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Nick drew this picture for the front of his Language Arts folder:

 It's the species Triazureoculuspurpuraparvuaspirinentor.  Latin - maybe - for "threedarkblueeyepurplesmallbreathefire."  He nailed the spelling, don'tcha think?

Here's the front of one of his other folders.

Yeah... he got 'bell' right.


From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."

Dad: "Do you realize that you two have been improving* this whole time?"

Zack: "Be quiet, Dad. You're breaking the fourth wall."

*improvising 


I didn't even know they​ knew what the fourth wall is, hell, I barely do...


Peace, as always.

Back to the Beginning

I sometimes miss doing the simple posts I started this all with.  So, I decided that I'd try it again.  Also, there are a couple of things the boys wanted me to post on here, I won't tell you which ones.

Here is a rainbow star that I found underneath a pile of old papers on the corner of my desk.  Nick made it a couple of years ago.  I remember keeping it, planning to put it here.  I also remember he was very proud of it... so am I.

The boys are on a Dodgeball team and entered into a tournament scheduled later this month.  They were experimenting with ideas for a T-shirt, this one was in the discard pile.  I like that they identify as "nerds," it shows they don't really care about labels and yet, they understand that they exist.  I love, love, love that they used ellipses... just as incorrectly as I do.

Zack has been working on his graffiti tag.  It's pretty good.  Freud called but I asked him to get back with me in a few years.

I just don't know what to say about this one.  I'd work in a lab with this dude though, parrot'n all.  I love that wallpaper, too.

In Art class the boys were asked to do a version of Grant Wood's iconic "American Gothic."  Zack made his a butcher and his wife in front of a pig shaped shop.  Their logo is "Meat Yum!"  I love him so.  I like that he's holding a pot of fresh basil.  Maybe there's a green-grocer out front.

This is maybe two inches by two inches, it was the only thing on a full-sized sheet of paper - I think that's delightfully odd.

Right now the boys are outside, it's fifty-something and the sun is bright and breeze is blowing.  They like to do their homework in on the top deck of the playset.  Oh, wait, they're done and now they are stick-fighting and running around screaming.  I wonder what they are chanting...

"Ain't no party like an out side party 'cause an outside party don't stop!"

It's true, you know.

I love how weird they are, how quirky and unpredictable they can be, how individual they've become.

From Marci's "...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat... " Facebook page:

When it is 55° in February, you do your homework in the play set.

Well, it was fun going back and thinking sillily and all.  Peace to you.


Thanks for stopping by and come back Friday, if you have time, I am trying to write more substantial stuff on Fridays, trying...

"Inferenshial"

For the many of you (I considered few of you but I am trying to be positive) who have been following around here for the last several years, you know that I find Nick's misspelling quite amusing, and, well, a bit frustrating.  There is, in fact, a whole label devoted to it here.  In school this year there is a renewed focus on it with vocabulary and spelling tests.  I's are preceding their e's - except when... -y's are being changed to i's and ed's added, the sordid there/their/they're menage is clamoring to explain itself, that sort of thing.

Nick brought this home the other day:

I am sad to say, my days of picking fun at them are over.  I mean 100%.  And, honestly, I am hard pressed at spelling the bonus word, inferential, as well.  I also told Nick that in my fifty years of writing I have never used that word in a sentence, there's no doctorate certification on my wall.

I am glad for him, he studied hard and we've been working on them at home, and he deserves the score.  Also - and here's where I may go too far with this - it is all a good metaphor what is happening around here, where I write these words.  I look at this and see an ending, not of everything or anything dramaticky like that, but an end to one more part of childhood.  Not only is he not going to make as many spelling errors - a sign of mental maturation and personal growth - but I am going to stop seeing them as the piece of childhood I have always seen them as.

This forces me to look again at the boys, see them in the new light in which they shine.  To watch differently, perhaps more carefully, as they coalesce into the adolescents they will soon be.  It is easy to grasp the silliness and wonder and cuteness and color and cacophony of childhood.  It is, frankly, pretty easy to write about that all as well.  But now, as that layer begins to bury itself, a new layer of seriousness and work and purpose and understanding surfaces.  It is harder to write about.

But - to carry the miserable metaphor further - if they are willing to get the words right, understand the meanings, go deeper and further into themselves so, perhaps, must I...

Yeah... well, I hope you see my point.  Boys grow up.  It gets different.  And we must look at them anew from time to time and grow up alongside them.


But I'm not gonna do that right now.

Nope, I'm just gonna dive into the "take-home folder" (there's a label for that as well here) and see if I can find something silly.

Actually, on his test, Nick made a couple of drawings.  (On a side note, I asked him why - knowing that this would simply not have been acceptable when I was in fifth grade - he made them.  He said his teacher doesn't mind, "she knows I get bored with stuff I already know."  If only someone would have recognized that when I was his age I'd have not gotten into the trouble I did.  Thanks Mrs. C.)  I like this uh, sword-cross-stars-thingee, maybe there's a future in tattoo design for Nick:

I love the yin/yang effect and who doesn't love stars?

And there is this little guy crouching absurdly on his spelling test:

He plays for the "Backward C's"

How, you may ask, do I know he is crouching?  Well I found him on another bit of classwork standing up:

I'm pretty sure that's him, that signature tongue move is pretty unforgettable.

I found this one on a "Restating The Question Center" worksheet.

Here's the assignment:  "Below you will find a number of ridiculous questions.  Your job is to restate the question and answer in a complete sentence.  Your answer can be completely silly as long as you restate the question!"

He nailed it on number three:

It's funny, for sure, but, behind it is a truth I think many adults miss, don't forget the obvious rules.  I'll save that thought for another time.  Also, I'll save the notion that it might be fun to write a post using all the words on Nick's list... that'd be joyous, marvelous, adventurous and inferential (dammit, you're gonna have to learn that one too, Nick.)

Thanks for stopping by, I know you're busy.


From Marci's  "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
 
"Stabby weapons are best for me."


Know your tools, son, know your tools...


There one more thing I noticed on the worksheet.  I think it is a self-portrait:

It is either that, or this is my fifth grade student picture.  You know what?  That's pretty much what middle school felt like to me, exactly the look on that face.  It's funny how it all comes 'round.


God's Peace to you all.

Memories and Images

 (It'd help if you sang that title to the tune of "Photographs and Memories" by Jim Croce from which it was so embarrassingly cribbed.)

The words here won't matter, I think, someday in the future as the boys, perhaps grown men by then, surf the pages of this long love-letter I have been crafting for them.  Just as a letter drops the pictures out of the envelope, spilling them on the table, the pictures here will be seen first, letting the words wait, as words are patient enough to do.

That's the reason I have been so determined to include images - sometimes, perhaps too many - in this peculiar digital journey.  It seemed clear, at the start of all this, that I needed to save the small stuff, the offcasts, the easily forgotten misfits - the heartbreakingly adorable litter that falls from childhood's high chairs, tables and steps.

I suppose I should explain what's going on here.  Maybe I don't have to, you probably figured it out.  While I was away in Athens, Marci and the boys made these shirts.  They found drawings I'd scanned to use around here - there's, like six-hundred of them - and Marci transferred them onto t-shirts, a process that involves the computer, the printer/scanner thingee, and an iron... and magic, I'm pretty sure some magical paper is involved, Diadem Alley has it.  To further muck the story up, this all started because Kirby (not his real name, unless it is) wanted an "ihopeiwinatoaster" shirt and, she asked the boys if they wanted to make something for themselves when she made one for not-named-Kirby..

Not wanting to be left out, Marci made me the white one in the foreground there, a "handburger" Zack drew which was used in this post, cleverly called "Handburger."

Marci made the top left one for herself.  It began life as a Valentine if memory serves.  Now I'm curious, hold on a sec...

Sorry, that took a bit.  It was originally in a post called - these titles are not so good - "The Valentine's Day Post."  It's pretty good, really.  That's what took me so long, I felt I had to read it after I found the image.  Wait, I may have just got back to my original point... I'll be damned.

Nick chose a scan that I can't find anywhere else, in fact I don't know where they found it.  I remember the piece of paper, all it said was "Kids ______0______  parins ______2__________"  He thinks it is hilarious.  So do I.

The eight-legged-big-mouthed-antennaed-insect-thing in the center is on Nick's other shirt..  I never used it in a post but, man, it looks good on a shirt.

Up in the right corner is the "Pick Me" dude.  He is an amalgamation of images from two posts.  The "pick me" is from a piece of paper I found which said those words on both sides, I mention it in "Guarding Innocence,"  the little prince with a dagger is from the post "A Cast of Several and a Set Piece."  He's somehow creepy and cute.

Finally, on the orange shirt, is the little "hi" guy.  Marci place the image, at Z's request, down on the bottom right edge of the shirt, which is really nice because you don't see it at first and then you do and he says 'hi' to you, well, it's funny.  It is from a post called "Narrative Imperative."

I am not a logo shirt sort of guy.  If Nike wants to pay me a couple thousand dollars a year, I'll wear their shirts a few times a week, that'd be cool.  But, for me to pay way too much for a sweatshirt or sporty-spice-shirt and advertise their multi-billion corporation for free... no, thanks.

We aren't into Star Wars and we have not received the decoder rings that explain the over-complicated  super hero movie machine (actually I canceled that order and the truth is the boys don't care to see them) so no Captain Marvel or Batboy shirts for us.

We do wear Reds shirts around here and the requisite school district gear, I am alright with that.  But that's about it.  I have a few Life is Good shirts but, don't tell everyone, I don't really like them - they are soft though.

So, the boys wear mostly plain shirts, gray is a favorite, N looks great in blue and Z fancies green and, of course, orange - one of the local school colors.  

And, they wear the shirts Mom made 'em.  In fact they love them and wear them at least once a week.  Which, believe it or not, gets me to the point I want to make.  They love them because they made them.  Because they drew the pictures, the placed them on the transfers and helped manipulate the images and print them.  They own them.

In fact...

Let's see, uh, I started this before Zack got his stitches on Wednesday, so...

What?  Sorry, didn't I tell you about that?

I'll go with the short version, I've already told some long stories about injuries to both Zack and Nick.  Zack's forehead encountered a rock.  The rock was in Nick's hand but it was just a freak accident  It was a freak accident and it was a clean but deep cut.  It bled a lot, onto his shirt which I use to keep pressure on it, I bandaged it and he went back to practice for a few minutes but a thunderstorm came up and it was called short so...  I can't write a short story, can I?

We went home.  I cleaned the wound.  Marci texted a picture of it to pediatrician's office.  Off to Children's Hospital Urgent Care (always, always, always take your kid to The Children's Hospital if you can).

Let's see, um, right - check in, numbing gel, anxiety, vending machine, nice nurse, capable but busy doctor, heightened anxiety, tears, two stitches, sign papers, into the car and...


"Dad?"  It is a whisper of a voice.  The tone implores me to listen, my answer, I know will be important and everlasting.  I turn down the fan on the AC.

"What is it, Zack?" I ask gently.

"Will you be able to get the blood outta my "hi" shirt?"

I smiled.

"Yep, it's already soaking in cold water in the sink."  And it was, and we did get the stain out.  And, when he asked about it, I understood that he was saying was really:  Everything's gonna be alright, isn't it?


... home.

Home to the other boy who never said he was worried but kept commenting to Mom that we'd been gone a long time.  The boy who was so very upset after the meeting of forehead and rock.  The boy who later said he was so sorry through tears and a sob or two.

"Nick, I know it wasn't your fault.  It was a freak accident, everything's forgotten, forgiven..."

"No, not that Dad, I ruined his favorite shirt, ohhh..." eyes welling up again.

"I'll get it out, don't worry about it, it'll be fine, good as new."

With that he wiped his face on his eight-legged-big-mouthed-antennaed-insect-thingee shirt and trotted off to practice.  But I know what he meant.

Everything's gonna be alright, isn't it?


I can't guarantee it boys, I really can't...


I appreciate you coming around again, fewer and fewer folks are so it's not been so crowded.  I'm glad you did.

I mean that.


From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."

(sung a la Frozen)

"Do you wanna build a death ray?"


Hell's yes...


Listen, if there is one thing I want you to take away from this, well, it is not listen under the words, it is not make your own shirts, it is not that images make memories better than words often can, it is not even embrace the silly nor is it remember the stories.  No, it is simply this:


Always, always, always take your kid to The Children's Hospital if you can, they are the best for your kid, I promise.


I got to wondering what I might choose to put on a shirt.  I decided on this from "Post Father's Day Post":

Peace to you, whenever you might be...

The Unintended

I blundered into all this.  I thought I'd be all cutesy and funny and stuff, showing you the creations and imaginings of the boys' young minds.  Honestly, that part went well.  Unintentionally though, behind the images I'd shown, I found myself peering out.  Out from behind a tree, out from a face in family drawing, out from under a shed, out from their present and into my past.

With no idea it would happen, I began seeing the stories.  First the story of something they'd created, then some stories I made up about how things may someday be, and then... I began to see my stories, my childhood, my history, my dreams and hopes, begin to mingle with theirs.  It is a tricky place to navigate sometimes.

You see, until I had kids, I hadn't thought much at all about my childhood.  I didn't see it, as a young single man, as a useful tool for fixing and maintaining my adult life.  For instance, I never considered learning to tie my shoes as a kid, and, if I did, I would have seen it as just another lesson childhood taught.  Now I see how difficult and frustrating it is and, I remember now, how damn hard it was.  In my mind, before I had children, growing up was just a necessary learning period, an apprenticeship of sorts, training to be grown up.  It's a silly perspective in retrospect, but the 'now' consumed me then, so much to do, so many to meet, so much to experience, so many to love.

It all began because I started looking at things carefully.  When they used Crayons, I remembered using Crayons.  Their baseball glove became mine.  We walked the sames creeks, struggled up the same long hills on a bike, shared the same fantasies of the big hit, the big play, the pretty girl.  I don't think I'd have recognized all this if I hadn't become vested in the the things they made.  I watched them carefully, for all the right reasons, of course, but also with a selfishness I've not admitted before.  An eager hope that I would somehow find myself in them.

My childhood was fine, don't get me wrong, but even the best times are laced with sorrow and loneliness, anxiety, fear.  The boys have been suffering some anxiety about the barrage of testing that is coming their way in the next few weeks.  Frankly, I couldn't care less about how well they do.  I know them.  I know they are smart and all.  We talked a little about it the other day and what they seem to be most worried about is that they are not ready, "unprepared" Nick said.


I'd been out from school with a sore throat for a few days.  I returned on Friday and there was a big test I knew nothing about, a science test about the layers of the earth's crust and all that.  I remember I'd seen the diagram in the textbook and I did the best I could.  I also remember a tear falling on to the purple mimeographed paper and smearing as I hurried to wipe it with the tattered sleeve of my sweatshirt.  I was scared I'd get a bad grade, I was frustrated that I didn't know there was a test, and my heart ached at the unfairness of it all.

As I watched Nick tell me through sobs, as Zack listened tears in his eyes, how he felt, I remembered my own feelings of injustice.  I saw so clearly that purple stain on that long forgotten test, and I wept again, with them.  For a few minutes we were three little boys, lost, afraid, confused.  I told them the story, I told them I understood - which may be a lie, I told them I believed them, I told them I loved them and I silently vowed to help them as best I could.


It is just a little story, maybe not even a good one, but I do not think I would have told it, probably wouldn't have even remembered it, if I hadn't started looking around for things to write about over three years ago.

I sometimes think we are under the impression that we mature, as though it is something we do.  In my case, though, life is maturing me.  I see and feel and understand and love things not because of some clever decision I've made to do so.  No.  Life reveals things to me when I need them.  It is, however, my duty to look for them, to welcome life's lessons and reminders, to embrace childhood memories, good or bad, to wallow in the sadness of growing up, to revel at the newness of it all, to cry again somewhere between then and now.


This transition would be a lot better if the test I'd not known about had been a Social Studies test, say, perhaps on the Bill of Rights...

Or even a test on annoying Frenchmen:

But, it's not that easy sometimes.  And, sometimes you have to twist and bend life a bit to learn the lessons.  And, sometimes you just gotta write bad transitions...


From Marci's  "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."

"That is SO not on my bucket list."

*who knew 9yr olds have bucket lists*


If I had to wish one thing for you today it would be this, remember deeply and go where you are taken - that's two things, I know...  Thanks for coming by.

Logo Love

Just throwing around some ideas:

 

 Wouldn't absolutely any of these be perfect on a T-shirt?  

From Marci's "...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat..."

"You put some music on and it becomes a paaaaar-tay."

Fact...

It is a lot of fun to isolate something from its context.  But, I really don't feel like I should do that here, seeing as how this is an historical record and all, so I'd better fess up.

The boys rushed into the house one day - I'd like to say they didn't do it straight from church, but they did - and went to work on a couple of "spellbooks."  They are pretty intense and they worked diligently on them and, well, that was the last I'd seen of them, until a couple of days ago.  I was trying to get a number of binders to shove into a space that could hold that number of binders minus one.  I had to remove them all to rearrange them and, lo and behold, behind them all were these two booklets.

You see, one hides one's spellbook.  They weren't hiding it from me, nothing nefarious mind you, but, well, ya gotta keep your spells safe.

Here's Nick's:

Zack rocked a different style

I am glad you took the time to come around today.  It was fun getting back to my roots here and being silly.  I've been a little too caught up in the words lately, forgetting that when I first started this I was mostly hoping to remember the silly bits and pieces I find around here.

"Arctic Howling"

If I were more ambitious and had unlimited time I would write a story for each of these titles Zack and Nick came up with.  Damn, that'd be fun...

When I was a kid it was band names.  I remember an old-timer - when I was a kid, that is, hell, now I am an old-timer - told me once that they used to make up minor baseball team names.  N and Z are making up guild names.  Yes, guild names.  For some multi-player game they like on their Kindles.  It is called Graal Online and some of their friends play it. Apparently, you can form groups of folks called "guilds" and name them.  There are quests and such.  I am a terrible parent...

These are their ideas, Zack wrote them down:

     Shielding the uknown (sic)
     Codekeepers
     Dragon Kids
     Dragon Born
     Arctic Dragons
     Arctic Howling
     iNoob
     Stir the Code
     Randomosity
     Death of the light
     Thorn holders
     Thorn keeper
     iGuild
     Juggling Death
     Forestfire
     Kong ko
     Mr. Turtle
     Copper
     Piniata
     Duck Forest
     Tiki
     Potion
     Kingly Alliance
     Acez
     Concortron
     The Avatars
     Wild fire
     Clash of the Uknown (sic)

I would name any band I've ever been in, or ever will be in, any of these names.

I hope to hell there is a band called Acez, or a blog called iGuild, or a monster truck called Concortron, or a college team called The Avatars, or a heartfelt memoir about a Luddite of a man awash in a sea of Apple products called iNoob.  And, there'd better be a craft beer named every damn one of these things...


This guy is cool.  He's a genie.

Nick made this guy.

He is clearly the new coach.

Hi! I'm your coach.  Why are you laphing?  its not like im a toatle airhead or enything RIGHT!?

Well uhhhhh... you are a Air-head I could use you as a hot air balloon if I tied a basket to your head and if I let air out of your head I could probably fly to Jupider.

 Clearly spelling is still an issue around here.  "Laphing" is my favorite...

Math isn't much of a problem these days since Zack started making these nifty graphic comics explaining some of the concepts they've been working on.  This one is called "Inverse Land."

This one is on the identity property.  I think it's called "Fraction Papers!"

I love this little detail:

What a happy place.


Anyone who's been around here knows that that ain't all of this story.  There is always more, whether we decide to tell it or not, of every story.

For instance, Zack came down while I was ironing in the basement to ask me which of the names I liked, he'd narrowed to several he had checked off on the list.  We talked a little about it and I went on to tell him about how when I was a kid we liked to make up band names.

"You know what, The Acez would be a good name for a band..." he said, running up the stairs.

That's what I'm sayin'...


When the boys came home today they didn't have much homework and decided to do it over the weekend - in-service day tomorrow - so we were sitting in the living room reading when I decided to ask them again about showing stuff they made, like the stuff above, on my blog.

They assured me there wasn't a problem but I came to a realization that, even though they are fine with it now, they may not always be.  I sort of pressed it a bit and Zack said he didn't understand why it could be a problem.

I didn't really know how to answer him, something long and drawn out about bullying and mean people and future political careers and future girlfriends and future employers seemed too much to really explain.

"For instance Zack, I used the comic you did in your math journal, and..."

"Awesome!"

"... someday someone might make fun of them."

"Really?" he asked, a bit incredulous.

"And Nick, I told you I wanted to use the air-headed coach you made up..."

"Cool, I love him!"

"... but someone might think you were mean or disrespectful or something because it seemed like you were making fun of him."

"Really?" he echoed Zack's incredulity.

"Oh, probably not..." I trailed off.

"But it could  seem like you weren't being very nice to him and making fun of his comically large head," I said.

He laughed, knowing that we both have cartoon imaginations.

"Yeah, I guess, maybe...  But, Dad, it was just a scene from something bigger, just make sure you tell'em that."


...just a scene from something bigger.

Yep.

Remember that every time you tell a story and your stories will serve you well.


From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
 
"I just had a smart idea! Sometimes I scare myself."


I hear ya little dude, I hear ya...


Thanks for stepping in out of the cold today, at least here, now, today... but maybe not where you are, or, uh... when you are.  Yeah, I still get this all confused.  Peace to you and yours, today and always.

The Emphasis Is on the 'Is'

Sometimes, recently for me, we back away from our own thoughts.  This is, of course, increasingly easy in an age...

Sometimes we forget how to use the feelings and difficulties our personal journeys gently shove into our faces, we forget to look behind emotion and failure and we forget that they are the fuel that energizes us...

Sometimes I suffer an almost vertigo-like fear when I think about the despair and doubt and injustice so evident in human affairs which will be suffered on Nick and Zack...

Sometimes life can really suck...


I am having a bit of difficulty getting started today.  I want to speak of cold basements and lost opportunities and hard decisions and my mastery and understanding of them all.  I don't know how to do that.


At a morning mass this week, I had a thought.  I am embarrassed to admit that I've had it before, and I can safely assume I will have it again.  It is a selfish and practically pathetic little thought that whines up from my ego sometimes:  Why isn't this working?  Why don't I feel the peace and love, why don't I get the parables, why do I question all of it so thoroughly?  Where's the kumbaya of it all?

But this time was different, this time I got my answer:  It is working...


Zack decided that he wanted to use a word program on the computer to write a "persuasive speech" he has been working on for school.  He got out the laptop we begrudgingly use upstairs sometimes and turned it on.  Well, it hadn't been on for a while and decided it needed to load several hundred new updates, a process which pisses me of to the point of enragement, which isn't even a word  I find slightly annoying.  As I stood and he sat, me seething, he staring hopefully as the updates ticked down, I said something like "This isn't gonna work, Zack."

"Dad, it is working."


Surrounded by Cheerios he had spilled, a half boxful, Nick was picking them up one at a time and eating them off the floor.  They were everywhere and the floor wasn't as clean as it maybe should have been and we were a little pressed for time and he was maybe four and I said "Nick, this may not work, let me get a broom."

"Dad, it is working."


Always the emphasis is on the 'is.'

And it is, working that is...  Sometimes not to my satisfaction, sometimes not in my time-frame, sometimes totally contrary to my liking.

Zack got his paper done and didn't really mind the wait.  I sat down with Nick and munched Cheerios off the dirty floor, and I'll remember it forever.  And, my faith is working.  I am a better man now than I was twenty years ago, I guarantee it.  I am hopeful again and, although I am still at times lonely and frightened, I do not feel alone.


Everything is working.  Our parenting, our providing, our moral direction; our dishwasher and computer and the old toaster-oven; our smiles and tears and fears - all working.  Presently, right now, it is all working, not has worked, or will work but the emphasis is on the 'is.'


Z spent most of an hour working on this under the dining room table so no one would see it before he was done:

The award ceremony is on the back:

And yes, second place dude is wearing this shirt:

That hair is defiantly working for him.

Nick drew this for reasons yet to be determined:

It's a "pirate guy's hook wielding a gleaming rune-encrusted scimitar."  Well, that is indeed working for me.

I found this under a table in the living room.  I don't know if it is important or not:

"Icious"  It must mean something, like the state of being in the moment.  Or not...  it's still weird, though.  "Having or full of..." is what the suffix 'cious' means.  Hmm, full of "I," yep that's me sometimes, especially when I don't think anything is working.  As in: I am one icious idiot sometimes.


I am glad you could come around today, peace to you and remember, as we all should, that it is working.  Don't be icious...