JON.

Eleven years ago, Jonathan Long (Jonny) and I invented a communication process known as the Sixty-Second Phone Call (footnote below on who he is). But this is not about Jonny. It is about Jonathan Ponder, also known as Jon.

The movie Chinatown is not a Christmas movie. It takes place in California. It is considered by some to be the finest screenplay ever written. I don’t agree, I met Jon there. Not in the town of Los Angeles, but in a city a short seventeen-hour drive away, in College Place, Washington, where he was attending college, as was I. We studied Odysseus, but not together, and then ran into each other randomly in a city adjacent to Los Angeles much later, so the college part above is largely irrelevant. Also, he played bass guitar.

He was friends with my sister and friends with friends (see: tagged people), but then I stole him so we could hang out without intermediaries.

Sometimes, good friends talk every day.
And sometimes, good friends talk every several months.

Along with Jeremy Long, whose relationship to me is difficult to simplify in a single post, although he also has played bass guitar and knew Lance (see footnote below), Jon has been the most fun Radiohead deconstructionizing conversationalist I have known in the past 26 years (I am older than 26). I have a vivid memory of riding in the passenger seat of a blue car (I think) with him driving (reasonably certain it was him) and discussing Amnesiac (possibly was Kid A). I can remember with great clarity the neighbourhood we were passing through; it was in California, or a neighboring state, and it was definitely a hot day.

He introduced me to a group of film and book geeks who met weekly to watch, break down, and discuss Westerns. I saw Once Upon a Time in the West for the first time there, which is my very favourite Western ever and will change the way you think of Henry Fonda, but Jon was not there. I don’t know where he was that week. I’ve always wondered. He he may have been writing poetry or playing guitar at Jazz ‘n Java. If the NSA ever releases all their surveillance and drone footage (of course it exists), I’ll check to find out.

When I moved to Montana for grad school, and me and Becca’s apartment had concrete floors, then Jon said: I’m coming too.

He did not say that. But he did come visit, and it snowed, we hiked, and he bought the Jesus and Mary Chain’s Munki on CD and then left it at our apartment, where I accidentally copied it before mailing to him. Birthday is still my fourth favourite song of theirs. I do not know what he would rate the album at this point, but it’s much better than the atrocious and disappointing one they released last year. But I don’t know, Jon might love it, we haven’t texted back and forth about it yet. We might never. He collects and invests in vinyl treasures and is focused on more roots music at this point, although we still have great texts about The New Pornographers and other shared poppy faves.

I got a package awhile back from him that contained books. He is one of the remaining friends I have who loves books more than myself, and possibly more, occasionally. They were some of his picks to share, that I will not divulge, except to say that Jonathan Franzen was in there twice and one of them is not the book you might think it was. I slowly savored and worked my way through them, and I especially loved How to be Alone.

He gave me a collection of LPs when he visited several months ago. He had been slowly assembling them, along with the coolest and greatest accompanying handwritten liner notes, and it is one of the most meaningful and awesomest presents I have received. A reason for every one.

Sometimes we exchange voicemails instead of actually talking, and I will say that we are both very, very good at leaving well-crafted voicemails that you would not ever want to delete. We do not talk every day, but I think I am going to call him next month, or in a month soon thereafter. And we will pick right up where we were last, which was something important to do with literature or music or philosophy, and someday he will have listened to Sharon Van Etten and I will have watched The Wire and we can compare notes.

Until then, I will look forward to ignoring his phone call and letting it go to voicemail so I can listen to it at my leisure, and prepare to call him back with a call he can ignore and let go to voicemail, and...

...that is a friend I am happy to have be a friend. A good friend for a long time in the past and far into the future.

Bye.
_____
FOOTNOTE:
The easiest way to frame who Jonathan Long is in relation to me is this: Jonny (his nickname) had a basketball coach in high school whose name was Lance. Lance has gone to see the Los Angeles Dodgers in L.A. (a.k.a. Los Angeles). They are a baseball team apparently. Jonny used to play baseball in a town I also grew up in - Tillamook, Oregon - which is north of Los Angeles. The California Los Angeles, not the other one. When Lance saw the Dodgers play in Los Angeles, he did not see Jonny, but before that, he had stayed with Jonny’s brother Jamey in Arizona, which is where certain baseball teams practice their spring training baseball practice to be ready for baseball. Jamey also played baseball, but not basketball for Lance’s basketball team in Portland, Oregon, which is north of Los Angeles, east of Portland, and west of Ann Arbor, Michigan. The first time I met Lance, I don’t remember, but the second I met him I do. He is a fine fellow, and I had known Jonny before that, and before he played baseball, as we had grown up in adjacent bedrooms in the same household, as we shared parents, although my room was on the bottom floor. So Lance is the connecting thread, aside from Jonny being my brother (and Jamey’s). I never played basketball for Lance, but I have known people who did, and some live in states east of the Mississippi now, which is east of Los Angeles and Portland. Jonny and Jon Ponder have met as well, though never played baseball together, to my knowledge.

FIVE: PROBABLY, NO, USUALLY, WHY NOT?, NO, YES (FIVE QUESTIONS OVER 24 HOURS FROM A FOUR-YEAR OLD).

1. Can we watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for Christmas?

2. Can we do some fireworks in the house?

3. Do guards really guard stuff?

4. Can I build a new house today in the front yard? Will you help me? Can we move all our stuff into the new house today?

5a. Can I make a recipe? I'll make dessert. Can you get the sugar for me please? Where's the chocolate?!

5b. Can you come read a book with me in bed? You can read Matthew Looney and I'll draw while you're reading.
____

I love good questions.

THREE DISCOVERIES THAT CAN BE DISAPPOINTING TO A CHILD.

1a. Finding out that there is (allegedly) not an actual man who lives permanently on the moon.

1b. Finding out that really good movies with great characters are frequently followed by mediocre and forgettable sequels.
3. Finding out that despite their
homophonic similarity, there is a discernible difference between eating a waffle and eating a falafel.

2. Learning that umbrellas are not near as effective in combating gravity as Mary Poppins would have you believe.
3a. Discovering that a person's success in a particular field - like sports - is often a terrible indicator of how decent a human being they are.

3b. Finding out that Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory is made up. And cavities aren't.

3b,II. Finding out that ostriches can't fly, and that supposedly there's no such thing as dragons. 

3c. Finding out that it's a lot harder to find stylish footsie pajamas the older, taller, and bigger you get.

Also, discovering that recess is no longer a basic human right, like clean water or free wi-fi.

Anyway, those are just the first three things that popped into my head. I've dealt with a lot of disappointment. I'll think of more. 

Happy Wodensday.

WE DO NOT HATE SCIENCE IN THIS FAMILY, AND YOU WILL LEARN TO LOVE STAR TREK SOMEDAY, OKAY?

"You know what I'm really excited to watch with you someday?"

I asked my son, and I patiently did not wait for an answer.

"Star Trek."
I said.

- "Well,"
he stated matter of factly,
"I don't want to see Star Trek."

"Why?"

- "Because,"
he spoke slowly.
"It has science in it, and I don't really like science."

"What?!"
I exploded.
"That does it: we are going to start watching it...really soon. And you WILL like it. And we DO like science. Get it? Got it?! Good."


He shrugged and went back to drawing a picture of Cyclops eating Odysseus; his alternate depiction of the timeless tale. A tale which also features a bit of science. Mostly physics. Oy vey.

THANKSGIVING DAY.

01. 
I might post stuff here today that I'm thankful for. Let's see, umm...I'm glad for Sherlock Holmes, and that there's finally some decent interpretations of the A. Conan Doyle classics on the screen. That's all I can think of currently to be thankful for. Now I have to go wrestle a trio of harmonicas away from children that seem to have a decibel level approaching a front row Who concert.
Maybe I'll think of something else soon.

02. HERB ALPERT.

I am thankful for things I don't miss until I don't have them, like whipped cream. I was planning on enveloping the top of my coffee this morning with three inches of Mt. Everest aerosol deliciousness, and then realised I wasted it on hot chocolate for the children yesterday. So we don't have any, and the day is ruined. I am thankful for what I dreamed of having, so at least I can cling to that.

03. ATLAS THE CUDDLY.
I love having six siblings who are snuggly. I can snuggle up with any and all of them anytime, even though all my little brothers are bigger than me now. And one of my sisters has bigger feet. We are hands-on, hug tight, snugglybuggly brothers and sisters and I LOVE IT, even when some of them smell horrid occasionally. Okay. Done with the cutesy stuff for a few minutes.


Happy day, all.

04. DUKE VS. COUNT.

I am thankful for record players, which force you to listen to albums in sequence and try to appreciate the original sequencing of an artist, and that make you get up to change them halfway through, and serve as a reminder to be gentle with things. Every time I go over to change my well-worn Duke Ellington / Count Basie vinyl, I mark off another 100 calories burned. That's the analogue advantage talking there. I should start Strava-ing my record-changing.

05. CHEF CHIEF.
I am thankful for my Dad, who modeled for his boys the importance of real men helping out in the kitchen, and who loves Christmas music more than anyone I know, and who has the loudest laugh on the Oregon Coast.

06.
I am thankful for buddies far away that I see infrequently, but can pick up the phone and be deep in conversation about art, literature, and music in a heartbeat. People like Jonathan Ponder. Happy day, buddy. Hope you're listening to some good tunes today.

Jonathan Ponder Thanks, man! I'm thankful for you as well--your zest, vigor, creativity, playfulness, intentionality, and care are all things to be admired and valued and thankful for. Soundtracked the drive from New York City to Lowell, Mass. today with Bruce Springsteen's Greatest Hits, The Beatles Mono Masters Disc Two, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone read by Jim Dale. Happy Thanksgiving!

November 28 at 5:12pm · Like

07. VONNEGUT WAS VEGAN?
I am thankful for articulate visionaries like

Tolkien,
Lewis,
Heinlein,
Clarke,
Asimov,
Vonnegut,
Alexander.

Creators of stories and worlds that convey deep truths and insights into humanity and possibility via narrative fiction. Tales full of adventure and discovery; stories that are magical, wondrous, and entertaining on the surface, yet often deeply moving, relevant, and thought-provoking underneath.

Thank you. I wish you could join me for Thanksgiving dinner. I should warn you that I'm vegetarian.

08. 
I'm thankful for my Mom. She was around when I was born, and I'll always be appreciative of that.


Also, she says stuff to us (her kids) all the time like "I'm so proud of the kind, thoughtful, and successful person you've become," which is sometimes not always completely one-hundred percent of the truth. But then it kind of makes you want to live up to that, so it starts becoming a little more true. Wow, she is a clever one, now that I think about it. 

09.
Us, and a pink sword.
Thanksgiving 2013.

Thanks for snapping, Vicki.

THE UNPARDONABLE.

I love cinema, and I love watching films with my wife, and we have not yet seen Gravity, and she just informed me that an anonymous person revealed a major plot point to her. Furious, unconscionable, unforgivable. 

Here are four other of my pet peeves, since you are curious:

2. People tugging on my clothes, as many of my favourite shirts are a decade or so old and getting rather fragile. Most clothes-tuggers are under the age of seven, but I don't care if they're cute or not, I still reserve the right to get irritated at them when they pull on my clothes. Note: I am okay with spilling stuff on my clothes, because I am a messy eater anyway so it would be hypocritical to get upset over people doing that. But I don't tug on other people's clothes, besides my own dad's, because it is a pet peeve of his and it's funny.

3. When I'm driving and stop to let people cross, regardless of whether there's a crosswalk or not. Yes, it's the law to stop, but there is also in an unwritten social law that you wave, nod, smile, or acknowledge in some way when someone lets you pass. See also: merging vehicles, four-way stops, door-holding, etc. A simple nod, a simple smile without breaking stride is just fine. Doing nothing? Not fine.

5a. Restrooms where the women's has baby changing stations and the men's doesn't. This is the 21st century.

5c. When people don't want to do something unless they're already good at it, and thus are assured of success or at least avoiding public embarrassment. Boring, sad.

7. Things that are colour-coded in similar shades of green, which is frustrating to red-green colourblind people, whom I have heard exist.

VIII. When anything in our house breaks, and also whenever I am looking for something and can't find it and there is nobody close by to blame. 

Tip of the iceberg. Good day.

Five Thoughts on Human Sacrifice, Duke Ellington, and My Wife's Sense of Humor

1. My wife's new nickname for me is "Tubby." She implies that it is a compliment: "It means that you're pleasantly un-starved."

My personal preference would be something more like "Striker" or "Anaconda 76." 

2. "Is that Gandhi?" My daughter asked, pointing to a photograph of Vladimir Lenin.

- "Is THAT Gandhi?" My son asked, pointing to a painting of Napoleon Bonaparte.

"No." I said, laughing. "No."

3. "What do you think you might want to do someday?"
I asked my daughter.

"Be a pilot,"
she replied without hesitation.
"I think it would be fun."

- "Rad,"
I said.
"We'll have to start watching Top Gun every week. That's probably the best way to learn piloting stuff."


4. Columbus Day is coming up, so naturally it seemed like a good time to discuss the Maya, Inca, and Aztec civilizations. The latter were of particular interest, especially in trying to discuss certain aspects in moral terms.

"Were they bad?" My son asked.

His sister leaped in. "Yes, they killed people."

"Whoa," I said. "It's complicated...they were extremely intelligent, but they also believed that the sun would stop unless they, umm, gave human sacrifices. Which is not good. But they weren't...bad, although it was definitely a bad thing they were doing."

My daughter continued to explain in terms her brother could follow. "Well they threw people's heads down the stairs so I think that's bad. Don't you?"

"Well yes, that's bad...but it doesn't mean THEY were bad. They invented things like - "

"They are bad." My son said with finality.

"We will continue this conversation, but the things they did were not really worse than what Christopher Columbus and his men did. How about we come back to this conversation in ten years?" 

"They were bad."

"You guys are very frustrating sometimes."

5. Duke Ellington and Count Basie put out a wonderful album entitled "The Count Meets the Duke." It is a swingin,' hoppin,' mad frenzy of dancing, dueling instruments that is a fine and exuberant entrance to Fall. 

Pick it up. Spin it. It rocks so hard. 

Good Friday, all.

September 26, 2013: 37 Thoughts About Turning 37

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.

Five Things

A. 
She shook me, and prodded me, and I groaned and rolled over and begged to sleep for two more minutes and she said No Daddy, you have to get up now. And I looked out the window at the darkness and thought She is her father's daughter. And I got up.

Fifteen minutes later, she looks up at me with five-year old mischief:

Daddy, why did you make us get up so early?

Grrr.

B. 
We went exploring in the woods this morning and drank hot chocolate out of mugs. She used a straw; I did not. Johannes refused to try any, because he was worried the hot chocolate was too hot. 

We did not see any horse snakes or wild hogs.

III.
What do you want to listen to first today? I said.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun! she yelled.

So I put on Cyndi Lauper, and then we listened to Chopin.

D. 
The Presidential election will be decided sometime next month, I think.

People are talking about it, I think.

On Facebook last night, I suggested that in lieu of a third debate, there could be a pillowfight.

That suggestion received a lot of support.

But I don't know that anything will come from it. I am guessing that Mr. Obama and Mr. Romney will stick with another debate.

E. 
What did you have for breakfast yesterday? I asked Magdelana.

She thought with purpose.

- We had...let's see...Mama fed us ice cream, and chicken, and beef, and pig. Yep. That's what we had for breakfast.

I can see that I need to have a conversation with my wife.

Olympians in London, and Elsewhere (post-analysis).

Finished watching the Closing Ceremonies of the Olympics earlier, and several thoughts came to mind. Eleven of them, as a matter of fact.

01. As a competitor, is it more desirable to get fourth place or to get last place?
That was a trick question. It's more desirable to get a gold medal. But, barring that, I would rather supremely succeed at failing by taking a dead-last place trophy than be in the agonizing position of being so close to the medal stand, yet failing. In a rather mediocre and heartrending way.

02. Simply seeing Usain Bolt walking on a track gives me goosebumps. I wish he and Michael Phelps could race each other, in a neutral competition. Like bobsledding.

03. There was a boy band playing at the ceremony. Forgot their name already. Also, there were such past luminaries as Eric Idle, Pet Shop Boys, and Madness performing, which was a well-deserved cherry atop luminous careers. Somehow, it bothers me that this nameless quintet of nimbies should have the opportunity to have this on their resume without having a proper appreciation of the magnitude of the honor.

04. Becca informed me that she would be happy if I started competitive diving or swimming. Yes, dear wife, all of the divers and swimmers are exceptionally lithe and muscular. I will try and start exercising sometime. Soon.

05. Where is Olympic dodgeball? Olympic stilt sprinting? Olympic hippety-hop aerials?

06. I really really want to visit London. And visit Scott Free Studios while I'm there.

07. The 1988 Seoul Olympics are the first ones I remember watching and really caring about. Florence Griffith-Joyner. Carl Lewis. Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Greg Louganis. The Ben Johnson steroid scandal. Those were the days. Legends.

08. I wonder which Gold Medal Winner will be the Least Successful Human Being in ten years? I.e. end up hocking their medal on eBay.

09. Bob Costas. Carson Daley. Old stuff. Let's get some fresh blood in there as commentators, like Stephen Colbert or Steve Carell. Or…both.

10. I am inspired by the Olympians; the competitors who trained and prepared and gave it their all. I am inspired to watch the next Olympics in Rio. Thanks for inspiring me, Olympians. Gonna eat some licorice now.

11. I am glad I chose not to compete in these Olympics. I have done so many more fun things over the last four years than train and exercise and prepare. I am just so glad I didn't compete. Good move, me.

A Childrening Manifesto

A CHILDRENING MANIFESTO.

by Joseph Ivan Long 2012.

The only thing that qualifies me to make the following observations is the fact that I have been a dad for five years, a husband for ten, and a brother for thirty-three. These are certain core beliefs I have that may or may not be shared by others, but they they are of infinite importance to me, as a dad who wants our children to continually become more loving, kind, curious, adventurous, and empathetic people. And I think those are good things for adults to work on too :)

01. Childrening is a child-centric approach to raising children.

It is not a renunciation of adulthood or rejection of such mature concepts as "responsibility," rather, it is the embracing of an adventurous, open-minded enthusiasm that is born in every one of us, and often sucked out slowly as we are not-so subtly pushed out of the world of magic and into the world of "reality."

02. Enable the enthusiasm of childhood,

regardless of age, and of recognizing that the world is a better place when people are able to be themselves, without fear of ridicule. Skip, whistle, blow bubbles, fly balloons, and sing very loud. Good exercise, and your spirits will fly also.

03. Everybody has strengths.

Sometimes they are latent strengths that must be encouraged and reinforced. You can focus on your weaknesses. Or you can focus on your strengths. As a parent, I can do the same for my children. It does not mean ignoring areas that need improvement, or that are not inherently evident, but it means framing an approach to each child that recognizes their unique strengths and optimal ways of communicating and interacting.

04. Ban the word 'boring.'

Boring is the saddest word I can think of. Sad, because it is the equivalent of raising your hand and saying, "I have not developed my imagination to a point where I can find an interesting, fun, meaningful way to experience this situation." 

05. Why?

"Why?" is a question that should be a fundamental building block of every person's day. You don't earn the right to ask it when you hit a certain age. Do children need to learn obedience? Yes. But they also need to learn that after obeying, they have the right to inquire, "Why?"

Simply, curiosity is good.

06. For parents, childrening is about making the decision that your child's interests come before your own.

A. You lose the right to engage in self-destructive behavior.

B. Whenever there is a decision where there is conflict between your own reputation with your peers and between doing the right thing in the moment for your child, you will choose the latter. This is enormously freeing, and paradoxically, allows you to return to that beautiful place of early childhood where you are not aware of how others perceive you. You simply like what you like, do what you do, and are who are because that's who you want to be. Basically, the elimination of embarrassment.

07. The Fun Theory.

There is fun to be found in virtually every activity. If it isn't there, make it up. Invent a fun way of doing something that others might call "boring." Re-read Tom Sawyer if you need ideas. Pay special attention to his approach to fence-painting.

08. There is Adventure in every day.

Re-read Huckleberry Finn. There is something new to learn. There are new songs to dance to. There are new poems to memorize, new jokes to tell, fresh food to try, crazy ways of making beds, strangers to say hi to, food carts to test, art to create, and memories to document. There is no reason to not make it an adventurous day.

09. Where do children learn to dislike doing things like…making beds? 

It is (almost) always possible to frame a task in a way that is imaginative and fun. They learn to dislike those things from adults. So be an adult who is good at having fun while doing mundane tasks. They aren't mundane to everyone.

10. There is no better form of teaching than modeling. 

Walk the walk. Live life as an adventure and that is how your children will learn to live it. Teach them fear, dread, and paranoia, and that is the world they will build around themselves. Show them (actively) love, affection, and self-respect and they will learn to treat the world the same.

11. There is never a need to preface something with "This is going to be educational."

Education should be embedded in every waking moment. It should be disguised, always, as something fun.

12. The only power source you need to be be able to play is the sun.

13. Do not speak down to children. 

There is a difference between speaking in language they can understand and between speaking in ahierarchical way that is a constant reminder to them of how they are young, immature, inexperienced, and their opinions are cute little footnotes to be disregarded. Let them know their opinions matter and are being taken seriously. Let them know they are respected by actively listening.

14. There are Rules, there are Laws, and there are Societal Mores. 

They shouldn't be confused with one another, particularly when it comes to expectations of gender. Childrenlearn not to like certain people, certain foods, certain kinds of everything from adults. Obviously, they will not spend their entire life having their preferences and choices made for them. But especially with younger children, they watch and absorb the expectations and labels that adults place on them; the foundation they begin to build is one based on the world they grow upon. When they hear phrases like,

"He's just really shy"

"She's such a little princess girl"

"He is 100-percent boy…"

these roles become the foundational building block that they will construct their permanent identities around. Self-fulfilling prophecies. Powerful.

15. Sibling relationships / Empathy.

The foundation of our children's peer relationships will be with each other. They will always be at different stages of development and have differing interests. They will build their own groups of external friends. But from birth onward, we will actively help and support the relationships they build with each other. 

It is the quality of empathy that sibling relationships offer the chance to help construct. Our children will grow into very differing people and personalities. But they will grow up looking out for each other, mentoring, listening, guiding, confiding, playing, and loving. I am under no illusions that this means conflict-free relationships. But there will be an embedded sense of respect…and respect and empathy are conjoined twins. If we want children to care about a world outside of themselves as teenagers and adults, it begins with teaching and modeling for them to build positive, empathetic relationships with those closest to us.

16. Wrestling, not fighting.

No kicking. No hitting. No scratching.

Roughhousing, yes.

When someone says "Stop" or "No,"

respect it.

Wrestling - actual physical wrestling - is something that no Wii game can ever compete with.

17. Who decides what activities or interests are 'boy ones' and which are 'girl ones?'

I don't know. Never got the memo. And if I did get the memo, I would burn it. Little boys are supposed to like trucks. So we get them trucks. Little girls are supposed to like dolls. So we get them dolls. Maybe our son will like trucks and maybe he'll like dolls. Maybe he'll like both. Or maybe neither. Whatever it is my children are into, that is what I will be doing. It will not be determined by pre-existing gender mandates that are subtly, unconsciously, repetitively ingrained into us every day.

18. "My parents did __________, and I think I turned out just fine  (false).

People often take the attitude that because a person or situation "turned out fine," it means there's no need for a critical evaluation of what might be done different or better. Yes, many adults grew up getting spanked and turned out "fine." Does that mean it was a healthy disciplinary approach?

No. There are so many better ways to handle discipline and respect than corporal punishment.

There were many people who were humiliated, mocked, and put-down upon as children and teenagers. Many turned out fine. Does that make their (painful) experiences "Okay?" 

Resounding No.

There is sometimes an attitude that growing up is "tough" and that undergoing certain experiences is a "normal" part of childhood. That is RIDICULOUS. Drinking, drug abuse, sexual trauma and suicide are far-too common, but that doesn't make them anymore "normal" than undergoing peer bullying, teacher/parent humiliation, or having stereotypes* perpetuated at a time when self-confidence and identity is formulating.

Kids may "get through" these experiences, but it does NOT make them "okay."

19. Ritual.

We have choices today. More choices than at any point in history. Food, clothes, entertainment, toys, movies….we have an overwhelming number of choices with everything.

Reducing the number of choices we have does not diminish our freedom or independence. It clears our minds and gives us the opportunity to really prioritize our time and spend time making experiences and enjoying what we have, instead of so much time trying to figure out what we still need to get, and add to our already numerous options.

If a child has a hundred toys to play with in a day, she will eventually get to all 100. A little time with each, then on to the next.

If a child has one toy, she will imagine and create a hundred scenarios for it. And if there is an adult with imagination, attention, and energy to compliment it, that day will be filled with spontaneity, hilarity, creativity, and joy.

What children love is attention. Attention that may come in bursts, because there are, of course, always other responsibilities that must be attended to (see #s 7 & 11).

20. Conversation.

I hate - HATE - comments along the lines of "enjoy them now, 'cause they'll be teenagers before you know it."

I have no fear of any age, any stage of our children's lives. There will be tough times. There will be ups and downs. But there there will always be love and conversation. I think conversation should be thought of as a sibling to love. You don't plan times throughout the day to love your children. You just love them throughout everything you're doing. You might get upset, lose patience, whatever, but you still have love embedded throughout your interactions. Should be the same with conversation. Start talking with kids before they can even start talking. Have conversations, even if they don't have the vocabulary to answer. They'll pick that up soon enough. Genuine conversation is tied into respect - a mutual respect that says 'I am listening to what's important to you.' If that is embedded into every day, there will always be communication, and the door will be open to talking about the tough stuff when those times come.

21. It's OK to cry. It's OK to get angry. It's OK to feel.

It is a disservice to try and shut down, or banish someone's emotions. "YOU BE HAPPY RIGHT NOW! STOP FEELING SAD!"

Every emotion, or feeling, should have a healthy outlet. A way to deal with it (e.g. #20) without having it dismissed or "handled." It's OK to be angry. It's NOT OK to hit someone when you get angry. There's a difference between dealing with the action that is taken as the result of an emotion, and the emotion itself.

22. There is something beautiful about you. And you. And you.

If you can learn to see and find the unique beauty in the world - starting with yourself - your children will learn it too. Be confident in yourself and your unique value to the world. Without arrogance; but be willing to take confidence in your strengths. Value them. You can't expect your children to have a healthy self-image; to arm themselves with the self-confidence and curiosity to flourish in the world, without modeling that for them. 

Make a point to look at the unique attributes of other people and commend them. Children will be inundated far too soon with expectations of what is beautiful, what is popular, what is acceptable, what is normal, and so many other things. Show them that it's OK to be different. It's OK to be yourself. It's OK to be weird and let your weirdness shine bright, as long as it is tempered with respect and kindness to others. 

Parents are not perfect. And that is such a good thing. If we were, we wouldn't give our children a chance to be better then us someday. And that, in the end, is one of my goals for our children: to give them the chance to learn from us and our mistakes. 

I want them to be curious and to love; to always develop their imagination and invent fresh ways of doing things; to be loyal yet not close-fenced; to embrace the uniqueness of everything and everyone around and to define their own standards of beauty based on what is unique, not what is airbrushed; to develop and evolve strong relationships with each other, with others, with God, in their own differentiated ways. I want them to know they have the skills and the ability to go after what they want - and to know that it's not OK to grumble about what they don't like if they aren't willing to do something about it. I want them to know that Change is Good and that It's OK to Make a Lot of Mistakes. Saying I'm sorry is a sign of strength, not weakness, just as changing your mind or learning how and when to compromise is a good thing. 

Love big. Live big. 

Thanks for reading. Go Play!

Bumped

excerpt from 4.25
1.03pm.
Indianapolis Airport. Magdelana and I are an hour-and-a-half early for our scheduled 2.29 flight.

Airports smell good, mostly. Which is good, because airplanes do not smell good, mostly. We buy some gum, tater tots, and water, and admire the installations and sculptures. Also, Magdelana sings, loudly. Nothing specific, just the faux-English, Sigur Ros-channeling dialect she has been developing.

Odie odie hay ong omie omie say /
My say oh my ohsay yoh odie my may

We board our United flight, a few minutes late. The red-haired gate attendant, Katrina, is not friendly. She does not smile, or acknowledge me when I say thank you and inquire how her day is going. It is obviously not a lovely day for her. I notice out of my eye's corner, that the other attendant (I later learn he is Mr. Patel) is returning the phone to its hook with a thundering gracelessness.

Our seats are on opposite sides of the aisle, so I ask a gentlemen with no moustache if he might be willing to switch. He is nice, and does. Magdelana commandeers the window seat, and immediately begins sharing her thoughts on the plane's aroma, loudly.

Phew, it smells really really really awful, she groans repeatedly, not to the amusement of the first class gentleman eating Chinese takeout.



We settle into our seats. Mags peruses the contents of her precious blue bag.

• Stickers
• Art supplies
• Notebook
• Non-working cellphone
• 300 hair ties & scrunchies
• Ten dollars in change she has thieved from my wallet over the last month

We wait. And wait. The flight attendants have a sort of headless chicken aimlessness about them, peppered with an air of panicked irritation. We keep waiting.

Finally, an announcement is made: will somebody give up their seat, in exchange for a ticket voucher and a later flight?
Short version: I ask if they'll double up. We'll give up our two seats and take a couple ticket vouchers, a later flight, meal and hotel, and a suitcase of cash.  Okay, they say, so Mags and I grab our bags. We are heroes. Now, the plane can depart.

To the ticket counter. I meet Mr. Patel, who is slamming the phone down again. No. No. No. Absolutely not! (and then the phone slams)

For the next 45 minutes, we haggle out details. Our original flight soars away, though there still seems to be some issue over a missing flight attendant who stomped off somewhere (seriously).

Our flight is scheduled for five-something the next morning, but Mr. Patel suddenly gets a message, or call, or something from somewhere.

We can get you out tonight...actually, on the next flight. Are you interested?
- Uhh....yeah. 
So we hop in the next line for O'Hare, instead of D.C.




We make the short jog to Chicago. I read aloud Around the World in 80 Days. At O'Hare, we spend $45 in meal vouchers on a veggie sandwich, raisin bagel, eight-dollar peanut butter smoothie, and four Naked juices at $4.25 a pop. Mags is almost sleeping on her feet, but gets a shot of adrenaline* from a bottle of apple juice. We dine on the floor next to a fivesome of United crew. One, a Japanese flight attendant, is sprawled across three seats, sleeping. I aggressively and unsuccessfully work to not pull a double-take, as her slumbering skirt is pulled far above her knees, Abercrombie & Fitch-style while she gracefully rests (I do not sleep gracefully, I am told).  The captain keeps peeking at her, I think. Some things take a conscious effort to do. Or not do. I call Becca and tell her I accidentally looked a second and third and fourth time. She laughs and then gets furious and then laughs and we both laugh.

P.S. She was not furious.



Finally, we board our 5.43. This aeroplane smells too. We read some more. We sit on the tarmac, again. I wonder how long it will be until we take off.

Patience! Magdelana reminds me. Patience!
We fly up, at last. Mags conks out at 6.25, snuggled against me. She is wiped out.

I love her so much, my little adventuring travel buddy.



We arrive at PDX fifteen minutes earlier than our original flight, which is good. And then I get a phone call while we are disembarking and find out that our house has been robbed, which is not good.

The End.

*sugar

What do you like to do?

I like to:

- sew, experimentally. which means I do not possess the discipline to use a pattern.

- talk about music, particularly with Jeremy, Meilani, Becca, and a few others I may list if they express discontent at not being on this list. right now I am loving Lightning Hopkins and Caravan Palace.

- drink coffee, alone, and with people. and in the morning, and the evening. and during the week, and on the weekends.
- make and take pictures.
- paint with Magdelana.
- read Jorges Luis Borges late on Friday nights when everyone is asleep, and there is little light, and no sound except Sigur Ros gently seesawing from the next room.
- read. right now I am finishing Bicycle Diaries by David Byrne. it is a terrific adventure memoir about his musings from around the world, as seen from his...bicycle.

- plagiarize Meilani's blog when she has good ideas, which is frequently.
- this is a good start. I am never bored, ever.