A character trait we’re focusing on this month is Adventurous.
What does it mean to be adventurous; to have the spirit of an adventurer, to adventure into unknown or uncomfortable or dangerous territory? Can someone be adventurous in certain areas and not others?
Is it always a positive attribute? What other traits are related and often go hand-in-hand? And importantly: how do you KEEP AND BUILD a spirit of adventure throughout your life, not just childhood?
An embedded way of approaching life in every facet, not just in the ‘Jack London physical quest into untamed territory’ type? And who are good examples of adventurous spirits in cinema, literature, and history?
I am a big proponent of little ongoing and frequent adventures being as important as occasional bigger ones. Ones where you create, or explore, or discover something in a way that is exciting and unique and different than just approaching as a task to be completed. The road, the long winding road should be filled with wrong turns and side streets and abrupt stops.
Good thing I’m bad at directions.
___
FIRST DAY?
School Districts still on strike. No agreement yet. So no official first day at the alternative school 45 minutes away we commute to twice a week to join other families with similar educational investments in their children.
I told the children today would be a soft start. Meaning we ran through a handful of items:
Khan Academy overview
"About Me" posters. Always a highlight of the year. I love seeing the changes year to to year. They'll be working on them over the next couple weeks. I gave the first five items to include:
Name and grade
Animals
Foods, desserts, drinks
Future career
Type of home, house, hut, castle, van, etc. they want to someday live in
German and Latin. Jumping back into our explorations into Romance languages, which will also include a heavy dose of Greek prefixes, suffixes, and roots, and probably include more than a handful of stories ancient history, despite the fact that we're focusing on History of the Americas this year. :)
Coding. Johannes will continue with block-based, Magdelana will be moving into Javascript right away.
Photography.
Of course their little brother is in the thick of it all. Off we go. Another year of adventure and exploration ahead!
The temp was 86, I reckoned.
Call of sweet ice caffeine to me beckoned.
My cool dude sons, I told
We gonna get some drinks, super duper cold.
This would be time well spent, I knew
Me and my boys make quite the crew.
We’d chill and chat and talk about Leonidas
And tell stories about creatures that could potentially bite us
One was excited to talk of Athens and Sparta too.
One was not and would rather play peekaboo.
where there’s a way there’s a will
And where’s there’s this guy there’s a pill.
Strolled into the conditioner cooled place
Thump thump Ace of Bass smile to my face
Boys, we gonna hang in here a real short while
You be good for pops, please go the extra mile?
The seven nods, the one-year toots
Old guys look up, mustachioed cowboy coots
Little fists my chest for YES
Relief immediate I have to confess,
We gonna chill guys, I firmly say
Boy look up: I obey dad, pretty much almost every day.
So here the plan
Clock go tick tick man
We keep a low profile
Then we leave after a little while
I order my drink while one boy starts math
The other one, I notice, needs a bath
But his help is immense
As he shakes my wallet of dollar and cents
Set him down to the floor,
He make a run for the door
Hey you buddy! I shout!
That whole low key thing, what that about?
He looks around frantically, frenetic concern
That his whereabouts I’ll soon completely discern
I already have, certainly so
Because I am dad, and I told him no go.
His eyes scan the coffeehouse place
And search for a comrade kinda face.
He sees a middle age man
And swiftly devises a plan,
Waddling over to overstuffed chair
He points and he grunts like an underfed bear.
His Morse code bleeps and dot dashes
Are too incomprehensible for the man with mustaches.
I stalk over to both parties of men
He wants outside, I explain, but that’s somewhere he’s already been
Boy puffs and he huffs and he gets super mad,
But I remind him again of who is still dad.
You’re not escaping from here,
I remind him.
Your mind is bright but your memory is dim.
I win, I win again, I win all the time,
And whoever you bribe, will take more than a dime.
He listened real close , well most
except for two teen girls to whom he could boast.
In line they stood for some afternoon treat
A beverage to nullify eighty six heat.
He attracted their attention with focused intention,
His plan was something I’d rather not mention
But involved a loud thunder from down under,
His diaper shaking, almost ripped super asunder.
They giggled and chuckled and smiled at him.
That was all needed to blow kisses to them.
Low profile! I hissed.
The idea was that we’d never be missed.
He laughed and climbed up out of my lap.
Please oh please I breathed; maybe a nap?
Upon the communal table we shared
He laid down his plumb body and head blond haired
Stretching out to full length on back
He gathered lungs for a vocal attack
Attack of the singing boy song
Who might ever think it to be very wrong?
Well, when a profile presence tiny is what you’ve desired
But singsonging diaper poet instead is what has been hired
Then the table dancing song sing diaper man
Is simply not on the list of good plan, no nuh uh man.
I turn to help other son with some numbers
Instead make mistake and brain feeling dead or under deep slumbers.
The escape artist sees a break and makes it happen
Irrepressible spirit no thwarten or dampen.
He runs to a friendly 20ish fellow
Who perhaps seems appropriately mellow.
The year old criminal marches up to this millennial cool dude
With the moxie and grace of a hipster elite attitude
And picks up his juice bottle and keys
With nothing so much as a please
I race over and redact them from dirty fat hand
And scream what did you super not understand?
He cries for a while
But five seconds after with apparentless guile
He smiles and points to the newspaper stand.
Look I say but don’t touch.
If you do, I won’t probably like you more much.
He obeys letter of law and leaves the Wall Street Journal alone
But begins scampering up newspaper RACK to climbing skills hone.
He gets up ten feet or so,
Stops to smile at me far down below
I shake my head and sigh with sadness
I thought we’d relax here, but it’s simply been madness
My drink is melting in sad little plastic
I thought this would be some relaxing fantastic
I reach up high to lift him all the way down
He disagrees with decision and scowls noisy clown frown.
But back at his seat he sits content
With a book that cost a buck ninety-nine cent
There’s animals in it and pictures of cows too
He lets the whole place know that chickens say cock-a-doodle-moo
But he tires of that whole reading scene soon
And begs and screeches for a knife or a spoon
Cause the best soundtrack for relaxation
In this beautiful nation of creation
Is to drum the beat of your heart
With something loud and noisy and do your part
To fill a room with huge massive noise
And remind everyone you’re not of those demure quiet boys
We finally at last do start to depart
I mentally list what to purchase at the grocery mart
As I drag him out under my arms
I remember a picture of sweet orangutan farms
And consider the notion of a donation far across the ocean, but ixnay this mental deliberation as a no-go motion
This child is funny and dirty and a little wild too
And has trouble remembering that monkeys don’t moo.
But I am fond of him most of the times
Even when busy with non-felony crimes.
I juggle a backpack some books, and squirmy big little him
And he grabs the lid of my drink by the broad icy brim
With grubby fingers he yank and yink
Too late instincts react as my heart sank and then sink.
He pulls the straw fully all out
And draws his arm back, five feet or so there is no doubt
He winds it around like a big league thrower
This boy who sprout up faster than a big weed grower
And he snaps the straw like a personal challenge or dare
With a laugh, a toot, and an air of what do I care?
The coffee drops fly in slow motion
Like a tidal wave from the deep ocean
I don’t stop to see where they land
Because customers won’t understand
They’ll growl at me and say why didn’t you raise him cute?
And before I’ll reply, he’ll cackle and smile and make a big toot.
So we’ll fly out of there really fast
Before I’m beat up and wearing a cast,
And I’ll remember so well, fleeing pell mell
This relaxation hour of coffee shop h-e-l-l.
And know that he’ll sleep super good tonight and be well rested
After another full day of dad battle-tested...
...oh no, please tell me he didn’t just drink half my fully-caffeinated coffee...
BETTER THAN JULIE?
Daddy, daddy!
they shrilled.
Push us on the tire swing, push us FAST on the tire swing!!
Why?
I said.
Why should I push you? We're at a park. You're supposed to be playing, not swinging.
Because it's fun!
the shrilling continued.
And because you're good at pushing!
One of the two - I recognized her; I think she may have been my daughter - paused mid-shriek.
Yeah, you're a pretty good pusher,
she said.
Probably like the fourth best in the world.
Oh.
I said.
Why not Top Three?
Well,
she said.
Julie Natiuk is the third best. One time she pushed us and she was very good at it. Better than you.
Okay.
I said.
Fair enough. Who's got the top two spots then?
She shrugged.
I don't know. But I'm sure there's a couple people somewhere in the world I haven't met who are better at pushing than you.
Alright.
I said.
I guess I could push you for a little bit. After all, you guys are on my Top 100 best children in the world list.
What?!
she shrieked.
Top hundred?!
Yep.
I said.
Probably 93 and 94. Something like that.
Well who's higher than?
she asked.
I don't know.
I said.
I haven't met all the children in the world, but there's probably some I'd like more.
DADDY!!
she yelled.
and I started pushing. Higher and faster than they'd ever gone before. Because I'm the best...or at least best-ish. I'll take a Top 5 finish. Props, Julie. Way to set the bar fairly high.
My heart beats with so much love to see the intensity, attention to detail, and enthusiasm our daughter has brought to her creative process; most recently with recording and mixing in GarageBand. Has been going through the agonies of background noise (e.g. little brothers) infiltrating live vocal tracks mid-recording. Currently putting together a cover of We Are Going to be Friends.
“Anyone who knew her well could tell she was thinking hard, because her long hair was tied up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes. She had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.”
- Lemony Snicket
girl contemplating birds flying over the Columbia River from Washington side
We were forty-five minutes from home after a long day of travel and valorous feats, and I saw a road that looked interesting, so I recklessly pulled over (after using my turn signal, which I habitually use) and began the traverse toward the sky-road to investigate; I conversed with a motorcyclist (who was not on his motorcycle) as we dialogued about the territory, and learned about a secret tent city of berry pickers, and he gifted me some recommendations of explorations to embark upon - some of which I entered into my secret notebook (in: right back pocket) to remind for later, and one of which we took immediately (which was to go RIGHT at the fork of the road we were upon). We did so, and stumbled upon a place that should certainly cause (at minimum) a steep intake of breath and at most partial and temporary paralysis at the eighth wonder. I wondered what the tree must have been like; magnificent and towering, and possibly slowly bending its knee toward the river. I also envisioned a giant swing, or zip line, originating from this once powerful tree, that would plunge its riders (me) at the end into the Columbia, and I smiled at both the daringness of this idea, and how much alike I am like my dad sometimes.
Then we left and went home, after a few more stops. If you're wondering why I'm late to things sometimes, it might be (probably is) because I stop a great deal.
First time taking the kids on the Oneonta Falls hike out in the Gorge. Hands down, one of the THE MOST FUN hikes we have taken them on in the last three years. A little danger, a lot of water and wet, swimming underneath waterfall...what a fantastic family expedition. Highly recommend. Exit #28 if you're coming from Portland. Thanks fellow friends for helping make it a blast as well!
No matter the weather
or where you are
or who you're with,
or what you're doing,
the day always starts off a little better with a hot cuppa something good.
I had the greatest conversation with a cop yesterday! I was wearing my blue hat (which is largely irrelevant) and this officer must have liked it because he asked to chat with me (by using his lights and siren to get my attention). "Hi Officer!" (I said) "How's it going?" (We chatted a bit, and he pointed out some things I could do better in the future, for which I was appreciative). Also, he asked (just as a formality) if he could take a look at my license, insurance, and registration (I was nervous, because my actual weight disagrees with my license by five pounds*). Funny thing was, I couldn't find my CURRENT insurance card, so it took me FOREVER to go through the stack of papers piled up in the glovebox. He was exceptionally good-natured and helpful, and it was kinda great because all the time it took to look for the "right"** papers gave us a bit of extra time to chat. He is off to "an okay" New Year. My daughter was with me, absorbing it all, and I (truly) was so appreciative of how professional and respectful Officer Handley was. I believe so strongly in the power that childhood impressions can have on a person's worldview for years to come; I was grateful for the positive, kind interaction he had with my daughter present. She noticed. And will likely remember. Thank you. Next time I see you driving around, maybe I'll pull you over to chat (where can I get some lights for my automobile?). Respect. Joseph Long *ten
**these quotation marks are completely unnecessary
I got home. Rain clouds gathering, gray sludge in the sky. A perfect opportunity to snuggle up and - "HEY DADDY!" my son asked with the earnestness of Mother Teresa and the decibel level of Chuck D. "Do you want to build a houseboat with me?" - "It's getting cold, buddy, and umm, there's rain coming and umm, maybe instead we could -" "OH, IT'S OKAY DADDY, WE CAN JUST BUILD A HOUSEBOAT* OR...we can go hunting for sticks and leaves to build a fort so the robbers can't get us." - "So...you're giving me a choice to either a) build a houseboat in the rain or b) build a fort in the rain?" "Yeah. And we can protect ourselves from the robbers." - "I don't know a three-year old who is as knowledgeable about robbers as you." "Yeah. Let's build a fort now so the robbers can't get us. You need a sword to cut sticks." - "No houseboat?" "We can just build a fort right now." I put on my boots, and he handed me a sword, and the timing was exquisite because the rain started to drench the earth so irrigation for the fort quickly became a non-problem, and we spent the next hour in non-stop dialogue about many things, but mostly revolving around robbers, snakes, structural engineering, and the importance of taking a sword everywhere you go. I don't know if the fort itself will make it through the night. It's more like a beaver dam for bugs than it is a place of refuge for humans. But my son seemed pleased, and I hope he remembers our experience building it in twenty years, because I will.
01.37 THIRTY-ISH? I decided decades ago that I would never deliberately lie about my age. I might forget - 34 was the one where I had to start consciously thinking about it - but I will not intentionally be dis-truthful about it. I'm not sure why. So far, I woke up and 35 seems pretty good. 02.37 HIP HOP HAPPY. I was teaching a class, and my phone kept ringing. The same number kept coming up, over and over. My wife. So naturally I assumed that either our house must have burned down or David Sedaris dropped by unexpectedly, so I dialed her back after the 17th* call. This is a general summation of our dialogue: Hi...everything okay? (I asked) - Of course. Are you teaching? (she asked) Uhh, yes. Lecturing at the moment about Inception, frame rates, and persistence of vision. - Okay. Well you need to have them sing to you. Your class needs to sing Happy Birthday to you. They did. I didn't even order them to. They did, all on their own, and it wasn't bad. They're a good group. - But did they sing it rap style? Umm, no. They did not sing it to me hip hop style. - Tell them to sing it to you rap style. Uhh, I'll run it by them. Is that the main reason you called? - Yep. You're welcome. Thanks? - Sure thing. Happy birthday. Click.
She's an odd one. However, I have been listening to an enormous amount of hip hop lately, so also, a legitimate question.
shot by Countess Becca - Laughing Planet Cafe (NE Portland)
03.37 FIVE OF MY FAVOURITE FILMS ABOUT BIRTHDAYS, OR IN WHICH BIRTHDAYS PLAY A PROMINENT PRESENCE. 1. 16 Candles 2. The Game 3. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory 4. City Slickers 5. Liar Liar
6. About Schmidt 04.37 ANTI-GUILT. I have heard from all my siblings on my birthday.
All except Jamey. I haven't heard anything from him. No phone call or postcard or text or fax or billboard or surprise visit. Nothing. I suspect he has forgotten. It's okay; it'll still be a B+ kind of birthday. 05.37 SARAH CONNOR. I am a sharing person, and do not bear considerable animosity against those who planned their own birth on my special day. I'm talking to you, T.S. Eliot, Johnny Appleseed, Serena Williams, George Gershwin, Stephan Korner, Roger Dale Hinton Jr, Don Coleman, and Zack Paul. From age 13 on, what mattered was that I shared a birthday - and lifelong bond - with Linda Hamilton. A.k.a. Sarah Connor, future humanity's human defender in the war against the machines; muscle mom supreme with triceps to make Venus Williams* weep, * and reluctant hero when it seemed like there weren't too many tank top wearing, aviator shade sporting mamas with Terminator attitude and army boots to look up to. Linda/Sara. Our paths have yet to cross, but our bond is forever. Happy birthday, friend. Fight on.
*Venus does not ever weep 06.37 WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE "Look at the sunset!" my wife exclaimed this evening, pointing to the distance. Our son looked up. In his inimitable, squeaky, train engine loud voice, announced to the Western Hemisphere: - "Hey, that's my sunset! That sunset is mine!" "It's my birthday," I said.
"It's mine." 07.37 MURDER OF AWESOME CROWS. Every birthday, I choose a word to eliminate from my vocabulary and replace with other more specific and accurate words. Words I have mostly executed so far include BORING and AWESOME, although my son has picked up the slack with the latter: "Oh look, there's a book about dragons...that's awesome! Dragons are awesome." "Hey Daddy, do you like chocolate...it tastes really awesome." "When I grow up I'm going to be an awesome superhero and I'm going to fly and be a bad guy...is that awesome, Daddy?"
So I don't know what's going this year. Suggestions? The universe informs me that whatever I choose to eliminate will be enthusiastically embraced by my progeny. 08.37 STEREO VACUUM x INFINITY. The Möbius diagram of sound waves coming simultaneously from multiple rooms in our house include: - 2 vacuums (living room, room A) - Jeff Buckley playing on iTunes (room - a story about Courage playing on cassette (room C) - John Williams' Empire Strikes Back score on vinyl (room A) - Mates of State at maximum volume on iTouch (room A) - one child begging to find more rooms to vacuum and wanting to know if he's a "good vacuumer" (answer: yes and no and sort of?) - one phone ringing and ringing (mine) - one child wanting to know if I will bring her "a little snack" before supper (answer: no). I love music, and melody masquerading as noise. We are long, we are loud, we are legion. And can only add to the volume with the sounds of our own laughter in the mirror. Ha!
Shabbat Shalom, Universe 09.37 THIS KING BUSINESS. I got to spend a tiny portion of time on my birthday reading some beloved stories from old Ellery Queen Mystery Magazines. This particular issue is September 1976 - the year I was born
I grew up on Sherlock Holmes, Miss Marple and Mr. Poirot, Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler and thousands of short stories in Alfred Hitchcock and Ellery Queen anthologies. I have long loved detective stories, and short stories, and particularly short detective stories. Michael Chabon likes genre fiction and so do I.
snap: Becca Nutter Long 10.37 THE GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT. "WHAT!!??! I didn't want cereal for breakfast!! I was going to have ice cream!" Despite my son's menu plan, I sadly held my ground. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Chin up kid, someday you can make yourself a giant bowl of chocolate peanut butter breakfast special.
And maybe your old pop will join you. 11.37 FIVE STRANGERS ON MY BIRTHDAY WEEKEND. 1. The barista at Sisters Coffee, who was so gracious with my explanation - hours later - of how my Americano had gotten spilled. Made me a new one on the spot. With a smile. Thanks man. 2. Carrie, the lady at Redbox who randomly stopped me and asked if I could help her figure out how to use Redbox. I assisted her through the process, gave her a free rental code, and made sure she got a copy of World War Z in her hand. Big smile. Sometimes you get help, sometimes you give help. Thanks Carrie. 3. The parking attendant at the garage off 10th and Alder who was so friendly and thoughtful, in a position that probably sees its share of rude and impatient people passing though. Thanks, Mr. Sir. 4. The Japanese girl visiting Pioneer Courthouse Square in the rain who asked if she could get a picture...with our children. Your smile was contagious. Thank you. 5. Terra, the Lewis & Clark photography student outside the Grilled Cheese Grill food cart who asked to take our picture for a photo project. I laughed: "Of course! It's a little strange being on the other end of that question!" Thank you for a few quality minutes of pleasant conversation while waiting for food.
Thank you, world, for being filled with many wonderful people.
Woke up. My wife made me French fries, toast, and tofu for breakfast. Headed into my mobile office at Stumptown for a couple hours of work. Took a couple of my students on set to Portlandia, where I had a pleasant conversation with Fred Armisen about Parquet Courts, and also about my friend Art at Jackpot Records, whom I have never met, but is the one who introduced me to Parquet Courts, therefore morally obligating me to credit him to Fred. Returned home at 11pm, where Countess Becca made me hot chocolate. Good day.
I have lately become frustrated with the rigidity of pedometers. Really, they are simply one interpretation of the truth. I have invented another interpretation: When I was in high school, I could easily* run a six**-minute mile. With that in mind, we were hiking this afternoon and I realised, as I was internally planning to brag later, that our children severely slowed down our ability to travel a great distance, primarily due to their ridiculous fascination with nature (crawdads, fish, moss, slugs, unidentifiable poop, fungus, sticks, caterpillars, snails, leopard slugs, etc.). Anyway, they kept taking so long to examine plants and smell flowers every 20 feet that we were making almost no discernible progress. Certainly nothing I'd feel comfortable posting to Strava. So what I decided is to start measuring our hikes using a different metric, which is much more accurate, in a way. It is this: I have started factoring TIME into the distance equation. Using the baseline of a six-minute mile, I am now adding ONE MILE to the total length of our hike for EVERY six minutes we are out, which is fair considering the energy expended in following children into dangerous off-road streams and gulches. So today, we were out around three hours. 180 minutes divided by 6 is 30. Nice! So yeah, we did a little 30-mile family hike today. And then ate pizza and frozen yogurt, because we earned it. I am impressed with us. Thirty miles of hardcore. *not easily **seven or eight
A. My wife ran in a race. She didn't win. We are all disappointed. Except her. B. I had a doughnut. 3. We went to a lovely sandy river beach. With beautiful sunbeams showering us. My son found an ant by the public bathrooms and hung out there, playing in the shade. 4. I had a great conversation with a guy named Patrick and his eight-year old son about music (Loggins & Messina, Steely Dan). They were skipping rocks and whittling spears on a little cove off the Columbia. V. I told my children a story in which I was the protagonist, and in which I was incredibly brave, and in which I leaped off a cliff, and their peals of laughter led me to believe they enjoyed it; a post-story discussion uncovered their mis- interpretation of the story, in which they decided I was very un-brave. That made me very sad. So, all in all, a horrid day. Thanks for asking. The Art of the Deal "Okay Daddy, I will give you a choice: you can either buy us doughnuts OR...you can tell us a story." Two hours later, as I finished off an apple fritter and responded to a Q&A regarding the murky details of my cliff-jumping tale of bravery, it dawned on me that I had gotten played. Never again, I vowed to myself, as we headed to the river, and then the playground.
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