Worries...

No. 1 Son left last Friday for a week trip to Orlando, Florida with the high school band. I was extremely proud of his efforts to earn his own spending money. He left with about $200 for spending. They left Friday morning, and arrived in Orlando around noon on Saturday. The 5/8 and I had given him another $40 to buy his siblings some T-shirts, not thinking it fair that he spend his own hard-earned money on stuff we wanted him to buy.

He thought he had a bundle of money. I explained to him that it really wasn't all that much. $250 works out to about $35 a day. He seemed to understand that. At least I thought he did, until he called this morning to let the 5/8 know he had blown through his entire stash of cash. In less than 36 hours, he managed to burn through all of his money. He is now 1/2 a continent away, and penniless.

He'll get $20 when they get back on the bus for the trip home so he can buy meals and what-not on the trip. They have meal tickets (I think about $15/day worth) for meals at the parks. But still....still it is hard. Knowing how easy it would be to pick up the phone, call the hotel and arrange to wire some money to him. But I can't. I have to let him learn and have this lesson indelibly burned into his psyche.

But I wonder. Am I being too harsh? Shouldn't I just wire 20 bucks to the kid? I haven't felt this kind of worry about any of my kids to date. That knot of tension in the back, just below the neck and between the shoulder blades. It isn't going away. He really only has two days left now. Tuesday and Wednesday. They leave Wednesday night for the ride back to T-town. So he'll be ok. He has the meal tickets, and the hotel supplies a large breakfast buffet.

So there he is 1/2 a country away, without money. If I do nothing, I feel callous and cruel. But if I give in and send money, he doesn't learn this valuable lesson. This is a lesson that cannot be taught any other way, period.

 

*sigh*

The slo-mo effect

It was one of those bright blue Sunday afternoons that Kansans know only come with a bite of chill in the air. The usually warm-day haze of humidity and gunk in the air, that can be seen as a rather brown haze on the horizon was gone. Replaced with a bright, glowing yellow sun, and a blue sky that could be used to perfectly describe the color sky-blue. There was a bit of chill in the air, but not quite enough to see your breath, or even for a jacket.

The keys tumbled in the air. The bright sun shooting little twinkles on the metal as they turned end-over-end. Things seemed to be moving in slow motion (slo-mo as they say in the 'biz'). I have experienced the slo-mo effects only a couple of times in my life, and I can pretty much remember them.

The first time I was cognizant of it was in grade school, during a pick-up neighborhood baseball game. The batter hit the ball and I was playing shortstop I think. The ball sailed up and up and was coming right for me. I jumped with all my strength. It felt like I was ten feet in the air, making a dramatic catch that even Cookie Rojas would envy. Time slowed to a crawl, my mind was working at regular speed, but my actions, and everyone's actions were in slo-mo. The ball hit my glove and everything sped up to normal speed again. I caught the ball, the batter (Kenny, maybe?) was out. I'm certain the play was not nearly as dramatic as I had imagined it being. Just as sure of that, as I am that I probably only jumped about 6 inches off the ground (maybe 10, but I was a really fat kid, and I'm not sure I could have jumped 10 inches).

As the slo-mo effect came into being, the keys were tumbling and turning through the air, No. 1 Son was half visible behind the van. He was walking around behind to get to the driver's side as I was heading to the passenger door. His head was cocked slightly to the side in that way that he does, a sly smile on his face was made crooked by the one eye that was squinting in the bright sun. Calmly, and with purpose and confidence, he raised his hand and allowed the keys to hit his palm as he closed his fingers around them. The slo-mo effect subsided just as he gave me a knowing wink, his face full of pride and expectation.

I remember what it was like. To be a teenager, to still be new enough at driving that getting to do so is a treat. A treat that you feel should be cherished because who knows when it will come again. It is all at the discretion of the parents as to whether a teen with a learner's permit will get to drive. I think I know exactly how he felt at that moment.

"There is no shame in being second best"

For quite some time now No. 2 Son has been talking about his great desire to be a Navy Seal. I don't know what it is that created this desire in him, but I'm not going to do anything to dispel that either.

As the regular readers know, No. 1 Son is in the Marine Jr. ROTC program at his high school. The instructor for that program is CWO Gunner. Awhile back No. 2 Son and Gunner were discussing things, and the discussion turned to the military where No. 2 Son did not hesitate to relate his desire to be a Navy Seal. Gunner asks why he would want to be a Seal, and No. 2 Son responded that while he knows the Marines are tough, the Seals go in, get the job done, and get out without anyone knowing they were there. This didn't seem to phase Gunner in the least (very little does) as Gunner responded "Well, that's ok. There is no shame in being second best if that is what you want."

This conversation was brought to memory yesterday as we were watching "The Unit". I have said before, and I still believe, that this television program is the single best hour long commercial for the US Army ever developed. The plot was the team was extracting a kidnapped journalist from Lebanon. Things didn't go according to plan and their extraction helicopter was shot down, and one of the team was badly wounded in a gunfight so they could not get to the secondary extraction point. They tended the wounded soldier and put a marker on the top of a building hoping the satellites could see it and send help.

At the end of the show, help arrived in the form of the US Marines. This sent No. 1 Son into hysterics as he found great joy that the US Marines had to be sent in to rescue the US Army Special Ops team. I'm certain that at school today, he is telling all of his MJROTC comrades about it.

Baby you can drive my car

No. 1 Son turned 15 the other day. We haven't had a party for him yet. He says he doesn't really want a party, just wants to go bowling with a couple of friends. I can't pretend to understand that. Bowling? It isn't like we are some die-hard bowling family or anything. Sure, back in the day the 5/8 and I were on a bowling team in Olathe, back when No. 1 Son was just fresh from the cabbage patch. Maybe he has some sort of fond memories of bowling alleys from way back then. Who knows.

About 10 years ago his grandmother won a Dodge Neon from the newspaper over in Lawrence. Some contest she entered. I hadn't known anyone who won a car in real life, so that was kind of exciting. Well, against my objections, she gave No. 1 Son that Dodge Neon for his birthday. It only has about 67K miles on it, and it needs at least a battery. But we have a year to fix it before he can really drive it. I didn't think he needed a car. My plan was always to get another vehicle for myself next year and give him the Insight.

My thinking was that the Insight is a perfect car for a kid. If it isn't driven conservatively, the batteries become drained and you find yourself trying to drive a car on the anemic 3 cylinder engine. Add to that it is so small and cramped, there is absolutely positively no room for any funny business in that little car. Sure, we don't have any drive-ins around anymore, but that doesn't mean that kids won't be kids. And this was supposed to be just one more extra little blanket of protection against hormones. Now he has a roomy car with a full back seat (it is a 4 door)!

On the upside, now I can think about getting a more suitable vehicle sooner, rather than later.

Some things never change

Can hardly wait. Monday 25 September is the season premier of Heroes! And just in time too. I wasn't quite certain what I was going to do with my Monday nights now that "Saving Grace" ended its first season. Which, I might add, was a tremendous season. The redneck angel Earl is a hoot to watch. Sure, it is quite dicey at times, and the show, in my opinion, would be just as good without seeing Holly Hunter tied naked to a bed with a happy face drawn on her back and some guy's name drawn across her buttocks in lipstick. But it is what it is.

On the home front, Topeka High is set to lose another football game tonight. Don't get wrong, I love the Trojans, but I am also painfully realistic. No. 1 Son is in the marching band and MJROTC so he has to be there for every home game. I wish I had thought of that back at enrollment when we purchased the $40 activities card. The activities card gets him into all of the home games free, and, by coincidence, being in the band and MJROTC, he gets into all of the home games...free. The MJROTC kids clean up police the stadium after the games and pick up all the trash.

It never fails that when one thing slows down, another jumps in to take its place. For instance, for the past 8 years or so Friday night has been "Dad's game night." A group of friends from across the country get together online and play video games and talk about life, the universe and everything over voice chat. We used to use Roger Wilco, which was a great, tiny free app, but have since switched to Teamspeak, which is another free app, but has a server component to it. A couple of years ago, for some reason, I seemed to become the Teamspeak host. So instead of having to manually start the server every time I rebooted my machine, I wrote a Windows Service to do that for me. Now it is always running. The problem we are running into now is my DSL. For the entire four or five years that I had cable internet I think my IP address changed maybe three times. With DSL it seems to change three times a week. So every Friday, as part of the routine, I send out an email address to the folks with the new IP address.

Crap, did I get off the subject or what? Okay, so I was saying that when one thing slows down, something else jumps in. We have established that for nearly the past decade, Friday night is dad's game night. About a year go, mami started having real problems driving at night, so I agreed to pick papi up at the casino up north on Friday nights and every other Saturday night. Well, that put quite the damper in my Friday game nights because picking papi up isn't as simple as just driving the 30 minutes up there an back. I have to drive up there, and then wait for him to finish up. If I am not in one of those moods where I become disrespectful, this could take up to an hour or more.

For about the last 6 weeks he has not gone up to the casinos. w00t! I get my game nights back! Did I mention No. 1 Son is in the band? And has to attend all of the football and basketball games. Okay for those following along at home, that means that I 1) get to take No. 1 Son to the football/basketball games and 2) pick No. 1 Son up from the football/basketball games. Granted, this is not nearly as time consuming as making the trek up to the casino to collect papi, but nonetheless, it really cramps my style. I mean seriously. Do you realize how hard it is to be really in the zone, wiping out the enemy in Raven Shield, then have to stop to go pick up some danged teenager at the ball game, and then try to re-enter the zone? It is nearly impossible, I telling you.

Movin' on up

Monday was a more difficult day than I had imagined it would be. Not that I would actually admit that out loud, so if you try to hold me to that statement, I will disavow any knowledge of it.

We took No. 1 Son to the high school for enrollment. My kid is in high school. I find it hard to believe, I mean, I am not that old. It took almost two hours to snake through the lines and fill out much of the same (or so it seems) paperwork that we filled out at the pre-enrollment last spring.

Then we had to pay fees. What? Fees? I expected fees to be paid for grade and middle school - he went to a parochial school, we had to pay for that. But fees for the public school? What the heck is this? Don't I already pay taxes through the nose for this stuff? And now another several hundred dollars? Nothing starting of the school year with the feeling that they are double dipping into your pocket.

We managed to get to the end of the line without my losing my cool though. As we were speaking with the mother of the Marine Junior ROTC Sgt. Major, the 5/8 made some offhand comment about the state of No. 1 Son's room, something to the effect that the residents of Greensburg, Kansas would rather stay in Greensburg than have to deal with his room. That is when one of the ROTC folks happened to be coming by. No. 1 Son is joining the MJRTOC program at the high school. I made the deal that if he did that, he would not have to get up at 5:30 in the morning and go exercise at the YMCA with me every morning.

Anyway, this ROTC fellow (I am not certain if he is a student or instructor) told the 5/8 that he would be happy to come to our house, and help No. 1 Son straighten out his room. And that when completed, he would know how to keep his room clean, and that we would be able to bounce a quarter off his bedsheets. What? You mean his bed would actually get made?!?

That is a very tempting offer, and he was completely serious. Of course, No. 1 Son doesn't want that to happen. So maybe it will be the incentive he needs to get moving on cleaning that pigsty and possibly even making his bed (hey! a dad can dream can't he?).