous of her because the GF provides me something on so many different levels. With my friend, it’s just one level. A level I need fulfilled occasionally. With the GF there are times I have to be serious, happy, sad, a whole plethora of emotions. With this friend there is just one. So I go to Hanover’s and have a good time. I feel my MOJO restored and I’m ready to go another week. I’d like to recap the most serious talk we ever had………..she was telling me that she is the “crazy, funny friend” to a lot of people, but I’m that to her. She needs that. So do I. Psychiatrists have psychiatrists. Drs. have Drs. So why shouldn’t we have each other? I am prescribing myself occasional visits with her to help maintain the MOJO. Finally something that I can get over the counter to make me feel good! So now I know how to get my lost MOJO back. And I’d like to encourage everyone whatever it is that makes you unique, harness it. Nurture it. Don’t let it go. People love you because of it.

Funny How That Works

Today is a very special day to me. On March 22, 1981 I was running the capital 10k (yes….running!) After the race I got word my first niece was born. I went from just a regular guy to an uncle. Being an uncle for the first time is HUGE! Certainly a big responsibility for an 8th grader. Now I don’t want my niece to think she isn’t important, because she is. But March 22 is also the day my oldest daughter’s roommate was born. Again, I don’t want her to think she is not important, because she is, but March 22 is a key day for me for another reason. March 22 is the day I became complete. I crossed over from an individual who only had to worry about himself, to a parent. It was March 22, 1986 that my son was born. I wouldn’t know its importance for about 3 years. I married my son’s mom when he was three. I realize this makes him my step-son, but I have never called him that. “Step” should not cast a negative connotation, but it does. I don’t know why either. When you think about it, Jesus had a step dad. Joseph no doubt loved his step son. Joseph was always a favorite of mine. Could you imagine a teenage Jesus just letting him have it? My son too thought his birth father was God, but it would have really sucked if he was. And no matter how much Joseph loved his son, did he love him any less than his other children? And did Jesus resent Joseph because he wasn’t his real dad? My son always seemed to think growing up that I came in and forced his dad out. Or at least it seemed that way to me. There was always a chip on his shoulder. And mine too. I wonder if Mary and Joseph fought over the discipline of young Jesus? There is another no win situation. And hence this I have decided being a step parent is the toughest job in the world. So I just leave out the step. Hey, I potty trained him; I bought him his first bike, etc, etc. And I love him unconditionally. If that doesn’t give me the right to call him son the whole world can kiss my ass! IJS. I love my son. I don’t think that was ever a question. We had a great time growing up together. We used to go camping with my brothers and their sons. We’d play paintball, cookout and watch the uncles get drunk. Good times! When I was first pressed into parenthood I was green to be sure. I was 21 years old and while most of my friends were out getting drunk and chasing chics, I was now responsible for another life. Parenting didn’t come naturally for me either. My dad died when I was 12. I’m sure I would have learned much more if not for his early demise. My mother was a good role model, but let’s face it……….after the hell my siblings put her thru, she was tired! Looking back on it now, I really have to give my son credit for hanging in there. We had some great times. I remember potty training, learning to ride a bike, being a Cub Scout den leader, tee ball coach, chaperone for dances, and countless fishing/hunting trips. Let’s not forget countless trips to the emergency room for stitches, broken bones and various illnesses that could have just been excuses to get out of tests the following day. One of the best vacations I ever had was when he and I went to Boy Scout camp together. One full week of guy stuff. It was awesome. One day I was picking him up from daycare and someone said to me, “the girls look like their mother but he is the spitting image of you.” I didn’t bother letting her know he wasn’t from my loins. Once he began school there was more drama. It usually started with a teacher calling me “Mr. Hislastname.” When I would tell them my name is Schwab, they would question if I had the right to conduct business on behalf of the child. Then in the 8th grade, god (I mean his dad) decided he wanted to take a stab at parenthood. Over the course of the next year, I went from DAD to Buddy. That was tuff! Shortly after that our relationship deteriorated to nothing. Along with that, so did the marriage I was in. His mom and I were divorced and our contact was little over the next couple of years. I got calls and asked for my opinion on the big things……….i.e.: joining the military. I also got calls before going over to Iraq. But it was upon his return from Iraq where our relationship really rekindled. I think we have both grown up and matured. I also think he knows I’m not going anywhere. He’ll make bad decisions (we all do) and I have continued to love him. He will get married and divorced and I have been there to love him. When he had his own son, I was there to love them both. When he was up to his asshole in alligators I jumped into the water with him and said, “Let’s go!” When he needs an older person’s advice, I am here. I believe he accepts the fact that I am one constant in his life that just isn’t going away. I haven’t been married to his mom for quite some time, but he is still a member of my family. Even though he is 24 years old today, he still calls my siblings, “uncle this” or “aunt that.” He is respectful to all of them, even though I’m not. Schwab Family Christmas or Schwab Family Picnic just wouldn’t be the same without him. Oh, he’s exhibited some of his birth father’s bad habits, but there is no doubt he is my son. This boy is a Schwab for sure. Seeing him now with his own son is so awesome. I don’t believe I was a good dad when I got started. He seems to be. The G/F and I were watching his son this past weekend and I saw my son so many times when I looked into the face of this baby. The baby slept with me at night and I lay awake in bed just watching him. I really don’t think I could love this baby more. But I’m going to try. Same for my son! By an act of fate, I missed being a father at a very young age and a few years later my life was blessed with my son. Funny how that works! I truly believe this was God’s doing. Kind of a payback. I couldn’t help it that I wasn’t there at his conception, but I’m not going to miss any of the rest of his life. I love you boy. Happy Birthday!

Are We There Yet?

“Are we there yet?” Those four little words you hear on every road trip. I, my friends, am a road warrior. I like to leave early in the morning and not stop until I get there. Sure, you have to stop for gas and restrooms, but that’s it. I had a great plan when the kids were younger. I would leave on our road trips about 3AM. This way they would sleep for some of the time instead of fight the whole way. Not only that, but I could enjoy the drive for the first few hours. After that it was constantly those four little words, “are we there yet?” “Are we there yet?” “Are we there yet?” Usually I was “there” once we were all in the car. And I mean this in a good way. By the end of this blog I think you’ll understand.

I think I may have learned my road traveling techniques from my dad, Don Schwab. My parents had eight kids. You can ask all of my siblings and I about our dad and you’ll get eight different answers. So let me tell you how I see it. When they write a blog they can give you their perspective. Don was a very wise and strong man. I believe he loved all of his family, but me the most (again, my blog). Did I mention they had eight kids? And out of those eight there were, let’s see….hmmmm, eight smart asses! Dad was patient. I got a little impatient driving with three kids; I really don’t know how he did it. And none of mine are huge smart asses. Oh, they have their moments, but growing up one of eight you had to be REAL good or you would never get any attention. We had the Ford Country Squire station Wagon. Complete with simulated wood paneling going down the side. We had other vehicles…Dodge Van, Volkswagon Bus and a bunch of Ford Trucks that you could put an infinite amount of kids in the back. That was a different time to be sure. But it was the Country Squire that I remember the best. What I remember the most was the “goo-goo room.” What? You never heard of a “goo-goo room?” The “goo-goo” room is the place in the very back of the Country Squire that had two flip up seats that faced each other. This is good for small people who don’t require air conditioning or windows that open or any comfort what-so-ever. There is a hierarchy in the seating arrangements of a Country Squire. Mom and Dad sat up front and window. At first, I sat between them. My two immediate older brothers sat in the “goo-goo room.” The rest of the kids that happen to be riding with us at the time sat in the middle row, oldest next to the windows. I remember getting “promoted” to the “goo-goo room.” It was owned by my brother Beej and me. Usually there were four kids sitting in the middle seat and Mom and Dad kept their positions. All you really need to know about the seating order is this; it doesn’t matter where you sit, dad can still reach you. This man was no orangutan, but his arms were so long he could certainly hit you in the “goo-goo room,” the more difficult seat immediately behind him, hell he probably could have hit a person in the next car. He was that good! These aren’t bruising shots by any means, just little jabs to get your attention. Kind of letting you know if he wanted, he’d take you out. I would imagine over the course of my 12 years before he died, he heard “are we there yet?” about 1,876,423 times. And several more he didn’t hear, or maybe just didn’t acknowledge. For just having all his family in the car together, he was already there. I think my dad believed whenever you’re going somewhere with someone you love, spending time with them, being in such close proximity, you’re there!


I am reminded of this because I took a road trip with the G/F this past week. We left on Wednesday, drove over 600 miles. Skied Thursday. Woke up Friday and after a short run of the slopes, drove back over 600 miles. Occasionally she would ask me if we were there yet. Funning around mostly. Twelve hundred miles. I gotta tell ya, I really enjoyed it. We didn’t even listen to the radio most of the time. We talked for twelve hundred miles!! Folks that’s about 26 hours! WOW! That’s probably more talking than the last two years of my marriage. We talked about a lot of stuff. Why we were driving 26 hours to ski for about eight? Why her candidate for governor is better than my candidate? (she’s not). Why a Honda doesn’t have an auxiliary input so I could plug in my iPod and only one lighter outlet? How are we to plug in two cell phones and a GPS?! I have a theory why this was so enjoyable. Not at any point during our excursion did we talk about “us.” We talked about everything we could possibly talk about, stupid, stupid stuff, but we never talked about “us.” How great is it that you have something so good you don’t have to talk about it?! Guys you know what I’m talking about. You know you want to turn and run the minute your significant other says, “Let’s talk about us.” WE DROVE 26 HOURS, NEVER HAD AN ARGUMENT AND DIDN’T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT “US!” This is huge. If she WERE to ask me, “are we there yet?’ I’d have to say yes. For the first time in years, I think I’m there!

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho

Ah, work. What makes us whole. How we provide for our families. What we do or what we HAVE to do. Have you ever heard the phrase, “find a job you enjoy and you’ll never work again?” Crap, really. I’m not really opposed to work, per se. I would just rather deal with individuals on an individual basis. I guess I’ve become a bit callused working for a huge corporation for the last several years. When I first got into banking, I truly believed I made a difference. And it seemed like my employer really cared. We weren’t pushing things, we were helping people buy their first home, get a new car or save for college or retirement. VERY important things. Then when I moved into business banking we were helping people grow their business and establish lines of credit. Again, VERY important things. We did it because it helped the customer and made sense. Now it seems like whenever you go into a bank your are attacked by bankers like a pack of wild dogs on a three legged cat. You’re being sold stuff you already said no to and it gets aggravating. It seems whenever the other banks started losing money my employer (who was very conservative and who I will always consider the “winner” of the banking wars) tried to emulate them. Weird. What I’m getting to here is, even if you find a job you love, it can change. And if you are in corporate America, chances are it will. I’ve been on medical leave for about six weeks now. While having lunch with one of my daughters the other day she asked me if there was something I wanted to share with her. I said no and asked her why and she said I just seem so much happier and I didn’t yell at her nearly as much as I used to (I wasn’t aware I ever yelled at her). She said I seemed much easier going. The G/F says the same. I guess a six week vacation from corporate America will do that to you. I’m really disappointed in myself to let my work stress me out so much I take it out on loved ones.

At a recent gathering of old friends a buddy of mine was asked what he did. This is his reply………”I sit on a big wooden bench, with an oar that I keep rowing. All the while I am putting neo-sporin on my back from the whip marks from when I don’t row fast enough. There is a little man on a platform above me that bangs a drum.” Classic. (I want to give the person who I quoted credit for this without saying his name….if you’ve known me for longer than 25 years then you know him as the cool drummer in the HS band). I’m going to go out on a limb here and say he hasn’t found what he enjoys either. But I happen to know he is still good at what he does and it is tolerable for him. That said, I seriously doubt anyone would enjoy cleaning port-a-cans, but someone’s got to do it. The same could be said for flipping burgers or working at the bank. I guess what I’m looking for is the level of disgust we can tolerate for the compensation earned. And if I am not moved by what I am doing and I do it anyway for the money, doesn’t that just make me a whore? Probably not. I remember when my daughters were really young. We struggled terribly. At one point I was working a 7am-3pm M-F job, a 3pm-11pm M-F job and mowing lawns and delivering pizzas on weekends. I must have been a big whore then?! (Still think I had it better than the mom though! Just imagine twins with croup!) . One year I took a part time job cleaning up the slaughter house after everyone went home. THAT was the WORST job EVER!! I didn’t enjoy any of those jobs. But we always do what we have to do to take care of our family. As much as I disliked those jobs, I don’t think I ever let it affect the way I dealt with customers. I’ve had a bad run recently with checkers at the local grocery store who obviously do not like their job. They don’t greet you when you come up, don’t sack your groceries and are just unpleasant. The G/F and I got a kick out of it last week when we had to sack our own groceries then the checker asked us if we’d like help out with our bags. Really? What I wanted was to not have to ask myself if I wanted paper or plastic. And I bet everyone has experienced lack of enthusiasm from any fast food establishment you may frequent. Fortunately, Ms. Dikeman, Ms. Boyd, Ms. Woffard, Ms. Shaw, Ms. Brown, Mr. Girdner, Ms. Cunningham, Ms. Black, Ms. Bradley, Ms. Sivek and Mrs. Swope (twice) I believe really loved their jobs. These were all my English teachers from 1st-12th grades. As I think back on most of the teachers I’ve ever had, they all seemed like they really liked their jobs. And being a teacher in a class that I was in could not have been easy. I’m just sayin’. I think I was fortunate to grow up in a place and time where the teachers really still cared and really reached out to their students. Maybe not all of them, but certainly most of them. I know one of my English teachers in high school was married to one of the coaches, and these two, as a couple did more for me than I could ever tell them. I believe they both loved their jobs. Now, 25 years later I know they are both still teaching. How would you like to have loved your job that long? Last night I met a friend for beverages. I’ve know this guy since 6th grade. He is a coach in a big city school. He is also a teacher. I asked him what he taught and he told me to guess. Now this is a guy who was very athletic, smart and probably would have fun at other people’s expense (I know this because we hung around together and I did too). He went on to tell me he was a special ed teacher. When he started talking about “his” kids his eyes twinkled like I imagine mine do when I’m talking about my daughters or son. He sat up in his chair and became very animated and you could tell he really cares for these kids and loves what he does. Made me kind of proud he was a guy I hung out with! I hope these children’s parents realize how lucky they are to have him teaching their children. I’d like to give a big “thank you” to all the teachers and cops here, for I know they don’t do it for money. One of my favorite stories was one of Mother Theresa. When inspecting a rundown housing project for the homeless she came upon a bathroom and stated, “Someone sure does love Jesus. “ When questioned she went on to explain that anyone who takes such pride in their work to do such a wonderful job in cleaning the restroom to get it to shine so well really glorifies Jesus with their work. Probably what the guy who cleans the port-a-john must think as well. I guess it’s time to find something I love so I can too!

Until WHEN Do Us Part?!!!

Marriage is a great institution. But who wants to be in an institution? I’ve heard that old joke several times and it works for me. However I have people very close to me that are married and are practically an extension of each other. Actually I am a firm believer in marriage. I know this sounds funny coming from a divorced dude, but I truly believe in marriage. That said, I should also add that I believe in marriage to the RIGHT person. I was happily married for about 7 years. Quite an accomplishment until I tell you I was actually married for about 13 years. But 7 of those were happy! We dated for about 3 months before I asked her to marry me. We lived together (OMG I hope the kids don’t read this!! JK, I think they know!!) For about a year then tied the knot. In 1989 I filed the EZ tax form and in 1990 I was married, had three kids and bought a house. Taxes were a little bit different that year! Anyway……….we were married about 5 years before we knew what marriage was. We’d fight like cats and dogs, make up then fight more. It was an ongoing process. I don’t know how many times we separated or screamed divorce, but I wish I had a dollar for each time. We searched and found out what marriage really was and the next several years were great. I can truly say that we were a perfect married couple. We did all the things perfect couples did. We were volunteering at school with the kids, we were involved with our church, we judged other couples who we deemed “not as happy as us”. Everything. We worked hard to keep our marriage great. Then…………we didn’t, and got divorced. It’s funny when you work at marriage it’s an ongoing process that takes time to build, but when you divorce it’s not skidding to a halt it’s an abrupt STOP! It’s my belief this happens so your heart can continue to fly out of your chest. And that’s what it feels like until you can continue forward and pick it up and put it back. The walk is further for some than others. Fortunately for me, my walk wasn’t too long. And it doesn’t matter who wants the divorce, it’s equally hurtful. I’m sure my X will disagree with this statement but as good as I was at being married (that’s the part she will disagree with) I’m better at being divorced. The only problem with that is once you are divorced it kind of makes you gun-shy on commitment to another person. I’ve been going out with a wonderful woman for about 4 years. Every July 4th I feel the need to break up with her. I think this is so we can get back together and keep it new longer (just a theory). No doubt this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I just don’t want to ever divorce her. I’ve got to get rid of my belief that marriage is the first step of divorce. I’ve experienced a good marriage and won’t settle for anything less. I am looking forward to experiencing it with her. Just as soon as I can say the word marriage and breathe at the same time. Like anything else we form our opinions on marriage from people we know or look up to. My mom and dad were married 30 plus years before my dad died. After his death, we could never get my mother to date or even consider it really. My dad was the only man she was ever interested in and NOTHING was going to change that, not even his death. They may not have had a perfect marriage, but from what I saw they worked really hard at it. One thing I remember well and picked up in my own life was there was no doubt my dad loved my mom and you better not piss mom off or dad was gonna take ya out! (Just got an idea for a future blog, “things your dad said.” My dad was a book of great quotes). I have a sister and brother in law celebrating 20 years this month. They work hard on their marriage although I bet they would both say it’s no work at all. They are truly committed to each other and are on a different plane than everyone else I know. I have a brother and a sister who are not married yet display the kind of “one-ness” with their respective other halves that any married couple would envy. These are my “marriage heroes!” And then there are others that are train wrecks waiting to happen. They aren’t committed or they are “staying together for the kids.” Just an opinion, but that is about the dumbest reason I’ve heard to stay together. I’m pretty sure your kids want you to be happy. Whenever a friend tells me they are contemplating divorce I always tell them the same thing, “Fight for your marriage until you can’t lift your arms.” Of course if you can’t lift your arms anymore, get divorced! Cut your losses and look for happiness elsewhere. But ONLY after you’ve exhausted every possible means of working it out. In the words of Chris Rock, “life is short, unless you’re married to the wrong person. Then it’s a looooooooooong time.” Here’s a shocker for you…..divorce sucks! Even if you can’t stand each other or are totally unhappy in your marriage. It still sucks. Divorce is the death of a marriage and death is very hard. That said, I’m happily divorced. I’d like to thank my X wife for us not working harder. If we did she may not have found her current husband and me my current girlfriend. Now we are both able to pursue happiness and to be models for our children. Everyone wants their children to find the right person. I’ve always told my girls to find someone who treats them better than me and they will receive my blessing. I’ll let you know how that one turns out in about 50 years when they are ready for marriage! In closing I’d like to add, it’s not the size of the ring but the size of the heart that matters in marriage (OK, I threw that one in for the g/f’s benefit!! She’s not buying the old, “your hands are too small for a big diamond” shtick). Congratulations to all the happily married couples out there. Thank you for being an inspiration to those of us trying to grasp the concept!

Editor’s Note: The G/F and I just updated our FaceBook status to confirm we ARE in a relationship. I’m only hyperventilating a little. Baby steps, baby steps!

Parenthood, the Ultimate Commitment

Hello everyone. Today I am starting my new blog. This blog is going to try to not be political or judgmental, but I’m fairly certain I will cross lines. If Bruce Springsteen and the Dixie Chicks can force their opinions on people who come to their concerts I certainly can as well on people who visit my blog! However, this is not its intended purpose. The intended purpose here is to just let me vent on issues and observations that ride that merry-go-round in my head. I cannot begin to speculate what it will be the next time. Those that know me know I cannot stay on one topic for very long. I would like you to know if I am going to go off on something that is colorful I will give it an (R) rating next to the title. To understand where I am coming from let me give you a little background on me…………..I am a 43 year old, single male. I have spent most of the last 20 years living with my twin 19 year old daughters. I seem to have a feminine side because of this. This was my greatest education. I have experienced more drama than most men. More than all the episodes of General Hospital in fact. In my blog I’m going to try to be funny, but in my first one I wanted to touch on something very important to me; parenthood.
Death & Parenthood are the only commitments I could think of that are final. I’m not much into commitment. I have avoided it at all costs for the most part (except for parenthood). I’ve made commitments before such as marriage, buying a home or trying to watch the whole series of 24. These were not final. I’m not married, I no longer have that house and I really can’t sit still for 24 hours. I really don’t think those commitments were what one would call final. I understand marriage is supposed to be “til death do us part” but that really isn’t the case most of the time these days. (My blog on marriage is coming in the near future. I’m sure my ex-wife and current girlfriend (two separate people) will find that one interesting.) They should change that to “til something better comes along.” But parenthood! Now that’s commitment.
My first taste of parenthood as a commitment came on Christmas Eve 1989. In those days Wal-Mart stayed open until midnight. We got my son a radio flyer little red wagon. The good one that was actually made out of metal. We waited for him to go to bed so we could put it together and give all props to Santa. The only problem is I’m not exactly what you would call “handy” and it didn’t have all the parts. That’s my story. I put it together the best I could but there were parts I needed that I just didn’t have. It’s about 11:30PM and I’m in my pajamas and robe. Next thing I know I’m in the same pajamas and robe standing in the hardware section of Wal-Mart. I look around and notice there are about 3 or 4 other dads standing around in their pajamas and robes. We are all scratching our heads. Not sure if we are more confused about what parts we needed or why the hell we would go out in our underwear on Christmas Eve. We give each other the “man nod” affirming our mutual dilemma. Apparently there were a lot of radio flyer little red wagons delivered by St. Nick that year. That’s commitment!
When I was going thru divorce I took up smoking. Don’t judge me, I needed a vice. After stressful days I loved to go into the garage and spark it up. One day my youngest daughter (She is 3 minutes younger than her sister. Her older sister won’t let her forget it either) came into the garage and said, “Daddy if you don’t stop smoking, your heart is going to turn green and you’re going to die like grandmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” I stopped that day. Let me tell you, smoking is like a commitment! You have to pay an unworldly amount of money for cigarettes. You have to make excuses to slip away to smoke. You have to always have gum, hand sanitizer and some kind of cologne to keep that awful smoker smell in check (when actually you just add more fragrance to it). I crushed the pack I had right there. That’s commitment!
A short time ago my oldest daughter gave me a frantic phone call. She’s at school; she has no money, no gas in her car and started her period. Apparently the tampons they have in the bathrooms at school are not up to the ardent standards of my baby girl. Next thing I know I’m standing in the feminine hygiene isle at HEB staring blankly at products I have never used or intend to. I have my daughter on the phone trying to explain to me what exactly she needs. I really don’t understand not having tampons. I would think if I had a period the prior month, and month before, etc I would know something may happen this month as well. But I digress. My daughter doesn’t even know what brand she uses. She can only describe the box. She also gave me a slogan they use on their commercials. I actually asked a poor lady walking down the aisle if she knew what brand came in a blue box and had “a unique leak guard.” If I designed these boxes my slogan would be “gets the red out”, but I think that one is already taken. Asking complete strangers about feminine hygiene, that’s commitment!
Especially after the divorce I made a promise to not do anything I didn’t want my kids to do. Drinking, smoking, wild women….everything. I own a company that shoots video for people to use on their website. At a recent conference I was asked by a young man if I would like to work on something for him. You people who own your own business know the answer is always “yes.” He went on to explain how he has an adult website and would like to add video on a subscription basis. In my mind I’m saying, “thank you God, I’ve been waiting for this since puberty.” (I know God probably doesn’t condone this website, but I was also telling myself He let this happen for a reason). So much going thru my mind! I opened my mouth and here is what came out, “ya know….I’m not judging you, but I have two beautiful daughters. They wouldn’t understand me working on a project like that and I wouldn’t be comfortable doing anything I couldn’t share with them.” Really! That’s what I said! Not what I was thinking! That’s commitment!
Parents do everyday what they don’t want to do. They do this because they are committed to their children. They commit because being a parent is the most important job in the world. I am very proud to know as many good parents as I do. I count them among my greatest friends. As thankless of a job it can be (sometimes) it is still the best job in the whole world. Whereas parenting doesn’t pay much money, it does payoff huge down the road when we become grand-parents. But that is another blog for another day.

Occasional BS

Coming soon.......................