22 May 2010

Man, I can’t believe how much work it is to come up with a name for our baby-to-be.

The other day, Jennifer asked if I would’ve liked to have found out the baby’s gender, and I said “yes and no,” but then I clarified that by saying, “Well, the only reason why I would like to know is so that we only have to pick out one name.” ‘Cause, wow, finding two names is really hard.

For example, in the matter of girls’ names, we pretty much have it narrowed down to two. Jennifer likes both names, but I only really like one of them. Meanwhile, Owen only likes the other one – and I think my wife gives a slight preference to that name. Do we let Owen’s opinion sway us? At five years old, his opinion is bound to change through time anyways. Does it matter if a sibling likes or dislikes the name of their sister?

Girls’ names are further complicated by the middle name. We have many more middle names picked out than first names, but certain middle names only go with certain first names. Make sense?

Boys’ names, meanwhile, are even more troublesome. There is a much smaller pile of names to choose from in the male category, and this evening we spent more time combing over names. Jennifer visited Nimbler and I paged through the book Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion, looking for that one weird alien names that, somehow, ‘works.’ Middle names are likewise troublesome. I thought a middle name for a boy was the one thing we had settled on, but recent discussions and events have thrown our one middle name choice into question.

23 May 2010

What a busy day!

Despite it being a Sunday, I went into work for a few hours this morning. I came home just long enough to pick up Jennifer and Owen and then we were off to a picnic. The picnic was a fundraiser for CampQuest, a camp we think Owen would like to go to when he’s old enough, but in the meantime, we’ll donate to the cause. We thought some of our friends were going to be there but, alas, they were not. This was not surprising in the least, but still disappointing. Owen and I tossed a Frisbee around, but the air was think with humidity, like when you step out of the shower not having turned on the fan.

The humidity wore me out so much that I took a one hour nap on the floor when we got home. Then we left the house again, stopped at Target to buy a railing for Owen’s bed, then attended a deBaptism.

That’s right, a deBaptism. It was held at Al Baker’s restaurant in Eagan. Jennifer and I were expecting to meet up with some friends there, but, alas, they didn’t show up. Huh. That was unexpected.

Anyway, the coordinator, a guy named Eric, was wearing a long purple robe, which gave the effect of making him look like some special ceremonial guy. Yeah, that is the best way to phrase it. He had us go around the room and introduce ourselves. There were ex-Lutherans, ex-Evangelicals, ex-Jews, an ex-Mormon, lots of ex-Catholics, and an ex-Southern Baptist. Jennifer and I were the only ex-Witnesses. After introductions, we each took our turn under the “Hairdryer of Reason,” wherein Eric said some important words about valuing reason over superstition, sprayed us with a mist of (cool) air, and presented us with a certificate saying we were now officially debaptized.Then we ate dinner.

You might think this is a silly thing to do, and you’d be right. Since I now look back on my baptism as a silly ritual, I thought it would be fun to participate in an equally pointless ritual. Of course, since there is no god (not the Watchtower version of God, anyway), my baptism was pointless from a theological standpoint and only served to further the interests of a corporation. So, really, I’d already discarded that event some time ago, but it was fun tonight to make it all ‘official.’

After dining, we went home. Owen and I played with his sidewalk chalk that he got for his birthday (it’s in 3-D!). The three of us walked to Mickey’s Diner for a malt, then we came back home. Jennifer assembled the bed rail for Owen’s bed and I attempted to de-clog the bathroom toilet, which hadn’t worked since last night. The bed rail didn’t fit Owen’s bed, and I can’t get the toilet to work. I just made a mess and, in cleaning the bathroom, used too much bleach and now the bathroom and bedroom smell like a community swimming pool.

20 May 2010

Today I finished reading the graphic novel Bone, which, you’ll recall, was recently on tap to be banned in the elementary schools in Minnesota’s District 196. Now that I’ve finished reading it, I feel like I’m in a position to address some of the points that were brought up at that hearing. So that’s what I’m gonna do. Deal with it.

Ms. de Lay, the catalyst for the meeting, argued that the characters in the book are constantly seen smoking and drinking. The truth is, only a few characters smoke. One, Smiley, is often shown with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Another, the red dragon, is always shown with a cigarette in his mouth. But, first of all, he’s only in a few pages of the entire book. Second, he’s a fire-breathing dragon! I assume the greatest aversion to cigarettes people have is their negative affect on health. It’s hard to see how something that has developed to breath fire could be harmed by expiratory distribution of partially ignited hydrocarbons.

de Lay also noted the prevalence of alcohol consumption. Over 80% of the book goes by with no character consuming any alcohol. When finally two of the main characters are reunited near the end of the book, one of them celebrates by ordering three mugs of beer in quick succession. These are small mugs – about the size of coffee mugs – and there is no indication that the character becomes inebriated following his drinks.

Panel member Phillip Monsen said that one thing he did not like in the books was when Fone’s hat catches on fire when he spies on Thorn bathing. Mr. Monsen inferred that Fone, essentially, became so aroused from watching a woman bath in a river that he literally caught on flames. He made this scene sound really inappropriate, as if there was some licentious character hiding behind a tree waiting to get his jollies off some naked bathing beauty.

But his comments were an exaggeration.

For one thing, Fone’s hat was already smoldering. Remember that dragon I mentioned above? The dragon blew some fire at Fone and his face became sooty and his hat began smoking. Indeed, that hat must’ve become like the hot embers of a bonfire, because smoke continued to rise out of his hat for several pages. In fact, that’s why he went down to the river – not to spy on girls, but to wash his face and cool his head. As he was walking down to the water, he saw, approaching from the other side, a young woman. So, since he’s a foreigner in the area, he stops to see what she’s going to do. She removes her pants, but it’s entirely non-sexual. She is wearing a large, woolen, shapeless dress that extends down to her mid-calf. In removing her pants, Fone sees nothing higher than just above her knees. She then goes into the water with a bucket. From what I could tell, she simply wanted to wade in the water for a moment while filling her bucket.

At this point, Fone’s hat goes from smoke to fire. Had I not attended the hearing, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection that this change in combustion was due to sexual arousal. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What this event does do, however, is serve as a plot device, for in the ensuing chaos of a burning hat, Fone tumbles down the banks and lands in the water whereupon Thorn learns of his presence.

Monsen said he didn’t know how he’d explain that scene to his son if they were reading these passages and his son asked why Fone’s hat caught on fire. Sounds like a lousy parent to me.

He also said he felt the books in the Bone series weren’t the very best we could be providing for our kids. If he was stating this as a reason for banning the books, he failed. But if he was just saying this as an irrelevant opinion, then I agree with him: the book wasn’t that great. Filled with cliches and distracting anachronisms, the jokes were not funny and the plot didn’t keep me interested. The book ends with the action hanging – a clear attempt to get me to read book two. I don’t think I will

18 May 2010

I made some good headway today in beginning on my projects. I spent about three intermittent hours importing footage into my computer to edit it into workable, watchable movies.  I also began reading Bone which, so far, is quite underwhelming.

Meanwhile, Owen has only three weeks remaining in his preschool career. I’ve been told that there is a graduation ceremony to be held following his final day. I don’t put much stock in such ceremonies, since they’re just a bunch of to-do surrounding the real (albeit boring) event. I guess graduation ceremonies are a lot like weddings: signing the marriage certificate (which actually marries two people) is so boring, that an entire ceremony has grown up around it. Likewise, receiving a diploma in the mail is so pedestrian, that a ceremony has sprouted up in response.

But I’m looking forward to Owen’s big ceremony. After all, just as a wedding can be a meaningful event (and how many attendees at a wedding even care about verifying if the marriage certificate gets signed?), so a graduation ceremony can be a meaningful moment.  I hope that the event will help Owen to remember his preschool career as a special one, and that he looks back on the day as one of the first major accomplishments in his life. I am taking the day off work. He did a good job and made a lot of progress. It really helped prepare him for his formal education. The cap and gown are on order…

19 May 2010

Today I called Unum. Have you ever heard of this company? I hadn’t until I started at my present job. The rules are, an employee is expected to call them when they are going to take a leave of absence. I’m not sure why I have to call an outside company. It seems like I should just be able to walk up to my boss and say “Hey, my kid will be born in July, so I’m gonna take some time off, okay?” But, you know, modern society would be lost without bureaucracy.

When I first called, I had to listen to an automated voice which said something like “Welcome to your employer’s FMLA hotline for blah blah blah.” After pressing 1, then pressing 1 again, then waiting for a few minutes, a woman came on the phone and began by asking me which company I worked for. I actually stumbled in my response because I thought it was a trick question. I mean, didn’t the voice menu that connected me to this woman just say that I was calling from my place of employment?

She asked me if the leave was to care for myself or for a family member. I said: “Family member.” She said: “And who would that be?” I said: “Um, I guess my wife.” And then, after another question, I said that my will be delivering a baby. So she said: “Oh, well then this isn’t for your wife, it’s for your unborn child.”

Well…yeah…I guess it is. But I suspect my wife will be recovering, too. And, also, as the unborn child has no name, medical coverage, or social security number yet, I wasn’t sure the fetus actually qualified (from my employer’s point of view) as a member of my family yet.

Then she asked: “Do you authorize us to speak with anyone else about your claim?”

I didn’t really know how to answer this, either. I figured she meant that she would need to call my employer, or possibly my wife’s midwife to verify some things. Since there are really no secrets involved, I just said: “Sure.”

She said: “Who would that be?”

I laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

She: “You just said you authorize us to talk with other parties concerning your claim. Who did you have in mind?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t know. I just figured if you needed to call my supervisor, or something, you can go ahead and do that if you need to.”

She: “No sir, there’s no need.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

She: “It’s up to you, sir.”

Me: “What’s up to me?”

She: “If you want us to talk to anyone else.”

Me: “I guess, if you don’t need to, then I don’t see the point…?”

She: “It’s up to you, sir.”

Me: “Okay, I guess I’ll say no, then.”

Man, people can be so confusing sometimes.

15 May 2010

Today there was a carnival at Owen’s school. The carnival was held to raise funds to make scholarships available for the students enrolled in their Little Flyers class. Since that’s the class Owen is in, and since we can only afford Woodbury’$ pre$chool thank$ to a $cholar$hip, we felt it was incumbent upon us to attend and support.

Turns out, the boy likes playing with silly string. I don’t think we played any other game more than once, but we played the silly string game three times. It was, I believe, my first exposure to silly string in about 30 years. At a store with my mom one time, she bought me a bottle of silly string with Spiderman on it (get it? – it’s like you’re shooting out web-building threads!). She thought it was a bottle of bubbles, but it wasn’t.

Anyway, the first time we went to battle it out with silly string, I handed the lady six tickets (=$3.00) to play. The sign said it was six tickets, but I asked her if it was six tickets per play or six tickets per person. She graciously allowed me to go into the square and battle it out with my son without having to pay 12 tickets. Then we played again, and she only charged us six tickets that time, too.

But when we went to play again, there was a different woman collecting the tickets, and when I handed her six tickets, she insisted I give her another six to pay for me. I found this a little frustrating: it’s pretty much impossible to play for six tickets, since you need two people to play. I felt the sign should have said “12 tickets”. But I figured I shouldn’t complain; after all, I’d just played for free twice. Turns out, though, I didn’t have six tickets left, so I just went into the square unarmed and let Owen spray me with silly string.

Later, I saw some silly string for sale at Target for $3 a can, which means that there must not have been a whole lot of funds being raised when Owen and I were playing silly string.

16 May 2010

Today was Owen’s birthday party. For the first time, his party was not held at our home. Instead, it was at his grandparents’ house. The weather was perfect – neither too hot nor too cold. There was a slight breeze blowing, which kept the bugs away, but it also meant we couldn’t light the candles outside. No problem; we just brought the cake inside for that. Later, I tried to fly a kite, but the wind wasn’t strong enough for that.

In my last post, I mentioned that gift-giving is not (or, should not be) the most important part of a birthday celebration. Once again, Owen got a lot of presents. What’s funny is that everyone (his parents included) seems to feel the need to give more than one item. No one, it seems, gives a kid “just a coloring book” for their birthday. They buy the child a coloring book, plus crayons, plus a paint set, and a chalk board. So, you know, the tally rises quickly even with few invitees.

My favorite presents – though I’m sure this opinion would be hotly contended by Owen – were the clothes and cash he received. I’m trying to maintain and increase a college fund for Owen, so just about any cash he receives goes into his piggy bank. I have his money in a special account through our credit union. It has a higher interest rate than normal savings accounts, but I can only add to it once a year. So all year I throw money into his porcelain pig and, around Xmas, I deposit it. So, today, my wife twice showed Owen the money he got from some friends. He looked at it quickly, didn’t say anything, then quickly moved on to the cool presents.

The thing is, I totally understand why people don’t usually give a kid cash: it’s a boring gift to give, and (for a kid) it’s a boring gift to receive. Same thing with clothes. I remember one day when I was about 8 years old, my mom and I were driving to a friend’s house. On the way, my mom said, “I think she has some things for you.” I was excited the whole time – wow! Presents! Cool! Turns out, it was a bag of clothing that her son had outgrown. Boring.

I think that’s the moment that you become an adult: When you start thinking that clothes and cash are the best things people can give you.

17 May 2010

All is right with the Universe once more. It’s been a busy month so far, and a busy week. I’ve had something written on may calendar every day for the past eight days. Besides Owen’s birthday and finals’ week at our colleges, I’ve had to fit in the aforementioned carnival, a visit to the dentist, a day at the Minnesota Chromatography Forum, and reading my short story at the Fulcrum release party.

Now that the semester is over, I have about two months to finish some projects. This includes finishing work on a sundial I was making for Owen. I’m also halfway done with five videos – and I’d like to get all of them completed soon. I have an idea, too, for another video which, so far, is only in my head, but I’d like to get it created. There are six half-finished essays I’m working on that I’d like to submit to various newsletters and magazines. And then there’s the books I want to read. These include:

–The Little House on the Prairie series. I kid you not. My aunt Jodi bought me the complete set of books when I was a kid, and I never read them; eventually I sold them at a garage sale. This past Xmas, I bought them for us as kind of a family gift and, now that my wife and I are watching each episode from the TV show, I figure it’s a good time to finally read those books.

-The Bone series. Remember that should-we-ban-these-books? hearing that I went to? Well, these were the books they were walking about.

–Lies Across America. After attending James Loewen’s presentation a couple of months ago, I was reminded what a great writer he is. In response to his lecture, I bought this book and have been chipping away at it. Now I plan to finish it.

I’ve still never read London’s Call of the Wild and Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. I’d like to give them a try and see what the big deal is. Maybe I’ll fit those in, too, before the new baby comes in ~60 days.

14 May 2010

Today is Owen’s birthday. He is five years old today.

Last year, one of my co-workers asked why I felt the need to take the 14th off of work and do something special with Owen on that day, especially since we had a birthday party scheduled for that coming weekend. Owen wasn’t nearly as attuned to times and dates back then, so I didn’t really have a good answer. My co-worker said, “It seems like you’re just doing something special on that day for your sake.” Which, you know, is true.

I think the day I became a father was the most significant day of my life, and I would be interested to hear a compelling argument why the same is not true for any father. So much changed on that day…more than even the obvious.  So I choose to celebrate this day, not just so that my kid has a fun time on his birthday, but because it’s an important date for the whole family.

When I was growing up, there was no celebrating birthdays. Witnesses have no logical reasons for this. Most of the rationales they throw out for abstaining from birthdays immediately fall apart when applied to other life-events. For example, many will tell you it’s wrong to set a date aside to honor an individual…yet they see no contradiction in holding wedding receptions, wedding anniversary parties, retirement parties, graduation parties and, heck, even baby showers (which are, essentially, birthday parties). More astute Witnesses will try to cite scriptures, but this too is fallacious, as any non-Witness bible-believer can vouch for. The bottom line is, Witnesses don’t celebrate birthdays for one reason: because the Watchtower Society, which dominates their lives, tells them not too. See, unlike murder or idol worship, Witnesses don’t actually find birthdays offensive. If the Watchtower Society was to announce tomorrow that birthdays are okay now, nearly all Witnesses would jump at the opportunity to begin celebrating them.

As it is, many Witness families struggle with this policy. My brother- and sister-in-law, for example, give their daughter presents on their wedding anniversary. I recall at least three occasions where my parents arranged for “surprise days” for me, in lieu of birthdays. Just two years ago, in fact, my mom, Uncle, and Aunt invited us to an arcade where they had cake and gifts for Owen and my second cousin. “This is so nice to do for the kids,” my mom said, “’cause, you know, we don’t celebrate birthdays.” In fact, even my grandfather, who loves the Watchtower Society so much he calls it “mama” used to call me every day on my birthday to share a scripture with me. Pathetic as it may sound, I looked forward to his calls, even arranging my schedule to try to catch his calls… It was the only birthday tradition I had.

Indeed, I can’t even recall anything about most of my birthdays. On my golden birthday, when I turned 11, I went to school all day. I didn’t show up with cookies or treats to pass around, and no one sang me a song. No one even knew it was my birthday. It rained all day, and I walked home getting wet. I asked my mom if I could go play with the Witness girl who lived down the street, but she said no. We went to the meeting that night.

I am reluctant to share what I said in the previous paragraph, as I fear it solicits responses like: “Oh, boo hoo, poor little Jimmy didn’t get presents on his birthday.” But I’m not shooting for sympathy. Once I reached adulthood, and pretty much concluded the Watchtower’s birthday policy was bullshit, I still didn’t do anything for my birthday. It didn’t matter, I figured.

But once I became a father, I realized that what mattered was not my birthday – but my child’s. On the day he turned one year old, I couldn’t help but celebrating the day: it had been one year since he, Jennifer, and I became a family. It was the anniversary of a day more important than my wedding, and certainly more important than my baptism. In reflecting on my childhood, I am absolutely appalled that my parents were able to pass by my birthday as if it were any other day; as their older child, it was my birth that first granted them parenthood status. In our materialistic culture, it’s true: presents are over-rated and usually unnecessary. A candle-topped cake is merely a tradition hoisted on us by our culture. So I do not mourn the absence of sweets and treats on my birthday; I mourn the absence of celebration: an air of joy, a day – or even just a few hours – taken out from our busy cycle of work-school-meetings to just enjoy each others’ companionship. To play, to laugh, to talk, to think, to run, to eat, to do whatever a family finds special to do.

As callous as this may sound, lots of children don’t make it to their first birthday. Likewise, lots of fathers and mothers aren’t there when their child reaches such a landmark. Since Owen’s birth, the Earth has traveled nearly 3 billion miles – five times hurdling around Sol and coming back around to this same place where it was on that first day he came into the world. The three of us have been there, with each other the whole time and on each anniversary of that first day. Raising a human life to age five is nearly as big of an accomplishment as simply living to age five – and if that’s not something to celebrate, I don’t know what is.