The Great Communicator (2009)

Knowing he was sick and might be sleeping, I turned the door knob to Danny’s room slowly and opened the door a crack to make sure he was OK. He was curled up with his back toward me. I could see his eyes slightly open.
“Dan, are you OK?” I asked.
He doesn’t have the flu but has been battling a sore throat, headache and fatigue on and off for about two weeks. This is the second time he’s missed school.
“My throat is still really sore,” he said, lifting the covers enough to reveal that his fingers were busy texting.
Someone my age or older might think it strange for a sick child to be texting in bed. I didn’t think anything of it. Danny texts constantly, even while he plays pick-up basketball.

He got a new phone recently because his other one broke. My theory is it just wore out from Danny’s thumbs pressing against it. At 14, he is the youngest member of the family. He is also the one who communicates constantly in what is called “real time.” Like many kids his age, Danny doesn’t have an e-mail address. Texting and instant messaging are his preferred forms of communication because they are instant.

I don’t send or receive many texts. Typing with one or two fingers feels too awkward. I’m also not very proficient in the various spelling shortcuts that allow Danny and his friends to use maybe 20 characters whereas I would need 40 or more.
“Dad you need to send shorter texts,” Danny told me about a year ago. He showed me some setting on my cell phone that helps you write shorter texts by anticipating what you are trying to write and inserting the characters it thinks you need.
“Danny, could you shut this thing off for me ?” I asked a day later.

My gut feeling is that soon I will be texting and instant messaging and making use of some other form of real time communication that I can’t even imagine. Danny will probably never have an email-address. When he is my age what kind of new form of communication will his children be using?

Let me know what you think.

Dog Days Ahead ?

On one of the few sunny Saturdays we’ve had recently, I looked out on the side deck and noticed a cat napping on the cushion of an outdoor love seat. It caught my attention because it was large and gray and because I don’t have a cat. The deck is close to the pool and part of a side yard that is fenced off. I couldn’t believe this semi-fat cat jumped the fence or slid underneath it.

“Did you see the cat?,” my wife said excitedly as I spoke to her on the phone a couple of hours later. I had left and she had returned and spotted the cat napping. I could tell by the girlish tone that she liked having a cat on the deck. She had cats for many years in college and before we had children. I think she would like another one. She also has been talking about getting a dog. I never had a dog growing up, but she did.

When she first started talking about getting a dog it bothered me because I don’t want one and I took as a sign that she was already anticipating how empty our nest will be in just a few years. My mom raised four children and never had a dog and then when her youngest moved out she immediately got one. I suspected that after caring for children for close to thirty years she needed something to care for.

I really don’t want a dog today or a few years from now unless someone is home during the day to look after it. I don’t like the idea of leaving a dog alone all day while we are at work. One time when Mary brought up getting a dog I suggested we adopt a child when our sons leave home because children play basketball and baseball and that would give me something to do. She didn’t like the idea.

By the way, I didn’t bother the cat that Saturday or on a couple of other afternoons when it returned. It belongs to one of the neighbors and is very good at catching mice and other critters in my yard. Two weeks ago I was cutting the lawn and it proudly pranced through my backyard holding one of those pesky moles in its mouth. A few minutes later I found a half eaten squirrel. I figure the least I can offer this prolific hunter is a comfortable place to curl up.

Let me know what you think.

Heaven or Hell Part 2

A follow-up on my previous blog. My son continues to be a little tense about my efforts to help him keep up with his school work. He said something to me this weekend that made me think. I was asking him about his progress on some assignments he needed to make up and he again became frustrated.
“Mike, I’m just trying to help,” I explained.
“Dad, do you realize we haven’t talked about anything else this week but my school work,” he responded.
I thought for a minute and realized he had a point.

Let me know what you think.

Heaven or Hell?

On Tuesday, I attended parent-teacher conferences at Lyman Hall High School. Since we now have two sons at Lyman Hall, Mary and I had to split up. I visited Michael’s teachers, Mary met with Danny’s. The teachers were very helpful, providing me with grades up to that point, work that needed to be made up and important upcoming assignments. The conferences lasted about two hours. I spent about another hour talking to Michael and going over my notes. I felt good about the initial talk with my 16-year-old junior and my organized list of items I needed to follow up with him on.

The good feeling ended less than 24 hours later when I called Michael from work to see how he had made out on one of his makeup assignments. About 10 seconds into the conversation, I sensed resistance to my involvement. I calmly told him I intended to help even if he didn’t like it.
“Well then I’m going to make your life hell,” he responded.
Taken as one line it seems very disrespectful. In fairness, I should point out that Michael is really a good kid at home and an even better one in school. In his 11 years, I’ve never had a teacher complain. My own parents could not make the same statement. On Tuesday, one of his teachers told me that I should give myself a pat on the back because, in her opinion, Michael was a great kid and a credit to our parenting.
But after the “I’m going to make your life hell” remark I didn’t feel like giving myself a pat. I also didn’t start screaming. After dealing with teen-agers for three years, I’m used to these moments.

About a month ago we were talking about his driving school classes when he told me: “I hope you and mom feel crappy about wasting your money on driving school.” Apparently, the classes were not living up to his expectations. I think he was really upset because it has cut into his social life. When he first would say these kinds of things, it did make me feel “crappy.” I felt I was making progress in dealing with teens because despite his hope, I did not feel bad at all.

Last night, as I was in the midst of saying good night and telling him to have a good day at school, he launched into a 30-second diatribe on how something his mom and I are doing is ruining his weekend social life. He added that the other kids involved don’t care because they are all losers and don’t have a social life. A cheery way to end the day, I thought as I calmly listened and didn’t say anything until he was done
“Mike. Have a nice day at Lyman Hall.”

Let me know what you think.

Nervous Father

When my 16-year-old son went for his learner’s permit in April, I wasn’t too worried. It would be awhile before he’d be driving on his own. I convinced myself that I’d rather have him driving than a passenger in a vehicle being driven by one of his friends.

The other night my wife was explaining to me that Michael’s seemingly endless stint in driving school was coming to an end and that one of the instructors had told her he expected he would take the test the first week of November.
“I’m getting really nervous about this,” I told her. “I was thinking about it a lot today and I just can’t imagine letting him drive off on his own.”
I went on to explain that I was feeling a little guilty about my apprehension because a friend from the gym has had his second child going through the same process and seems to take it all in stride. A few days after his daughter got her license I ran into him and asked if she had driven on her own.
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “She’s gone solo every day since she passed the test."
He told me he was happy because now that both his children were licensed drivers his days as a taxi service were officially over.
I shook my head, amazed at how calm he was and also feeling a little guilty because suddenly I don’t mind driving Michael around and want to suggest to him that I provide taxi service a little longer.

I keep having the same vision over and over. Michael is driving down our short street by himself and then pulls on Pond Hill Road. I lose sight of him a few seconds later. The next few hours are pure agony as we wait for him to return. I’m assuming the second time he drives away will be a little easier. I wonder if my parents still worry about me when I drive?

Let me know what you think.

Losing It?

I’ve been having trouble with keys lately. About a month ago I lost an important set and spent the next two weeks searching my house, car, office and even garbage. At one point, the lost set was the last thing I thought about before I slept and the first thing I thought about when I awoke. Then one day a co-worker came down to the newsroom after our receptionist had left and asked me where the lost and found is located. I didn’t know where the lost and found was, I told him. He had lost his car keys and was hoping someone turned them in. Before we could finish our conversation, a co-worker from his department came down with his keys. He had dropped them in the trash pail.

The next day I asked our receptionist where the lost and found is located and before I could finish my sentence she pulled my lost set of keys out of her desk. I was thrilled to get them back, but kind of worried that it had never occurred to me to check our lost and found.

Last night I got in my vehicle to go home, pulled my key chain out to start the car and realized the car key was not on the chain because I had gotten my car serviced earlier in the day. I had forgotten to put the key back on my chain and was hoping I had left it somewhere in my desk. I searched the desk, but no luck. I also searched the vehicle, my briefcase and every inch between my vehicle and my office. I checked lost and found and asked the cleaning woman if she had found a key. After about an hour, I called my wife who wondered why I waited so long. She and my son, a new driver, were more than happy to bring me the spare key.

This morning I noticed my key chain, including the spare my wife had brought me the night before, sitting on the kitchen counter. I thought it was strange because I usually leave them with my wallet and phone in another room downstairs. Mary and the kids leave before I get up. They must have used my keys and left them on the counter.

When I arrived at work I was happy to learn someone had found my missing car key in the parking lot and turned it in. I called my wife to tell her the good news.
“Why were my keys on the kitchen counter this morning,?” I asked.
“Danny found them in the front door. You never took them out and they were in there all night,” she replied.

Let me know what you think.

Stop Jaywalking!

I attended a conference in Baltimore about 10 years ago. After checking in at my hotel (located in the harbor area) I decided to take a walk around. Approaching the first crosswalk, I glanced up the street for approaching traffic. Seeing it was clear, I started across. After a few steps I heard a loud whistle and a plea to “Stop Sir.” I turned toward the whistle and realized it was being sounded by a police officer about 100 feet away who wanted me stop because the crosswalk sign, which I hadn’t bothered to check, was telling me not to cross. I returned to the sidewalk and noticed about 20 others waiting for the crosswalk signal to tell them it was OK to cross the street even though there was no approaching traffic. As I continued my walk around the area, I noticed almost everyone was crossing only in designated areas and when the signal said it was OK.

That night I had dinner with a friend who had moved from Meriden to Baltimore several years before. He explained that Baltimore was “civilized” and that only people in the Northeast crossed streets where and when they pleased.

I returned with a new perspective. I noticed how many times pedestrians suddenly crossed in front of my car. I realized just how rude and potentially dangerous it is and vowed to follow crossing signals when I walked.

Last week we ran a story on jaywalking. Over the past 10 years, jaywalking has developed into one of my top pet peeves.
I spend much of my time driving the streets of Meriden and Wallingford and wanted to mention a few of the most dangerous areas.

Wallingford
- Anywhere near the intersection of North Main, South Main and Center streets. The closest calls I’ve had have been at night involving people parking off the eastbound lane of Center Street and crossing to the very popular Michael’s Trattoria restaurant.
- North Main, near the library, is also a hot spot for jaywalking.
- The section of South Colony Road (Route 5) closest to Center Street has also become more of a problem. It starts at the Food Bag and continues up to Center Street. The area around CVS is also a problem.
- A lot of people complain to me about jaywalking by Choate students, I haven’t noticed it. I find that when I’m driving through the campus, the students are pretty faithful about staying in the crosswalks and looking before crossing.
Meriden
- Pedestrians frequently cross near the intersection of State and East Main streets without even looking up for oncoming vehicles. The crosswalk signal there is virtually ignored. Regardless of whether I have a green light or not, I slow at the intersection because you never know when someone will cross.

Let me know what you think.

My Brother Is Getting Old

I was scanning the obits yesterday and noticed a familiar name among the survivors of a woman who died in the town I grew up in – Guilford. I haven’t actually resided in Guilford since I was 18 and only visit about once a month, sometimes less, so often I can’t remember if I went to school with someone or my brother did or if I even knew them at all.
I called my brother, who lives in Guilford.
“Oh my God is he dead?” he asked, also recalling the name. "He's our age."
“No, his mother died,” I said. “I know the name but can’t remember the face. Did I got to school with him or did you?”
My brother, class of 1983, was pretty certain he was in my class - 1981.
“I think he lived around Guilford Lakes. He had blond hair,” he added.
I didn’t remember where he lived but did recall the hair color. I could see the head of blond hair and the outline of his body, but not his face.
Although we are only in our 40s, it seems each year my brother and I have more and more conversations about obituaries, mostly ones on the parents of people we grew up with. We also seem to have more difficulty recalling details about the names we see listed in the death column.
The most frustrating and embarrassing conversations occur when we can’t remember if someone we both knew from 30 or 40 years ago is alive or dead.
“I thought he was dead,” I’ll remark.
“So did I,” my brother chimes in.
“We are too young to be having these kinds of conversations,” I reassure him.

Let me know what you think.

I'm So Predictable !

Elizabeth is right. I opted to drive and passed on the exercise and fresh air. The worst part is the people I was meeting with would have understood if I was 10 minutes late. They had plenty of other agenda items to keep them busy. In previous blogs I’ve asked why many of us feel and act so rushed much of the time. What could be more important than getting a little fresh air and exercise? What is so important that we have to rush all the time?
I think part of the problem is many of us feel obligated to make everything we do SEEM important.

Let me know what you think

Did I Take My Walk?

The so-called small decisions in our day sometimes reveal a lot.
At about 1:57 p.m. on Monday I was so involved in one meeting at the Record-Journal that I had forgotten about my 2 p.m. meeting at a building that is a five or ten minute walk from the R-J.
Earlier in the day I had decided the weather was so nice that I would leave myself time to walk to the meeting. Of course everything I did between 10:30 and 1:57 p.m. ran over so I was left with a choice. Did I call the person the meeting was with and tell him I would be late so I could still get my walk in? Or did I race to the parking lot, jump in my car and make it to the meeting on time?

Let me know what you think?
I’ll give you the answer and an analysis on Tuesday afternoon.

Water Bottle Windfall

It seems a lot of people are unhappy about this new 5 cent deposit on water bottles. Not me.
I’ve been trying for several years now to wean my wife and sons off those individual water bottles in favor of the half gallon water jugs. I think the half gallon is better for the environment and more economical. I do sometimes reach for an individual bottle myself, but mostly pour my water out of the half gallon in the fridge. The rest of the family almost exclusively uses the smaller bottles. As a result, most weeks we put out two recycling containers for the weekly trash pickup.

One of the chores the family has assigned me is returning the bottles and cans that carry a deposit. Every two weeks or so I head to the grocery store and earn about two or three dollars. At first, I resented having to do it. But about nine months ago the family decided I should cut back on my Dunkin Donut purchases. I’m down to one or two cups a week and use the deposit money to buy an extra cup.
If the family continues consuming water bottles at its current rate, I estimate I’ll make about two or three dollars a week, possibly more. I’m wondering if I should let them continue to consume water bottles at their current pace and reap the windfall or try to do the right thing and get them to curb their water bottle habit.

Let me know what you think.