Frozen Hexagons
I was reading an article in the newspaper the other day that was discussing
“Hexagons of Frozen Precipitation.” What the heck is that? After a few seconds of pondering came to realize that the writer was talking about snow, I love snow! A hexagon of frozen precipitation is not the kind of thing I would like to catch on my tongue, but I love to catch snowflakes. The meteorologists say that no two flakes are the same, but my tongue never discriminates.
I grew up in the winter lands outside of Milwaukee, where the snows first fall between the middle of October and Thanksgiving. Generally the snow finally recedes and gives the baseball fields back to their owners in March or early April. As a child there is so much to do and make with snow—balls, angels, men, igloos, tunnels, shoveling money and much more. I remember lying in bed at night and just watching the snow fall by the street light, as I was drifting into midwinter slumber land.
Last month snow covered most of the U.S., with my Atlanta covered in a nice blanket for almost a week. The kids sprung from their homes with sleds, saucers and all kinds of makeshift vehicles. For hours they would allow gravity to slide them down the hills, and then struggle through the perilous footing back to the top, just to let gravity repeat the process back down the hill. At the point of near exhaustion, they bust back into the houses from which they had sprang to be greeted and rejuvenated by a cup of steaming hot chocolate and a cozy fireplace. While the adults worry about deductibles, missed school days and frost bite, the kids can’t wait until their boots dry out so they can go back out for one more visit. The joys and exhilarations of winter!
The Kahlil Gibran App
My son, Andrew, has this “money antenna.” It is truly amazing, he can set his mind that he wants to buy something and then the money magically appears. The other night he told me he wanted a 3GS I-phone. I asked him what that would cost and he said somewhere around $30 for a refurbished one. As much as he is literally attached to his cell phone I know that it means a lot to him, and he would get the utility out of it to justify the purchase price. About an hour later the phone rang and the caller asked for Andrew. Upon asking her why she wanted Andrew, she told me that she was calling from a research company and wanted to pay him $40 for his opinion on some new snack foods. Okay, so she basically called to tell me that she was going to buy him a 3GS I-phone, feed him, ask him some questions and then give him an extra $10??? What a money antenna!
So I took him to the research center and we sat in a waiting room full of other teenage money magnets, who all seemed to be texting their friends, too. I have never really watched the process of a kid texting before, and that night I was blown away. The skill and dexterity that those little buggers have is amazing!
As I sat there waiting for my “snacker-for-hire” I thought about the teachings of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. That book is in my Library of Ten books to read. “For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you can not visit, not even in your dreams.” I reflected on this, Andrew, his generation, the I-phone and my secret desire to use a Smart Phone myself. On the way home I asked him if he would teach me how to use an I-phone if I also bought one for myself. After he agreed, I thought back on Gibran’s commentary. Yes, they belong in tomorrow, but they can still teach us tomorrow’s apps today!
–this message was sent from my I-phone
Jingle Smells
So my second-grade daughter comes walking in the house yesterday singing, “Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg.” ??? I have a few issues with this. First of all, whoever coined this parody had to have done it over 50 years ago, and so much for the phrase “quality lasts.” Secondly, my daughter doesn’t know who Batman and Robin are. But thirdly, and most importantly, it got me thinking about the smells of Christmas Times. I love the smell of a Christmas tree. I just close my eyes and it brings me right back to days of being an anticipating child. This year we had our tree up for 5 days without time to place a single ornament, but it just didn’t matter, the whole family room smells like a Douglas fir. The next smell I pondered was the kitchen. Memories of my wife and my Mom, all dusted in flour, spending all those hours baking festive cookies, breads and pastries. What great joy carnivorously dismembering gingerbread men. Even the smell of nutmeg sends me; I don’t even have to have any nog beneath it to enjoy it. And then the grand finale of walking in the house, taking off your boots and realizing the whole house smells like the feast! Pumpkin, apple, and cinnamon scents dancing out from the kitchen. This Christmas season I promise to stop and smell the peppermint.
Going Vertie
I remember it like it was yesterday, the Dow Jones dropped 500 points a day for over a week. Clients were calling in frantic about the news and I seemed to be living in a daze. I thought the red light had turned green, and as I entered the intersection … KABLAM! I was fine but my car was totaled. For the next 10 months my wife and I juggled our family of 5’s schedule with one vehicle. 3 or 4 days a week she would drop me off at my office and I walked home. Other than the 11-degree night in January and the 97-degree day in July I enjoyed my 20-minute walk home (the average ATL commute is 24 minutes – by car!). In August, we knew we had to buy a car because my wife had taken a new job at the school. I have 3 rules about buying a used car. First rule, I have to know that they take care of their stuff. Second is a fair price. And third, it has to have the acceleration to drive in Atlanta. It just so happened that the car is a convertible, and that’s how “Vertie” came to our driveway.
I always thought people with convertibles were just having fun, I never realized what an attitude adjustment it truly is. A bad day at work, no problem, just take the long way home with the top down. It’s really fun watching the kids’ hair blow in the rear view mirror. It’s even big fun driving down Peachtree at night, looking up at the glow of our Skyline. The other night I came home from work and my wife had this frazzled look. I told her I had to run some errands and she asked if she could go “Vertie?” 20 minutes later, with frazzled hair, we came home smiling!
Football and the Contract Year
I love football, every type – neighborhood, high school, college and the NFL. I enjoy not just the game, but the drumbeat, the cheers and cheerleaders, the colors and uniforms and the crisp autumn air. One of the phenomenons in pro football is the last year of a player’s contract, better known as the “Contract Year.” Usually the player will put a little more energy and enthusiasm into their play to showcase their talents to get a more lucrative contract.
One of my projects with the insightful Coach Wendy was to create my own series of contract years for the relationships in my life—my friendships, marriage, roles and career. The relationships that I serve and that serve me are explored and examined. I severe those that are not of service, and try to put more energy and enthusiasm into those relationships in which I serve. With great joy, I’d like to announce on our 18th anniversary earlier this year, my wife and I agreed to a five-year extension! As Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Now it’s time to joyfully get to work.
The Angle of Illumination
My wife and I were having breakfast Saturday morning, and as I had my back to the window she sat in wonder peering out. “Look at all those leaves falling!” she exclaimed with childlike exhilaration. The muscles in my stomach tightened up, and I thought to myself that I would just enjoy the rest of my breakfast before I turned to see my next yard project, raking! After a few more bites, I mustered up the courage to turn and face my project, and to my amazement the oak tree in the yard made the whole backyard look like one of those toy snow shakers. It was a flurry of cascading yellow and brown. After nearly a minute, something caught my eye. The changing angle of the sun illuminated a squirrel’s nest in the crook of the big oak tree. They must have constructed their summer home sometime during the spring or early summer, but because of my busyness or the direct sunlight of the summer I never noticed it.
As we enter into the vernal equinox, the crispness and clarity of the air and the changing path of the sun allow us to see new angles and perspectives of our everyday life. I take this opportunity to slow down a bit and enjoy this new perspective that illuminates not just our outer world, but my inner life, too.
The First Day of School
The First Day of School
It seems like I just blogged about the “Last Day of School,” and here I am writing about the first day of school. I call this phenomenon the “Acceleration of Time,” as I age it seems as though the days, weeks, months and years are all getting shorter. About 2 weeks ago I peeked in at my son in his room. “I’m bored,” he declared. I tried not so smile, sneer or laugh as I looked at him in front of his computer, guitar and amp, IPod, DS, Guitar Hero and PlayStation. I tried not to smile, sneer or laugh. I was just about to preach to him about when I was his age I had this new game called “Pong,” but decided to save my sermon for something more redeeming. “Good thing school is starting in a week,” I stated as I turned and left.
In review, my kids’ goals this summer as stated in the “Last Day of School” were to sleep, play guitar and get his “first kiss.” They slept, most definitely. They played guitar, can’t tell you how many trips we made to the guitar string store. And rumor has it that he got his first kiss about a month ago, though the time, place and recipient are all unknown.
So keeping with tradition, I asked all of them individually what they most look forward to at the first day of school. Once again, the answers surprised me—meeting my new teacher, reconnecting with my friends and “the Hugs.” And sure enough she loves her new teacher, he has reconnected with his friends for every available moment, and my wife swears the other was smothered by a harem of huggers.
The last two weeks have been filled with shopping for new school clothes and supplies and filling up the calendar with all the new activities—jazz band, church youth gatherings, flag football, piano lessons, girl scouts, FFA meetings and dance class. Can’t you just feel the accelerator pressing down?
Camp Dad
Four summers ago I was going through a rather difficult period. A long-term business partnership, with a dear friend of mine, was headed to lawyers’ offices and eventually court. It was expensive, it was frustrating, and it wasn’t going away any time soon.
My office is 1.5 miles from my home, and I often come home for lunch just to break up the day. After the second week of summer vacation I saw a familiar trend, my boys were lying on the couch watching Sponge Bob. The only variation seemed to be the angles to which the boys were lying. I admit, although Sponge Bob is clever, I’m not a fan.
“These boys need to go to camp,” I told my wife while I was gobbling down lunch. She said, “What camp?” “Camp Dad,” I replied. And right then and there, over a turkey sandwich, the idea of Camp Dad was born. With some serious coaching from Coach Wendy (the proprietor of this website), Camp Dad was launched.
Camp Dad is an 8-week odyssey that includes mental, spiritual and physical activities. Monday through Saturday each one of us (just boys) has to exercise at least 15 minutes, eat fruits and vegetables, get adequate rest and do some type of strength conditioning. In addition, we have to read, journal our creativity and practice good thoughts (Mom is the judge). And then of course we have Mom’s favorite, practice good hygiene.
This year marks the 5th Anniversary of Camp Dad, and I have to admit it is one of our highlights of summer. What I’ve discovered about myself (through Wendy’s help), is that I have a tendency of putting others needs before mine. But to have our goals intertwined, I have to give so that the boys receive their just rewards. See, if we all do our 8 activities for 6 days, then Sunday becomes Fun day. Fun day may include mini golf, water parks, amusement parks, etc. And it surely makes the root beer taste sweeter!
The Last Day of School
As the father of three sparkling-eyed children, I find great joy in observing life through their lenses. The daily process of three kids, three schools, and three schedules can be most succinctly paraphrased by the Magician in Frosty the Snowman, as “busy, busy, busy.” I am blessed by sharing the driving of our 9th-grader to school and waiting for the bus with our 6th- and 1st- graders.
Sometime during the month of April, shortly after spring break, one of our annual spring rituals begins, and that ritual is called “the Countdown.” The first number I remembered this year was 25, which meant “25 days left until summer break.” “24″ through “10 days left” were somewhat blurred by my early morning fogs. The next number of note was 9, 9 days left, which meant my ninth-grader “only has to get up and get ready for school one more Monday.”
Over the past few weeks, I asked each child, “What one thing do you look forward to when school gets out?” The answers that came back were both expected and unexpected – “being able to sleep in, more time to play guitar and my first kiss.” Freedom and goals! On other days, I asked each of them, “What will you miss most when the school year ends?” The depth of these answers really surprised me—“I’ll miss not having my teacher next year, not seeing my friends each week, and it makes me sad to think that some of my friends will change schools and I won’t be able to say goodbye.”
Summer break, defined by the joy of freedom of schedule and the pain of missed relationships. I am continually amazed by my kids on how they define their lives and times. Now our jobs as parents get a little stickier—loosening the rules to allow more freedom while being met with, “But, Mom, its summer!” – And structuring the unstructured, so we can squeeze in hot days at the cool movies, the frothiness of the root beer stand, the red eyes in the pool, sunscreen, roller coasters and the exhilaration of the first jump in the lake! And, of course, no more pencils…
-
The Joy Factor
Welcome fellow Happiness Pioneers! You've come to the right place if you are looking to raise your Joy Factor. My vision is for everyone to live a life aligned with their passions and full of joy. The intention of this site is to offer you juicy nuggets that will increase your experience of joy and delight. Take a look around, grab something yummy and share the joy.
Follow Me
Joy Posse
Bernadette Peters (8)
Corinne Chaves (6)
Deb Cooperman (9)Derek Nowatzki (9)
Dr. Andy Vantreese (7)
Erica Burns (6)Fran Asaro (8)
Juliette Mansour (10)
Michelle Goss (7)
Rebecca Ewing (15)
Sandra Kellim (6)Sherry Wheat (2)
Tamara McElhannon (8)Tracey Lynne (3)
Tricia Molloy (12)
Trish Carr (13)
Wendy Watkins (78)