A Brief Letter on Thanksgiving.

To my vegetarian friends:

This week is Thanksgiving. I will eat some turkey. And so should you. Here's why.

Turkeys are ugly. Turkeys are mean. Turkeys are the rednecks of the animal kingdom. I've met turkeys in person and they are all jerks. I asked for directions and they just stared at me or tried to bite me.

I'm aware of the urban legend that Ben Franklin wanted to make the turkey the symbol of America based on its intelligence, but this conclusion was likely due to a poorly researched book and not first-hand experience. Most turkeys I've encountered are dumb. Can't even spell "Turkey." Sheesh.

So when I sit down to eat a turkey, you are more than willing to join me, comfortable in the knowledge that there is one less animal jerk in the world.

Thank you, and have a fun holiday of poultry murder.

Roger


This turkey is apparently a cannibal.

Where has this been all my life?

When I was a kid, we had the lame paper advent calendar every year. My brothers, sister and I took turns opening windows to count down to Christmas. Behind each door was a picture of something Christmasey. And the holier advent calendars had scriptures to go along with them. I think we may have actually used the same calendar each year. No daily chocolate calendar for us, just all natural paper-based fun. Sigh.



Now that I think about it, that may have been best with 4 kids to fight over a single piece of chocolate each day. Or get 4 chocolate advent calendars. No, they wouldn't have made it to Christmas. I'd have eaten all of mine by my birthday on the 13th.

But thanks to Pinterest, you can easily find some very crafty, complicated designs that you will be convinced you need to do, will buy all the materials for $60, and then never get around to making, only to be back at the chocolate calendars.

But Lego has upped the ante:



I think I would have gotten much more into the tradition with something like this. No, not something like this; EXACTLY this.

Festive? Check.

Darth Maul in Santa wear? Check.

Another way for Lego to exploit a religious holiday in the name of commercialism and make money? Absolutely.

I've forgotten all about chocolate advent calendars now. This holy 3-way marriage between Christmas, Legos, Star Wars and a countdown can only signal that the Mayans were wrong--there is hope for the future of mankind. And I've always thought that the light saber battle at the end of Jedi looked nice and festive.

All boys want to be James Bond

There's been an influx of catalogs in my mailbox. But that's to be expected--Christmas is only two months away. I'm already bracing myself for smelling peppermint and cinnamon potpourri while hearing Jingle Bell Rock in every department store on November 1. That's probably why I do more and more of my shopping online.

Some of these catalogs have been confiscated by Jack who only brings them out of his room long enough to say "Get me everything on this page." And the page is invariably the spy gear page. Between the night vision goggles, long distance walkie-talkies, laser tripwire and spy watch that's bigger than my head, I get the feeling he wants me to be Q. Without getting into any debate over Desmond Llwelyn vs. John Cleese, I only provide the financial backing for the gadgets.



But what gets me is not just all the cool stuff on the page, it's that it's the exact same cool stuff that was on these pages when I was a kid, and I wanted them all then, too. I wanted to be the super spy hanging from a tree and watching people without them knowing, gathering important intel on what was for dinner.

I honestly think I got just as excited about this catalog as Jack did. There's a part in all men that still wants the toys, it's just that the toys eventually change from remote controlled helicopters to hunting rifles or Fender guitars. And you begin to realize that the lack of gadgets and government finance combined with stunts that required professional rock climbers is what makes Jason Bourne superior to James Bond. More on that at some point, I'm sure.

So who's buying me the laser tripwire for Christmas?

Grow up

Peter Pan has been asking why people have to grow up for a very long time. He lived on an island that kept him young and boyish while Wendy aged. He played, crowed, and had sword fights with Pirates and Indians (I don't think the term "Native American" applies here since they're not technically in America.)

This is starting off like a post about continually embracing the child in all of us, but it's not. Because Peter Pan now has a psychological disorder named after him.

While Peter Pan Syndrome is not recognized by the American Psychological Association or listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders as an actual mental condition (that's right, I went there), the understanding of what it represents is clear: a man immune to the reality of ageing and responsibility, whose emotional development has remained at the adolescent level. This man typically shields himself from the outside and, in some cases, does so in his mother's basement until he's 45 with quests and adventures in World of Warcraft. Nothing inherently wrong with Azeroth, just don't think your accomplishments there mean anything to anybody else in the real world.

While the guy in his mom's basement may have become normal (my younger brother is currently taking up residence in a 2nd floor bedroom of our parents' house while he looks for lawyering jobs), it is really a matter of denial: Denial that there are real problems; Denial that you may not really be as awesome as you thought you were in high school; Denial that you may lose a job; Denial that you will hear the word No.

Peter Pan grew up into Robin Williams and spent an enjoyable movie coming to terms with himself both as the boy he was and the man and father he had become. It wasn't easy, but it's something we all must do.

There is a place for Azeroth with adults; just not between the hours of 9 and 5. Otherwise, this is our future:

And this is in no way an exaggeration.

Video Monday - The Next Overblown Summer Movie

It seems that movie studios are plum out of original ideas. That's okay, though. Shakespeare ripped off all his stories from other places.

But with very few exceptions, Hollywood isn't going to the Bard for inspiration, rather my childhood toys.


Battleship.
Transformers.
GI Joe.
Ninja Turtles.
And let's not get into the slew of comic book heroes in movies and on TV.

What's next? Lite Brite? Stretch Armstrong? Those slap-bracelets that got banned from every elementary and middle school in 1989? Or, as one person with some creativity, free time, and CGI knowhow created, Tetris:

Someone else has other plans

I don't think I'm going to make it to the gym this morning. And this time it's not my fault.

I'm normally up at 5 to go to the gym so I have time to come home and shower, eat breakfast, and change before work at 8. (I don't shower at the gym out of principle. 5 am is too early to see old racquetball-playing guys naked. Come to think of it, there's never a good time to see old racquetball-playing guys naked.)

This schedule can vary depending on 2 major factors: what time I actually get up, and the sleep patterns of three people much shorter than myself.

Since 5:30, my 2-year-old has been out of her room 7 times. It is now 6:08. I was all ready to go, then I guess she heard the floor creaking or my keys jangling, because out of her room she came. And she doesn't come out of her room quietly. She wrestles with the doorknob just at the edge of her reach, turns it, opens the door, then snaps the knob loose. I'm a little surprised we're the only 2 awake.

I leaned several years ago that if I don't make it to the gym before the kids are up, the idea is pretty much shot for the day. And this was going to be a good day. Not because of what I had planned to do,  but I have the energy to do a lot. Run 10 miles? Can do. Throw around more weight than Conan the Barbarian? I'm there. Heck, I may even show that rowing machine who's boss.

I had my plans. Those plans don't matter too much to her right now.

There's a great line in church culture: Want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans. It's the listening to God's plans that is the hard part. Like this stubborn little girl, we keep waiting for God to stop interrupting so we can get on with whatever it was. But the interrupting takes us where He wants us to be, usually waaaaaay outside a self-constructed comfort zone.

It's difficult to see God's big picture. It's difficult to see a 2-year-old's big picture. I'm pretty sure it revolves around Dora the Explorer.

Things all Guys Should Know

There are certain skills that all guys should know for various reasons. These are skills that, should technology or the normal way of doing things fail at some point in time, you can rely on these skills. I don't have all of them, but I'm working on it slowly. Here's a brief list--oddly, in alphabetical order:


Building. Legos, picnic table, whatever needs to be built around the house, with or without instructions. And if need be, step in and help a professional build a house.

Cooking. More than Mac & Cheese or a microwave burrito. Actually make a meal from scratch. This is useful for two functions: feeding yourself and impressing girls.

Fishing. My grandpa used to take me fishing as a kid quite a bit. I have no memory of ever catching anything. Fishing is one of the few hobbies you can talk about in public and have everyone listen. Because fishermen tell the best stories.

History. Know when wars happened. Know who was president (or king) during those wars. Know who made significant contributions to science and technology. This isn't just about not embarrassing yourself on Jeopardy!, it's about being smarter than the normal goofball on the street.

Listening. Seriously. Listen to others' ideas. And shut up when you do it. Handy for impressing girls.

Math. Balance your own stinking checkbook.

Music. Play at least one instrument that isn't the drums. And learn how to play it quietly as well as forcefully.

Vocabulary. Know the difference between affect and effect. Know several different words for "said." Be able to figure out a word's meanings based on its parts.

Writing. Not just a journal, a blog, or various text messages in the newest forms of abbreviations. This is how future employers will first encounter you. This is how you will explain yourself in a police report. There's a lot at stake in putting words on paper. Or on a screen. You don't want stupid fifth-grade errors in spelling, punctuation, and grammar making you look like a rube. On the other hand, know when to break the rules.


What else would you add?
Growing/shooting/cleaning your own food?
Sports?
Business?

It's. About. Time.

I think I could watch anything with Christopher Plummer. Best known for The Sound of Music, the geek in me will always think of Shakespeare-quoting Klingon General Chang from Star Trek VI, eyepatch bolted on to his head and the only guy awesome enough to move while inside a transporter beam.



So it's about stinking time that the guy got what he deserved all these years. Here's a classic moment from The Sound of Music:

And just because I can,

Jeremiah was a Bullfrog

Sorry, this isn't about the Three Dog Night song. And I really don't think Jeremiah was really a bullfrog, no matter how good a friend he was. But he did have some good wine.

Apparently, the original lyric was "Jeremiah was a prophet." But apparently that made too much sense for hippies.

There's a common, recurring theme running through the book of Jeremiah that intrigues me. He really looks like his day's version of the crazy guy on the street corner. God keeps telling him to go somewhere specific and give a specific message to the specific people there. In chapter 26, God sends him to speak in the couryard of the Lord's house and speak to everyone who has come to worship. God gives a message and says to Jeremiah in verse 2:

"Tell them everything I command you; do not omit a word."

The word God gives to Jeremiah is basically a curse. In the church.

And Jeremiah gives that word, without omiting any of it. The people of Israel, being the people of Israel, react much the same way the people of Israel react throughout the Bible when given contradictory news: they want to kill the messenger. But then there's someone reasonable to talk them out of it, but this isn't the only time Jeremiah gets in trouble with the establishement. In fact, that's what he seems to do best.

Jump back to Jeremiah's first call in chapter 1: J-man responds with the normal "But I don't know what I'm doing" excuse that Moses and some of the Judges gave. God responds,

"You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them for I am with you and will rescue you."

My first reaction is, "Wait, rescue from what, exactly?" But more importantly is that God protects those who give His word fully and undilluted--even if it contains things people don't like.

Be the Bullfrog.

Video Monday: Dope Zebra

Been taking some time off to get creative juices going. In a bit of a writing funk, actually. But that happens to everyone.

It's Guy Time this morning with Jack, and we just got done laughing ourselves silly with this gem:

First stop..

When Jack has a bad dream or wakes up scared or just can't get back to sleep, I'm his first stop.



This may be by default since I sleep closest to the bedroom door, but I've woken up many times (sometimes not) with little hands pushing on me. I love that he comes to me. I love that all I have to do is hold him and sometimes lay down in bed with him.

Musician Carlos Whittacre at ragamuffinsoul.com has a post today about this, explaining how kids run to find comfort in their parents, ignoring all the things in their rooms that they love. So I'm sharing the link, and the smile.

Best referee calls

The Super Bowl is over. Eli has something to rub into brother Peyton's face: "Nyah, nhay, I got two."

And I want to see what that trophy would look like sitting on Terry Bradshaw's head.

Totally unrelated, other than they're in a football game, here are my favorite refs' calls of all time:

Enjoy!

Wrong

There are some instances where people are obviously doing something wrong and it's okay to tell them.

If you go to a buffet for lunch and then still need to eat dinner, you're doing it wrong.

If you go to the gym every day and get fatter and weaker, you're doing it wrong.

If you look at a couple of presidential candidates and think they're both just too awesome, you're doing it wrong.

These are simple. These are things that, given time and perspective, intelligent people can figure out for themselves. (See how I had to qualify that sentence? Sheesh.)

But we like to point out when people are wrong. It makes us feel right, somehow. Or validated, at least.

I sat in a meeting once as a Graduate Teaching Assistant at Wichita State, and the new head of the writing program encouraged us to not use red pens while grading undergrad papers. He said, "It makes them feel like they're wrong." To which I responded, "But they are wrong."

I don't like using the word "wrong" with kids unless it's about behavior, like hitting or spitting or dangling a Barbie doll by the ankle and using it as a pinata. (Everyone knows to string her up by the neck.) When a kid is trying to figure something out, the word "wrong" makes them think they're, well, wrong. ''

Putting the shoe on the wrong foot? Putting pants on backwards? Using a fork for soup? Coat on upside down? These aren't inherently wrong. And I think it's best to point out that there are better ways of doing things. This gets the kids thinking about their own behavior and choices, instead of shaming them into being like everyone else.

Because who doesn't need a little bit of this every now and then?:

One tough question

Jack has been asking some interesting theological questions:

How big is God? 

Does God have any friends? 

If I climb on the roof and jump will God catch me?

Can I slide down the stairs on a cookie sheet?

Each of these can be answered using either the Bible or Veggie Tales. But there was one that caught me off guard:

What's inner peace?

This wasn't just some random churchy question that I could sing in a children's song, I knew exactly where this came from. These guys:



Kung Fu Panda is one of my favorite movies. I enjoy the humor, the heart, the martial arts, and even some of the darker parts. Part 2 came out on DVD on my birthday last December, which is when Jack first saw it. Do I worry about him trying out the fighting on his sisters? A little. He's actually got all the fights down and now he and Madison do entire scenes from the movie ("You are free to eat." "Am I?!" "Are you?!?!").

The first film does have a very Buddhist message--there is no secret ingredient. It states that there is no external force that can make a person complete. But there are lessons about God in the film, specifically taking Master Oogway's choosing Po as the long-awaited Dragon Warrior. This demonstrates two things: God's own understanding of timing, and that God prepares the ones he chooses, instead of choosing the ones who have prepared themselves, as was the case with the evil snow leopard Tai Lung, one of the greatest students of Kung Fu ever (I think I just sent the geek needle all the way into the red).

But the second movie does deal quite a bit with inner peace, making it more than a subtle message. The quest of first Shifu then Po is to find inner peace, and it becomes essential to the climax of the film. These lovable pandas* had taught my kid about other religions? How dare they!

I racked my brain quickly about how best to answer the question, then gave it, ending with "...and that peace only comes from God." I had my divine revelation, so I expected to see some epiphany light up Jack's face as well.

He said, "Oh, okay," then slid down the stairs on a cookie sheet.


Po is a Giant Panda; Shifu is a Red Panda. Both are native to the far east. Though a bear and a raccoon, the word Panda is not a scientific classification, but a Tibetan word meaning "eater of bamboo." Neither can balance on a stick.

Video Monday-Guy on a Buffalo

Great picture, right?

This video series was taken from a 1977 film Buffalo Rider. Someone then put clips together and made 4 songs. It's a passionate man in nature story as he tries to protect himself from...bears. And Indians. And such.

Here's Episode 1:

Week off

I'll be out this week to serve on a jury. Thanks to those of you who read regularly. Please pass along to your friends.

Roger

Video Monday-Argument

I just realized how much trouble I'll be in if they ever pass SOPA.

The great thing about Calvin and Susie is that they argue like grown-ups. Sometimes I think they're more intelligent than grown-ups because they know how to walk away.

Then there's these two:

Geekdom

All guys have some level of geekiness. All guys really should. There's nothing to be ashamed of here, just one area of life where a guy is really really interested and doesn't shut up.

For some, the most socially acceptable geek outlet is sports. Many guys can recite statistics from players for their entire careers starting with college through the pros. They even get together and form fantasy leagues, which is just a whole other level of geekery.

For others, it's cars. I know guys who can give specific parts and calibrations of specific models of cars. We're talking really obscure information. Like Marissa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny. These guys get together under the hoods of cars and talk about other cars for hours on end.

Tools. Exercise. Movies. Music. Classic TV shows. Food. Comic books. Bicycles. Model airplanes and trains. Travel. Star Wars. Running. Video games. Computers. Politics. Money. Cooking. Knitting. Blogs. Books. Battlestar Galactica.

The list continues to weird levels, and there's nothing inherently wrong with that.

Writer Sarah Vowell--who was the voice of angsty teenage daughter Violet Parr in The Incredibles--gave this insight to geeks and nerds of all kinds:

Being a nerd, which is to say going to far and caring too much about a subject, is the best way to make friends I know. For me, the spark that turns an acquaintance into a friend has usually been kindled by some shared enthusiasm like detective novels or Ulysses S. Grant.

Because of weird interests, kids make friends. It isn't that we have to try to imbue our own preferences on them, but try to understand the strange interests they develop. Right now, my 4-year old is a walking encyclopedia of animal facts: The cheetah can run 70 miles per hour; the Peregrine Falcon is the fastest bird in the world; bats use echolocation--yes, my 4-year-old understands echolocation.

But who knows what kinds of nerdiness he'll develop later?

Last month, I was painting a house with my friend Missionary Mitch. Here is a brief transcript of a conversation we had which brought out one of my Geek areas from my youth:

"Roger, do you know Star Trek?"
"Yes..."
"Are you familiar with The Next Generation?"
"Yes..."
"Well I've been watching the series on Netflix and I'm in the middle of a two-parter called Birthright, and..."
"Oh, the one where the Enterprise is docked at Deep Space Nine and some alien tells Worf that his father is still alive and living in a Romulan prison, but when Worf gets there he finds that really the Klingons and Romulans are living in peace, but then he starts an uprising among the younger members of the colony who then want to learn of their Klingon heritage."
(Missionary Mitch stared at me.)
"Yeah, Missionary Mitch, you have no idea who you're dealing with here."

That day, I became his new best friend. But this is the face I get from my wife:



You don't have to understand Geekdom--just embrace it.

The best way to pick up girls

About 5 1/2 years ago, I sat at a table at a family reunion, imparting my wisdom to my cousin's high school-aged son. He was getting into higher level classes and had to make choices about some things, such as whether to keep playing the piano or the trumpet, both of which he was apparently very good at. I had some similar experience playing multiple instruments through school and I gave him my two cents, perhaps the wisest thing that's ever come out of my mouth:

Chicks dig guys who play the piano.

At these words, all women within 10 feet sighed, smiled, and said, "Oh, yeah" in a soft, airy voice. It didn't help that we were related to all of them.

Playing the trumpet carries with it the bank-geek stereotype that's nearly impossible to shake. I played the trombone--there were even other stereotypes piled on top of that. 14th century liturgical composers would not include trombone parts in their music because it was a given that trombone players could not get up Sunday morning after their heavy drinking Saturday night. There is still some truth to that.

Guys in the orchestra didn't fare much better, unless they were either phenomenal violinists. And playing bass in the jazz band doesn't help on the girl front a great deal, either. And don't get me started on guys who only play the guitar to pick up girls.

But the piano is an entirely different story: it's got class. Playing something either popular or moody will always bring girls to the side of the instrument, even if you had never seen them before. When I was in high school, all I had to do was start playing "My Heart Will Go On" or "Seasons of Love," and I would not only be surrounded by girls, but girls willing to sing along while fighting over the empty spaces of the piano bench next to me.

Billy Joel even said in an interview that when he was younger, he would sit at any given piano, start playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata , and then look up after a couple minutes to see several girls standing around him.

You don't even have to be very good at the piano, just play the right pieces, and the girls will follow. There must be some magic to a guy making music, the stereotype of the tortured artist (thanks, Ludwig), or that the piano can either be a solo instrument or--wink, wink--used for a duet.

Because it certainly helped these folks:

How do you think he got the girl? Playing the piano. Which was a good part in how I got mine. ;)

Here there be Dragons

Jack has a book that I really like reading to him, although he is sometimes resistant. It's this one:



It's about a squire who travels with his knight to retrieve the Lantern of Purest light that was stolen from the kingdom by a dragon. You can probably guess how it ends.

The dragon has a tendency to scare Jack, just from looking at the cover. But the story isn't about the dragon; it's about, well, the Squire and the Scroll. The scroll is what the squire was taught from by his parents, and it contains five truths for keeping a pure heart when the world around him would have him do otherwise. (Maybe this is where Tim Tebow came from.)

But Jack only sees the dragon. The dragon makes an appearance on the first few paintings (which are awesome, by the way) to steal the Lantern, then high tails it until the end. Yet to him it's still a monster book.

This tends to bring up a G. K. Chesterton quote that's been floating around the internet a great deal lately:

Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

These stories are about being brave when everyone else is scared.
These stories are about going forth when everyone else has failed.
These stories are about picking up your sword when everyone else has surrendered.
These stories are about saying "I must" when everyone else has said "I can't."

This story is great in the veins of perseverance, courage, purity, and the rewards of God. But I think the real reason I like reading the story is this: Only twice at bedtime has he made it to the end. It's long enough and wordy enough that the little dude passes out quickly with this one.

Video Monday-How to tell off 30 grown men who could pound you to a pulp

Easy: Be the referee.

Welsh referee Nigel Owens has a great style of commanding rugby matches. Americans are used to hand signals and very impersonal rules and penalties being recited over a microphone that can easily be turned on and off. This is all done in the name of objectivity and partiality, which definitely has its merits, but Owens' fatherly style of addressing players individually and as a whole is wonderfully refreshing. Yes, he keeps all the rules, but he makes sure the players don't break them again. Never will this be found in the NFL.

Here's how he handled a penalty that led to a fight:

CONTEST: How did I get here?

Saw this on Facebook and thought it was my kid. That actually looks like my kitchen.

So how did he get here? Most creative idea wins a prize.

Gideon

He's one of my favorite guys in the Bible. Really.

He got picked--the weakest member of the weakest clan of one of the weaker tribes of Israel--to lead 300 men against an entire occupying force with horns and torches. And won.

That's the classic story, anyway. Most people gloss over the fact that he had 70 sons from many wives, that his illegitimate son killed all the others, or that between his first recruiting visit and the test of the fleece he went and destroyed a Baal statue and an Asherah pole. Once God got a hold of him, he gained a reputation of being a troublemaker pretty quickly. And we know him best for it.

It is in that first recruiting visit that Gideon is first recognized for what he will be. God greeted him saying, "The Lord is with you, mighty warrior."

What gets me about the conversation after that is that Gideon questions whether God is indeed with Israel. It takes some time before he finally says, Wait, what did you call me? How can I save Israel? And God's answer is simple enough: "I will be with you."

That's all we ever need to know, that God will be with us. A great many risks are not taken out of fear, but really out of forgetfulness. Fathers forget that God is with them; churches forget that God is with them; leaders forget that God is with them.

God does not flinch in the face of the abnormal or overwhelming; God does not doubt His power; God does not leave His people.

That's who sends us. That's who is with us.

That's who calls us Mighty Warrior.

The First Rule of Fight Club

One of my favorite parts of being a dad is the wrestling. We set up the octagon in the living room and lay down some ground rules (stay away from the face, mom is fair game only if she stops in the middle), and then proceed to forget the rules and have a match that would make rugby players grimace.

Turns out, that's a good thing. Not just the time spent with dad--which is huge--but physical play and roughhousing is, according to a study, good for child development. There are a good deal of neural connections being tested and established during this play, including understanding what the body can do physically, what getting thrown around feels like, and building a level of trust between parent and child.

Keep on roughhousing, people. Your kids' social and mental development depends a great deal on it!

Tim Who?

Oh, that guy.

This guy is everywhere: on the TV...um...on more TV...

Whether you know him from his time at Florida State, his time so far with the Denver Broncos, or if you had no idea who he played for, but know that he talks about God whenever he opens his mouth, there's something to watch in this guy.

He's proved himself as a quarterback, beating Pittsburgh in OT in the playoffs on Sunday and earned a nice $250,000 bonus in the process--a bonus which he will get again with a win over New England. (I would like to suggest a large donation of that bonus to me.)

But it's because of his religion that people are turning to him as a role model for younger kids. People enjoy seeing someone with Tebow's strong values in prominent positions in the media. He's not the first one, either: Kurt Warner led the St. Louis Rams to their Super Bowl win and the Arizona Cardinals to their first ever Super Bowl all on news conferences about his faith.

Which is why I was intrigued when Kurt Warner suggested Tim Tebow should tone down the religious rhetoric.

Wait, what? Aren't Christians supposed to be telling other Christians to keep talking about God?

But Warner wasn't being embarrassed about it like some Christians get when people talk about God on TV (look what all these televangelists have done to us). Instead, he was making a greater point:

"You can't help but cheer for a guy like that," former NFL star Kurt Warner said. "But I'd tell him, 'Put down the boldness in regards to the words, and keep living the way you're living. Let your teammates do the talking for you. Let them cheer on your testimony.'

"I know what he's going through, and I know what he wants to accomplish, but I don't want anybody to become calloused toward Tim because they don't understand him, or are not fully aware of who he is. And you're starting to see that a little bit."

This is the mission of letting our actions speak louder than words. But as a professional athlete, most of the actions we see from Tebow involve either hitting, getting hit, or deflecting hits. And there's the occasional completed pass. But Warner is right--let the teammates do the talking.

Which would be a better testimony, Tim Tebow talking about God whenever there's a mic on, or his teammates talking about how different the guy is, how much he genuinely loves his God and prays for his team.

I don't know if Tim Tebow will still be QB-ing when Jack is old enough to understand football. Right now, he's not too interested in watching games, just playing them. There may be several good moral role models in the NFL, MLB, or the NBA (that one's a little harder to believe). But all boys looking for a role model should add that criteria to the list: Not just what a person says or does, but how people closest to him talk about him when he's not around. And that's a little more of what I'd like to see from Tebow.

Bible verses on your face will only go so far.

     

Video Monday-Red Green

The Red Green Show was a Canadian sketch-ish comedy show that ran for 15 years, from 1991-2006. There were a number of staples of the show--things that popped up every time--but thanks to the great writers they never got old. If anything, the show kept finding creative new ways of doing the same thing over and over--and it worked.

(Steve Smith as Red Green)

The show celebrated men. It was set at a falling-apart hunting and fishing lodge, and featured the most bizarre group of men, from a septic service owner to a criminal, who all found camaraderie in avoiding their wives. Red proved himself to be an iffy handyman. He fixed cars, garden tools, and even got to soup up several motorized appliances to even more power. And he did it the way men do things: very little planning, not reading the directions, and several roles of duct tape.

The show now is in endless reruns on PBS. Enjoy!

World's Tallest Treehouse

I loved to read as a kid. It's a hazard of growing up with an English teacher mother. Everyone knew I loved to read--still do. I still think books are the best present I can get, short of a vacation in the mountains. My aunt Elly kept me stockpiled with all the Arthur books. This was back when Arthur actually looked like an aardvark, before the TV series.

Arthur then:                                                                And now: 

                          

Not too easy to tell what animal he is now.

But now my kids love the books and the TV show. And the TV show is getting a lot of impressive guest stars, from musicians Joshua Redman and Yo-Yo Ma, to author Neil Gaiman. The other day my kids were watching an episode with architect Frank Gehry helping the kids design the perfect treehouse. In the Arthur universe, Arthur's treehouse is a sanctuary where the kids could escape from parents, school, and pesky little sisters. They met there for sleepovers and Bionic Bunny fanclub meetings. But then the treehouse was destroyed. Everyone wanted their own special features in the new design and ended up fighting over it, so they eventually decided to stick with their simple one-room treehouse because it could be all things at the same time: a lab, art studio, and a wrestling ring.

 (Frank Gehry animated as an ambiguous animal.)

My own once-upon-a-time treehouse wasn't even built in a tree. It was built on 4x4 stilts 8 feet in the air, and was fully supported and up to code. Maybe. I had envisioned putting a zipline from that treehouse to the backdoor of the real house, but my parents wouldn't go for me slamming into a sliding glass door.

But then this popped up online in a few blogs: the world's tallest treehouse in Tennesee, called the Minister House. It's close to 100 feet tall and is supported by 6 oak trees. Here are a few pictures floating around out there (Eat your hearts out, Arthur and Buster!!):

I would be the coolest dad ever...

A bit of info and more links and pictures can be found here.

Time for a stupid post: Knock-knock Jokes

Knock-knock jokes have been around since about 400 BC when ancient Chinese scholars discovered puns. If something was misheard or misunderstood, it was said to be "pun ne."

Groan.

Here is the first knock-knock joke I taught Madison:

Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Boo.
Boo who?
Aww, baby, don't cry.

Here's the first knock-knock joke I taught Jack:

Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Chicken.
Chicken who?
BWAAAAAK!!!

Charlotte figured the system out all by herself:

Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Dat wee.
Dat wee who?
Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Dat wee.
Dat wee who?
Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Dat wee.
Dat wee who?
Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Dat wee.
Dat wee who?

It continues on like this indefinitely. Just the repetition is hilarious.

The format is simple: make a pun. Once done mostly with names, now somebody appears at the door named Smell Mop. (Go ahead, say "Smell Mop who?")

This blog has been short on comments lately. So, in the comments section, tell me your favorite knock-knock joke.

Now That's a Knife

I carry with me a small pocket knife that my father-in-law gave me for Christmas a few years ago. It has since received some stains and lost a part, but it still sits in my pocket.

Have I mentioned that I teach? That's right, I carry a knife to school. Don't worry, it's a technical college. More on that.

Most of our kids will never carry a knife to school. If your kids are in the school system now, they may not even get plasticware at lunch. The thinking is that anything that can be a weapon is treated as a weapon. This includes tools that are used in shop class...if there even is shop class anymore.

A knife for a guy is a tool. I've used mine to cut brownies, open paint can lids, tighten and loosen screws, untie knots, get stuck CD's out of CD players, and act as a conductor for an electrical current. That one was fun.

I'm all for boys having knives to use as tools, so it's up to a responsible adult (i.e., me) to teach about safety, uses, and what not to do. A lawyer friend of mine bought his girls pink BB guns to help teach them about safety. Avoiding guns and knives completely will only teach fear; understanding them will make useful, knowledgeable adults.

In one class, a student saw my knife clipped to my pocket. He had never seen a teacher carry a knife before. I pulled it out and showed them that yes, it was in fact a knife.

This student smiled and pulled his knife out of his backpack. I heard Paul Hogan's voice in my head:



But then I realized that he had just come from an automotive repair class with all kinds of tools that commanded the torque of me hanging from a ten-foot pole. This knife was probably the least dangerous thing he touched all day.

And given the damage Jack can do with a 2-foot bamboo stick he picked up at the zoo, it will be a while before he's ready.

Flinch

Somebody throws something you weren't expecting at you--you flinch.

You touch a hot stove--you flinch.

A four-year-old in a Buzz Lightyear costume with a ninja sword, pirate hat, Superman cape, and bat wings jumps around the corner and yells at the top of his lungs--you flinch.

Then, a few thoughts run through your head:

1. Why does he need a cape AND wings?
2. Why doesn't my voice carry like that?
3. This would make an awesome episode of Deadliest Warrior.
4. Man, I wish I had a picture of this.

Then there's the flinch that you make when the same four-year-old rides his bike into the street with a car coming. No recoil here, just deliberate and instant forward action.

Kids rarely flinch. In fact, we punish each other for flinching. We had a game where one boy would walk up next to another boy and act like he was going to punch him. If the boy flinched away from the oncoming hand, there was a free punch to the flincher. But if the boy stayed where he was and didn't even blink, watching the fist stop short of his nose, then he got a free punch on the other boy.

Call it 3rd grade jousting.

Julien Smith writes this about the lack of flinch reflex in kids:

Kids naturally begin this way. It's why their world is always growing. They find hurdles, jump them, and get stronger. When they see they made it, they move on to bigger hurdles. If they fall down, they try again later. It's a basic cycle.

Today, don't flinch.

Here's another option:

Video Monday

My parents first got a CD player back when they were the size of a record player--which is what it was hooked up to, my dad's record player from college. We were met with strict instructions not to touch the new black box. Of course, we did.

There were three CDs that I remember going on for a while, Lionel Richie's Dancing on the Ceiling, which was just hilarious to gradeschool boys, Paul Simon's Graceland, that I was too young to understand, and the soundtrack to Stand By Me. I hadn't seen the movie, but it was my first introduction to Jerry Lee Lewis's "Great Balls of Fire," which is still one of my favorite songs.

Here are the boys pondering one of life's greatest questions: