The Serial Thinker Blog

Mom's 84th Birthday

Because you didn't like to have your picture taken, I've added a photo that I know you would like.

 

You have been gone for more than a decade now and given the current state of the world and your perspective on it, 

no matter where you are it's a better place. I wonder, is my sister where you are? Does that make you happy, one way or the other?

I would be hard pressed to say that I miss you, because that implies that your absence creates an emptiness in my life and yours doesn't. 

That is not an insult, it's a statement about how you helped to craft a person who was independent at 17. That although it might be interesting

to talk to you from time to time, I fully understand that you have other things to do at the moment and cannot be disturbed from them. I am 

similarly busy here. The kids are independent young adults now - not quite fully on their own, but functioning quite well as they make their way in a challenging world.

 

Though I don't pine for 'one more conversation' or 'one final hug' - threads of your influence can be seen in my existence. As you might suspect, my world is enveloped by reading and books. My kitchen smells spicy and robust. My environment is filled with music. A dog lays upon my couch. 

 

So for that. Thank you.

Some Things My Mom Taught Me

Some Things My Mom Taught Me

My mom's family came to California from the Ozarks during the Dust Bowl (think Joad Family from Grapes of Wrath and you'd be pretty close). From this background came a hat full of interesting superstitions. She believed in some of them more than others, and passed them along through the years. Here are some of them that I remember:

*If a rooster crows before bed, he'll wake up with a wet head (a sign of rain)."

*If a crescent moon lies on its back with the points up it's a sign of dry weather - like the moon is holding its water."

*If you see a hog looking up when there's nothing there, it's a sign that a severe storm is coming."

 

*If there is a tornado coming toward you, you should stick a knife in the ground with the blade facing the storm. The blade will 'split the wind' and protect you."

*If you drop a dishrag, it means that an unclean person is coming to visit. If it falls in a tight bunch it's a woman, if it falls all spread out it's a man. If you don't want the company, pick up the dishrag quickly and toss a pinch of salt over your left shoulder. This takes the 'cuss' off."

 

*If you nose itches it means that someone's coming with a hole in their britches."

*Knives shouldn't be crossed at the dinner table or an argument will ensue very soon."

*Never pick up a spoon lying in the road. Women who are unlucky in their household affairs sometimes throw away a spoon,

believing that their bad luck will pass to the person who picks

it up."

*You shouldn't rock an empty rocking chair because that will attract ghosts."

And....

*A bad woman can't make good applesauce."

I know a bunch more but these are a few of the superstitions my mom taught me.

Mothers Day... Thoughts

 

My mom was unpredictable - some might say unstable. One moment she could be judgmental and moralistic and the next she could drop some very dark humor. Navigating a relationship with her was tricky ground. On some days conversations were easy and freewheeling and other times you had to walk on eggshells to avoid the venom that lurked just beneath the surface.

Unlike others, I don't miss my mom every day. But when I think of her, my thoughts run deep. To shared memories - good and bad - and the lessons that I learned from her while she was still here.

And it's ironic that I write this today because she despised Mother's Day.

So Happy Mother's Day.

Thoughts on Mother's Day

While it's a tender notion to think that all mothers are Julia Child, Rosie The Riveter, and Mother Theresa all wrapped up in one; unfortunately, that's only true for your mom. Your mom didn't scream at me. All the time. Your mom didn't tell me that I was condemned to Hell and then provide the verses from Scripture to support it. Your mom didn't force me to pick sides between her and my dad and threaten suicide if my loyalties weren't absolute and unequivocal. Your mom didn't start arguments just for the sport of it and ruin entire weekends for the whole family. Your mom didn't accuse me of "mutilating" my daughter when we had her ears pierced. Your mom didn't say that I was "turning my son over to Sodomites" when I allowed him to attend the birthday party of a friend with two dads. And your mom didn't hold me responsible for every miserable thing that happened in her life.

On the other hand....

Your mom didn't teach me how to love music or identify every spice in the cabinet by smell alone. Your mom didn't teach me that you can laugh, even at the most grim of moments, because even then, some things are funny. Your mom didn't teach me about patriotism and that sacrificing for things bigger than oneself is a noble act. Your mom didn't teach me that in most cases animals are better friends than people. Your mom didn't teach me the "Negro Spirituals" that she had learned as a child - music that still resonates - deeply. Your mom didn't teach me that even though God smote his chosen people, he still sent his own Son to redeem all of mankind - even skeptical, over analytical, jackasses like me.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom.

24

24.

When I was 24, I was in the Army. It was the year that I earned my E-5, EIB, and Master Wings. Dawn and I became engaged that year. Deployments took me to Ft. Bragg, Panama, HAAF/Sabre Hall, JRTC, and much time in the primordial soup called South Rainier Training Area. I think that was also the year that Larsen, Spooner, and McMahon were shot in training accidents. All survived. I was in my early years of investing and became a fan of Peter Lynch and Warren Buffett. I bought my first shares of Berkshire Hathaway and Fidelity Magellan and those home runs led me to a lifelong interest in and fascination with investing. I didn't take block leave that year and my mom took it personally - though I explained over and over that it had nothing to do with her. 24 was a good year, full of learning and adventure.

I Lived In the Pre-Nerf Generation

I lived in the Pre-Nerf generation.... and survived.

 

Remember those orange rubber playground balls? When it would get cold they would really sting when you got hit playing dodgeball or whatever game was going on? It made you more agile and a better dodgeball player because there was a genuine incentive not to get hit by the ball. Nowadays, dodgeball has been banned by most schools because it is 'violent' and 'predatory', but if it weren't it wouldn't matter because the playground balls have been replaced by these squishy foam rubber balls (like Nerf balls covered by a nylon skin). What's the incentive to get out of the way? It's not going to hurt if you get hit by these things, even at close range. The kids are willing to wipe each other out on video games, but have little physical resilience in the real world. We should bring back old school playground games and stop making wimps of the next generation.

Earning Your Wings

After your qualifying jump, you hustle back to the assembly area and get into a formation. Either one of the training NCO's or someone of your choice pins on your first set of wings. When I went through the school, those of us destined for Airborne or Ranger units (the more hard charging members of the class) opted for blood wings - having the pins on the back side of the wings pounded directly into your chest. My mom was thrilled that she was the one who got to pound my wings in.

The Decline of the West (Coast)

This afternoon I had a brief text exchange with a buddy from college. After it was done I reminisced about the great days we shared together and part of what made the experiences amazing was that LA was a fantastic city back then. Not perfect, but far better than the shithole that it's become. So, in addition to the anger that I feel at the ineptitude that created the problem, I feel sad about the decline. The best analogy that I can draw is watching an athlete that you idolize throughout your youth and try to emulate in your own play become a person who is far less than that. You think, you were my favorite. I loved you. You were amazing, what happened? You had it all, now look at you.

Even San Francisco, who I've never aligned with politically, was a great city. It had its undesirable areas, like all big cities, but overall it was beautiful, family friendly, and a nice place to spend time. Do any of you NorCal people feel sad at the loss of your city?

Having seen this happen in California, it isn't hard to anticipate the trajectory of Portland and Seattle if things don't change dramatically in the near term. Otherwise my friends who grew up there will reminisce about what a great place their hometown once was.

Penultimate

As I've written and reflected this summer, I've decided that this will be my penultimate year as a full-time classroom teacher. The profession and society have evolved beyond my desire to evolve with them, and it's unfair to the students to have a teacher who is inauthentic. Sure, I could go through the motions and perform well enough to garner decent evaluations, but that's not who I am and the kids deserve better. I will always teach, in one form or another, but the institutional hostility toward intellectual freedom and freedom of expression are intolerable to me. I can keep my mouth shut for a time, but not forever, and I don't want to end things poorly.

On The Passing Of Someone Young

This evening close family friends lost their son to a horrible camping accident. He was only 21 years old. His younger brother is my son's best friend. We've known this family since our boys were in preschool together. I knew the young man in passing. I taught his brother, but missed him as he made his way through the school system. He was athletic, popular, funny, one of those kids who would do crazy things to make others laugh. He played on elite lacrosse teams and built tight bonds with his teammates. As word of his accident, and now his passing, make their way through our small community there are outpourings of love and support for his family. Some of his peers are home from college for the summer and are gathering to remember him. Their parents are doing the same thing. We're mourning the loss of this young man, and making sure we hug their own kids hard when we send them off to bed tonight.