Fitter, happier

Posted on June 10, 2013 by

The recovery has a bodycount. I’m not trying to be alarming, that’s just how this comes out. The stories go something like this:

“He lost is job, then went missing two days ago. Now they’re dragging the river for his body.”

or

“Stood up to give a power point and just keeled over. Heart attack. At 34.”

I did not make these lines up. I heard them from friends.

People are giving up their lives … literally giving up their lives … for work that holds no meaning. I’m not saying people don’t need khakis or steaks, but something has happened so that the work of getting these things to the people who need them is a process that no longer includes dignity. We started to fetishize productivity, efficiency, busy. It’s a humble brag that we all like to drop: “Dude, I’m just crazy busy.” It’s a lot more socially acceptable to show off a full calendar than a full wallet.

But just like starting a toddler in kindergarten a year early, we don’t really ask where all this busy is supposed to get us. Is the end more time for Duck Dynasty? (Really, are we watching Duck Dynasty? I haven’t been but I wonder if I should.) Every zero inbox invites more emails. Every updated app fades with the new notifications. We become incredibly efficient task fulfillment units. But that’s not who we are, and I don’t believe it is who we were created to be.

And I’m tired of how it’s killing people. Let’s stop having lives to die for and start having lives worth living. And I think I saw a part of where that starts this past weekend. Our godson Davis celebrated his 11th birthday and invited three of his friends from school to a pool party. They splashed and jumped and slid and swam. Each of his friends gave Davis something they knew he would love, because they loved him. These 11 year old boys not only felt that, they would say that.

It’s remarkable enough that 11 year old boys would admit that to each other, or that they would be thoughtful enough to pick out meaningful birthday presents. What’s more remarkable is that they know Davis is special. Anyone can see that Davis has special needs. He uses a wheelchair and has a gastric feeding tube. But I don’t think these guys stop at the needs. What they hear from Davis every day is “I love you” and “Thank you.” You have to listen because Davis doesn’t talk like other people. But he does talk, and what he talks about is gratitude. That’s a good place to start.

Posted in IMHO | Leave a comment

The Call of the Wild

Posted on June 3, 2013 by

I forgot my belt. It happens. This day was doomed probably since last night when I did not turn the lights out until an indecent. To paraphrase Richard Dreyfus in “The Goodbye Girl,” I was decent. I also happened to be up to late. Which meant that I either a: did not set the alarm or b: did not rise when the alarm went off. Still, though, I went to the gym. Riding the stationary bike is a cop out, but only a little bit of a cop out. If I wanted to cop out big time, I never would have gone.

Had I not gone, however, I would not have found myself looking at belts in Target at 8:20 on an overcast Monday morning. I’ve looked at pants in Target before. I’ve bought pants from Target. All their pants are “modern cut.” Nobody with a waistline larger than 37 inches wants to be modern. We want to believe that the encroaching belly fat is a sign of prosperity which should be rewarded with comfort. Pants from Target belie that positive self-talk. But belts? Belts don’t come in “athletic fit” do they?

Yes. Yes they do. I found this out in the restroom immediately after purchase. Well, not quite immediately. I don’t carry a knife in my messenger bag because messenger bags are for the hip and cool and pocket knives are for Boy Scouts. (Sorry Wesley, no offense.) It’s terribly difficult to get the plastic tag on which the belt hangs undone with a key to a 1998 Subaru Outback. I’ve not tried with any other make or model. Having removed the tag, however, I found that the “Large, 36-40″ appellation was total bullshit.

My outrage at the false advertising did not, however, match my own shame. I do not want to need a belt over 39 inches. Despite the fact that my waistbands do include elastic again, I do not wish to return to the Husky jeans of my youth. That brand, with its arctic dog labeling, is the basis of my general distaste for the sports teams of the University of Washington and the collected works of Jack London. I will be a man of the “modern cut.” I will keep this belt. I will use the treadmill next time.

Posted in Go Pre! | Leave a comment

A funny funny riddle

Posted on May 27, 2013 by

Farmer Chase says that they have already put up 70 some odd bales. They’d do more, but he needs the equipment for other things. Not all of the corn is in yet, for instance. And there is still everything that needs to be done for the animals. I was just dropping off some egg cartons. (Those things are expensive, it turns out. Save your farmer some money by dropping off some old ones.) It’s probably not helpful for me to come sauntering in on a day when they are not off and everyone else is. Farmer Chase is a nice guy though. He shares some words even when he doesn’t so much have the time.

The farm was just a stop on our route from the river to the Shell station, where we were going to get a cold drink. I had been teaching Louisa the proper pronunciation of “cold drink.” There’s an “au” sound in “cold” and an very short “a” in “drink.” We needed a cold drink because we had walked all the way down to Riverbend, swam, and walked back. That’s farther when you’re ten than when you’re 40, but it is far enough in either case. We both had a pretty good time, and I figured a sugar rush was just the thing to put a rosy glow on the afternoon so as to make it a repeatable adventure. There’s a flaw in that logic, but I don’t want to hear about it.

Besides which, we both deserved an award. The crop of clover which had been growing in our little vegetable bed was harvested today. Unfortunately, none of us are cows or goats, so the clover was disposed of. We worked the soil — worked the land really — until our little spread was, well, spread. I did amend the soil. A small rider about using federal commodities left at the end of the school year for summer food programs. Also, an earmark for a 1.35 scale model of “SplashVille” in downtown Swannanoa. Just those two things. Plus some vermiculite, a bit of peat moss, lime, and compost from our composter. Sure, the rewards will come in August when we pick our tomatoes, but ain’t nobody got time to wait for that. Nobody except maybe Farmer Chase, who will be too busy to think about it before then anyway.

Posted in Domus et Familia | Leave a comment

Darlin’ I guess my mind’s more at ease

Posted on May 24, 2013 by

It’s my b-day! (he said in his best understated Michael Cera, which is to say pretty much his voice but turned down just a little bit.) I’m pretty psyched that it’s my 40th birthday, and not just for the presents. The presents are pretty good, but I’m not just talking about those. Or maybe I am. I don’t know, but it goes a little something like this: I’m not going to get it all done.

Did I make this point already? I kind of think I did, but it bears repeating.

Yes, it does!

You kids settle down and listen to an old man. Because here’s the thing: I’m not going to be president. Sorry. I know you were hoping that I would be the first non-stereoscopic American to occupy the Oval Office. The fact is that I can’t do that because Thomas Jefferson had a wandering eye. At least that’s what I heard. Anyway, since he was President and invented the mould board plow, he took all the good “firsts.” Forget him! and forget being president!

Thank God!

Really, say “Thanks God!” Or “Shiva!” Or “Buddha!” or “Cold void of science from which we arrived by chance and to which we will return in shame and misery!” if that’s your thing. Anyway, my point is that we all just gained a lot of time and mental space because I don’t have to run for President anymore. Nor, as I pointed out before” do I have to become a bike mechanic. Or recording engineer. Or fancy beard wearer (although I’m going to reserve the right to circle back on that one.)

I have a friend who likes to talk about how the road narrows as we go along. I used to think that just applied to what we felt comfortable with what we allowed ourselves to get away with morally and ethically. I still think that’s true, but I also think that the road narrows in terms of the things we think we have to get done. I’m 40. I’m not going to get it all done. Some of it wasn’t all that important to begin with. So I’m just not going to worry about getting around to that.

Posted in Credo | 2 Comments