As the holidays approached, I learned that my brother-in-law, his girlfriend and their dog would be staying at my house for more than half of the vacation time that I was taking from work. Doesn't sound like much of a vacation, does it?
But it didn't get any easier.
The week before Christmas, my stepson was diagnosed with Mononucleosis.
Over the holiday break, we hosted my mother-in-law for a visit that culminated in a shouting match between my wife and her mother.
Shortly after the holidays, my three-year-old contracted Croup, a respiratory virus that caused the swelling of his throat, which made it difficult for him to breathe and caused a terrible-sounding cough.
Joey recovered, but Lukas caught the same ailment before it had fully faded from his older brother. Great news for dad. Two kids with a pretty bad respiratory illness.
Anything else? Sure. Last Thursday night, while all of the kids ate dinner calmly in the kitchen, my wife ran to the garage to get her phone from her car, only to stumble off the garage stairs. The result: a broken ankle. The actual break is in the fibula, the outer leg bone just above the ankle joint. Regardless, not good news for a high-stress dad and husband. Fuck, my wife later told me that she thought when I'd run out to the garage after hearing her scream that I was going to hit her. Not quite the nurturing nature of a spouse that one might wish for.
So my wife continues to recover, now with her left foot in a hot pink hard cast. And as a daycare provider, this isn't a perfect scenario for her. It certainly doesn't bode well for her to have to hobble around while chasing eight or ten kids, not just our own. Things have been rough the last few days, to say the least.
But it doesn't just end there. I got a call from her Tuesday night around 6:00pm, letting me know that her car had suffered a flat tire on the way home from work; a not-so-subtle reminder that we needed to have the tires on our SUV replaced soon anyway. Hell, what's another few hundred dollars?
So what's next?
Tonight (or early this morning, rather) I received some news even worse than I could have expected. An old friend from college is no longer with us. Honestly, it had been a long time since I'd spoken with him, but that doesn't really lessen the impact.
At the mere age of 33, which I'll reach next week, my friend Adam has passed.
Adam was a good egg. He was one of those guys who was smarter than most of us ever could wish to be, a scholarship student to one of the best public universities in the country. But he didn't necessarily know his place. What he did know, however, was how he wanted to be perceived by his friends. A junior college transfer student, Adam was glad to be the designated alcohol buyer for our group, knowing that was a role he could successfully fill. The year that most of us, as freshman, turned 19, Adam turned 21. He was simply glad to be part of our fraternity (not a fraternity in the gay college Greek sense), and we enjoyed each other's company.
But it wasn't just for that reason that we respected him as a friend. Adam was probably about 5'11" and maybe 140 pounds, but that guy would have taken on a University of Illinois lineman to stick up for one of his friends. And it's for that reason we'd all look back now and know that we'd have done the same for him.
Midway through my sophomore year, Adam visited my roommate and myself to let us know he wasn't coming back to UI. His grades had suffered, probably due to apathy. He didn't feel challenged by life, so I think my roommate and I felt a little responsible for not giving him more of a reason to continue with his education.
But that may not have been what he wanted anyway. We knew that Adam wasn't your everyday kind of guy, and it probably wasn't just an education he was looking for in Champaign, Illinois.
So it's a little tough to swallow right now knowing that he's no longer around. His friendship is not forgotten.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Sunday, August 30, 2009
"He does not like you. And all indications are he does not like Drake's Coffee Cake."
Hearing another story of mild bullying aimed at my eight-year-old stepson reminds me of just how insignificant most people are. It reminds me of the Seinfeld quote used as the title of this post. And it reminds me that I've had my own run-ins that now seem as ridiculous as ever.
When I was in seventh grade, I became good friends with a female classmate who lived down the street from me. We'd talk on the phone, we'd talk on the bus, and she'd even give me a hug sometimes after the bus left us on 80th Terrace each weekday afternoon. She was a good friend.
Seems like a nice story, no? Yes, until I got a phonecall from her boyfriend one afternoon. I'd never much spoken with the guy, one of those really popular seventh-graders who looked more like he belonged in high school. Anyway, our conversation was brief. In fact, I don't remember saying anything after, "Hello?" Here's what he said:
"Hey, Steve, this is Joel. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going to kick your ass."
Now how the fuck is a 4'10" turd like me supposed to react to something like that? First of all, it was clearly good news that I wasn't going to be the target of physical harm. But, needless to say, I was a bit troubled by the revelation that this needed clarification.
I should also mention that it wasn't long after this incident when perhaps the baddest mother fucker among eighth graders at my school basically threatened me to my face after hearing me speak very casually and innocuously about his girlfriend, who was also a good friend of mine. Seriously, I'd seen this guy stand toe-to-toe with one of my brother's friends the previous year ... and my brother's friend was junior in high school at the time. Yeah, and he needed to waste his time talking shit to my face.
I guess I've always just had a way with people like that. And that's kind of interesting to me, because I feel like when I put forth the effort most people who get to know me think I'm a pretty affable guy. Maybe the dudes just get threatened by a pip-squeak who befriends their ladies.
But I suppose the point of this brief story is that not everyone is going to like you or the things you do or the things you say. I learned that long ago, which is why the description in my profile reads the way it does. I know those whose opinions matter the most to me, so why should I worry much about anyone else?
Sweat the shit that matters to you most ... and just hope it doesn't overlap with the shit that's getting thrown in your face by meaningless pricks.
When I was in seventh grade, I became good friends with a female classmate who lived down the street from me. We'd talk on the phone, we'd talk on the bus, and she'd even give me a hug sometimes after the bus left us on 80th Terrace each weekday afternoon. She was a good friend.
Seems like a nice story, no? Yes, until I got a phonecall from her boyfriend one afternoon. I'd never much spoken with the guy, one of those really popular seventh-graders who looked more like he belonged in high school. Anyway, our conversation was brief. In fact, I don't remember saying anything after, "Hello?" Here's what he said:
"Hey, Steve, this is Joel. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going to kick your ass."
Now how the fuck is a 4'10" turd like me supposed to react to something like that? First of all, it was clearly good news that I wasn't going to be the target of physical harm. But, needless to say, I was a bit troubled by the revelation that this needed clarification.
I should also mention that it wasn't long after this incident when perhaps the baddest mother fucker among eighth graders at my school basically threatened me to my face after hearing me speak very casually and innocuously about his girlfriend, who was also a good friend of mine. Seriously, I'd seen this guy stand toe-to-toe with one of my brother's friends the previous year ... and my brother's friend was junior in high school at the time. Yeah, and he needed to waste his time talking shit to my face.
I guess I've always just had a way with people like that. And that's kind of interesting to me, because I feel like when I put forth the effort most people who get to know me think I'm a pretty affable guy. Maybe the dudes just get threatened by a pip-squeak who befriends their ladies.
But I suppose the point of this brief story is that not everyone is going to like you or the things you do or the things you say. I learned that long ago, which is why the description in my profile reads the way it does. I know those whose opinions matter the most to me, so why should I worry much about anyone else?
Sweat the shit that matters to you most ... and just hope it doesn't overlap with the shit that's getting thrown in your face by meaningless pricks.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Back to School Sucks
This is it for Dominic. Today's essentially the last day of summer freedom for my eight-year-old stepson, with the first day of school looming Monday. Yes, he still has the whole weekend, but we always have that (in theory). The last weekday of summer can be a bitter pill.
There's a lot you can tell a kid when it comes to the start of a new school year, but it's nothing that anyone wants to hear. Why? Because it's the same shit we adults heard when we were kids.
"When you're grown up, there is no summer break."
"One day, when you're done going to school, you'll look back and think of how much easier life was then."
There are many other versions, none of which do I care to hear or speak again. Then you also have a couple of inevitable questions intended to sugar-coat the situation, as if there aren't holes in each of those efforts too.
"You'll get to spend more time with your friends." Really? 90% of that time will be spent crammed into an uncomfortable desk while someone else is spouting seemingly useless information at us. Plus, if I really thought so highly of these friends, wouldn't I have made more of an effort to hang with them outside of school?
"Aren't you excited to see who's in your class?" Great. That curiosity will be satisfied within the first 20 seconds of the school year. I guess once you're in middle school and high school it'll take a whole day. What about the next nine months?
Face it, it's really not easy to find silver lining when your world gets flipped in such a way. Sure, there probably are some circumstances in which heading back to school doesn't seem too bad. Maybe a kid spent the whole summer at a shitty camp. Maybe he was shipped out of town to spend time with undesirable family members. When kids get older, sometimes work gets thrown into the mix to jack up the summer.
But none of that is the case with the one that my family is sending back to school. He hit Worlds of Fun a couple of times, spent a good deal of time with his dad and cousins, and he attended a tennis camp that he requested and enjoyed. How could it possibly be seen as a positive to start shaking off the morning dew just in time to hop on a nasty old school bus with a driver who barely speaks English accompanied by primarily undesirable kids?
(It should be noted, however, that getting up early isn't an issue for Dominic since he was up by around 7:00 everyday this summer anyway. Likewise with the Latino bus driver, seeing as Dominic speaks Spanish nearly fluently. So the only true problem of those mentioned above is with the unruly kids, two of whom have needed to be reprimanded for their verbal and/or physical abuse of my innocent stepson.)
So third grade awaits. After making his way through all of the annoying parents mingling outside the school on Monday, I'd guess there will be a little excitement for Dominic to see some of the faces that had been missing since early June. It's not quite like later in life when scoping the female talent in your classes carries quite the intrigue, but maybe it's not too early. I think there's talk of girlfiends and boyfriends by this time. I remember having a great sense of pride in fourth grade, during which all but one of the girls in my class asked me to be their boyfriend. Pretty good shit for someone who'd had only just arrived in this town about a year earlier. (For the record, I said no to all of them. It's good to be selfish for a while. Just beware of potential backlash sometimes. You never know when you might be accused of being gay. Seriously.)
Godspeed, young man.
There's a lot you can tell a kid when it comes to the start of a new school year, but it's nothing that anyone wants to hear. Why? Because it's the same shit we adults heard when we were kids.
"When you're grown up, there is no summer break."
"One day, when you're done going to school, you'll look back and think of how much easier life was then."
There are many other versions, none of which do I care to hear or speak again. Then you also have a couple of inevitable questions intended to sugar-coat the situation, as if there aren't holes in each of those efforts too.
"You'll get to spend more time with your friends." Really? 90% of that time will be spent crammed into an uncomfortable desk while someone else is spouting seemingly useless information at us. Plus, if I really thought so highly of these friends, wouldn't I have made more of an effort to hang with them outside of school?
"Aren't you excited to see who's in your class?" Great. That curiosity will be satisfied within the first 20 seconds of the school year. I guess once you're in middle school and high school it'll take a whole day. What about the next nine months?
Face it, it's really not easy to find silver lining when your world gets flipped in such a way. Sure, there probably are some circumstances in which heading back to school doesn't seem too bad. Maybe a kid spent the whole summer at a shitty camp. Maybe he was shipped out of town to spend time with undesirable family members. When kids get older, sometimes work gets thrown into the mix to jack up the summer.
But none of that is the case with the one that my family is sending back to school. He hit Worlds of Fun a couple of times, spent a good deal of time with his dad and cousins, and he attended a tennis camp that he requested and enjoyed. How could it possibly be seen as a positive to start shaking off the morning dew just in time to hop on a nasty old school bus with a driver who barely speaks English accompanied by primarily undesirable kids?
(It should be noted, however, that getting up early isn't an issue for Dominic since he was up by around 7:00 everyday this summer anyway. Likewise with the Latino bus driver, seeing as Dominic speaks Spanish nearly fluently. So the only true problem of those mentioned above is with the unruly kids, two of whom have needed to be reprimanded for their verbal and/or physical abuse of my innocent stepson.)
So third grade awaits. After making his way through all of the annoying parents mingling outside the school on Monday, I'd guess there will be a little excitement for Dominic to see some of the faces that had been missing since early June. It's not quite like later in life when scoping the female talent in your classes carries quite the intrigue, but maybe it's not too early. I think there's talk of girlfiends and boyfriends by this time. I remember having a great sense of pride in fourth grade, during which all but one of the girls in my class asked me to be their boyfriend. Pretty good shit for someone who'd had only just arrived in this town about a year earlier. (For the record, I said no to all of them. It's good to be selfish for a while. Just beware of potential backlash sometimes. You never know when you might be accused of being gay. Seriously.)
Godspeed, young man.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Fuck You, Facebook
Consistent with my anti-hype platform, I am not on Facebook. In fact, I often used to say that I was the only person under the age of 35 who wasn't a part of the social networking phenomenon, although that's clearly not the case now that I've confirmed that my old college roommate and my brother are each in the same boat. So I guess I'm one of three.
I've actually received a bit of ridicule at times for not being found on Facebook, as if no one is anyone unless this is a part of his or her life. In the 21st Century, people apparently can't function unless they know the statuses of their friends, including what they're thinking at any random moment and what they might be preparing to do. It's fucking riveting. And my life, I guess, is incomplete without it.
But, son of a bitch, I lost to Facebook this weekend.
No, I didn't cave and create an account for myself. I forgot my friend's birthday. Not just any friend either; I'm talking about a guy who's arguably been my best friend for the past 15 years. A guy who always calls me on my birthday and wants to take me out for a drink.
Boy, did I feel like a piece of shit.
And guess what jogged my memory? That's right, I happened to be talking to my wife while she was cruising through her Facebook page and noticed the birthday acknowledgements to my friend Dan. Fuck, I suck. So not only did I forget, but there were a whole shitload of people who I'm sure remembered ONLY because they were on Facebook. That's some fucking bullshit.
Naturally, I told my wife to help me dig out from my hole and send him a message on my behalf. Just post something that says "My husband feels like shit for forgetting your birthday."
But life isn't that easy.
"No, it's your own fault," she said (paraphrasing a bit here). "That's what you get for not being on Facebook."
That's what I get?! That's what this world has come to?!
I must face the music for defying popular culture! How dare I turn my back on the social mainstream!
I may have lost this battle, but I'll keep fighting the war.
I've actually received a bit of ridicule at times for not being found on Facebook, as if no one is anyone unless this is a part of his or her life. In the 21st Century, people apparently can't function unless they know the statuses of their friends, including what they're thinking at any random moment and what they might be preparing to do. It's fucking riveting. And my life, I guess, is incomplete without it.
But, son of a bitch, I lost to Facebook this weekend.
No, I didn't cave and create an account for myself. I forgot my friend's birthday. Not just any friend either; I'm talking about a guy who's arguably been my best friend for the past 15 years. A guy who always calls me on my birthday and wants to take me out for a drink.
Boy, did I feel like a piece of shit.
And guess what jogged my memory? That's right, I happened to be talking to my wife while she was cruising through her Facebook page and noticed the birthday acknowledgements to my friend Dan. Fuck, I suck. So not only did I forget, but there were a whole shitload of people who I'm sure remembered ONLY because they were on Facebook. That's some fucking bullshit.
Naturally, I told my wife to help me dig out from my hole and send him a message on my behalf. Just post something that says "My husband feels like shit for forgetting your birthday."
But life isn't that easy.
"No, it's your own fault," she said (paraphrasing a bit here). "That's what you get for not being on Facebook."
That's what I get?! That's what this world has come to?!
I must face the music for defying popular culture! How dare I turn my back on the social mainstream!
I may have lost this battle, but I'll keep fighting the war.
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