Friday, November 19, 2010

SNAKES, SNAILS...NOT!

Sometimes, I don't know if the Lord blessed me or cursed me as far as children are concerned. "Happy is the man whose quiver is full", has long been a biblical passage that spoke to me in a personal and direct way. It seemed like my destiny was going to be that of the man that produced nothing but boys. Rough and tumble, get in a fight at the drop of the hat boys. Lover not fighter boys, artistically inclined, television star type boys. You name it, and I had it, somewhere down in the quiver. Now don't get me wrong, I have long held the belief that boys would be a whole lot less stress to raise. Friends of mine that had nothing but girls, used to tell me how lucky I was. I didn't suffer like they did. I wouldn't have the sleepless nights worrying about the potential harms way situations that would arise. All I had to do with the dudes was to make sure they had the proper amount of direction, discipline, and basketball training, and they'd be good to go. It has worked like a charm too. Two older sons having attended my college alma mater on basketball scholarships. The next two are currently enrolled in school, and are also playing ball. The caboose end guy showing the promise to do the same, if not more, than his older brothers.
Enter Shiloh, the last of the Mohican's (actually her mother is Pawnee). She is the epitome of daintiness. My entry for this week's blog was to be based on my travels for work, and how it impacts Fatherhood at Fifty. But as I write this, Shiloh is walking around the den with one of the Pawnee's decorative wrist bangles adorning each elbow. One is a patterned, pink plastic number, the other identical, except it is gold. She constantly drapes one of the wife's purses, or any facsimile thereof, over her shoulders like she is on her way to Rodeo Drive. She is particularly fond of the Barbie phone that my granddaughter let her have. Push a button and some disgusting recorded message about "going to the concert with Theresa" comes on. As for the discipline, I tell her just now in a firm voice, not to push the buttons on the satellite receiver. Her feelings get hurt and she saunters over and slaps me on my hand as I type on the keyboard. So much for that. When she picks up her food, it is done in the fastidious manner that one would expect of a tea sipper in the court of King Louis, the whatever. Two fingers, very precise, index and thumb, with the other three extended outward. I'm absolutely positive Shiloh will benefit greatly from the direction, and my feeble attempts at discipline. As far as the basketball training goes, she may be way too cute for that nonsense...

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

NO OKIE DOKE

So Shiloh was about to go on a quick trip with her mom and the neighbor lady. I was given the option of keeping her at home with me, or getting some quiet time so I could do some work. It's not that I can't get work done while she is here. I spend a lot of time researching and writing, spending many hours per day on my computer. For the most part, she allows me to become somewhat immersed in what I am doing. Invariably those moments arise when she wants to get involved with my livelihood. Whatever papers are strewn about my desk suddenly become airborne, dispersed around me like the feathers in the grand finale in the movie True Romance. And then there is her love affair with the keyboard. She will shoehorn herself between my knees and the desk flap where the keyboard lay. She is ever observant, and has the general idea that while the keyboard is indeed important, it is the mouse that makes everything go. I'll lift her from the danger zone, give her a peck on the cheek, then plop her down in the midst of her assorted toys and gizmos. My concentration will be at its zenith, only to be interrupted by the sounds of one of those seldom viewed channels on TV. The ones where they give you the instructions as to how use the various functions that I never use anyway. This can only mean one thing, Shiloh is in what I have termed "Remote Control Heaven". We have tried the bait and switch manuever, giving her an old, battery free remote. She ain't falling for no okie doke, banana in the tailpipe though, recognizing right away that she has been bamboozled. It is an intersting dilemma to deal with. Even when she is  not here, and the oportunity has presented itself for me to hunker down and get some work done, I am still writing about her not being here. Thereby, not  getting any work done...

Monday, November 1, 2010

CHERISH THE MOMENT

This has been  a rough past few days. On Saturday, I found out a good friend had a stroke, and is barely hanging on while being placed on Life Support. Another friend has been camped out in an area hospital while her mother tries to deal with aggressive chemotherapy treatments. On Sunday, the congregation gathered around my Pastor's wife to offer our support at the news that her mother had just died while the church service was still in session. And the final piece of the mortality reminder, my friend and contemporary, Maurice Lucas, has died of bladder cancer at 58 years old.
I'm 54 years old, with a daughter who just celebrated her first birthday. I constantly do the mathematical exercise in my head of how old I'll be when she reaches certain milestones. When she graduates elementary school I'll be 64. At the middle school culmination, I'll be 67. I'll be the 70 year old grandfatherly looking dude in the audience at her high school graduation. And when she flings her college graduate cap in the air, I'll be 74. Unless she decides to take her time and go on that 6 or 7 year plan.
The saving grace for me is that I have been conditioned over the past few years to take it one day at a time. I can't get caught up projecting into the future and getting myself all worked up. But when you have a mind like I do, that is no easy chore. Thoughts of all the things healthwise that could wrong can easily dominate my consciousness. I am on the first day of a 10 day cleanse, and this morning the thought occurred that it may be too extreme for my system. Never mind that I have done this same cleanse 4 or 5 times over the past couple of years and have felt the better for it each time. I'll snap out of my malaise, I always do. I'll keep hitting the gym 6 times a week, ride my bike through the steep, hill ladened neighborhood surrounding my home, and play tennis and basketball with my other kids. I will also cherish this moment within this day, and thank my God that I've been entrusted with the enormous responsibility of nurturing this beautiful gift...